Category: English

A text came through at 4:00 AM. A wedding invite, out of the blue, from a classmate I hadn’t spoken to in years. I work for the Defense Intelligence Agency, and the leave approval process is a bureaucratic nightmare. I politely declined the invitation. The very next second, he sent a follow-up, his tone demanding. “You don’t have to come, but you can gift us a house, and I’ll forgive you for skipping!” I was stunned, thinking he was joking. “I’ll wire you eight thousand dollars later. Happy wedding.” His voice instantly went cold. “Are you trying to insult me? A handout?” “My fiancée is Park Avenue Royalty. Our guests are the city’s elite. I invited you—a house is the least you can do! Don’t push your luck!” As he spoke, he smugly sent an electronic invitation. I clicked it open and was instantly staggered. The photo showed my wife, Sienna Reed—the woman who claimed to have severe germophobia and acted like a frigid saint—locked in a passionate, completely unrestrained kiss with Blake Shaw. I gave a cold, short laugh. “I’ll be there on time, and I’ll send you a house.” A custom-made replica mansion. That still counts as a house, doesn’t it? 1 Blake Shaw couldn’t sense the malice in my tone. He screamed excitedly. “That’s my best brother! I knew you wouldn’t let me down! I don’t need much, just a townhome in Tribeca! If you can’t afford it, sell a kidney, man! I won’t judge!” Sell a kidney? The audacity! I kept my voice calm. “I heard Sienna Reed is already married. You haven’t been conned, have you?” From the phone, I heard the unmistakable, muffled, wet sounds of their activity. “Honey, someone says you’re already married!” Blake yelled away from the receiver. “It was just a fake marriage. The ceremony was fake, the certificate was fake, and the husband… he was fake, too.” Sienna’s voice shifted instantly, dismissive, yet still husky with a deep, sated exhaustion. It clearly drove Blake wild. He ended the call abruptly, yet he was too eager to notice the line was still connected. The intimate sounds of their continued passion filled my empty, sterile bedroom, grating against my sanity. “We’ve been at it all night, why are you starting again… Blake, I love you.” The woman’s cooing voice made me physically nauseous. I hung up, rage building, and pulled the marriage certificate from my drawer. The official stamp was indeed flawed. A fake. Sleep was impossible. Did Sienna forget? The moment she married me, Leo North, she became the actual “Manhattan Royalty.” Defrauding a federal intelligence officer? That was a fast-track ticket to a maximum-security prison. I called my aide, Sergeant Miller. “Arrange an immediate deep audit of Reed Corp’s accounts. Contact my lawyer and the Police Chief. I’m filing charges. Also, call the city’s most reputable funeral director and order a large, custom-made replica mansion.” I drove home that same night to pick up my daughter, only to find that Sienna had sent her to a children’s home. Without a word, I drove straight there and brought her out. In the passenger seat, my timid little Lulu was curled up, her hair tangled, her cheek bruised and swollen. I reached out to touch her head, but she flinched and ducked away in pure panic. “Don’t hit Lulu, I’ll be good. I won’t eat or drink or use the bathroom again.” A dull ache filled my chest. I pulled her gently into my arms, stroking her tiny, frail shoulders, comforting her again and again. From Lulu’s halting, broken sentences, I finally understood the truth: for all these years, she had been living in that facility. Sienna only retrieved her for a few days when she knew I was coming home, staging a performance of a loving family. And Blake Shaw wasn’t just aware; he was one of her frequent abusers. He had beaten her until she lost control, then, disgusted that she’d soiled herself, he’d locked her in a closet without food or water. I gritted my teeth until I thought they would shatter. My work kept me away for long periods, and on my occasional calls, Lulu had always seemed perfectly normal. My blind trust and deep devotion to Sienna had been repaid with this catastrophic, brutal betrayal. If that was how she wanted to play, I would prepare a very special wedding gift. When I finally arrived back at my house, the sun was fully up. The wall of the master bedroom still held the large, smiling photo of Sienna and me on our wedding day. The image was insulting, pathetic. I had bought the house after we were married. It should have been shared property, but with the knowledge that the certificate was fake, I quietly and quickly processed the sale, clearing every single one of Sienna’s possessions and transferring the title for a fraction of its value. Just then, Sienna’s text arrived. “Honey, the IRS is suddenly auditing the company! Reed Corp is in trouble!” “I can’t handle this. Take some emergency leave and get back here immediately!” The demanding, entitled tone was exactly as it had always been. I ignored the text. I put my foot down on the accelerator and drove Lulu straight to the wedding venue. When we arrived, only Blake was greeting guests; Sienna was nowhere in sight. The welcome poster was a blown-up, explicit photo of Sienna being grabbed by Blake. My chest seized up. Sienna, who was so unrestrained and open with Blake, had always presented herself as a pure, devout Madonna to me. Six years ago, wearing plainclothes, I took several knife wounds rescuing her from a dark alley where she was being violently assaulted. Later, when we met, she told me about her severe “spiritual contamination complex”—she couldn’t stand to be touched by anyone. She insisted our daughter was a result of a one-time accident when we were drunk. Now, I realized her contamination complex was intermittent: she was only repulsed by me, and she extended that disgust to my daughter. My jaw was aching from clenching my teeth. I told Lulu to wait in the car, and I walked slowly, deliberately, into the venue. Inside, the dozen-strong groom’s party included many men who were once my close friends. Blake spotted me and immediately smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Well, look who it is! My best pal, Leo North! Guys, he promised me a Tribeca townhouse. Where’s the deed, Leo?” I answered mildly. “A townhouse isn’t something you pick up at the corner store, Blake. It takes a little time.” Gary Wexler, a former friend, flashed his gold Rolex and sneered. “Stop acting like a big shot, North. Everyone knows you went straight into some forgotten satellite office after college. How many years have you been filing papers? You can’t afford a decent apartment, let alone Tribeca. Don’t puff out your chest here.” The others chuckled and joined the mockery. “Leo, our guy Blake is marrying Sienna Reed—Manhattan Royalty. A nobody like you shouldn’t even show his face. Can you even afford the cash gift? Want us to pool some money for you, for old times’ sake?” It was clear they were jockeying to impress Blake, eager to join the sycophantic crowd. Blake played the consoling friend, draping an arm over my shoulder. “Leo, you were smart, good-looking, always a step ahead of me in school. But what did it get you? Should’ve found a rich wife. Listen, after the wedding, I’ll introduce you to Sienna’s great-aunt. She’s almost seventy, two hundred pounds, but she’s got a ten thousand dollar IRA and a good pension. You’ll fit right in! She’ll save you a few years of struggle!” I sneered internally. His “rich wife” was about to be penniless and disgraced. Just then, a brass band started playing a loud, mournful tune. Behind them, a procession of men carried the massive, paper-mâché replica of a mansion. Blake’s face turned the color of iron. “What in the hell is this supposed to be?” The lead musician was very polite. “The mock-up house is delivered, sir. The funeral band is a complimentary gift. You’re welcome!” Blake was furious and lunged, but I smoothly blocked him. “My wedding gift is here, Blake. Please sign for it.” “Leo North, you’re dead!” Blake swung a punch, which I easily caught. No civilian has ever won a fight against me. The others instantly rushed in to defend Blake, kicking and stomping the replica house until it was nothing but crushed paper and wood. “Low-class trash! How envious can you be? Gifting something like this at a wedding? You deserve to be hit by a car on the way out!” Gary Wexler grabbed an iron stand and swung it hard at my head. I sidestepped, and he stumbled, eating concrete. Blake pointed at me, roaring. “The Reed family runs this city! You destroy a Reed wedding, and I promise you will not walk out of here alive!” I mocked him silently. We’ll see who leaves in a body bag. “What are you waiting for? Take this scumbag down!” As soon as Blake spoke, his hired security guards rushed me. Two or three were nothing to me. In moments, I had them all sprawled on the ground. Blake panicked and screamed at Gary and the others. “Help me! Unless you want to lose your contracts with Reed Corp!” The security guards and the dozen groomsmen finally overwhelmed me, forcing me down onto the floor. Blake’s eyes were filled with venom. He grabbed a nearby dining chair, raised it high over his head, and smashed it down on my back. I gasped, the pain sharp and blinding. My back was on fire. He walked closer, his polished leather shoe driving into my kidney, again and again. “That’s what you get for being arrogant! I’m going to end you!” Blake paused to admire my anguish, then pulled out his phone and made a dramatically wronged call. “Honey, someone crashed our wedding and brought a funeral gift. He’s the guy who always envied me in school… what was his name…” Sienna didn’t let him finish, erupting in a fury. “Dare to touch my man in this city? They have a death wish!” “Baby, whatever you want—kill him, beat him senseless—it’s up to you. I’m just finishing up with the company stuff, I’ll be there soon to back you up!” The surrounding groomsmen were full of envy. “Blake, you’re the man! She’s crazy about you!” “A simple rich girl? Please. Back in the day, I was the one running the neighborhood. Anyone I wanted, I dragged them into an alley. Being chosen by me? That was her blessing.” Blake was drunk on his own ego. He grabbed a cake knife from a nearby table and plunged it deep into my side. “Hear that, Leo? My wife just gave me permission to kill you. Hahaha.” Lulu, who had witnessed the entire, brutal escalation, was crying hysterically in the car. Ignoring her terror, she burst out and rushed the crowd, throwing herself over my body. “Please! Don’t kill my daddy! Please!” Lulu’s desperate plea made Blake pause for a split second. “That little bitch? Why hasn’t the children’s home managed to get rid of her yet?” That one phrase—that little bitch—ignited a firestorm in my blood. I shoved everyone off me like a madman and delivered a single, brutal punch to Blake’s face, knocking out three teeth immediately. “You pig! You animal! To hurt a child that small!” Blake wiped the blood from his mouth, a chilling, triumphant smile crossing his face. “Leo North, did you enjoy the sex show last night?” “Your wife is young, hungry, and wild. So stimulating.” My heart jerked. “You… you knew about the fake marriage?!” “Why else would I work so hard? I fulfilled her all night long. Thank you for the six years of dry spell. I was happy to take your place, soldier.” I was shaking with blind, total fury. I slammed Blake hard into the concrete. “We were friends for a decade! You stab me in the back like this?” “Ten years ago, my family was broke, I depended on your charity, and Gary and the others treated me like dirt! Now I’m rich and powerful, and I want you to beg me, look up to me! I want your kid to be bullied like a dog under my foot!” As he spoke, Blake unlocked his phone and shoved a video in my face: Lulu being tormented. In that moment, I would have dragged Blake to hell with me, even if it meant my death. But before my next punch could land, a sharp slap cracked across my face. Sienna. The moment her eyes focused on my face, her expression froze solid. “What… why are you here?” She was so shocked she nearly lost her balance. I reached out instinctively to steady her, and she reacted by slapping me hard with the back of her hand. Her face was contorted by raw, pure loathing. “Leo North, how many times do I have to tell you—don’t touch me! You’re filthy!” As she said it, she turned and pressed herself tightly against Blake. My heart felt like it had been pierced by a needle. I lived a life of rigorous discipline and integrity, yet she called me filthy. She embraced the felon. Her words sparked a new wave of derision from the onlookers. “I knew why Leo was so bitter! His unattainable crush is getting married!” Lulu’s small body began to tremble when she saw Sienna. Her already bowed head sank lower. “Lulu wants to leave. Lulu is scared…” I gripped her tiny hand tightly. No. They will watch their evil brought down. Sienna looked at Lulu as if she were a piece of garbage, frowning at Blake. “Why is this girl here? The sight of her makes me sick.” Blake slid his hand under Sienna’s dress, gripping her breast hard, his smile predatory. “Then I’ll make them both disappear, my love. They won’t bother you again.” He waved his hand at the security detail. “Pin him down!” Protecting Lulu, I couldn’t fight at full capacity. After a few skirmishes, I was pinned down hard. I struggled, raising my head to glare at Sienna. “You dare do this to me?” Sienna’s eyes were bloodshot. She grabbed a wine bottle from the table and smashed it violently over my skull. Hot, thick blood immediately streamed down my face. The pain was excruciating. She took a few steps forward and jammed her stiletto heel down onto my hand, grinding it viciously. “Hitting you? What of it? Your General Harrison is a thousand miles away!” I couldn’t help but scoff internally. I had secretly helped the Reed family, pushing all the credit to my supposed “Uncle,” General Harrison. I never thought my humility would make Sienna dismiss me so completely. Lulu was sobbing uncontrollably. “Mommy, don’t hit Daddy! Please don’t hit Daddy!” Sienna acted as if she couldn’t hear, pressing her heel down harder. Blake taunted her. “Honey, he’s your husband, after all. Take it easy.” Sienna frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous. Our marriage certificate is fake. He’s not my husband.” Lulu wrapped her small arms around Sienna’s leg, pleading. Sienna simply kicked her away. Blake, grinning cruelly, grabbed Lulu’s small, tear-stained face. “Your dad knocked out three of my teeth. You can pay me back with six of yours.” I screamed a protest, but Sienna kicked me hard in the head, blinding me with fresh blood. Blake gestured for a wrench. He forced Lulu’s mouth open with the tool, gripping her teeth, preparing to yank them out. “STOP!” I roared with the last of my breath. “I am the Commanding Officer of the Defense Intelligence Agency! Let her go!” Blake roared with insane laughter. “You’re the Commander? And I’m the President!” He shook his head at his cronies. “Make this fake commander beg! Slam his head against the floor one thousand times!” My head was hammered repeatedly against the hard tile floor. Lulu was crying, fighting with all her might, but Blake pulled her hair and slapped her several times. Dizzy, my mouth full of the taste of blood, I looked up at the stone-faced woman who was my wife. “Sienna, Lulu is your daughter! How can you be so heartless?” “Shut up!” Sienna screamed, cutting me off. “If I hadn’t gotten drunk and made a mistake, giving birth to this little mistake, I would have been with Blake years ago, repaying my debt for him saving my life!” My heart stopped. The long-healed scar on my side—from the knife I’d taken for her—suddenly burned with sharp agony. “Repaying what debt? It was me…” Blake interrupted me, pulling Lulu’s hair back to keep her small face exposed. “Enough talk about the past. This little bastard needs to pay for my teeth.” The blood-stained pliers were about to come down when a single gunshot echoed through the venue.

