Category: English

My boyfriend had severe depression. His medication and sessions with a top specialist cost over ten thousand dollars a month. To pay for his treatment, I worked myself to the bone, taking on endless freelance illustration gigs and running food deliveries day and night. My friends constantly warned me I was going to work myself to death. Until one day, I managed to snag a high-paying delivery order to an exclusive, ultra-wealthy gated community. I respectfully handed over the $18,000 premium sushi platter to the customer. But when I looked up, standing right inside the doorway was my boyfriend—who was supposed to be at his therapy session. He stared back at me, looking absolutely shell-shocked. 01 “Aren’t you supposed to be at the clinic, Liam?” I looked at the breathtakingly luxurious mansion, my left hand gripping the sushi takeout bag so tightly it physically hurt. Even though it was pushing 100 degrees outside, I started shivering as if I’d been plunged into an ice bath. I had only ever seen places like this in movies. “I’m sorry, Rose, let me explain. Dr. Lewis had an emergency this afternoon…” “I’m just hanging out at a friend’s house.” Caught entirely off guard, Liam lost his composure and reached out to grab my sleeve. It was his go-to move whenever he apologized. It always worked before. But not today. I slapped his hand away coldly. The custom-tailored dress shirt he was wearing had a designer label I didn’t even recognize. But looking at it now, it was incredibly ironic. It suited his rich-boy aura far better than the cheap basics he usually wore. I lowered my eyes, pulled out my phone, and opened the booking app for the Green City Clinic. Seeing that Dr. Lewis’s schedule still had open slots for the afternoon, I didn’t even have the energy to call out his lie. Taking a deep breath, I organized my chaotic thoughts and forced my voice to remain perfectly calm: “Liam, is this fun for you?” “Acting like a poor, depressed, struggling kid around me, pretending you couldn’t even afford a cup of bubble tea… when in reality, you’re a billionaire heir whose lunch costs $18,000!” My lips trembled. I stared resentfully at the man in front of me, completely unaware of when the tears had filled my eyes. “You really… played me for an absolute fool…” “$18,000! I would have to deliver 6,000 orders to make that much! That’s two months of work…” The most pathetic part was that the only app still open in the background of my phone… Was our text thread from half an hour ago. I had texted Liam, telling him I was going to splurge on dinner tonight and make his favorite lotus root soup. Because the customer in this wealthy neighborhood was incredibly generous and left a $100 tip. I just never, in my wildest dreams, imagined that the tip came directly from Liam himself. 02 Late at night, Liam used to hold me tight and whisper that in this entire world, my love was the only thing he never doubted. That even his parents’ love for him wasn’t as pure as mine. Those whispered promises used to make me so incredibly happy. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world to find genuine love in a society where it was so rare. But looking back on it now, nobody else could possibly be this stupid. Risking heatstroke out in the blazing sun just for a five-dollar extreme weather bonus, just so I could scrape together enough for his medical bills a little sooner. “I haven’t slept for more than five hours a night in so long. I dreamt of the day you would finally get better.” “You knew all of this better than anyone, didn’t you?” My accusing voice slowly broke into a sob. Liam’s previously calm expression finally cracked. His eyes reddened slightly, and he nodded. We lived in a cramped, rundown, one-bedroom apartment, a thirty-minute walk just to get to the subway station. He watched me exhaust myself. He watched me stretch every single dollar until it broke. He watched me struggle, desperately working to pay for his fake poverty-simulation game, just to ‘cure’ this imaginary depression he had fabricated. He watched the entire thing unfold like some detached creator observing a rat in a maze. “I’ll transfer a large sum of money to your account. Consider it compensation.” “I… I truly wronged you.” Liam lowered his head, his eyes filled with guilt and a hint of helplessness. He realized he couldn’t lie his way out of this, so he simply gave up trying. With stiff fingers, I pulled the crumpled receipt from my pocket. It was half a meter long, listing nothing but the most premium, expensive cuts of meat. I crumpled it into a ball and threw it at him with every ounce of strength I had left. Liam didn’t dodge. His expression was a mix of sorrow and deep regret. The cold air conditioning from inside the house provided a stark contrast to the blazing heat outside. Over the loud hum of the cicadas, I heard footsteps approaching from inside. Followed immediately by a whining, sweet female voice: “Liam, is the food not here yet? I’m literally starving to death!” 