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It had been seven years since I cut ties with my mother, and we ran into each other in a high-end department store. I was the mistress—the “other woman”—getting slapped and nearly stripped in public. She was the wealthy socialite I desperately grabbed, clinging to her like a lifeline. “Call the police for me. I don’t know her husband…” I fought to keep the last scrap of fabric covering me, pleading with her for help. The response was a stinging slap that landed harder than any the original wife had delivered, followed by her icy accusation: “Sienna Reed. Seven years ago, you seduced your best friend’s boyfriend, and now you’re throwing yourself at a married man for money? Are you really this irredeemable?” She turned and marched into a nearby boutique, emerging with ten designer bags, which she tossed onto me. “Apologize to this woman, the wife. Swear you’ll never sleep with another married man! Then I’ll let you be a Sinclair again!” I looked up, meeting her gaze, filled with undisguised disgust and disappointment. I swallowed the metallic tang of bile rising in my throat and articulated every word carefully: “I didn’t do anything wrong.” Not seven years ago, and certainly not today. As for the Sinclair name, I hadn’t wanted it for a long time… 1 My defiance earned me another blow. It was heavier, more vicious than the slaps from the woman claiming to be the wife. My ears rang, and my mouth filled with the taste of rust and blood. Yet, I heard my mother’s voice, sharp with frost: “You don’t apologize because you think being a homewrecker is honorable? How could I have given birth to a daughter as utterly shameless as you?” “I should have stayed home today. Running into you is truly bad luck.” My former best friend, Willow Stone, who had been watching the spectacle, stepped forward just in time, gently holding my mother, Eleanor Sinclair, and patting her chest to calm her. “Tori, maybe Sienna was in a desperate situation that led her to this… unsavory business. Don’t let it upset you, it’s not worth jeopardizing your health!” Then, she turned to the furious wife. “Ma’am, please rest assured, with my godmother and me here, she will never bother your husband again. Pick any bag in this store, and I’ll buy it for you as an apology on her behalf…” I cut her off, my voice raw. “I am not the mistress, and I don’t need your fake apology, Willow!” Willow’s eyes instantly welled up, and she looked seconds from tears. “Sienna, you can’t possibly still believe that the person who wasn’t truly loved is the one who loses the moral high ground, can you?” “If I had known you were so obsessed, maybe I should have reluctantly stepped aside back then and let you have Dean…” Bringing up the old affair was like lighting a fuse. My mother’s voice became shrill. “Are all the men in the world dead? Do you have to go after a married one?” The two of them, in just a few sentences, ripped my sordid past open for everyone to see. “Wait, so she’s a repeat offender? She stole her best friend’s man seven years ago? That is sick!” “Even her own mother can’t stand her. How does she have the gall to live like this?” “Someone should post this repeat offender online! Who knows how many families she’s already ruined!” A crime can always be pinned on a person if a reason is needed. With my own mother confirming my guilt, the label of “mistress” was cemented. The onlookers pulled out their phones, snapping photos of my exposed body and my bruised face. Some who had already filmed the beating prepared to upload the content. Willow suddenly knelt, a soundless cry tearing from her, begging the crowd to stop filming. “Please, everyone, give my friend another chance! My godmother and I will take her home and educate her. We guarantee she won’t do this again!” “The internet is brutal now. If she’s exposed like this, she’ll never be able to hold her head up again…” The enraged wife instantly flared up. “If she knew what ‘holding her head up’ meant, she wouldn’t have tried to sleep with my husband!” “Are you two in this together? Dressed so provocatively—maybe you’re all in the same line of work to afford shopping here!” My mother and Willow were collateral damage. The look they gave me suggested they wanted to tear me to shreds. At her limit, my mother turned and handed the wife a business card and a platinum credit card. “Please delete any photos and videos that show me or Willow. The one you caught in the act… we’ll see how she behaves later.” The wife, initially disdainful, saw the words ‘Eleanor Sinclair, CEO, Sinclair Group’ on the card, and her entire expression changed. “The formidable Eleanor Sinclair! The Iron Lady! This… this must be a misunderstanding, I…” The wife couldn’t afford to offend the Sinclair Group, and she certainly couldn’t figure out why Eleanor’s own daughter was involved in this mess. Confused, she moved to help me up. But my mother stopped her. 2 The wife froze, bewildered. “Ms. Sinclair, didn’t you put on this whole show just now so I would forgive her? I believe that with your strict supervision, she definitely won’t offend again…” My mother sneered, cementing my guilt without a moment of inquiry, just as she had seven years ago. “The first time she tried to steal a man, I kicked her out. I thought years of hardship would teach her a lesson and show her the error of her ways. Unfortunately…” The crowd and the wife understood instantly. Eager to flatter my mother, the wife handed back the credit card and offered her phone for inspection. “Ms. Sinclair, please take a look.” My mother clicked on the video of me being beaten before she arrived. I caught a fleeting glimpse of something in her eyes—a flicker of pain. I shook my head, quickly dismissing the delusion. Sure enough, the next second, she looked down on me and commanded again: “This is the last time I will clean up your mess. Apologize to this wife, swear you’ll never do this again, and these photos and videos won’t see the light of day.” My mother’s power could certainly stop any organized release of the content. But there were countless onlookers. How could she seal every single person’s lips? The moment she publicly condemned me, I was branded—a mistress everyone spat upon. Even knowing she wouldn’t believe me, I stood firm, speaking every word slowly: “I am not the mistress, and I won’t apologize to anyone!” The next second, she handed the phone back to the wife. “Since she is so stubborn, don’t hold back. She’s yours to deal with.” The wife looked uncertainly at my mother. “You want me to post the videos?” “Post them! She must pay the price for her behavior!” The wife obeyed. In minutes, people online had already dug up my information. My mother shoved the screen full of hateful messages in my face. “Sienna Reed, do you know what you did wrong?” “I didn’t do anything wrong!” Seeing my refusal to admit guilt, my mother trembled with fury, clutching her chest, her face pale. Willow, ever prepared, smoothly took a pill bottle from her bag and gave my mother the medication. She then motioned to the bodyguards nearby. “Take Tori home first. I’ll stay behind and handle Sienna.” My mother left without looking back. Willow then created a group chat on the spot, sending a large cash payment to every onlooker as an apology. “I apologize for the scene today, everyone! Please, be merciful with your words. Give my best friend a chance to turn her life around!” Having taken the money, the crowd praised Willow for her kindness and beauty, though they reminded her to be cautious, especially with “people like me.” After the crowd dispersed, I wrapped myself tightly in the coat my mother had left behind and stumbled toward the exit. Willow grabbed my arm. “Sienna, come home with me. You don’t know how worried Tori has been about you all these years…” I wrenched myself free, sneering. “Willow Stone, the audience is gone. You can stop acting.” 3 Ten years ago, after Willow’s mother and my father both passed away from illness, Willow and I became inseparable best friends through our shared grief. My mother, out of sympathy, doted on Willow like her own daughter. As our two families grew closer, my mother unexpectedly fell for Willow’s father, Richard. But Richard was still grieving his late wife and kept my mother at arm’s length. Frustrated by unrequited love, my mother poured more attention into Willow, almost granting her every wish. I, however, disagreed with her pursuit, telling her she couldn’t force affection, and a rift grew between us. Even with Willow’s mediation, my mother and I never regained our former closeness. It was during that period that I met my first love, Dean Campbell. Unwilling to let my mother know I was dating, I kept the relationship a secret, telling only Willow. I treated her like a sister, sharing my romantic joy and every little gift Dean gave me. I never imagined that while she offered me congratulations, she was secretly seducing Dean. On Dean’s birthday, I secretly prepared a surprise for him. When I pushed open his apartment door, I saw two bodies tangled together on the sofa. Willow grabbed a shirt in a panic to cover herself. And Dean, the man who swore he loved me, averted his gaze. “Sienna, let me explain…” I didn’t cry or scream. I just quietly asked Willow: “You already have all of my mother’s love, and you have my friendship. Why did you need to steal my boyfriend, too?” She wept, kneeling to beg for my forgiveness, but then she leaned closer and whispered: “Who told your mother to obsess over my dad?” In that moment, I swore I would get my mother back from her. I ran home, desperate to tell my mother that Willow was a horrible person—the kind of homewrecker she despised. But I never expected Willow and Dean to beat me to it. Willow was already clutching my mother, tears streaming down her face. “Tori, I know Sienna has always hated that you care for me so much, but how could she… how could she try to steal my boyfriend?” I argued my case, but my mother didn’t believe me. She was infatuated with Richard. Willow was the most important link to maintaining a relationship with him. My words were lighter than Willow’s tears. Without hearing me out, she forced me to apologize to Willow. “Sienna Reed, apologize to Willow! Promise you won’t harass Dean again!” Watching her protect Willow, seeing Willow’s triumphant, challenging look from behind my mother—my youthful pride overcame my pain and grief. “I didn’t do anything wrong! She stole my boyfriend!” “Irremediable! Get out! Don’t come back until you realize your mistake!” 4 I slammed the door, left, and by working multiple jobs and relying on student loans, I not only completed my degree but graduated with honors. By then, my mother, who had moved closer to marrying Richard, was in a good mood and personally invited me home. She even threw a celebration dinner for me. Dean was there, too—as Willow’s fiancé. After all those years, he was still greedy for me. He followed me into the backyard when I went out for some fresh air. He grabbed me from behind. “Sienna, I can’t forget you. Willow can’t compare to you… Let’s get back together…” Disgusted, I struggled violently and slapped him hard. The commotion brought everyone running. Dean instantly changed his tune, pointing to the red mark on his face, feigning deep sorrow. “Eleanor, Sienna tried to seduce me again, and when I refused, she hit me…” I was shaking with rage, pointing at Dean. “That’s a lie! You tried to force yourself on me!” I then turned to Willow. “Control your trash!” Willow, who knew exactly what kind of man Dean was, still chose to slander me. My mother looked utterly devastated and slapped me for the first time. “Sienna Reed, do you have to try and take everything Willow likes?” “Get out! I never want to see you again! I don’t have a daughter like you!” That moment, my heart turned to ash. I didn’t argue another word. I just turned and left. After cutting ties, I lived a quiet, ordinary life on my own. But fate was not done with me. A routine physical revealed hereditary liver cancer. It was the same disease that had taken my father. To raise the massive surgical fees, I worked several jobs after my shift. My presence at the luxury store that day was for a courier job—delivering a reserved bag to a client’s significant other. I never expected to be caught up in such a horrifying ordeal. The ring of my phone broke my memory. I answered, hearing the impatient voice of a man. “Why aren’t you here yet?” “I’m on my way.” I hung up and looked up to meet Willow’s excited, malevolent eyes. “I knew it. After years of luxury, you couldn’t possibly survive on your own! So you did become a cheap mistress, didn’t you?” 5 Ignoring Willow’s taunt, I quickly bought a new set of decent clothes, changed, and rushed to the delivery address. The cramping in my stomach was relentless, coming in sharp, agonizing waves. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. But I couldn’t stop. This courier fee was for next week’s medication. The moment the client opened the door, my body went rigid. It was Dean Campbell. “Sienna. Long time no see.” I recoiled violently, turning to run. But he grabbed my wrist and yanked me into the apartment. “Why run? Didn’t you come here to deliver the bag?” I realized with a jolt that I hadn’t recognized Dean’s voice on the phone. Otherwise, I would have died before accepting this delivery. The door slammed shut, and Dean’s hungry eyes raked over my body. He reached out to touch my face. “Sienna, you’re so thin…” I slapped his hand away, furious. “Dean! You are marrying Willow Stone! What did you trick me into here for?” Dean forced a helpless look, stepping forward to hug me. “Sienna, if you hadn’t blown things up back then, you would be the one I was marrying! I’ll take care of you now, give you a grand a month, you don’t have to work so hard…” “I just wanted to help you! This bag is for you. Do you like it?” Like it? Absolutely not! If I hadn’t gone to pick up that damn bag, why would I have been wrongfully beaten and called a mistress? The anger surged, and I mustered all my strength, delivering a vicious slap to his face. “I would rather die poor, or die sick, than touch a single penny of your filthy money!” Dean clutched his face, his eyes instantly turning dark and menacing. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, Sienna!” He lunged, pinning me tightly against the sofa. I struggled desperately, my hand finding a heavy, hard object in the confusion. I slammed it against his head! Dean cried out in pain, his grip loosening. I seized the chance, scrambling up, stumbling, and flinging the door open to escape. As soon as the door opened, a sharp slap sent a wave of blood into my mouth. “Sienna Reed! Do you love stealing other people’s husbands this much?” Willow’s voice was wild, full of insane fury. Time, horrifyingly, was seven years ago again. I was disheveled, my hair a mess, blood dripping from my lip. Inside, Dean was clutching his bleeding forehead, his silk robe hanging open. To anyone looking, it was the perfect picture of an illicit entanglement. My mother’s chest rose and fell rapidly. She didn’t have a word left for me. She simply tilted her head slightly and spoke two words to the bodyguard behind her: “Tie her up.”

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I was scrolling through Reddit when I hit a trending post on r/jobs: [My son is interviewing for a summer internship at a corporate firm. What questions should I ask on his behalf?] The comments section was already tearing the OP apart. [u/JobHuntWarrior]: Wait, is it your interview or his? Does he not have a mouth? [u/CorporateDrone]: If he’s still attached to the umbilical cord, maybe he should stay home. A grown man should know what to ask. [u/HiringManager]: If these are my competitors, I’m feeling pretty good about my chances. The original poster (OP) got triggered immediately and started clapping back in the edits: [Edit: There are so many scammers out there! How can I rest easy if I don’t go with him? You people are just jealous because you clearly don’t have mothers who love you.] [Edit 2: Any legitimate company allows parents to sit in. We’ve accompanied our son to several interviews already.] I just laughed, shook my head, and locked my phone. At that exact moment, our receptionist, Jenny, rushed into my office looking like she’d seen a ghost. “Sarah, the 2:00 PM candidate is here early.” She paused, her eyes wide. “And… he brought a whole tribe with him.” 1 That Reddit post flashed through my mind. I looked at Jenny, skeptical. “You mean, like, his parents drove him and are waiting in the car?” Jenny shook her head, looking traumatized. “No. I mean the parents, the grandparents, the sister-in-law, and a toddler. Even the grandma is on a walker. They’re all in the lobby.” My stomach dropped. I’ve been in HR for years. I’ve seen helicopter parents drop their kids off. Usually, they sit in the Starbucks across the street or wait in the car. But a full-on invasion? That was a first. I frowned, checking my watch. “It’s noon. Lunchtime. Put them in the guest lounge for now. Why are they two hours early?” Jenny looked like she was about to explode. “They showed up demanding service immediately! I tried to get him to fill out the application, but his mom kept interrupting me.” “First she complained that he shouldn’t have to give personal info before he’s hired. Then she screamed about why we weren’t providing lunch since they traveled ‘all this way’ during noon.” Jenny’s voice cracked. “Then she asked if I had a boyfriend. She said that even though being a receptionist is a ‘low-tier job,’ she’d ‘reluctantly accept’ me as a daughter-in-law.” “With that short, potato-looking son of hers? The audacity!” I sighed, rubbing my temples. I hate dealing with these “failure-to-launch” cases. “I’ll handle it. If they’re this unhinged, I’m cancelling the interview.” I stood up, but Jenny grabbed my arm. “Sarah, be careful. They aren’t normal. They started recording video the second they walked in.” “I told them it’s against policy, but they refused to put the phones away.” I nodded. understood. There are people who do this for clout—baiting companies into ‘discriminating’ against them to go viral on TikTok. I decided to play it cool. Ten minutes. In and out. Kill them with kindness, then show them the door. I walked into the guest lounge. The family was huddled around a young man, barking instructions as he tried to fill out the form. “Don’t put your real number there,” the dad said. “Put a fake one. What if they sell your data to scammers?” “And height? Why did you write 5’7? You have good posture. With shoes on, you’re basically 5’10. Write 5’10.” “Don’t leave the experience section blank,” the sister-in-law chimed in. “You watched your brother’s kid last summer. That’s ‘Childcare Management.’” The guy, Liam, was sweating bullets. He looked like he wanted to disappear but didn’t dare speak up. Meanwhile, the toddler was using the sofa as a trampoline. He knocked over a glass of water, soaking the application form. Chaos ensued. “Watch where you’re going!” “I was busy helping Liam! It’s fine, it’s just water. They can still read it.” “Liam, you’re so careless! Why didn’t you move the cup?” “Honestly, what would you do without us?” Liam buried his head lower, accepting the verbal beatdown like a statue. I stepped in to stop the suffocation. “Liam Patterson? I’m Sarah from HR. Let’s head to the conference room.” Liam looked at me with pure gratitude and shot up from his chair. But before we could take a step, his mother blocked my path. 2 “You must be the manager.” She grabbed my hand, shaking it aggressively. “Our Liam just graduated. He doesn’t have much experience, so don’t ask him any tricky questions, okay?” The grandma, leaning on her walker, shouted from the couch. “My grandson is a genius! Ivy League Master’s degree! Handsome, too! Honestly, you should just skip the interview and let’s talk numbers.” The dad nodded. “Right. I have a number in mind. You can just set up the direct deposit to go to my bank account.” The sister-in-law (SIL) scoffed, crossing her arms. “Liam’s brother is a VP at a major corporation. He knows all the dirty tricks you HR people pull. Liam has a Master’s. If the offer is anything less than $100k, don’t waste our breath.” Wow. Where did they assemble this Avengers team of red flags? It didn’t matter how talented Liam was. Hiring him would mean hiring them. He had zero independence. They gave me an out, so I took it. “Unfortunately, the budget for this entry-level role doesn’t reach $100k. If that’s a dealbreaker, I won’t waste your time.” The room went silent. “So… no interview?” the mom asked, stunned. I looked at Liam. “Since we can’t meet the salary requirement, I wish you the best of luck in your search.” Liam understood immediately. His eyes reddened. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, defeated. But his SIL wasn’t having it. “A company this big can’t afford $100k? Why did you make us come down here? You’re wasting our time on purpose!” “We took an Uber! That was fifty bucks! Are you going to reimburse us?” Grandma slammed her walker on the floor. “Fifty? What about my health? It’s hot outside, I almost had a stroke getting here. You need to pay my medical bills!” I kept my face neutral. “I discussed the salary range on the phone during the screening. You accepted the interview based on those numbers. My time is also valuable. I’m not the one wasting it.” “Please see yourselves out.” They didn’t budge. The SIL realized I wasn’t going to be bullied, so she pulled the “Do you know who I am?” card. “Your company works with Sterling Corp, right? My husband is a senior executive there.” “We were going to just ask him to get Liam a job, but we wanted Liam to do it on his own merit. We’re giving you face by being here.” The mom puffed up her chest. “That’s right! My older son manages all their contracts. Aren’t you guys bidding on a new project with them?” “One word from him, and your contract is dead.” 3 I hesitated. Sterling Corp was our biggest strategic partner. We were in the middle of a massive bid that would double our profit margins. If this was true, it was a problem. I turned slightly and texted our Marketing Director. He replied instantly: “Sterling Corp? No one named Patterson in executive leadership. Procurement doesn’t have anyone by that name either.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Total bluff. “Are you the decision-maker or not?” The grandma banged her walker again. Thump. Thump. “Stop stalling! Call your boss!” I kept my voice calm. “We have a strict compensation structure. Since Liam is ‘overqualified’ and has such powerful connections, he shouldn’t settle for us. Please leave.” The SIL stepped in front of the grandma. “We came all this way. And you’re kicking us out before even asking a question?” “Fine. We’ll go. But you need to pay us $1,000. For the Uber, the emotional distress, Grandma’s health risk, and the cost of printing the resume.” “That’s the ‘friends and family’ discount because of my husband’s connection. Otherwise, I’m putting you on blast online.” She tapped the phone hanging around her neck. “I’ve been recording since we walked in. I have footage of you discriminating against young talent and exploiting workers.” The mom nodded smugly. “My older son taught her well. Pay up, or we ruin your reputation. Your new project with Sterling? Consider it toasted.” I was done. I pulled out my phone to call security. Suddenly, a raw, guttural scream tore through the room. “ENOUGH!” It was Liam. “Do you want me to be unemployed forever?!” The family froze. Liam walked past them, trembling, and stood in front of me. “Sarah… Ms. Manager. I am so sorry.” His voice broke. He took a deep breath, fighting back tears. “I really want to join this company.” “Please. Just give me a chance to interview.” 4 I looked at him, feeling a mix of pity and frustration. His resume was actually impressive. Ivy League, high GPA, difficult certifications. I had been excited about him. But this baggage? Seeing my silence, tears started rolling down Liam’s face. “Ms. Manager, since I graduated… I haven’t had a single real interview. They ruin it every time.” “Just one chance. If I fail, I fail.” His dad recovered from the shock first. “You spineless worm! Begging for a job? Have some dignity!” The SIL sneered. “Just let your brother make a call. Stop acting like a beggar.” His mom started crying. “My baby, don’t be upset! We don’t need this trash job anyway!” Liam ignored them, staring at me with desperate, pleading eyes. I sighed. I’m too soft for this job sometimes. “Fine. But the interview happens in the conference room. Alone. No family allowed.” Liam’s face lit up. He frantically wiped the water off his resume and followed me. Behind us, the family stood there, jaws on the floor. “How can he go alone? What if she bullies him?” “Yeah, we need to be there to make sure it’s fair.” “Liam is getting rebellious. I bet he has a crush on that manager.” “Hmph. She’s cold. The receptionist was cuter.” I ignored the commentary. Inside the conference room, Liam calmed down. I was right about him. He was sharp. Once the initial panic faded, he answered technical questions with confidence. His eyes actually started to shine. Then, a phone rang. Loudly. I keep my phone on silent. It was his. Panic returned to Liam’s face. He fumbled to decline the call. Immediately, it rang again. Like a siren. “You can silence it,” I said gently. Liam, flustered, just powered the phone off completely. Bam. The conference room door flew open. The mom charged in. “We agreed to keep the line open! We were listening! Why did you hang up?” “Why is the phone off now?!” 5 The whole clown car emptied into the room. “Yeah, if we can’t hear, how do we know she isn’t tricking you?” “You can’t handle this alone!” “Did she make you turn it off? I knew it! Sketchy!” I looked at these people—these “experts” on life—and felt a headache coming on. “Get out,” I said, “or the interview is over.” Grandma shook her walker at me. “Why can’t we watch? You made him turn off the phone! Are you trying to seduce him?” “Is that the only way to get a job here? Doing something dirty?” The mom sneered. “Desperate single women… always trying to trap young men. Is that standard HR protocol?” I looked at Liam. He had reverted to his “quail” mode—head down, silent. “Liam,” I said sharply. “If you can’t manage your own interview, you can’t manage a job here.” He looked up, a flash of shame in his eyes, but then he slumped. “It’s no use… it’s no use…” he muttered. I sighed. “Okay. Interview over.” The SIL jumped in, phone camera pointed at my face. “I’m recording! Since you’re done, give us a tour. We have rights.” “Refuse, and I’ll post this. ‘HR Manager Kicks Out Family, Refuses Transparency.’” I almost laughed. I glanced up at the corner of the room. Our new 4K security camera with high-fidelity audio recording. You want to post online? I have terabytes of content right here. “Sure,” I said, voice dangerously calm. “What do you want to know?” Thinking I had folded, they puffed up again. “That’s better. Give us a good offer, and we might even say nice things about you online.” “Right. The commute is too far. Does the company have a shuttle? Actually, just send a driver for him.” “And food. Liam only eats organic, gluten-free, non-GMO meals. Don’t feed him cafeteria slop.” “And he’s an introvert. He needs a private office. Corner suite preferably.” Grandpa grunted. “Stop blabbering! Ask about the money!”

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It only took one game of Truth or Dare for me to decide to divorce Liam. During the game, he blurted out that he loved resting his head on a pregnant belly to listen to the baby. The room went dead silent. Everyone’s eyes were on me. There was no shock in their gazes, only pity and the panic of a secret being exposed. I realized then: they all knew Liam had a child with another woman. But they all helped him hide it from me. Because they knew I was Liam’s everything. If I found out, I would leave him. And he would go crazy. So, to make sure he completely lost his mind… I did three things. First, I melted down the wedding ring he designed for me. Second, I saved the video of Chloe taunting me onto a USB drive. Third, I applied to join a top-secret research team. My departure date was set for our seventh wedding anniversary. That day, I would vanish from his life without a trace. And he would receive only one package from me. Inside: a USB drive, signed divorce papers, and the receipt for my abortion. 1 I swallowed the bitter red wine in my mouth, trying to look calm. My voice was barely audible, but I still asked the question: “How many months?” Liam seemed to wake from a dream, the wine glass in his hand suddenly shattering under his grip. Shards of glass pierced his palm, blood dripping instantly. But he didn’t care. He rushed to me, hugging me tightly, his voice trembling uncontrollably: “Sarah, it’s not what you think. The child was an accident!” Hearing those words, I felt my soul crack. Suppressing the lump in my throat, I enunciated every word in disbelief: “So you… really… got another woman pregnant?” Liam fell silent, giving me no answer. I closed my eyes, two tears sliding down from the corners. Thinking he had held another woman like this, I pushed him away in disgust and turned to flee. Liam chased me to the door, but his phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, he picked up immediately. I heard a soft, coquettish female voice on the other end: “Liam~ Your little baby keeps kicking your big baby, it’s torturing me~” A sharp pain stabbed my heart, and I quickened my pace to escape. He didn’t chase after me. I smiled bitterly, unsure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. Taking out my phone, I made an international call. “Professor, I agree to join the AMP research team.” The person on the other end seemed surprised. “Really? That’s great! Our team needs someone like you.” “But this research group is highly classified. Once you join, your family won’t be able to contact you.” “Your husband cares about you so much, he’d probably call the police if you disappeared for a second. Does he agree?” My eyes dimmed, and I said hoarsely, “I’m preparing to divorce him.” The person on the other end paused for a moment, didn’t ask further, and just said: “Okay, I’ll process the paperwork for you. You join in three days.” The moment I hung up, the big screen on the mall behind me started playing Liam’s exclusive interview. The host sharply noticed his small movements and asked with a smile: “Mr. Foster, I noticed you’ve been touching your ring. But… it seems like just an ordinary silver ring. Is there anything special about it?” Liam smiled tenderly, holding up his hand to show her: “This is my wedding ring.” “Huh? Sorry, I thought with your current net worth, the wedding ring would definitely be a huge diamond.” Liam said: “I made my wedding ring by hand seven years ago, polishing it bit by bit, and engraved my wife’s and my initials on the inner band.” “Wow, there really are two sets of letters. LF and…?” Liam said: “SS. My wife’s name is Sarah Sterling.” “Wow, I really envy your wife. She must have saved the galaxy in her past life to marry you, Mr. Foster.” Liam smiled gently and said: “Actually, I saved the galaxy in my past life to marry her.” “This year is the seventh year of my marriage to my wife. Seven years ago, when I had nothing, she firmly supported me. She even lost our first child to save me…” “Sarah Sterling is the only love of my life. In three days, on our seventh wedding anniversary, I will hold a wedding of the century for her, letting everyone witness my love for her.” The passersby around were full of envy, praising him as a wife-doting maniac. Yes, everyone thought Liam loved me more than life itself. Even I thought so before today. Looking at the wedding ring on my hand that I had worn for seven years and Liam never let me take off, I walked into a jewelry processing store. “Please melt this ring down for me, thanks.” The clerk looked at the ring in surprise, then at me in astonishment, asking hesitantly: “Are you… Sarah Sterling?” Another clerk rolled her eyes at her, disagreeing: “Please, just because this silver ring happens to have LF and SS engraved on it? Mr. Foster loves Mrs. Foster so much, how could she possibly melt the ring?” Listening to their conversation, I mocked myself with a smile, paid, and left silently. I walked aimlessly and suddenly saw Liam’s car by the roadside. The car was parked there quietly, as if waiting for something. Standing in the cold wind, looking at the car, I had mixed feelings. My steps involuntarily slowed down, a complex emotion rising in my heart. I hated myself for still having expectations. What was I expecting? Expecting that he parked here waiting for me? I didn’t know whether to face him or continue to escape. Taking a deep breath, I slowly walked towards the car, every step feeling like I was stepping on my own heart. He suddenly got out of the car and quickly walked to open the passenger door. A young girl, gently stroking her belly, was carefully helped out by him. 2 The girl kissed his cheek coquettishly, lifting her left hand to admire it back and forth. I saw a silver ring on the ring finger of her left hand. “Liam, the ring you made yourself is so beautiful. If the baby knows his daddy loves mommy so much, he’ll look forward to coming into this world too.” Liam lovingly took off his coat and draped it over her, then bent down to stroke the girl’s bulging belly gently. “Daddy is also looking forward to him coming to me soon.” Watching this scene, I smiled, but as I smiled, tears flowed down. For seven years of loving each other, Liam kept a distance of three meters from any woman other than me. For a time, people thought he had a phobia of women. He didn’t care, only saying this was the sense of propriety a married man should keep towards the opposite sex. Later, he even bought a book called “The Standard of Male Virtue” and studied it every day. I laughed at him for being childish, but he only said he wanted to give me a full sense of security. He said his love was only for me. But now, he shared a portion of his love with the woman pregnant with his child. I watched quietly until Liam felt my burning gaze, and our eyes met. He instantly straightened up, the girl in his arms suddenly becoming a hot potato. Liam let go of the hand around the woman’s waist and ran straight to me. He nervously cupped my face with both hands, then held my hands, his face full of heartache. “Sarah, why are you so cold? Why are you crying? Don’t scare me.” The concern in his eyes was absolutely genuine, making my heart soften for a moment. But the girl with the huge pregnant belly behind him was constantly reminding me that his concern was just a joke. The girl was fearless, holding her belly with one hand and stroking it gently with the other, raising her head proudly and staring straight at me. I threw off Liam’s hands, took two steps back, and asked him weakly, as if using my last breath: “Who is she? Is the child in her belly… yours?” In this moment, I bet our seven years together and all my courage on this thin line. A desperate gamble. As long as he denied it, as long as he said himself that the child wasn’t his, I would be willing to believe him, willing to forget all this pain and betrayal. However, the girl’s low, clear sobbing from not far away, like fate’s mockery, shattered my last fantasy. A flash of guilt passed through Liam’s eyes. He closed his eyes painfully, and after opening them again, he pursed his lips and said the destructive words: “It’s mine.” I lost all strength instantly and fell heavily to the ground. Supporting myself, I scraped the skin off my palms. Liam hurriedly knelt in front of me, his eyes full of heartache and anxiety: “Sarah, you can hit me or scold me, but don’t hurt yourself like this.” His voice was almost pleading. He held my hands, wiping the wounds for me. Suddenly, he paused, his voice losing composure: “Sarah, where is your wedding ring?” I pulled my hand back, smiled mockingly, and signaled with my eyes, “Isn’t it on her hand? One ring of the same kind is enough.” Hearing this, his eyes panicked, his mouth opened and closed several times, but he couldn’t say anything. Suddenly, he raised his hand and slapped himself hard twice. The force was so great that red swollen palm prints immediately appeared on his cheeks. At this moment, the girl quickly stepped forward, shielding Liam behind her. Although her voice trembled, it carried a firmness. “Ms. Sterling, I am Chloe, Liam and I are both victims, please don’t blame him!” There were tears in her eyes, yet she still tried to protect Liam. Liam’s face sank, his voice hard and cold as ice. “Sarah is my wife, you should call her Mrs. Foster!” His words revealed unquestionable authority. Chloe shrank slightly and spoke firmly: “Mrs. Foster, believe me, I’m only 23. If it weren’t for Liam’s mother… I wouldn’t have kept this child at all!” As soon as her words fell, Liam’s unfocused eyes suddenly looked at her, subconsciously blurting out: “No!” In this moment, I understood that between us, there was no future anymore. 