03 The tense standoff between Liam and me broke. His expression shifted drastically. We both turned our heads just in time to see a young woman in a lacy silk nightgown walking toward the door. Liam panicked and tried to block her path. “Why did you come out? I’m coming back in right now. Be a good girl, go back inside.” But the girl seemed determined to see what was going on. She stepped around Liam, a polite smile on her face. But as she looked at me, her almond-shaped eyes flashed with a hint of recognition and pure disdain. “And this is…” Silence. Seeing that neither of us was going to answer, she smirked. Then, naturally, she linked her arm through Liam’s and deliberately pulled her sheer, blush-pink nightgown down slightly at the shoulder. The red marks on her neck and the curves beneath the thin fabric were fully exposed. She leaned her entire body against him, looking incredibly soft and pliant. The man’s anxious gaze was fixed entirely on me. I turned my head away in absolute despair and closed my eyes. My hair was soaked in sweat, sticking uncomfortably to my face. My temples throbbed with a sharp, rhythmic pain. Even someone as dense as me knew exactly what had just happened here. Originally, I thought I was just the unlucky pawn in a rich kid’s “poverty” roleplay. Now I realized I was also the spicy side dish in his high-society romance. What absolute, terrible luck. I didn’t want to stay a second longer. I turned around to pack up my delivery bag and leave. But the girl suddenly called out to me: “Wait a second. Are you Liam’s little slum-girlfriend from off-campus?” “I didn’t recognize you in that delivery uniform. Are you Rose Evans from the Humanities department?” 04 I froze and turned back to look at her. It took me half a minute, but I finally recognized her. She was a year above me. Chloe Vance. The gorgeous, incredibly wealthy, and universally adored campus princess. But we had history. She used her family’s influence to pull some strings and give my need-based financial aid scholarship to someone else. Because of that, I never sucked up to her like everyone else did. Seeing my dark, unnatural expression, Chloe tightened her grip on Liam’s arm. She feigned excitement, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness: “Liam, I can’t believe it! Last year, I casually mentioned to you that there was this annoying, fake-righteous junior I couldn’t stand.” “You just asked a few questions, and you actually went and destroyed Rose Evans for me! I have to admire your methods. So brilliant…” Chloe looked up, shooting me a vicious glare as she continued: “So brilliant that you played our college’s brilliant prodigy, Rose Evans, like an absolute dog.” My hands, hanging limply at my sides, slowly clenched into fists. The cold air from the mansion washed over me, but it brought absolutely no relief. To these people, the future, feelings, money, and hard work of ordinary people were just annoying weeds on the side of the road. They didn’t just ignore them; they had to stomp on them and spit on them too. Chloe leaned up and kissed Liam on the cheek, like she was rewarding him for making such a fool out of me. Her eyes taunted me. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, her expression turned strangely manic. She asked: “Junior Rose, did Liam tell you he had depression?” I frowned, not denying it. The woman in front of me immediately doubled over with laughter. But the words that came out of her mouth froze my blood. “That’s because I told Liam that your younger brother committed suicide because of depression.” “I told him that if he claimed he had depression, your brainless ass would fall for it instantly.” “And look! I was right.” 05 The moment those words hung in the air, the world seemed to stop. Only the sound of the cicadas remained. My brain completely short-circuited. I bit my lower lip so hard it bled, ripped off my delivery helmet, and swung it at Liam like a maniac. If I swallowed this insult, I might as well give up on life completely. My chest heaving violently, I screamed at him: “Depression, huh?! Playing poor, huh?! You love poking people right in their deepest wounds, don’t you?!” “You deserve it! You deserve the fact that your parents don’t love you, you piece of trash! You deserve it when your dad beat your mom right in front of you! Why didn’t he just beat you to death too?!” “I’ll fucking beat you to death right now for him!” During the year Liam and I were together—whether it was all an act or if there were moments of genuine emotion—we had shared our deepest vulnerabilities with each other. So I knew exactly what he could never let go of: the coldness and neglect from his parents. He had never experienced the love of a family. And right now, that became the weapon I used to verbally annihilate him. Before either of them could react, I repeatedly smashed the helmet into Liam’s face as hard as I could. Fueled by pure rage, I gasped