3 I didn’t question him further, just letting Liam drive me home. In the car, he explained the ins and outs of that accident to me: Nine months ago, he was on a business trip and was drugged by a competitor, mistakenly entering Chloe’s room. After that accident, he gave her a sum of compensation and told her to disappear from Bay City. But he didn’t expect her to get pregnant. And when my mother-in-law found out, she brought her back from abroad and was determined to keep the child. I knew deeply my mother-in-law’s obsession with children. Seven years ago, Liam and I were on a cruise for our honeymoon, but the ship hit an iceberg and lost buoyancy instantly. While falling into the sea, Liam’s leg was broken by a falling heavy object to protect me. He used his last strength to throw the lifebuoy to me, urging me to escape first. But how could I bear to abandon him? I chose to stay. Holding him up, preventing him from sinking into the sea. When the rescue team finally arrived, I had been soaked in the biting cold seawater for a day and a night. Liam recovered soon after, but I lost our child in that accident, and the road to fertility became extremely difficult from then on. Since then, Liam’s feelings for me deepened. He said we shared life and death, swearing no matter what happened, he would never separate from me. However, my mother-in-law was extremely dissatisfied with me being unable to bear children. Now, facing this sudden grandson, it’s not hard to imagine how she would defend him with all her might. In the car, Liam held my hand guiltily, his voice low: “Sarah, this really was an accident…” I looked straight into his eyes, suppressing the bitterness, and asked him: “The child or me, who do you choose?” He fell into silence. But I got the answer. Pulling back the hand he held tightly, I turned to look at the bustling night view outside the window. My relationship with Liam was the same. Prosperous for seven years, it was finally coming to an end. After arriving home, Liam gently pulled me. He found the first aid kit and wanted to apply medicine to my palms: “Promise me, don’t hurt yourself in the future, it hurts me to death.” I didn’t respond to him, just pulled my hand back, went to the room, and locked the door. Soon, a gentle knock sounded. Liam’s coaxing voice came from outside: “Sarah, please say something to me, okay? I’m very worried about you.” I covered my head directly with the quilt to sleep. Waking up the next day, I wore all black, looking at the photo of me and my parents on the bedside table, my eyes wet. Five years ago, they died in a car accident, and today was the anniversary of their death. I still remember that day, watching them being covered with white cloth, crying silently. It was Liam who held me, comforting: “Sarah, don’t be afraid, you still have me.” It was also him who knelt before my parents’ graves and promised, He would love me for a lifetime, and he would accompany me to pay respects every year, letting them see how well I was taken care of by him. The door suddenly opened, and Liam walked in looking haggard, eyes bloodshot. “You have the key, why didn’t you come in last night?” I asked coldly. He squatted down to help me put on slippers, “Consider it my punishment. I’m healthy, not sleeping for a night doesn’t matter. If I came in, you wouldn’t sleep well. Put on slippers, don’t catch a cold.” My nose soured, and I blurted out: “Do you remember what day it is today?” Liam looked at me seriously, “Of course, the anniversary of Mom and Dad’s death, how could I forget.” He got up and actively prepared things for the offering. Suddenly he glanced at a message on my phone placed on the table. Seeing the content, he paused abruptly, picked up the phone and asked me: “You booked a flight ticket?” My expression didn’t change, calmly explaining: “I originally wanted to travel with you, but felt the time wasn’t right, so I canceled it.” He opened his mouth to ask more, but his phone rang. “Liam! I fell and my stomach hurts so much! Seems like I’m bleeding! What should I do!” Liam became visibly nervous, completely forgetting about the ticket. He held my hand, pleading in his eyes. “Sarah, I’ll just go take a look, I swear I’ll come back!” He turned and ran into the car, stepped on the gas, and disappeared around the corner. Tears dripped onto the ground. I raised my hand to wipe them away, but found I couldn’t finish wiping them. I went to the cemetery alone, waited until dark, and talked to my parents all day. Returning home, I started packing my luggage. Liam didn’t rush back until midnight. He hugged me tightly, constantly saying sorry. I let him hug me, speechless. This night, our world seemed to be split in half. His embrace was warm and familiar, but my heart felt an unprecedented distance. 4 The next morning, Liam was gone from the bedside. Only a note he left: [Urgent matter at the company, I went first. Made breakfast for you, remember to eat.] He didn’t know, this morning, at the crack of dawn, I heard the call Chloe made to him. It was Chloe who called him away. Looking at the breakfast on the table, I suddenly felt nauseous. A thought rose in my heart, and I took a taxi to the hospital. Looking at the pregnancy test report, I laughed until I cried. The doctor looked at me with sympathy and asked softly: “Are you a single mother? Do you want to keep the child? With your constitution, if you abort this child, you won’t be able to conceive again.” Leaving the hospital, I took a taxi to the villa worth a hundred million that Liam gave me. Looking at the two words “Sarah’s Garden” carved on the big rock in front of the villa, And the line of words written by Liam himself below: [Holding Sarah’s hand, destined for a hundred years of harmony.] I only felt irony. This was given to me by Liam, our exclusive “love nest”. Except for servants, no other woman was ever allowed to enter. But at this moment, I saw Chloe appearing in front of the villa. She looked at me proudly and provoked: “The legendary Sarah’s Garden is nothing special, I got in easily anyway.” “Heard this is your love nest? But Mrs. Foster said this place is best for nurturing the baby, so Liam let me move in. You’re not angry, right?” “Afraid I’d bump or hurt myself, Liam changed all the furniture. It’s all my favorite style~” I looked around this villa that was unrecognizable, the bitterness surging in my heart almost suffocating me. Memories flooded back like a tide, clearly emerging before my eyes. On our third wedding anniversary, Liam knelt on one knee and handed the key to this villa to me. “Sarah, I won’t let anyone step in here. This place has the mark of our love, it’s a world exclusively for the two of us.” This place was once the sanctuary of our love, but now he personally gave it to another woman. I felt all my strength drained, almost unable to stand. Chloe stared at me with jealousy and hatred. And I could only lean weakly against the door, my heart filled with endless sorrow and despair. This place once full of love has now become the witness of my heartbreak. “So how long are you going to occupy the position of Mrs. Foster? Can’t you see Liam’s preference and bias for me and the child?” Chloe’s words were full of provocation. Occupy? I smiled bitterly, a sense of powerlessness rising in my heart. Suddenly, my gaze fell on a corner of the empty living room, where my parents’ memorial photos were originally placed, but now they were gone. “Where are my parents’ photos?!” My volume suddenly increased, voice trembling, eyes full of disbelief. “Such unlucky things were of course thrown away by Liam~” Chloe smiled faintly, speaking contemptuously, as if discussing something trivial. I glared at her, and she reluctantly took out the photos. Then, right in front of me, the corners of her mouth raised in a smile, and she lit the photos with a lighter. I pounced violently trying to extinguish the fire. Chloe took the opportunity to fall to the ground, then cried out in pain. I couldn’t hear her screams clearly, only focused on putting out the fire. But Liam’s incredulous roar suddenly sounded in my ear: “Sarah, why did you push her?!” Ignoring the fire burning my hands, I extinguished it. Looking up, I found Liam didn’t look at me once, instead panicking to pick up Chloe and leave. Looking at my hands red and blistered from the burns, I felt this seven-year marriage was really just a joke. After rinsing the burns with cold water, I started cleaning up the mess here. My mother-in-law suddenly appeared and slapped me hard. “You hen that can’t lay eggs, a jinx! If anything happens to my grandson, I won’t let you off!” Liam, who returned, hurried over to stop her. He finally ran to me, grabbed my hands, and applied ointment painfully. Seeing his mother still wanting to make a scene, Liam said: “She’s giving birth over there.” His mother left immediately. After she left, Liam carefully observed my expression, finally choosing his words carefully: “Sarah, Chloe is young, she made you unhappy, but you shouldn’t have pushed her.” “I pushed her?” My voice was full of disbelief. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I apologized to her for you, she won’t blame you.” One sentence convicted me. Fatigue and powerlessness hit me, I didn’t want to explain anymore. Liam had already chosen to believe Chloe between us. Seven years of marriage couldn’t compare to a new love known for less than a year. Watching Liam carefully blowing on my wound but obviously distracted, thinking of the fleeting smile in his eyes when he said she was giving birth just now. I touched my belly. He made the decision about the child for me.

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It was one in the morning when the neighbor from upstairs hammered on my door, claiming a burst pipe was flooding their apartment and he wanted to check if we were affected. I reached for the knob, but before my fingers closed around it, the text exploded across my vision. [DO NOT OPEN THE DOOR! THAT’S NOT YOUR NEIGHBOR!] [Didn’t the old guy upstairs go to Malaysia last week to find his second spring? NO ONE is up there!] I snatched my hand back from the cool brass of the doorknob. Just then, the emergency alert pinged from the building’s official text message service. [ALERT: Unit 1307 has experienced a major plumbing failure. Property management will inspect the entire line. Unit 1207: Please open your door so we can check your ceiling for seepage.] My unit. The Scrolling Feed rolled across my sight again. [Who does plumbing checks at 1 AM?! They’re working together!] [Be a good girl, Liz, hide and wait! Your True Love Hero will descend from the heavens to save you!!] I gave a curt nod, as if acknowledging the voices. Then I turned, grabbed my emergency climbing rope, and, to the digital screams of the Feed, I shot out the balcony window. I was reborn. Last lifetime, I’d listened to these idiotic voices and lived a miserable life. This time, I’d rather fall to my death than become a baby factory. 1 I hung suspended nearly a hundred feet in the air, my fingers locked white on the window ledge. The heavy, frantic thudding against the front door was a drumbeat against my ribs, shocking me into a cold sweat. [Why isn’t Liz waiting in the room for the Male Lead? Why is she being so reckless?] [If Liz dies, who will the Male Lead have his sweet romance with? Go back inside! He will protect you!] I gritted my teeth, rage boiling in my chest at the sheer, blinding stupidity of the comments. Last life, I had hidden, waiting for a savior. The result? Mitch—the man outside my door now—had smashed his way in, slashed my face, broken my legs, and brutalized me. Only when I was half-dead did the so-called savior, Owen Parker, finally arrive. He heroically subdued Mitch for the police, rushed me to the hospital, and was the image of the attentive, caring man. He married me in my dazed, traumatized state. Everyone called me lucky. So lucky to have a good man like Owen marry me, even after what had happened. I married him and birthed three children in quick succession, living what appeared to be a perfectly happy, complete life. But the sweet romance was a lie. Owen had strong-armed me into marriage, seized my massive inheritance from my deceased parents, and imprisoned me in that house, using me as a human incubator. The truth slipped out one night when he was blackout drunk: he had hired Mitch. He knew I was alone with a fortune. The assault, the rescue—it was all a grotesque plot to acquire my wealth. Discovering the truth, I set the house on fire, taking him with me. But God, or fate, gave me a second chance. A rebirth. In this life, Owen Parker would never succeed. The cold air whipped past, extinguishing the fury and restoring a sharp, cold logic. I analyzed the building’s exterior—narrow window ledges, barely palm-width. My only path was to traverse them, reach the stairwell window, and crawl inside. I focused, mapping the route in my mind like a complex climbing pitch. The massive CRASH of the door giving way sent a fresh surge of adrenaline through me, signaling that time was up. Go, Eliza, go. I bit down hard on my inner cheek and began to edge sideways. My fingers ached, but the two-meter span felt like a mile. Just as Owen opened the window to peer out, I flipped over the ledge and tumbled into the pitch-black stairwell. I collapsed onto the cold concrete landing, gasping, weak-limbed, but an electrifying joy shot through me. The Feed, however, was in chaos. [Liz is so brave! She actually ran away! What about the Male Lead?] [Don’t worry. Our Liz is a damsel in distress. That was just a fluke escape. The Male Lead will still have his hero moment!] I scoffed at the idiotic comments. They called me “Liz,” but their loyalty was entirely to the “Male Lead,” not caring if I lived or died. The pure, unadulterated cult of the savior. Taking a deep breath, I kept low and moved quickly down the stairs while Mitch was still searching my apartment. I reached the ground floor and my heart sank. The exterior security door was bolted shut. That monster had locked the entire building, trapping me inside. The irritating Feed scrolled across my eyes again: [Liz, stop running! Find a place to hide and wait for the Male Lead to rescue you.] [Why is a girl so strong-willed? Isn’t it better to be a small, cherished wife in a man’s arms? All you need to do is have babies to be happy.] [The Male Lead is going to be a future investment magnate, he won’t mistreat you!] I felt a surge of bile. With my parents’ money and connections, any idiot could become an investment magnate! That wicked, criminal sociopath, a “Male Lead”? The Feed’s moral compass was utterly broken. The windows on the lower five floors were barred with heavy security grates—no jumping out there. Mitch would be coming back down. I had to run. Where? I forced my gaze away from the Feed and focused on escape. Think, Eliza, think. An idea sparked: the old climbing adage, “The darkest place is under the lamp.” Mitch would search for me away from my apartment. He wouldn’t expect me to double back. I started moving immediately, carefully ascending the stairs. I was breathless in the darkness, every step cautious, terrified of running right into Mitch. Reaching the fifteenth floor, I heard frantic footsteps above—he was descending. I pressed myself against the doorframe, praying Mitch wouldn’t pause on the landing. Clang! The motion-sensor light clicked on. Heavy footsteps approached from above. A thick shadow stopped on the landing, then started toward the door leading to the residential hallway. I watched the shadow stretch toward me and felt a cold despair. My body trembled. Was this it? Was I caught already? 2 The flimsy door was flung open, but Mitch only gave a cursory glance at the empty landing before turning to continue his search down the stairs. Hanging in a wide-legged straddle above the door frame, my lips were bloodless, my limbs shaking. He didn’t look up. I let out a silent, shaky sigh of relief and slowly dropped to the ground. Thank God for my climbing obsession; my upper body strength had saved me. I waited until the landing light went out, then crept upward toward my floor. I reached my front door—or what was left of it—and slipped inside, running straight for the master bedroom. I locked the door and scrambled into the walk-in closet, curling up amongst the coats. Only in that tight, dark space did a sliver of safety return. I pulled out my phone to dial 911, only to find I had no signal. Damn it. My heart sank. I immediately regretted moving into this brand-new development where few units were occupied. No neighbors to call on. As I frantically tried to think of a next step, the sickening comments reappeared: [Oh good, Liz is using her phone! She doesn’t know the Male Lead installed a tracker/trigger app! One call to the police and it alerts him!] [She can’t escape now! Get ready for the hero’s rescue and the start of a beautiful, redemptive, forced romance!] A cold jolt ran through me, and I nearly dropped the phone. But I forced myself to hold on. I needed the Feed for intel. They could not know I could see them. I climbed out, feigning panic, and quickly changed into my most athletic gear. I deliberately left the phone nestled under a pile of scarves in the closet. Heavy footsteps sounded outside the bedroom door. I scanned the room and snatched up a heavy brass lamp from the bedside table, taking position behind the door. The footsteps stopped. Mitch’s harsh, raspy voice sliced through the silence. “Don’t hide, Eliza Reed. I know you’re in there.” “Come out now, and it’ll be less painful…” I stood rigid, lamp in hand, waiting to launch my attack. BAM! BAM! BAM! Mitch began slamming against the door. His voice grew furious, laced with a familiar, toxic resentment. “Women are supposed to get married, have kids, and serve their men!” “You non-marrying, non-birthing gold-diggers are a plague on society! I’m doing a public service, I’m going to teach you how to be a good, proper wife and mother…” I listened to his vile sermon, the ice in my eyes hardening. The thin door quickly splintered. It was about to give. I carefully released the deadbolt. When Mitch slammed against the door one last time, I pulled it open and flung myself to the ground. I timed it perfectly. As he stumbled forward, I swung the lamp with all my remaining strength at the back of his head. A flicker of triumph died immediately. The staggering Mitch somehow twisted, raising the claw hammer he held to block the blow. His yellowed teeth split into a sickening smile. “Eliza Reed, you should just lie down and wait for me.” He lunged. My jumping heart stalled for a second, then kicked back into overdrive. I lifted my foot and drove it hard between his legs, then spun around and ran. “Aargh! You little bitch! I’ll kill you!” Mitch shrieked, doubled over, staring at me with pure venom. He swung the hammer wildly, catching me as I scrambled away. I tripped and landed hard on my left shoulder. Excruciating pain shot down my arm. Fractured. My face was contorted with agony, but I didn’t waste a second. I crawled up and bolted for the door. The Feed was screaming: [Liz, stop struggling! You can’t fight a man! Just surrender to the Male Lead’s embrace!] [He’s waiting on the thirteenth floor! Just knock, and he’ll open! Don’t waste time!] 3 The sight of the Feed, directing me straight to Owen, stiffened my resolve: I would die before I went to the thirteenth floor. Gritting my teeth against the searing pain, I stumbled toward the elevator, stabbing at the down button. “You bitch! Where are you going to run?” Mitch’s bellow echoed behind me. I nervously swallowed as I watched the elevator indicator slowly descend. Too slow. I spun around and staggered toward the fire exit stairwell. I slammed the heavy steel door shut, twisted the deadbolt, and ran down. I ran and ran, my mind racing. The entire unit was locked down. My only chance was to reach the second unit—Unit B—and try to escape that side of the building. To do that, I had to lose Mitch. A plan flashed into my newly clear mind. I spotted a stack of flattened moving boxes and cardboard debris piled near the utility closet. I have to take the risk. I sucked in a breath and charged back to the elevator, hammering the ‘Open’ button, my eyes fixed on the descending floor number. Mitch was close. The elevator doors opened. I ripped off my jacket and tossed it inside, then slammed the button for the lobby. I pulled my hand back just as the doors closed. I quickly pulled off my hair tie, dropped it conspicuously near the elevator, and dove into the pile of cardboard boxes, folding myself into a tight ball. Seconds later, rapid footsteps arrived, getting closer. Through a small gap in the boxes, I saw the thick shadow stop right in front of my hiding place. My heart hammered against my ribs. I froze, praying, Don’t look down, don’t look down. Mitch paused, then moved toward the elevator doors, which had just opened on the ground floor. He let out a scoff of contempt, then turned and ran back toward the stairwell, pounding down the flights. When the sound of his footsteps completely faded, I sagged against the floor. Time was critical. Dragging my aching body, I reached the corridor connecting the two building units. The door was locked. I used my good arm to smash the glass windowpane next to the door, carefully climbed through the jagged opening, and found myself in Unit B. I sprinted down to the ground floor. My stomach twisted with fresh despair. That door, too, was secured with a thick, heavy steel chain. I bit my lip. No escape at the ground floor. I ran back up to the sixth floor, intending to use the narrow ledge and my climbing skills to jump to the ground-level landscaping. As I reached the sixth floor, a door opened. A man in flashy loungewear and heavy eyeliner, clutching a bag of recycling, was heading toward the stairs. I saw a lifeline and grabbed his arm, the words spilling out, laced with a desperate sob. “Someone is trying to kill me! Please, you have to let me hide in your apartment!” The young man was startled, but he quickly ushered me inside, throwing his recycling down. He spoke in a bright, concerned voice. “Don’t worry, sis. I’ll call the police right now.” He pulled out his phone, frowning. “Damn. No signal?” Exhausted, I collapsed onto his sofa. “The man… he’s using a signal jammer to block calls.” The young man muttered, “That’s messed up. Hey, don’t worry, my door is solid steel. They aren’t getting in here. You just stay here until daylight, and I’ll take you to the station myself.” I forced a grateful smile. “Thank you. Where’s the bathroom?” He pointed. As I entered the restroom, washed my hands with cold water, the Feed returned. [The Male Lead is so smart! He anticipated Liz’s movements and was waiting in this unit!] [Liz finally walked into the trap, teehee! The Male Lead prepared a special dark room for her! The exciting, sweet, forced romance is about to begin!] I stared at the comments, an icy dread creeping up my spine. My teeth ground together. 4 I started to re-examine the man. His face was obscured by thick makeup. He’d casually mentioned he was a streamer, but there was no camera, ring light, or even a decent PC setup in the living room. I was too trusting. “Sis, you alright in there?” His voice, muffled through the door, carried a faint edge of doubt. I watched the shadow on the bathroom door. He was holding something long—a rope. In a panic, I cranked the shower handle, letting the water blast out. I shouted back, “Hey, sorry! I think I need a quick shower. I’ll be a minute!” The voice outside chuckled. “Take your time, sis.” The shadow disappeared. I wiped a stray tear from my eye and frantically searched for a new escape. My eyes fell on the window’s blackout curtains. The rushing water masked the sound of my efforts. I yanked the curtains down and tore them into long strips, tying them together. I tested the knots, then climbed out the window. The makeshift rope was not long enough. It stopped just above the third floor. Dangling in the dark, I looked down at the lawn, took a deep breath, and let go. I landed hard on the soft grass, rolling several times and slamming into a decorative garden bench before I stopped. My entire body screamed with pain. I managed a quiet sob, pulled myself up, and began to limp away. [Why is Liz so stubborn? Isn’t it better to just enjoy being the Male Lead’s pet?] [It’s fine. When she gets to the gate, she’ll find out the guard is paid off. She can’t escape the complex.] The Feed had given me my next direction. I immediately changed course and headed for the underground parking garage. I stared at the empty, echoing space with despair. Those monsters would find me here. Five hours until dawn. Where could I possibly hide? Heavy footsteps echoed in the garage. I saw only a few cars scattered across the vast space. Desperate, I dove under the nearest large SUV. I saw four legs approaching. Mitch’s foul cursing reached my ears: “That little bitch can really run. I’m going to have so much fun with her when I catch her.” “Hold on, Mitch. No fun until the wedding. What you’re doing is a felony right now. Once she’s my wife, you can do whatever you want.” Owen’s cultured voice was soft, but the icy malice in it made me tremble violently. “The little fool hurt her shoulder and leg. She can’t be far. Let’s search the cars.” I was flat on the concrete, watching their shoes as they started their meticulous search, even peering under the vehicles. As they began to approach the SUV I was under, the blackness of utter despair welled up in my heart. Was I really going to be caught?

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Chapter 1: The Girl Who Didn’t Cry Pain is the world’s most primal language. It’s the universal alarm system, the scream that says, “Stop, you are dying.” I was born deaf to that scream. My name is Nora Vance. In the sprawling, manicured estate of the Vance political dynasty in Upstate New York, I was known simply as “The Spare.” Or, if the servants thought I couldn’t hear them, “The Ghost.” My twin sister, Nova, was the masterpiece. She was the vibrant oil painting—full of color, passion, and fire. I was the rough sketch, discarded in the trash bin. Nova was the daughter who would inherit my father’s Senate seat. I was the daughter who had to be watched constantly, not because I was precious, but because I would chew through my own lip until it bled and not even notice. I remember sitting in the rose garden when I was six. I was fascinated by the thorns. They looked like little shark teeth. I grabbed a stem and squeezed. I watched, with a detached, scientific curiosity, as the blood welled up between my fingers, thick and crimson. It didn’t hurt. It felt like… warm water. Nothing more. My mother found me. She didn’t hug me. She screamed. Not in fear for me, but in horror of me. “She’s doing it again!” she shrieked to the nanny. “Fix her! Bandage her! God, she’s like a monster.” Monster. That was the label that stuck. While Nova was learning piano and ballet, I was undergoing tests in sterile white rooms. The doctors called it CIPA—Congenital Insensitivity to Pain with Anhidrosis. “She can’t feel pain, heat, or cold,” the neurologist told my father, Senator Vance. “She lacks the nerves to protect herself. She is a danger to herself.” My father looked at me with the same expression he wore when he looked at a polling chart that was trending downward. Disappointment. Liability. “Keep her alive,” he ordered. “But keep her out of sight. We have an image to maintain.” So, I grew up in the shadows. I learned to fake it. I learned that when you fall down, you are supposed to cry. I learned that when you touch a hot stove, you are supposed to jerk your hand back, even if your brain registers zero sensation. I became an actress in my own life, performing humanity for an audience that wished I didn’t exist. Until the day the Thorne Family came calling. Chapter 2: The Deal with the Devil The summons came on a Tuesday. I was in the library, reading a book on anatomy—trying to understand intellectually what I couldn’t feel physically—when my father walked in. He didn’t knock. He never knocked for me. “Nora,” he said. He was wearing his campaign smile, the one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Put the book down. We need to talk.” I placed a bookmark on page 42. “Yes, sir.” “You know the Thorne family,” he started, pacing the room. “They control the shipping lanes. The unions. The… darker side of the city’s infrastructure.” “The Mafia,” I corrected calmly. “We call them ‘strategic partners,’” he snapped. “The Thornes and the Vances have been at each other’s throats for a decade. A truce has been negotiated. A merger.” He stopped pacing and looked at me. “A marriage.” I blinked. “Nova is dating the Governor’s son. You wouldn’t break that engagement.” “Not Nova,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You.” I stared at him. “Me?” “Declan Thorne,” he said. The name landed in the room like a grenade. Declan Thorne. The youngest son of the Thorne patriarch. The “Mad Dog.” Rumor had it he was cursed. Unstable. Violent. “He’s a widower,” I said. “Three times over.” “Unfortunate accidents,” my father waved his hand dismissively. “Heart failure. Car crash. Suicide. The police never found evidence of foul play.” “The tabloids call him ‘The Bluebeard of Brooklyn,’” I pointed out. “They say he kills them when he gets bored.” “He is powerful,” my father stepped closer, looming over me. “And he requested a Vance daughter. He didn’t specify which one.” I understood then. The realization washed over me, cold and logical. Nova was the asset. I was the expendable currency. If Declan Thorne killed his fourth wife, the Vances would lose nothing but a liability. In fact, my death would probably garner my father sympathy votes in the next election. “He is dangerous,” my father said, looking at my hands—scarred from years of accidental burns and cuts. “But you… you’re tough, Nora. You don’t break like normal girls. You don’t feel things.” He touched my cheek. His hand was cold, but I assumed it was supposed to feel warm. “Do this for the family. Do this, and you’ll finally have a purpose.” A purpose. To be a sacrificial lamb. “Okay,” I said. My voice didn’t tremble. Why would it? I couldn’t feel the sting of betrayal any more than I could feel a knife cut. “Okay,” I repeated. “I’ll marry the monster.” Chapter 3: The Fortress of Solitude The wedding was a private affair. No press. No white dress. Just a signature on a prenup that was thicker than a bible, and a black car ride to Declan Thorne’s estate. He didn’t live in a house. He lived in a fortress. A brutalist concrete mansion perched on a cliff overlooking the Hudson River, surrounded by electric fences and guards with assault rifles. I was ushered into the master bedroom by a silent maid. “Wait here,” she said. “Mr. Thorne will be up shortly.” I sat on the edge of the bed. The sheets were black silk. Everything in the room was sharp edges and chrome. It felt like an operating theater. The door opened. Declan Thorne walked in. He was not what I expected. The tabloids usually showed blurry photos of a man in a suit, looking angry. In person, he was… overwhelming. He was tall, over six-three, with broad shoulders that strained against his white dress shirt. His hair was dark, cropped short. But it was his eyes that caught me. They weren’t dead, like I expected from a serial killer. They were frantic. Alert. Paranoiac. He scanned the room as he entered, checking corners, checking the window locks. He looked at me. His gaze was physical, a heavy weight pressing down. “So,” he said. His voice was deep, gravelly—the sound of tires on a dirt road. “You’re the sacrifice.” “I’m Nora,” I said, standing up. “Nora. Nova. Whatever,” he scoffed. He locked the door behind him. “Did your father give you the speech? Duty? Honor? Family?” “He told me to survive.” “Optimistic of him,” Declan laughed, a dry, humorless bark. He walked toward me. I didn’t flinch. I stood perfectly still, my hands clasped in front of me. He stopped inches from my face. He smelled of whiskey and gun oil. “Strip,” he ordered. I blinked. “Excuse me?” “You heard me. Take it off. The dress. The shoes. Everything.” I hesitated. Was this it? The abuse? “Why?” I asked. “Because,” he snarled, reaching out and grabbing my arm. His grip was bruisingly tight. “The last wife tried to bring a wire into the bedroom. The one before that had a ceramic knife taped to her inner thigh. I’m not getting killed in my sleep by a politician’s daughter.” He wasn’t a predator. He was prey. He was terrified. “I’m not an assassin,” I said. “That’s exactly what an assassin would say.” He spun me around. He patted me down. Rough, efficient hands. He checked the hem of my dress. He checked my hair. Then, he reached into the pocket of my blazer. He pulled out a small, silver object. “Aha,” he said triumphantly. “What is this? Poison? A dart gun?” I looked at it. “It’s an EpiPen. I’m allergic to peanuts.” He stared at it. He uncapped it, sniffed it, and then tossed it onto the bed. He reached into the other pocket. He pulled out a Swiss Army Knife. “And this?” he raised an eyebrow. “For peeling apples, I assume?” “Self-defense,” I said honestly. “The city is dangerous.” “You bring a two-inch blade to kill me?” He laughed again, tossing the knife across the room. It clattered against the wall. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “Who sent you? Your father? The Russians? The Board?” “No one,” I said. My head rattled, but I kept my eyes focused on his tie. “I’m just the spare daughter, Declan. I’m here because Nova was too valuable to waste on you.” He froze. He looked at my face, searching for fear. He didn’t find any. “You’re not scared,” he whispered, suspicious. “Why aren’t you scared? I’m hurting you.” He squeezed harder. His nails dug into my skin. I knew, logically, that it should hurt. I knew my skin was bruising. “You’re wrinkling my dress,” I said flatly. He let go of me as if I had burned him. He stepped back, looking at me with total confusion. “You’re a freak,” he muttered. “A robot.” He walked to the closet and pulled out a pillow and a blanket. He threw them onto the floor. “Sleep there,” he commanded. “If you move toward the bed, I shoot you. If you get up to use the bathroom, you announce it. Clear?” I looked at the floor. It was polished concrete. Hard. Cold. “Clear,” I said. I lay down on the floor, pulling the thin blanket over me. I closed my eyes. The floor was uncomfortable, I assumed. But to me, it was just a surface. I fell asleep to the sound of Declan Thorne checking the safety on his handgun, over and over again. Click. Click. Click. Chapter 4: The Tea Ceremony The next morning, I woke up because a boot nudged my ribs. “Get up,” Declan said. “We have to go to the Ancestral House. The Chairman wants to see the new merchandise.” The Chairman was Declan’s grandfather. The Emperor of the underworld. We drove in silence. Declan drove like a maniac, weaving through traffic, constantly checking his mirrors. The Ancestral House was an old Victorian mansion in the middle of the city, an island of gothic architecture amidst skyscrapers. Inside, the air was thick with incense and tension. We were led to a tea room. An old man sat on a tatami mat. He looked frail, like a dried leaf, but his eyes were black holes. The Chairman. “Grandfather,” Declan bowed stiffly. “Declan,” the old man wheezed. “And the Vance girl.” I bowed. “Sir.” “Sit,” the Chairman ordered. We sat. A servant poured tea. The steam rising from the cups was thick. “Your father,” the Chairman said to me, “is a snake. But snakes have their uses.” He picked up his cup. “Drink. It is a tradition. A toast to the union.” I picked up the cup. It was porcelain, thin and delicate. It was also boiling hot. The servant had poured it straight from the kettle. I could see the heat radiating from the ceramic. Normal people would wait. They would blow on it. But the Chairman was watching me. Testing me. If I hesitated, I showed weakness. If I showed weakness, I shamed Declan. If I shamed Declan, the alliance might crumble. I didn’t hesitate. I lifted the cup. My fingers didn’t send warning signals. I brought it to my lips. I drank. The liquid was scalding. It must have been near boiling point. I felt the texture of the liquid sliding down my throat, but not the burn. I didn’t wince. I didn’t tear up. I set the cup down. “Excellent tea,” I said politely. The room went silent. The Chairman stared at me. He looked at my lips, which were turning a bright, angry red. He looked at my hands, which were blistering where I held the cup. “You…” the Chairman narrowed his eyes. “You have iron skin, girl?” Declan was staring at me too. His jaw was unclenched for the first time. He looked… horrified. “She’s burned,” Declan said abruptly. He grabbed my hand. “Look at her skin. It’s peeling.” “I’m fine,” I said. “It’s just tea.” “It’s boiling water!” Declan snapped. He turned to his grandfather. “Is this a test? Or did you just try to melt her throat?” “She drank it,” the Chairman chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. “She drank it without blinking. The Vances breed them tough. Good. Maybe this one will survive you, Declan.” Declan stood up, pulling me with him. “We’re leaving,” he growled. He dragged me out of the room, ignoring the Chairman’s laughter. Chapter 5: Ointment and Lies Back in the car, Declan didn’t start the engine immediately. He turned on the dome light and grabbed my face. “Open your mouth,” he ordered. “Why?” “Open it!” I opened my mouth. He peered inside. “Christ,” he hissed. “Your tongue is blistered. Your palate is… s**t, Nora. Does it hurt?” “No,” I said. He froze. He looked into my eyes, searching for the lie. “What do you mean, no? You have third-degree burns inside your mouth.” “I have a high pain tolerance,” I lied. It was the standard Vance Family Lie. “Tolerance isn’t immunity,” he argued. He looked down at my hand. The blisters were rising, white and fluid-filled. He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a first-aid kit. He took out a tube of burn gel. “Give me your hand.” He applied the gel. His touch was surprisingly gentle for a man who threw knives at walls. His fingers were calloused, warm against my skin. “Why did you drink it?” he asked quietly, not looking at me. “He was testing us,” I said. “If I flinched, he would think I was weak. If I was weak, he would think you married a liability.” Declan stopped moving. He held my hand, staring at the blisters. “You burned yourself… for my reputation?” “I am your wife,” I recited the lines my father taught me. “Your reputation is my safety.” Declan let out a long, shaky breath. He looked at me, and for the first time, the paranoia in his eyes cracked. Behind it, I saw something else. Confusion. And maybe, just a flicker of respect. “You’re not a spy,” he murmured. “Spies don’t damage the merchandise.” “I told you,” I said. “I’m just the spare.” He finished bandaging my hand. He started the car. “We’re going home,” he said. “And you’re not sleeping on the floor tonight.” “The bed?” “The couch,” he corrected. “I still don’t trust you. But… I don’t think you’re going to kill me.” “Why not?” “Because,” he glanced at my bandaged hand as he merged onto the highway. “You’re too busy killing yourself.” Chapter 6: The Leftovers Life in the fortress settled into a strange rhythm. Declan was gone during the day, “managing the family business,” which I assumed involved shouting at union leaders and intimidating rivals. I stayed in the house. I explored. The house was cold. The kitchen was stocked with gourmet food, but the staff was terrified of Declan. They cooked elaborate meals that he never ate. One evening, Declan came home late. He found me in the kitchen. I was sitting at the island, eating cold lasagna straight from the Tupperware container. He stopped in the doorway, loosening his tie. He looked exhausted. There was a smear of blood on his shirt cuff—not his, I assumed. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Eating dinner,” I said, swallowing a bite. “That’s yesterday’s lasagna,” he said. “It’s cold.” “I know.” “Why aren’t you eating the fresh meal the chef prepared? There’s a steak in the warmer.” I shrugged. “I’m used to leftovers.” “Used to them?” He walked over, frowning. “You’re a Vance. You grew up in a mansion.” “I grew up in the West Wing,” I corrected. “My meals were sent up after Nova and my parents finished. Sometimes the trays sat in the hall for an hour. Cold food is… consistent. It doesn’t surprise you.” Declan stared at me. He looked at the cold, congealed cheese on my fork. He suddenly snatched the fork from my hand. “Hey,” I said. He took the Tupperware container and threw it into the trash. Clang. “We don’t eat garbage in this house,” he growled. He walked to the oven and pulled out the steak. He plated it. He poured a glass of red wine. He set it in front of me. “Eat,” he ordered. “Hot food.” “I can’t tell the difference in temperature,” I said, without thinking. He paused. “What?” I froze. I had slipped. “I mean… I don’t mind the temperature,” I corrected quickly. Declan leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. He was studying me again, with that intense, laser-like focus. “You didn’t flinch when I grabbed your arm on the wedding night,” he listed. “You drank boiling tea. You eat cold food. You walk around this house like a ghost.” He stepped closer. “And I saw you yesterday. In the garden.” My heart—which functioned perfectly well even if my nerves didn’t—skipped a beat. “I was pruning the roses,” I said. “I saw you catch a thorn,” he said. “It went deep. Into your thumb. You pulled it out and kept working. You didn’t even suck the wound.” He grabbed my hand again, ripping the bandage off my thumb. The cut was there, angry and red. “Why didn’t you react, Nora?” “I have a high tolerance,” I repeated the lie. “Bull****,” he whispered. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. A silver Zippo. He flicked it on. The flame danced, blue and yellow. “Put your hand over the flame,” he said. “Declan, don’t be crazy.” “Do it. If you have a high tolerance, you’ll still feel the heat. You’ll pull away before it burns. It’s instinct.” He moved the flame closer to my hand. I watched the fire. It was beautiful. Hypnotic. I felt the pressure of the heat wave, the displacement of air. But I felt no pain. My brain knew I should pull away. Act. Perform. But I was tired. I was so tired of pretending. And Declan… he was the first person who actually looked at me closely enough to notice the glitches in my performance. The flame touched my skin. I smelled the singed hair. The skin began to blister instantly. I didn’t move. I didn’t flinch. I watched it like I was watching a science experiment. Declan snapped the lighter shut. He shoved my hand away. He looked pale. He looked terrified. “You don’t feel it,” he whispered. The horror in his voice was genuine. “You don’t feel anything.” “CIPA,” I said quietly. “Congenital Insensitivity to Pain.” Silence stretched between us, heavy and thick. “You’re a monster,” he breathed. But the word lacked the venom my mother used. It sounded more like… recognition. “I know,” I said. “That’s why they gave me to you. The monster bride for the monster groom.” Declan looked at my burned hand. Then he looked at my face. “Does it apply to everything?” he asked. “Heartbreak? Fear? loneliness?” “Just physical pain,” I said. “The rest… the rest I feel just fine.” He let out a short, bitter laugh. “Well,” he said, turning to the drawer to get the burn ointment again. “That makes two of us. I feel too much of everything else, and you feel nothing of the one thing that keeps people alive.” He sat down next to me and started applying the salve. “You’re going to die if I don’t watch you,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. “Probably,” I agreed. “Not on my watch,” he grumbled. “Three dead wives is a pattern. Four is a statistic. I hate statistics.” He finished bandaging me. He didn’t let go of my hand. “Eat your steak,” he said. “Before it gets cold. I know you don’t care, but I do.” I picked up the knife and fork. I took a bite. It was warm. Or at least, I imagined it was. And for the first time in my life, the warmth didn’t just stop at my skin. It seeped in, just a little bit deeper.