for air. My chronic lack of sleep made my head spin dizzily. The exact second Chloe brought up my little brother, Leo, the rationality I had barely held together all afternoon completely shattered. He was my absolute untouchable boundary. Until Chloe finally managed to drag me away, Liam didn’t fight back once. He covered his mouth, his hands covered in blood. “Are you okay, Liam?! I’m calling the police right now!” “This crazy bitch has a death wish, hitting you like that?! I’m going to have my dad…” Chloe’s furious voice was laced with a panicked sob. But Liam grabbed her hand and shook his head: “No. Don’t.” “It’s all… my fault. I owe her.” He smoothed down his hair, which I had messed up, and walked over to me. He pulled a gold card from his pocket and held it out to me: “The PIN is your birthday. I know what I did is unforgivable, but… just take it. I’m sorry.” I let out a cold laugh. The look I gave him contained nothing but absolute ice and pure hatred. “Die soon.” I violently snatched the gold card from his fingers, dropped that final curse, and turned to walk away. 06 There was $770,000 on the card. I asked my delivery manager to settle my final paycheck, and then I quit. The 250-square-foot, one-bedroom apartment was so small you could see the whole thing at a glance. The reason I had moved out of the dorms and in with Liam was because he claimed his physical symptoms from his depression were getting worse, and he needed me with him every day. Originally, I had my guard up when Liam so boldly barged into my life. But seeing that he suffered from the exact same illness as my brother… it made my heart soften. And it clouded my judgment. For a long time, it was hard to tell if my feelings for him were driven more by love, or by the overwhelming, desperate need to compensate for the guilt I felt over my brother. I just wanted, obsessively and frantically, to help cure his depression. As if doing that would somehow lighten the crushing weight of my own nightmares. Honestly, after a year, we hadn’t accumulated that much stuff. But everything we had bought as a couple was too painful to look at, so I threw it all directly into the trash. Listening to the rattle of the old AC unit, I stared at the ceiling, slowly drifting away from the endless exhaustion of my daily grind, and fell into a deep sleep. In my dream, I couldn’t even count how many times I had seen Leo in that bathtub. He lay there, completely drained of color, in a pool of crimson water. His entire body was as pale as a porcelain doll. Cold. Lifeless. Pill bottles were scattered near his limp fingertips. His long eyelashes were gently closed, looking exactly the same as all those nights he used to wait up for me to finish studying, nodding off. Only this time, they would never open again. He would never rub his sleepy eyes and ask me when I was going to bed. On his phone, he had deleted his chat history with everyone. He only left me one final message: “I’m sorry, Sis.” And a transfer of $3,569.81. It was every single penny he had to his name. Spring was in full bloom that year. Leo, who was as brilliant and perfect as the sun, left during the most beautiful season. And I was trapped in that spring forever. 07 The rustling of plastic bags behind the door woke me up. A man in a black dress shirt was crouching by the trash can, sneaking around, digging through it. “Who’s there?” The man froze, then slowly turned around. It was Liam. He was wearing a mask, and there were a few bandages on his face. I rubbed my throbbing forehead. I forgot he still had a key to the apartment. The couples rings, the matching mugs, the watches, the souvenirs—everything I had thrown in the trash that afternoon had been pulled out and neatly lined up on the floor. “Why are you taking that stuff?” Hearing me, Liam lowered his eyes, his expression unreadable. “I just came back one last time to pack some things to take with me.” “It’s all worthless junk. The young Master Sterling actually wants it?” I sat up in bed, looking around the room to see if there was anything important left. Since things had come to this, I planned to move back into the dorms next week and terminate the lease here. Liam held the cheap silver couples ring in his hand, his thumb gently rubbing it. His voice was desolate and low: “Rose, I know you don’t believe me, but my feelings for you were real. You were the only person I truly trusted…” “No one has ever loved me with that kind of pure, absolute devotion. I don’t want to lose you.” I waved my hand dismissively, lowering my head to let out a harsh scoff. The scene from this afternoon replayed in my mind like a cruel joke. “Real feelings? Was making me deliver food to you right after you finished sleeping with her your way of showing love? Should I be thanking you for that?” “I can explain what happened with Chloe! Nothing ever happened between us. I only agreed to be with her because I wasn’t thinking straight.” “And I’ve wanted to break it off with