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When Christian broke up with me for the nth time, I was pulling an all-nighter for my annual performance review. “Chloe, I’m giving you twenty minutes. Get to the club and apologize, or we’re done.” I instantly broke down. “This report is critical for my promotion. Can you pick another day to throw a tantrum?” His tone was light, dismissive. “Tantrum? Looks like your job is more important than me. Fine, let’s break up.” “Oh, and by the way, I can be pretty petty.” “Stopping your promotion is just one phone call away.” I slammed the phone down, furious. But suddenly, a stream of floating comments—like a Twitch chat—appeared in front of my eyes. [Does the FL (Female Lead) actually believe his threats? The ML (Male Lead) already secretly approved her promotion. He just wants to surprise her!] [As long as she shows she’d choose him over her career, he’d give her the CEO chair if she asked. He’d never actually ruin her future.] [Avoidant attachment style at its finest. Says ‘go away’ but means ‘hug me tight.’ He needs her to cling to him.] [The ML is literally standing outside her door right now, waiting for her to run out and comfort him. This angst is delicious!] I was skeptical, hand hovering over the doorknob to go find him. Then, a WeChat notification popped up. “Heard your promotion is dead in the water, Miss Zhou. Interested in jumping ship?” 1 I stared at the message from a user named “Wings.” After racking my brain, I ruled out a prank. Was this Christian using a burner account to test me? No. Christian was too arrogant for that. In our ten-year relationship, I was always the one to cave, to apologize. The drama of me rushing over to beg for forgiveness? We’d rehearsed it a thousand times. My unconditional love had made him fearless. So who was this? The floating comments gave me the answer immediately. [The ML’s arch-nemesis is trying to poach her! He overheard the ML on the phone in the club bathroom. He texted the FL the second he walked out. Ruthless.] [The FL isn’t just the ML’s girlfriend; she’s a key player at the company. Julian Gu, the rival CEO, naturally wants to steal talent.] [Let’s be real, Julian has been thirsting after the FL for ages. This is personal.] I narrowed my eyes. Julian Gu. My team beat his company, Gu Corp, in the last bidding war. At the after-party, people joked that we should connect. Back then, he didn’t even look at me. I stood there, smile freezing on my face, until he finally, coldly, let me scan his QR code. I thought he’d delete me the next day. Turns out, he kept me. But I only half-believed the comments. Christian never hid our relationship, but in public, he treated me with the cold detachment of a superior. To outsiders, I was just a corporate slave making $3,000 a month. Julian loved mocking Christian for it. “Finding a corporate slave who doubles as a free bed-warmer? Christian really is a brilliant businessman.” Julian looked down on me. His job offer felt less like an opportunity and more like a way to piss off Christian. I scrolled past his name. Christian’s assistant had sent a voice note. “Chloe, please come quick. Mr. Pei is drunk and refuses to leave.” He also sent a video of Christian making a scene. I hesitated, about to change clothes, then froze. There she was. Bella, giggling in the background at the 30-second mark. [The ML is pulling this stunt again. Calling the Second Female Lead over just to make the FL jealous.] [He knows she falls for it every time. Scare her a little, and she loses her mind.] [Go to him, girl! I bet my membership on it—if you apologize tonight, he’ll be on his knees waiting for you.] [I get the ML. Seeing your partner suffer over a breakup feels so validating. It proves they love you.] I was stunned. The floating text wasn’t a hallucination. They called me the FL, and Christian the ML. Christian was exactly as they described—always threatening breakups, waiting for me to salvage things. If I didn’t go, he’d get everyone around us to pressure me. But even when I went, he wouldn’t soften immediately. Last time, I took a red-eye train just to comfort him. I walked in, exhausted, and he didn’t even look at me. Instead, he leaned into Bella. “Who told her to come? I thought you had a backbone. Didn’t we break up?” But seconds later, his body betrayed him. He clung to me. That night, he wouldn’t let me go. Seven times. The next day, he showered me with bags and trips, overcompensating. I once asked him, “Aren’t you afraid I’ll run away if you treat me like this?” He buried his face in my neck. “Wifey would never leave me over something so small.” “Chloe, as long as you take one step toward me, I’ll walk the remaining ninety-nine steps to you.” But he didn’t know. After being tortured like this repeatedly… I didn’t want to take a single step anymore. I was too tired for this exhausting love. Seeing no reply from me, the assistant kept calling. I hesitated. Should I coax him one more time? Then Bella sent a message. “Christian says don’t bother coming. He wants me to watch the sunrise with him!” She sent a short video. “Christian, Chloe isn’t coming. Is she really breaking up with you?” Christian downed his drink. “We broke up. Don’t mention her.” “Didn’t you want to see the sunrise? Let’s go.” He glanced at the camera. He knew she was recording. I took a deep breath and threw my phone onto the couch. I turned back to my laptop. Optimizing my PPT. Instead of believing the comments about a secret promotion, I chose to believe in my own competence. I wasn’t Christian or Bella, born with a silver spoon. I grew up poor. I had to seize every opportunity myself. 2 Christian didn’t come home all night. I didn’t sleep a wink. The next morning, I walked into the office with a heavy heart. Christian was already there. Impeccably dressed. Stern face. Radiating the oppressive aura of a CEO. A complete 180 from the childish drunk he was last night. I presented my performance review nervously. When I finished, he applauded with everyone else. His gaze was calm, even friendly. I was confused. Did me ignoring him actually fix things? After the meeting, I noticed a small gift box on everyone’s desk. The Finance Director next to me eyes lit up. “Wow, having a CEO boyfriend is nice. You get a promotion, we get gifts?” The admin girl cleared her throat. “This is a welcome gift from the new Executive Assistant.” The Finance Director was shocked. “Everyone gets a limited edition perfume as a hello?” “What is this, a new way for rich kids to flex on us peasants?” The admin glanced at me uneasily. She pulled the Finance Director aside. “The new assistant is the only daughter of the Bai Group, our biggest client.” “Mr. Pei paid for the gifts. Said he wanted to help his childhood friend make a good impression.” Bella. I understood immediately. Bella had always wanted to work at Pei Corp to get close to Christian. The Bai family had proposed a marriage alliance multiple times. Christian had always refused because of me. But after one night, he agreed. And he put her in the CEO’s office as his private assistant. A position I, his official girlfriend, wasn’t allowed to hold. I tried not to think about what happened between them last night. I opened a file, trying to work. A colleague told me Christian was looking for me. I headed straight to his office. When I walked in, I saw Bella sitting on Christian’s desk, her back to me. Her waist, snatched in a pencil skirt, was leaning against Christian’s hand. My palms stung. I never thought I’d see Christian intimate with someone else. I coughed lightly. Bella jumped off the desk. Seeing it was me, her smile vanished. She pouted. “You’ve worked here for years, don’t you know how to knock?” I paused. I never knocked when entering Christian’s office. “Sorry. Next time you guys are doing something inappropriate, lock the door.” Christian, who was expecting me to explode, changed his expression slightly. But he kept his cool. “Did you need something, Mr. Pei?” He replied calmly, “The board decided to put your promotion on hold.” Bella shot me a triumphant look. I stared at my shoes. “Mhm.” He didn’t lie. Just because I didn’t baby him last night, he halted my career. It felt like a boulder crushing my chest. My eyes burned. Thanks to the floating comments, I was prepared enough to keep my composure. “Okay. Understood.” Silence stretched between us. Dead air. “If you want to fight for it…” I cut him off. “I don’t. If there’s nothing else, I’m leaving.” I turned quickly. He called out. “Also, the Project A account. Bella will handle it from now on. Hand it over to her today.” I whipped around. “What did you say?” I had spent six months prepping Project A. No days off. The stress was so bad I needed pills to sleep. This project was my hope. I wanted to prove I wasn’t just riding Christian’s coattails. He knew how much it meant to me. He even helped me get resources behind the scenes. Now, right before the finish line, he was giving it to Bella? “Bella is new. She needs a win to establish herself.” “Project A is high profile and almost done. Perfect for her to practice on.” I fought back tears. “You know this project is my life.” “Why are you doing this to me?” He smiled vindictively. “I told you. I’m petty.” “Besides, I’m the boss. I don’t need your permission to assign projects.” “If you don’t like it, you can quit.” Bella giggled, covering her mouth. I looked at them coldly. One gloating, one arrogant. Both sure I wouldn’t leave. “Fine. I quit.” Christian’s smile vanished. He stared at me in disbelief. He raised his voice. “Chloe, don’t think being my girlfriend gives you the right to throw tantrums.” “Don’t test me. I will let you go!” I looked him dead in the eye. “Mr. Pei, you seem to forget. We broke up.” He choked. Bella, seeing the tension, smirked. She put on a worried act. “Christian, maybe we should forget it. Don’t fight because of me.” She added provocatively, “I’m so clumsy. What if I ruin Chloe’s hard work?” He patted Bella’s head indulgently. “It doesn’t matter if you ruin it. It’s just a small project. Worthless.” Blood rushed to my head. It took everything I had not to slap them both. My nails dug into my palms until they bled. “A company that uses projects to flirt with women isn’t worth staying at.” “Consider my years of hard work dog food.” Bella put her hands on her hips. “Who are you calling a dog?” I sneered. “If the collar fits.” “Chloe!” Christian’s face was livid. I turned and walked out without looking back. 3 I walked back to my desk like a zombie. Only when no one was looking did the tears fall. The floating comments appeared again. [The FL is so confused! The ML was putting on a show! The second she left, he kicked the Second Female Lead out!] [He just wanted to see her get jealous and submit. He didn’t expect her to be so stubborn and actually quit.] [Dating a superior means swallowing your pride. She wants the money AND the dignity. Greedy.] [She’s not thinking straight. Without this job, who pays for her sick mom’s medical bills? Can dignity pay for chemo?] The comments were right. My mom’s life depended on expensive imported drugs. Christian’s salary kept her alive. If the money stopped, my only family in this world would die. Just as I was agonizing over money, Christian messaged me. A rare initiative. “Come apologize to Bella, and I might consider giving the project back.” “I’ll even give you the new Pei Corp projects for the second half of the year.” “And your ID badge. Come get it yourself.” This was the first time Christian had ever offered a compromise. The comments rallied for him. [He finally lowered his head! You have no idea how hard this is for Mr. Pretend-He-Doesn’t-Care.] [As an avoidant myself, I’m moved. We have to love someone A LOT to swallow our pride! Cherish him, girl!] [Aside from being a tsundere, he’s rich, hot, and devoted. Don’t throw him away.] True. Aside from being a drama queen, Christian was good to me. If I could tolerate this, he was an excellent boyfriend. But I refused without hesitation. “I’m handing my resignation to HR today.” He replied after a long pause: “For real?” “Fine. Don’t come begging later.” “Don’t regret throwing away a perfect relationship and career over your ego.” I buried my head in my arms and cried silently. I mourned ten years of love. I mourned the job. But I couldn’t accept being treated like this anymore. He had a black hole inside him where love should be, and he tried to fill it by torturing me. I couldn’t see a future in that darkness. Instead of endless pain, I chose to end it myself. 4 I sent the resignation email, then pulled up Julian’s contact. “Mr. Gu, is your offer still valid?” He replied instantly: “Valid. But no girlfriends of Christian Pei allowed.” Me: “Broken up. Resigned.” Julian went silent. My heart was in my throat. Did I guess right? Was he just trying to get back at Christian? A long time later, my phone pinged. Julian sent a photo of a huge corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the river. “Office is ready. Want me to pick you up to see it?” I laughed and cried at the same time. How much did Julian hate Christian? I was just a mid-level manager. Did I deserve this? “Let me finish the handover first.” Him: “Skip it. Screw Christian over. Whatever the penalty is, I’ll pay.” Before I could reply, he sent another one. “Actually, never mind. Say goodbye properly. I know how breakups feel.” “Need to get drunk? Call me. Designated driver included.” I facepalmed. No wonder people said Julian Gu was eccentric and flashy. What a character. … Christian didn’t show up all afternoon. His assistant said he was escorting Bella around to every department. The CEO acting as a tour guide. A privilege I never had. When I joined, Christian had just secured his position. He didn’t want people gossiping, so we kept it secret. He asked me to understand. Christian was kidnapped as a child. We scavenged for scraps together in the slums for three years. When the Pei family found him, they had already moved on to their second son, the golden child. Christian was the awkward extra. He studied hard and worked like a maniac to gain their approval. To support him, I pretended we were strangers for two years at the company. Only after I nailed several huge projects did we go public. In contrast, Christian knew people shipped him and his “childhood friend” Bella… Yet he paraded her around without a care. The bias was unbearable. “See? I knew the CEO would marry someone of his own status. Bella entering the company is just prep for becoming Mrs. Pei.” “Some people sleep their way up and think they can become the lady of the house. Delusional.” Knowing I was leaving, colleagues who disliked me stopped whispering. I ignored the gossip. I grew up picking through trash for tuition. I was used to discrimination. HR called. She sounded awkward. “Ms. Zhou, Bella says she likes the view from your office. She wants to move in.” “So… can you pack up immediately?” Before I could answer, IT was at my desk. “Ms. Zhou, I’m here to watch you delete files. To ensure no corporate data is stolen.” He spoke loudly. Everyone stared. I looked at my computer, access already revoked, and smiled bitterly. Christian was humiliating me on purpose. Holding back tears, I numbly packed my box. I threw the gifts Christian gave me and our framed photo into the trash. Walking to the elevator, I ran into Bella holding small gift bags. And Christian, with her arm linked through his. She blocked me. “Don’t go, Chloe! Christian is treating the whole company to a Japanese buffet tonight to welcome me. Stay and eat?” Christian stood silently beside her. The comments were more agitated than I was. [The Second Female Lead is shameless! The dinner was originally booked to celebrate the FL’s promotion! The ML is just using her to provoke the FL!] [Please, girl, just give in! If you don’t turn back now, the ML is going to get drunk tonight, Bella will take him home, and once they sleep together, it’s really over!] I pushed her away. “Move. I’m busy.” She grabbed my arm. “Is it because you’re embarrassed about being dumped?” “Or because you were fired for incompetence and are running away in shame?” Looking at her arrogant face, I snapped. I backhanded her across the face. Slap. “Get lost. You’re not worthy of eating with me.” Bella screamed and threw herself into Christian’s arms. “Christian! She hit me! She’s crazy!” Christian shielded Bella, looking at me with eyes full of fire. I took a step forward. “And you.” I raised my hand to Christian. “You’re trash too.” As my hand came down, Christian caught my wrist in a vice grip, then shoved me hard. “Chloe! Stop acting like a shrew!” I slammed into the wall. Pain shot through my back. I held back the tears and stood straight. I scanned Christian’s icy face. “Mr. Pei, I slapped your little mistress. If you’re unhappy, call the cops.”