her for a long time. I realized that the person I truly love is actually…” “There’s no point in discussing this anymore.” I cut him off coldly, my eyes empty. Water dripped steadily into a bucket in the bathroom. The knee-high faucet had been leaking for ages. To save money on the water bill, I always kept a plastic bucket underneath it. The money I saved was just pennies. His claims of “true love” were so absurd they were laughable. The moment the lie was exposed, regardless of whether his feelings were real or not, an uncrossable chasm had opened between us. “Honestly, Liam, when you used my dead brother to get close to me, did you ever consider that karma might come back to bite you?” “What do you mean?” I didn’t answer. I just frowned, opened the door, and gestured for him to leave. Seeing my absolute, resolute expression, he looked deeply hurt. He grabbed the items lined up on the floor, shoved them carelessly into his bag, and stood up. “Stop pretending to have depression.” “Because for every piece of trash like you in the world, the stigma around depression gets worse, and the people who actually need help have a harder time getting it.” And there will just be more people ending up like Leo. After a long pause, the man in front of me slowly nodded. Then, Liam pulled a bag of pork ribs and lotus root from behind the door. He had seen the message I sent about our special dinner. “Could you make lotus root soup for me one last time?” “No. Your personal chef can make it a hundred times better.” “I only like the way you make it.” “Rose, why can’t you just trust me one more time? Give me one more chance?” His voice was choking with tears. I never imagined that Liam, having returned to his untouchable status as a billionaire heir, would ever wear such a desperate, pleading expression. At this point, none of this fit the parameters of his little poverty roleplay game anymore. But regardless of whether his words were true or false, I remained completely, utterly unmoved. He understood I was rejecting him. He reached out as if to grab my hand, but ultimately let his arm drop. Before walking out the door, Liam looked back at me, his eyes red. “Do you still love me?” “No.” “Could you ever love me again?” “No.”

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I went to my brother’s hospital for an allergic reaction and ran right into the intern nurse who was crushing on him. Hard. After she overheard what she thought was an “intimate” conversation between me and my brother, her face soured with jealousy and panic. Just then, my brother, Alex, walked in and habitually placed his hand on my forehead to check my temperature. That was the last straw for her. She looked at me like I was the enemy, her eyes filled with suspicion. I was torn between laughing and crying, about to explain the situation, when she suddenly shrieked and slapped my brother’s hand away. “Dr. Monroe, break up with her! Don’t let this filthy woman deceive you! This isn’t an allergic reaction!” “She’s got… a rash on her backside!” “It’s a textbook sign of secondary syphilis! She’s got a filthy disease!” 1 The entire ER went dead silent. In an instant, every eye in the room snapped to me—to my exposed back and my half-lowered pants. A roar filled my ears as all the blood rushed to my head. “What the hell are you talking about?!” I was the first to snap out of it, my body trembling with rage. I whipped my head toward the intern, Brooke, my eyes turning red. “What’s your name? Your ID number? Do you have any idea that’s slander?!” My fury made Brooke flinch, and tears instantly welled up in her eyes. But she refused to back down, her tear-filled gaze shifting to Alex, who stood there in stunned silence. Her expression was a bizarre mix of righteous indignation, heartbreak, and a kind of… “savior” complex I couldn’t comprehend. “Dr. Monroe! I’m not lying! I’ve studied medicine for five years, I know what I’m seeing!” she sobbed, a picture of tragic beauty. She pointed a trembling finger at me. “I just don’t want you to be fooled by a woman like her! Her personal life is a mess, she doesn’t deserve you! Look at her, she’s still trying to deny it!” The look on Alex’s face screamed, Who am I? Where am I? I yanked up my pants, ignoring the searing pain as the fabric scraped against my raw skin. I stood up and locked my eyes on Brooke. “Say it again,” I hissed, forcing the words through gritted teeth. “What disease do you think I have?” “I…” My glare seemed to frighten her, but a quick glance at Alex standing nearby gave her a fresh surge of courage. She puffed out her chest. “You know perfectly well what you’ve been doing, don’t you?” “Right,” I said, a humorless laugh escaping my lips. “Just perfect.” I was done wasting my breath on her. I pulled out my phone and started dialing right in front of her. “Hello, 911? I’d like to report a crime. There’s someone here publicly slandering me, defaming my character…” “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Ms. Lynn! Please, calm