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Chapter 1 The day after the stick turned pink, Mark’s entire family descended on our house. They came bearing casseroles and unsolicited advice. They sat there, lecturing me on how to be the perfect incubator. During the chaos, Mark’s nephew, a brat named Tyler, took a shine to my dog, Buddy. He wouldn’t let go of him, squeezing him tight. He looked up at me and asked, “How old is the doggy?” I smiled, trying to be patient. “If you do the math, he’s your big brother. He’s fifteen years old.” Mark’s mom, Brenda, scowled immediately. “Don’t talk nonsense,” she snapped. “Comparing a beast to my grandson? You’ll curse the baby to come out looking like a mutt.” I bit my tongue. After lunch, I was drained. I made myself an iced latte and retreated to the bedroom to recharge. They chatted downstairs for a while. Eventually, I heard the front door close. Silence. But something felt off. Buddy usually hated when people left. Normally, I’d hear him barking at the door, or he’d come trotting in to nudge my hand for a treat. Today? Dead silence. I got up, calling his name. Nothing. I checked the living room. Empty. A cold knot formed in my stomach. I rushed to the window and looked down at the driveway. There was Tyler, sitting in the backseat of his dad’s SUV. He was holding Buddy. My blood ran cold. I tore open the window and screamed. “Put my dog down!” They all looked up. Brenda waved dismissively. She signaled her other son, Hank, to drive. “Go, go!” she mouthed. Hank actually started the engine. I didn’t think. I just reacted. I grabbed my half-finished latte and hurled it out the window with everything I had. It exploded against Hank’s windshield. A creamy brown mess blinded the glass instantly. He slammed on the brakes. Mark, standing in the driveway, looked up at me in horror. “Are you crazy?!” he yelled. I sprinted downstairs and out the front door. Brenda started yelling at me, but I ignored her. I pounded on the car window. “Unlock the door! Give me my dog!” Brenda grabbed my arm. “The kid likes the dog, just let him have it!” She looked at me like I was the unreasonable one. “You had your fun with it. You’re pregnant now, why do you need a filthy animal?” “He is fifteen years old!” I screamed. “He is not a toy for a child!” Inside the car, Hank looked at his mom, exasperated. He cracked the window just an inch. “Ma, get a rag or something for the glass. Get her to calm down.” That was it. I snapped. I took my phone and smashed it against the glass. Over. And over. And over again. “Put the dog down! He is mine! You have no right!” Spiderwebs of cracks spread across the window. Mark rushed over, gripping my arm hard enough to bruise. “Have you lost your mind?” he hissed. His face was twisted in embarrassment. “You’re making a scene in front of my family.” “I’m the one making a scene?” I was shaking violently. “You’re my husband, and you let them steal my dog behind my back?” “I Googled it!” Mark yelled back. “Toxoplasmosis! Dog hair! It’s bad for the baby! I’m doing this for our child!” “Shut up! Your mouth is filthier than any dog!” Hank, worried about his precious car, finally unlocked the doors. I ripped the back door open. Tyler was clutching Buddy, wailing at the top of his lungs. “I want the doggy! Auntie, give him to me!” Chapter 2 “No!” I reached for Buddy. But the kid turned his back, shielding the dog. He looked at his parents, screaming. “I want it!” Hank’s wife, Sarah, was usually the reasonable one. She sighed. “Tyler, give the dog back to Auntie. Mommy will buy you a puppy tomorrow.” “I don’t want a puppy! I want this one!” Tyler shrieked. Brenda stepped in, clutching her chest. “You’re making my grandson cry! You’re a grown woman, fighting a child?” I swallowed my rage. I held out my hand. “Give him to me. I won’t ask again.” Tyler was sobbing, hiccupping. Buddy, poor old Buddy, licked the tears off the boy’s face. He didn’t know he was a hostage. Then, the kid snapped. He didn’t hand Buddy over. He screamed, “Fine! Take him!” And he slammed Buddy onto the asphalt. My heart stopped. I watched my fifteen-year-old dog hit the ground. He yelped. A sound of pure, sharp pain. He tried to stand, his back legs giving out, whimpering. I lost it. I grabbed Tyler by the collar and slapped him across the face. Hard. The silence was deafening. Mark stared at me, mouth open. Brenda raised her hand to strike me back. But she froze. Not because she respected me. But because of the baby in my belly. I scooped up Buddy. He was trembling, twitching in pain. Everyone rushed to comfort Tyler. Mark was cooing at him, promising him Lego sets, video games, anything to stop the tears. No one looked at the dog. I walked back into the house, tears streaming down my face. Buddy’s breathing was shallow. He was hurting so bad. I grabbed my car keys. I needed to get him to the vet immediately. Mark stormed in, blocking the doorway. “You are going to apologize to Tyler. Right now.” I looked at him, clutching my keys. I felt nothing but cold hate. “You embarrassed my mom, you hit a child… how are we supposed to have family dinners after this?” he ranted. “We aren’t,” I said calmly. “I’m taking Buddy to the vet. Then I’m going to my parents’.” “I’ll see you in court.” “I’m filing for divorce. I’m keeping the kid, and he’s taking my last name.” Mark froze. He looked like I’d spoken a foreign language. I adjusted my grip on Buddy and moved to the door. Mark grabbed my purse, ripping it off my shoulder. “Put the dog down. Go to your room.” Chapter 3 I looked at Mark, and I felt sick. Does he think he’s some alpha male in a movie? It’s funny how love dies. It doesn’t take years. It takes one second of clarity. “Keep the purse,” I said. I opened the door, holding Buddy. “You’re divorcing me over a dog?” Mark screamed. His face turned purple. “When I got 100% on my spelling test in third grade, my mom got me this dog,” I said, my voice steady. “He was there through high school. Through college. He’s been with me for fifteen years.” “I’ve known you for four.” “You’re being dramatic!” “I was standing alone against five people, and you sided with them.” “I want a man who protects his wife. You’re not him.” His jaw clenched. “Fine. Divorce. But you’re paying me back for the wedding.” “Check the joint account. I already transferred my share out.” He checked his phone. His face twisted. “You really are doing this over a mutt.” Suddenly, Mark lunged. He ripped Buddy out of my arms. And, just like his nephew, he smashed him onto the floor. Buddy screamed. He tried to crawl away, his little legs scrambling on the hardwood. But he couldn’t stand. “Get away from him!” I shoved Mark, desperate to reach my dog. Mark grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh. “I’m done with your princess attitude!” “You want a divorce? Let’s make it worth it!” He dragged me into the kitchen. He grabbed a chef’s knife from the block. “Are you going to kill me?” I gasped. “I don’t hit women,” he sneered. He dragged me toward Buddy. Fear, cold and sharp, pierced my chest. “Buddy! Run!” I screamed. Buddy always listened. But he was old. And he was broken. He dragged his body toward the door, whining. Mark let go of me to close the distance. He caught up to the dog in two steps. And brought the knife down. Blood sprayed across the floor. Buddy’s body seized. Chapter 4 Mark didn’t stop. He hacked at the dog. Over. And over. “This is for your screwed-up priorities!” “This is for hitting a kid!” “This is for threatening divorce!” I watched my best friend being butchered. He wasn’t dead yet. He was suffering. “Mark, I’m going to kill you!” I grabbed a heavy wooden chair from the dining table. I smashed it over Mark’s head. Wood splintered. Blood trickled down Mark’s forehead. But he didn’t drop the knife. His eyes were wide, manic, red-rimmed. He raised the blade again. He was going to chop Buddy into pieces. I remembered my self-defense class. Go for the soft spots. I gathered every ounce of strength I had. And I kicked him squarely between the legs. Mark’s eyes bulged. He dropped the knife, clutching his groin. He collapsed to the floor, making a sound like a dying radiator. Just then, Brenda rushed in. She saw her son on the floor, bleeding. She screamed, shoving me aside. “You ruined it! You ruined everything!” she wailed, cradling Mark’s bleeding head. I crawled over to Buddy. He was quiet now. He was just… a pile of fur and blood. Mark, still gasping in pain, reached out. He grabbed Buddy’s severed head. He threw it at my feet. “Welcome to the real world, Princess,” he wheezed. “Nobody’s going to baby you anymore.” I fell to my knees. I picked up the head. It felt so light. I remembered when he used to tackle me in the yard, licking my face until I couldn’t breathe from laughing. I remembered carrying him when his arthritis got bad. “You’re getting heavy, old man,” I used to say. Now… nothing. I walked out. Mark couldn’t stop me. The kick had been too hard. He needed an ambulance. I drove to my parents’ house. Buddy was in a plastic bag on the passenger seat. On my wedding day, Buddy had sat in the limo with me.