down!” A middle-aged man with a “Chief Physician” badge clipped to his coat rushed in, clearly having heard the commotion. When he took in the scene—me on the phone with the police, Alex’s face a mask of thunder—he looked like he was about to have a heart attack. “Dr. Monroe, what… what’s going on here?” Alex’s voice was clipped. “Dr. Wallace, this intern here claims my ‘girlfriend’ has secondary syphilis.” The color drained from the chief’s face. He spun on Brooke, his voice a furious whisper. “Brooke! What do you think you’re doing? You don’t have a lab report, and you’re making a diagnosis with your eyes? What are you, a goddamn X-ray machine?!” “I… I…” Brooke’s tears flowed faster as she looked pleadingly at Alex. “Dr. Monroe, I was really just trying to help you! I…” “Shut up!” Dr. Wallace looked like his head was about to explode. He knew Alex had influence with the hospital administration. If this blew up, his whole department would be in hot water. “Apologize to Ms. Lynn and Dr. Monroe right now!” “Do you want to lose your residency spot?!” The words “residency spot” were clearly Brooke’s weak point. She trembled, biting her lip, her face a mask of humiliation and defiance. She reluctantly gave me a short, jerky bow. “I’m… sorry.” Her voice was as quiet as a mosquito’s buzz, but the venom in her eyes could have killed. “I don’t want your apology,” I cut her off, my gaze sweeping sharply between her and Dr. Wallace. “I’m going to get a full STD panel done. Right here, in your hospital. Right now.” I paused, enunciating every word. “And if the results come back clean, I’m not just suing you, Brooke, for slander. I’m suing this hospital for gross negligence and for allowing an intern to spread malicious lies.” Beads of cold sweat popped up on Dr. Wallace’s forehead. “Ms. Lynn, please, let’s not be hasty,” he said, forcing a smile. “This is all a big misunderstanding! Brooke, you’re suspended from your internship duties. Go write a ten-thousand-word self-criticism report! We’ll post a hospital-wide notice of reprimand!” I couldn’t be bothered to watch their pathetic drama anymore. I turned and walked away. Alex quickly followed, helping me register and get my blood drawn. I was so angry I basically did the blood draw on myself, finding the vein and inserting the needle with a grim satisfaction. It was past midnight by the time I dragged my rash-covered, furious self home. I swallowed my medication and fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep. I had no idea that for every hour I slept, I was being crucified online. When I finally opened my eyes again, it was to the violent buzzing of my phone. A string of missed calls from Alex. “Hello…?” My voice was as scratchy as sandpaper. “Lia, thank God you finally picked up! Get on TikTok! Now! It’s a total disaster!” My stomach dropped. I opened the app. The 999+ notifications in my DMs and comments made my phone lag so badly it felt like I was watching a slideshow. A video from a local creator was trending, sitting right at the top of my feed. In the video, a girl in a white coat was sobbing into the camera. It was Brooke. The caption read: [I just wanted to be a good doctor, is that so wrong?] She didn’t use any names, but the background was unmistakably the ER hallway from last night. Between heart-wrenching sobs, she spoke. “…I was just trying to kindly warn the gentleman that his ‘girlfriend’s’ symptoms were very suspicious. If it was that kind of disease, it could be contagious. I never thought his girlfriend would react so violently and file a complaint against me…” “…Now, to smooth things over, my supervisor has suspended me and made me write a self-criticism report. After five years of medical school, I honestly don’t know what I did wrong…” “…Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten involved, but I just couldn’t bear to see that man kept in the dark. I did nothing wrong! I’m still the best Little Lamb!” That last part, “I’m still the best Little Lamb,” was her personal tag. The comment section had already exploded. 2 [Don’t cry, sweetie! You did nothing wrong! You’re just too kind!] [Seriously, some women these days have no shame. And then they get mad when you call them out?] [That patient was definitely just pissed you exposed her! Hugs for Little Lamb!] [OMG, isn’t that St. Jude’s Medical Center? I think I was there yesterday, that woman was a total nightmare!] [Someone find out who that woman is! We have to save that handsome guy from her!] I was shaking with rage. What a masterpiece of twisting the truth, “the best Little Lamb.” She was even replying to comments, vividly describing what I looked like. [The woman looked sickly, but she had a terrible temper. I have no idea how she managed to trick a guy like him. He’s so handsome and classy, they’re like night and day!] [I heard the handsome guy is an administrator here at the hospital, and he’s super nice! Ugh, what a waste!] My anger boiled over. I started typing a reply in the comments: [I’m the “patient” you’re talking about, and here’s what actually happened…] I had just furiously typed out half the story when a cold, gray box popped up on my screen: [Your account has been suspended due to multiple user reports of violating community guidelines.] My vision went black for a second. When I came to, I immediately contacted customer support, only to be told it would take three business days to review my case. Three business days? The damage would be irreversible by then. Alex was panicking on the other end of the line. “Lia, I’ve already spoken to the hospital director. They said they’ll issue a public statement to clarify everything immediately!” “Alex,” I said, taking a deep breath to force myself to stay calm. “Don’t. Right now, you’re the ‘poor, handsome guy being duped’ in her story. The more you defend me, the more they’ll think I have some powerful background and I’m using it to bully her.” “So what are we supposed to do? Just let her drag your name through the mud?” I hung up, my eyes fixed on Brooke’s tear-stained face in the video. Suddenly, I remembered the way she’d looked at Alex in the ER last night. It was… wrong. That wasn’t how an intern looked at a colleague. It was obsession. Jealousy. Resentment. She kept saying things like “for your own good” and “she doesn’t deserve you.” Why would a brand-new intern be so… invested in my brother’s love life? Unless… she knew him from before. A crazy idea, sharp as lightning, shot through my mind. I shot up in bed and dialed Alex’s number again. “Alex, I need you to do something for me. Right now. I need you to log in to the hospital’s internal staff forum.” “Huh? Right now? Why?” “Just do it. And search for a post.” Drawing on a hazy memory, I gave him a few keywords. “Try: Dr. Monroe, girlfriend, doesn’t deserve.” There was silence on the other end. As an administrator, Alex could access the internal network in seconds. Five minutes later, he called back, his voice thick with shock and disbelief. “Lia… how… how did you know?” He sent me a screenshot. It was a post from three months ago, in the “Anonymous Gossip” section of the hospital’s internal forum. The title was: [Vent] Dr. Monroe in Admin is so nice, but isn’t his girlfriend kind of a diva? The post read: [OP is a new intern. I saw Dr. Monroe in the cafeteria today, and his girlfriend (I assume) called. He had to drop everything and run down to the coffee shop in the lobby to buy her some special strawberry frappe.] [Last week, I saw her making him carry her shopping bags in the hospital garden. She was totally bossing him around, but Dr. Monroe is such a saint, he was smiling the whole time.] [And I heard she’s a massive spender. Most of Dr. Monroe’s salary goes straight to her.] [What’s so great about a woman like that? Why would Dr. Monroe be with her? I just feel so bad for him!] The replies were a mixed bag. [OP, you just have a crush on Dr. Monroe, don’t you?] [Hahaha, our Dr. Monroe is the hospital heartthrob. The line of people crushing on him is a mile long.] [I’ve seen that woman too. She’s gorgeous, but she looks really mean.] And when someone asked the original poster if she had a crush, she had replied with a long, defensive rant: [NO! I DON’T! Stop making things up! I just feel bad for Dr. Monroe! He’s such a good person, why does he have to be deceived by a woman like her?!] I stared at the screenshot, a chill spreading through my limbs. Three months ago, I had a dental appointment, and Alex offered to buy me a drink. I complained he got the flavor wrong, so I sent him back downstairs to get another one. Last week, my mom had us pick up her physical exam report from the hospital, and I’d done some shopping beforehand, so I made him carry my bags. As for his salary… my mom had confiscated his credit cards years ago for his reckless spending. I was the one holding them, giving him a monthly allowance. I took another deep breath, my voice as cold as ice. “Alex, trace the IP address of that post.” There was a pause. “…Lia, the IP address traces back to the intern dorms. Building A.” “And who… lives in Building A?” “…Dermatology and a few internal medicine interns.” Alex hesitated. “Brooke… Brooke lives in Building A.” 3 I laughed. A cold, hollow sound that nearly brought tears to my eyes. So this wasn’t a medical error. It wasn’t a random attack. This was a premeditated setup, a character assassination fueled by a one-sided crush. Brooke hadn’t misdiagnosed me. She had already judged and condemned me. She wasn’t diagnosing my illness; she was delivering my punishment. She was punishing me, the “awful woman” who “didn’t deserve” Alex and was “deceiving” him. Fine. You want to settle this online? Just then, a friend request popped up on my social media. The profile picture was Brooke’s own pitiful, tear-stained face. I accepted. A message came through instantly. [Ms. Lia Lynn, I presume? I honestly didn’t expect things to blow up