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They say no good deed goes unpunished. I learned that the hard way when a simple act of kindness drove me off the ledge of a high-rise. In my past life, a female colleague told me her father was in critical condition and desperate for surgery funds. Without a second thought, I wired her fifteen thousand dollars and approved a two-month leave of absence. When the day came for repayment, she flipped the script. She blasted me all over social media, claiming I’d sexually harassed her, and demanded seventy-five thousand dollars in damages. I was crucified by the internet. I lost my job. Even my fiancée, the woman I was days away from marrying, looked at me with total disgust. Depression swallowed me whole. I jumped. And then, I woke up. I was back. Back to the exact moment she came to beg for money. She was crying now, a performance that could move mountains and shake the heavens. But I just sat there, cold and detached, downloading a dozen predatory loan apps onto her phone. She likes borrowing money? Fine. Let her borrow until she drowns in it. I have no money for her. And I certainly have no life to spare. 1 I opened my eyes again to the sight of a girl looking at me through a shimmering veil of tears. I glanced up. It was Sienna. The woman who had destroyed my life with nothing but empty words and a innocent face. My arm felt stiff as I checked my watch. June 4th. The exact moment. “Grant? Mr. Miller?” When I didn’t answer immediately, Sienna tested the waters, her voice trembling. I snapped back to reality, locking eyes with her. “Yeah. I’m listening.” “Grant, it’s my dad. He’s in critical condition. The doctors say he needs a liver transplant to survive. If he doesn’t get it…” The tears broke free, rolling down her cheeks like cracks in a porcelain mask. In the last life, this exact display of vulnerability had broken me. Out of sheer humanitarian instinct, I’d lent her the money. When the rest of the office found out, they chipped in, too. I gave her two months off so she could be a dutiful daughter. I never expected her to bite the hand that fed her. When I asked for the money back, she decided the debt was too heavy. So she tried to cancel it by cancelling me. She went online, spinning a tale of workplace harassment, demanding a massive settlement for “emotional distress.” She spoke with such conviction, armed with cropped screenshots and fabricated truths. And then came the line that sealed my coffin: “No girl would ruin her own reputation just to frame a man.” That sentence turned a localized dispute into a nationwide witch hunt. Strangers sent funeral wreaths to my home. They dumped trash at the office entrance. They found my number and called me at 3:00 AM, breathing threats into the receiver. I tried to clarify things, but the truth is boring. Nobody wanted the truth. Even Meredith, my fiancée, accused me of being “improper.” People only believe what they want to believe. The company fired me. My mind shattered. And I ended it all on the pavement below. Thinking about it made the air in the room feel thick, suffocating. I would never let history repeat itself. “Wow. That sounds terrible,” I said, my voice deliberately flat. “So, how many days off do you need?” She blinked, stunned. The coldness of my response wasn’t part of her script. When she didn’t answer, I pressed on. “You are here to ask for time off, right?” Sienna bit her lip, dialing up the fragility in her eyes. “Grant… actually, I wanted to ask if I could borrow some money. The surgery is expensive. We need about fifty thousand.” She dropped her head quickly, perfecting the posture of shame and desperation. Right. I pulled out my phone, opened the app store, and swiveled the screen toward her. Her eyes lit up with anticipation. “Look,” I said, pointing at the screen. “You can use PaydayAdvance. You can get a lump sum pretty fast. Interest isn’t too bad.” “Or there’s QuickCash, and LendTree…” I reached over, took her phone from her hands, and started rapidly downloading every high-interest, predatory loan app I could find. Before I could finish installing the fifth one, she snatched her phone back and fled the office. 2 The next day, Sienna was back in the office. I frowned. Wasn’t she supposed to be at her dying father’s bedside? Why was she still here? I had questions, but I kept them to myself. “Grant, I decided not to take leave yet,” she said, hovering by my desk. “Brody heard about my situation. He was kind enough to help.” Brody. I knew him. The guy was obsessed with Sienna. The entire department knew he was trapped in her orbit. In the last timeline, he was the one fanning the flames of the cyberbullying campaign against me. There was a moment—Sienna had thrown herself into my lap, and when I tried to push her off, she grabbed my wrists. Brody snapped a photo at that exact second. That photo was the “smoking gun.” Evidence, they said. “Good for you,” I said simply, turning to leave. Sienna stepped in front of me, blocking my path. I let my annoyance show. “What now?” “The transplant costs fifty thousand. Brody lent me ten, but I’m still short forty thousand. I’m just a junior associate, Grant. I don’t have that kind of savings.” I looked at her, my expression unreadable. “So you want me to lend it to you? Sienna, I’m getting married next month. Between the down payment on the new condo and the vendor deposits, I’m tapped out.” “Maybe you should go back to those apps.” The condo had been paid for months ago. I just needed an excuse. A wall she couldn’t climb. Her face fell. She looked like she was about to shatter. “You’re… getting married?” She widened her eyes, feigning shock. I nodded. “Yes. Houses in this city aren’t cheap. And weddings are worse. Money is tight.” In my past life, because I’d lent her the money, I couldn’t cover the final costs for the wedding venue. Meredith dumped me on the spot. I tried to explain that I had the money, that I’d just helped a colleague, but Meredith didn’t buy it. In fact, she joined Sienna on a livestream to trash me. This time, Sienna gets nothing. And Meredith? She isn’t getting a ring either. Sienna looked down, disappointed, but then pivoted. “But Grant… I heard your family is wealthy. Could you ask them for fifteen thousand? I promise I’ll work hard. I’ll pay you back. I’ll do anything.” The audacity was breathtaking. My parents’ money was their blood and sweat, not a charity fund for grifters. “I told you,” I said, my voice like ice. “I’m buying a house. My hands are tied.” Seeing that I was an immovable object, she finally retreated. I watched her walk away, a knot of tension tightening in my gut. I knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. 3 Sure enough, after I refused the money, she vanished for two days. Nobody in the office could reach her. A warning bell went off in my head. What was she planning? I scanned every social media platform—Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, LinkedIn. Nothing. No accusations, no hashtags. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. But I couldn’t relax. I pulled her personnel file from the secure drive, found her parents’ address in a suburb about two hours away, and grabbed my car keys. I needed to know the truth. When I arrived at the address, I didn’t see a dilapidated shack. I saw a construction fence and a massive sign: FUTURE SITE OF OAK CREEK RETAIL CENTER. A neighbor was watching me from her porch, noticing my confusion. “Looking for the Jiangs?” she called out. “They moved. Developer bought that whole row of houses. Heard they got a payout of nearly half a million. They’re in a condo uptown now.” I froze. So, the destitute family narrative was a lie. “Ma’am, do you happen to know where they moved?” The neighbor was chatty. She spilled everything. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a colleague. “Grant, you need to get back here. Sienna’s mom is in Director Graves’ office.” I didn’t waste a second. I thanked the woman and floored it back to the city. I parked and ran up the stairs. Just as I reached the hallway, I saw Sienna and a middle-aged woman walking out of the Director’s office. I ducked into an alcove near the breakroom. “See?” the mother hissed. “If I didn’t come here and make a scene, they wouldn’t take it seriously. You said this Grant guy was rich and soft. You said he’d pay up if he thought your dad was dying.” She scoffed. “He’s just pretending to be a nice guy. We are getting that fifteen grand out of him one way or another.” “Just… don’t mention the buyout money, Mom.” “I know, I know.” Ha. So it was premeditated. They had marked me as their prey from day one. 4 The moment they left, I was summoned to Director Graves’ office. “Grant, what is going on? Why is a mother crying in my office about you? You’re up for promotion, for God’s sake. We can’t have this kind of noise.” Graves had mentored me. He was tough, but he looked out for his own. “Director, don’t worry. I’ll handle it.” “Look, I know they’re looking for a handout. I told them the company has an emergency loan program. But the optics… you need to manage this.” I nodded, thanked him, and left. I walked straight to Conference Room 3. I booked it in the system: Employee 1-on-1: Wellness Check. The office security cameras were undergoing upgrades this week—a blind spot Sienna had exploited in the last timeline. But she didn’t know that Conference Room 3 had a new presentation screen with a built-in webcam and recording function. I activated it. Then I called her. “Meet me in Conference Room 3.” When she walked in, looking like a tragic heroine, I had to physically suppress the rage boiling in my blood. “You know the company offers emergency loans, right?” I said, keeping my voice steady. “If you don’t know the paperwork, I can get HR to help you.” Sienna hesitated, twisting her hands. “But… a loan means I have to pay it back with interest immediately.” And there it was. She never intended to pay back a dime. In the last life, she didn’t just default; she tried to extort me for more. My voice hardened. “What exactly do you want, Sienna? Are you looking for a solution, or are you looking for a free ride?” Panic flickered in her eyes. She squeezed them shut, forcing out a few fresh tears. “No, Grant! It’s just… the bank won’t approve me. The debt is too scary.” I watched the performance. I wondered if she used eye drops before walking in. I glanced through the glass wall. A shadow moved in the hallway. Brody. The stage was set. Just like last time. But this time, I wrote the ending. “Manager… can’t you just help me personally? I’ll work so hard. I’ll remember your kindness forever.” I said nothing. I just stared at her with dead eyes. Thinking my silence was hesitation, she pushed harder. “If I don’t get the money, my dad dies. That’s a human life, Grant.” “There are ten different ways to get money,” I said. “You just want the one that doesn’t require repayment. Why me, Sienna? Why are you fixated on me?” Realizing the guilt trip wasn’t working, her expression shifted. The sorrow evaporated, replaced by manic frustration. She reached into her purse and pulled out a box cutter. She pressed the blade against her own throat, her eyes wild. “Don’t push me! Don’t force me to do this! Just give me a way out!” She was starting the scene. I played along. I threw my hands up, feigning panic, and stepped back. “Whoa! Put it down! I’m just saying no to a loan, there’s no need to hurt yourself!” “I don’t have the money, Sienna! Why don’t you take the company loan?” Seeing my ‘fear,’ she smiled. It was a terrifying switch. She lowered the blade and softened her gaze into something seductive. “Grant… actually, the solution is simple. If you lend me the money… I can do whatever you want.” She began to shrug off her blazer, revealing the thin strap of her camisole underneath. “Wait—don’t take that off.” She didn’t listen. She lunged at me, grabbing my wrist and trying to force my hand onto her chest. Her eyes kept darting to the door. She was waiting for her cue. “One last chance,” she whispered. “Will you lend me the money?” “No.” She gave me a chilling, knowing smile. Then she pulled away, disheveled, and ran out the door. 5 The next morning, the company intranet exploded. An anonymous post on the internal forum rocketed to the top of the trending list. “Marketing Manager Grant Miller uses power to prey on female subordinates. Attempted assault in Conference Room 3. Victim forced to threaten suicide to escape.” Below the text were photos and a short video clip. The photo showed Sienna, clothes disarrayed, struggling in my arms, my hand seemingly on her chest. The video showed her with the box cutter to her throat, crying, begging me not to “force” her. It was a masterclass in editing. A total inversion of reality. It had Brody’s fingerprints all over it. My fiancée, Meredith, heard about it within the hour. Her friend in Accounting sent her the link. She didn’t ask for my side. She just called me, screaming. “I can’t believe you! You’re an animal! I suspected you were useless, but I didn’t think you were a predator!” “I was going to dump you anyway, but since we’ve been together for years… if you sign the new condo over to me as an apology, maybe I won’t tell everyone what a scumbag you are.” I laughed bitterly. There it was. My parents had bought that condo cash. If I put her name on it, it became marital property—or in this case, a settlement. I used to love her. I would have given her the world. But the last life had cured me of that blindness. “We’re done, Meredith,” I said. “We’re breaking up.” I hung up and walked into the office. It was like walking into a riot. “Grant, is it true?” one colleague whispered, horrified. “You always seemed so professional.” “Power corrupts,” another sneered. “Scumbag.” A few people tried to defend me. “Wait for HR. Grant’s not like that.” “Yeah, innocent until proven guilty, right?” But reason is quiet. Outrage is loud. And then Sienna appeared. She looked fragile, broken. Her eyes were red-rimmed. “He tried to… he tried to ruin me,” she sobbed to a group of sympathetic women. “I wanted to die. No girl would use her own dignity to lie about this.” “It took so much courage just to speak up.” The room turned on me instantly. The few defenders went silent. Some of the younger guys looked ready to jump me. “Thank you,” Sienna wept, looking at the mob. “Your support is the only thing keeping me alive.” Security had to step in to clear a path to my desk. Graves called me in immediately. “Grant! I told you to handle it! Is this how you handle it? If this goes external, your career is over. Forget the promotion—you’ll be lucky to avoid jail.” “Director, I’m being framed. I didn’t touch her.” “I know you, Grant. I believe you. But the shareholders don’t know you. The internet doesn’t know you.” “You need evidence. Hard evidence. Or you’re done.” He was giving me a chance. That was all I needed.

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In my wildest year, I played the part of a fallen angel and became the trophy girlfriend of Sebastian Thorne, a powerful Wall Street tycoon. To the public, he was cold and distant. In private, he was possessive and insatiable, demanding affection anywhere, anytime. I enjoyed the thrill for three months, then got bored. Just as I was about to break it off, I overheard someone warning him: “Take it easy with Sienna. Don’t knock her up. These girls who believe in ‘true love’ are the hardest to get rid of.” Sebastian’s tone was flat: “Money solves everything.” “But the girl is obsessed with me right now. Very clingy. No rush.” Clingy? Me? But last time he was drunk, crying and begging me never to leave him… I accidentally recorded that. 1 When I woke up, Sebastian was gone. He had a cross-border conference call and had disappeared into his study before dawn. I sat in front of the vanity mirror. Looking at my reflection—haggard, like a succubus drained of her essence by a male demon. I let out a heavy sigh. I couldn’t live this life of being “too well-fed” for another day. Finally, I mustered the courage to go to his study and break up. But outside the door, I heard Sebastian’s business partner, Liam, gossiping. “Seb, that pink diamond you dropped 20 million on at the auction… don’t tell me it’s for Sienna?” I looked down at my ring finger, where the diamond sparkled with fire. It was the ring Sebastian coaxed me into wearing during one of our intense nights. “It’s just 20 million. Don’t make a fuss.” Hearing this, Liam paused, then exclaimed in disbelief: “No way, you actually gave it to her? Can a broke girl like her even tell the difference?” Then his tone shifted, serious: “Seb, as a brother, let me remind you. Someone from the bottom like Sienna isn’t right for you.” “I know.” Liam sighed in relief: “Good, as long as you know. But take it easy with her. Don’t knock her up. These girls who believe in ‘true love’ are the hardest to get rid of.” I laughed out of anger. In one minute, he spent fifty-nine seconds insulting me. The last second was spent finding the words. But the next moment. I heard Sebastian hum lightly, replying indifferently: “Money solves everything.” “But the girl is obsessed with me right now. Very clingy. No rush.” Huh? Clingy? Me? But last time I was filming a TikTok dance. He barged in, reeking of alcohol. Crying and demanding I promise never to leave him. I accidentally recorded that. 2 While I was spacing out. My phone buzzed. It was a message from Sebastian: [Awake?] I immediately ran back to bed, lay down, and sent a “just woke up” selfie. He replied instantly: “Little temptress.” Before I could react, he video called me. As soon as I answered. A screen full of tanned chest muscles hit my eyes. I was immune to it by now, even pouting in disdain. Sebastian chuckled low: “Seducing me?” Bro, listen to your own voice, raspy as hell. Who is seducing whom? I put on a cold face: “Sebastian, let’s break up.” If I had any guilt before today… It vanished the moment I heard him trash-talking me with his friend. Silence on the other end for a second. “Which brand’s new collection do you want?” “I’m serious. Not joking.” “The new limited edition Hermès Birkin crocodile. It’s in the walk-in closet, third shelf from the left. Go get it.” I went silent. Liam should really see who the simp is here. Seeing me silent. Sebastian lit a cigar, staring at the camera for three seconds. Suddenly, he smiled, voice husky: “Baby, was I too rough last night? Did I hurt you?” Mentioning that. I suppressed the urge to curse and tried to reason with him. “We aren’t compatible.” “I think we fit perfectly.” He smirked, a meaningful look in his eyes. I started making things up. “You like dogs, I like cats. Your dog always bullies my cat.” “I like sleeping in; you like waking up early to work out.” “I love burgers and fries; you say kale smoothies are healthier.” “Incompatible means incompatible. Sebastian, let’s be adults. A peaceful breakup, okay?” I said it all in one breath. I didn’t notice the anger rising on his face. The next second. Bang! The bedroom door was shoved open. Sebastian stood there, radiating a chill. His gaze was cold as he said slowly: “Sienna, don’t forget. You’re the one who provoked me first.” 3 He was right. Between us, it was indeed my lust that started it. Three months ago, celebrating my best friend’s birthday at a club. I rushed out and forgot my contacts. I mistook VIP Room 188 for 168, pushed the door open, said hi to everyone, and sat down. Coincidentally, right next to Sebastian. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye but said nothing. Seeing no reaction from him, the others were confused but moved on. “Heard there’s a ‘femme fatale’ in the city. Plays the field hard. She’s dated every man with a name in town.” “Oh? Must be a stunning beauty then?” “Never seen her, but heard her methods are legendary. Hooks a pinky and men fall for her.” I raised an eyebrow. I hooked Sebastian’s pinky through the wine glass. He spoke suddenly: “Watch your boundaries.” Everyone went silent. I held back a laugh. He looked over again: “And you. Had enough fun watching?” My best friend always said I used my beauty like a weapon. Even without makeup, I looked like a ripe peach waiting to be picked. Skin like porcelain, waist so slim. Under the dim lights. I turned my head, revealing a pale collarbone, looking fragile and pale. A flash of amazement crossed his eyes. Just as a tear fell. I whimpered and threw myself into Sebastian’s arms. “Holy sh*t!” Everyone in the room gasped. The next second. I stood up with red eyes and ran out of the room. Two hours later. A room card with a phone number was delivered to my hand. It all happened so naturally. I hid my identity and became Sebastian’s trophy girlfriend. He spent money; I enjoyed it. It felt amazing. Amazing enough that I almost forgot. In the world of the ultra-rich, there is no true heart. 4 Sebastian started a one-sided cold war. But too many men were willing to die for me. His little tantrum didn’t even make a ripple in my pond. I acted normal. When in a good mood, I posted an afternoon tea pic on Instagram. Sebastian liked it instantly. But within three seconds, he’d unlike it. So petty. Seven days later, my visa for the trip expired. The day I left the city, the sky was clear. I had no luggage and told no one. When the maid asked, I said I was going shopping. The car drove onto the highway, passing a giant LED billboard. It was scrolling through news of Sebastian’s “scandal.” After our unhappy parting, he hadn’t returned to the penthouse. But my phone kept getting notifications about him. Old clichés about finding a new love. I found it childish. I opened my phone. The chat was still stuck on yesterday. [Tomorrow night, 8 PM. The Harbor. I have something to say.] The next second. A notification popped up. [Breaking! Massive marriage proposal setup at the Harbor! The man is Sebastian Thorne!] My heart skipped a beat. I quickly turned off my phone. Close call! Almost caught feelings.

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