online like this.] [I already know I was wrong, and I’ve asked for your forgiveness. But as a doctor, I feel I should still offer some advice. A girl should take care of her body. It’s really better not to be so… promiscuous.] Her condescending tone, as if she were some kind of savior, was infuriating. I stared at the words, a bitter laugh bubbling up inside me. I was about to unleash a torrent of curses, but my fingers froze over the screen. What was the point of yelling at her? It would only feed her ego. I deleted the long string of insults I had typed and calmly replied with a few words. [Are you at the hospital right now?] Brooke clearly hadn’t expected that question. A few seconds later, a single “?” appeared. Seeing that question mark, a cold smile touched my lips. I didn’t bother replying. I dialed Alex’s number instead. “Alex, do me a favor.” “Anything, Lia!” “Go live on your TikTok account.” “What?” “The title of the stream will be: [Regarding ‘Little Lamb’s’ Slander—The Patient’s Actual Brother Has Something to Say].” 4 The next morning, Alex and I walked back into that hospital. Alex’s TikTok account had a few tens of thousands of followers, mostly from his fitness videos and hospital-related informational content. The moment he started the livestream with that title, thousands of viewers poured in. Most of them were people who had followed the “Little Lamb” drama last night and had come to curse out the “slut” and the “blinded hottie.” [Ugh, that woman has the nerve to show her face at the hospital again?] [Is this guy insane? He’s that handsome and he chooses a girl with syphilis?] [You city people are wild!] I ignored the flood of comments and walked straight to the emergency department’s main hall. As I expected, Brooke was there. She wasn’t in her white coat. She had changed into a white dress and was laughing and chatting with another nurse, showing no signs of someone who had been suspended and was supposed to be reflecting on her actions. When she saw me, she froze for a second, then her lips curled into a slight, contemptuous smirk. But when her eyes moved past me and landed on Alex, who was holding his phone up and livestreaming, the color drained from her face. In the next instant, she put on a heart-wrenching, tearful expression and rushed toward us, bowing deeply over and over. “Dr. Monroe! Ms. Lynn! I’m so, so sorry!” “I truly had no idea the online reaction would be so huge… I never should have revealed your condition online, I was just so worried you might infect someone else…” She cried, stealing glances at Alex from the corner of her eye, her performance utterly convincing. The livestream chat instantly exploded. [Did you hear that! She admitted it herself! It’s a ‘condition,’ not an ‘allergic reaction’!] [I’m gonna be sick. And this woman dragged her ‘boyfriend’ here to cause more trouble?] I suppressed the inferno of rage in my chest and cut her performance short with a cold, clear voice. “A condition? Alright then.” I held up a manila folder I was carrying. “The results from last night’s blood test are in this folder.” Brooke’s sobs hitched. “But,” I continued, “I’m worried people will say we used our ‘connections’ to force the hospital to alter the report.” I turned to the camera, to the crowd of onlookers that had gathered in the lobby. “So, right here, right now, in front of everyone in this livestream, I’m going to register again, get my blood drawn again, and do another full panel of tests!” “And that’s not all,” I said, turning to Alex. Alex understood immediately and made a call. “Hello, is this the Notary Public’s office? I need an expedited on-site notarization service…” “This is…” Brooke’s face was now completely white. Just then, Dr. Wallace, the chief from yesterday, rushed over, his face livid. “This is absurd! What do you think a hospital is? A stage for your livestream drama?” He was clearly trying to shut this down. Alex walked over to him without a word and whispered something in his ear. I only caught a few words: “dean,” “internal forum,” “malicious slander.” Dr. Wallace’s face turned from white to green, then from green to a dark, stormy gray. He stared at Brooke, his eyes burning with a look that could have skinned her alive. Finally, he ground out three words through his teeth: “Let her test!” I took Alex’s phone and handled the registration and payment. On the screen, I ignored the vile comments scrolling by. Blood draw, urine sample, various scans… The notaries arrived quickly, and two of them set up their own cameras, recording the entire process. I remained perfectly calm through it all. Brooke tried to find an excuse to slip away several times, but Alex stood like a guard at the lab entrance, blocking her path every time. Her face grew paler, her eyes wild with panic. After all the tests were done, I crossed my arms and sat on a bench in the hospital lobby to wait. The number of viewers on the livestream had surpassed one hundred thousand, all of them waiting to see how this drama would end. Two hours later, I had all the printed report sheets in my hand. I didn’t even look at them. I handed the entire stack, along with the notarized documents, directly to Dr. Wallace. “Dr. Wallace,” I said with a small smile, “you’re the chief physician. You’re the expert. Would you please do the honors? Read my test results out loud for our friends in the livestream.” Dr. Wallace’s white coat was soaked with sweat. He took the stack of papers, his hands trembling. He cleared his throat and began to read, one sheet at a time. “Complete blood count, normal.” “Liver function, normal.” “Kidney function, normal.” … He read quickly, until he got to the very last page. His voice stopped abruptly. He looked up, gave me a strange, conflicted look, then glanced back down at the report in his hands. His eyes held a flicker of hesitation and something that looked almost like… pity? The livestream chat sensed that something was wrong. [Why’d he stop reading? What’s on the last page?] [Come on, say it! The suspense is killing me!] Under the pressure of hundreds of thousands of viewers, the doctor swallowed hard. He looked at the camera and forced out the words: “Syphilis antibody test… Positive (+).” “Diagnosis: Syphilis, Secondary Stage.”

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I found a homeless man, spent all my savings to heal him and helped him start a business. A year later, he became the city’s newest billionaire. Everyone envied my keen eye, eagerly awaiting my grand entry into high society. Yet, he knelt before my sister, claiming he had mistakenly loved another, only to find his true love was her. I didn’t cry, didn’t cause a scene, just smiled and nodded. My family thought I had accepted my fate. But no one knew I was born with a gift for the mystic arts, and I had long seen that Finn carried the aura of a top-tier Lucky Charm. A year of meticulous planning, all to seize his fortune. Marrying into wealth? No, I would become the wealth myself! 1 From the moment I was born, I could see everyone’s aura. Ordinary people had a faint white glow around them. Celebrities on TV shone with a dazzling red. Those cursed with bad luck, prone to bankruptcy or violent deaths, were shrouded in an impenetrable black. Only I, looking in a mirror, saw my own aura as a void, completely transparent. Because of this, since childhood, I’d devoured every book on metaphysics, sought out every reclusive master. Finally, a blind sage told me: I had a rare “Empty Fate,” a short and shallow life, with only one solution: draw upon others’ luck for my own. But I searched for many years, never encountering an aura that truly captivated me. Until one day, in a forgotten alley in the old quarter, I saw a burst of golden light so brilliant it made one squint. As I drew closer, I realized the light emanated from a filthy homeless man, emaciated beyond recognition, his wounds festering with pus and insects. Yet, that golden aura was solid, palpable, swirling around him like a mythical carp. It was the “Nine Transformations of the Lucky Carp,” a rare fortune seen only once in a century! This aura promised immense wealth, the power to defy fate, and to turn disaster into fortune. I heard my heart pound, as if I had met true love. I extended a trembling hand towards him: “Come with me.” The moment we arrived home, my sister Rose’s shriek shattered the silence: “Alicia brought back a smelly beggar!” Mom rushed from the kitchen, pinching her nose and scolding me: “Where did you pick up this vagrant? He reeks and he’s half-dead. Get him out of here!” Dad sat on the sofa, his face ashen: “What on earth are you doing? Do you want all the neighbors to laugh at us?” But I paid them no mind. I was born with shallow familial bonds. I was born at 4:44 AM, my cries as faint as a kitten’s mew. The nurse handed me to Mom, but she recoiled in disgust. Dad stood by, uttering only one sentence: “This child is bad luck.” Later, Rose was born, a rosy-cheeked, adorable baby who loved to cuddle, fulfilling all their expectations. From then on, all the warmth and attention in the household fell upon her. I became a ghost in my own home. When I was little, I once fainted with a fever, and they told the neighbors I was just “sleeping in.” When asked about my favorite food, they’d say “leftovers.” Even though I was older than Rose, I had to wear her hand-me-downs… Their favoritism brought me no sorrow, no expectation, only indifference. I didn’t care if they loved me or not; my heart was never truly here. This “Nine Transformations of the Lucky Carp” aura, that was what I truly desired. It wasn’t ordinary good fortune, but a celestial aura capable of rewriting destiny and wielding ultimate creation. Held in my grasp, it offered the absolute power to control my own life. To soar ninety thousand miles high, with the sky as my limit, unshackled. With it, everything I desired would be within reach. So I said, word by word: “I want him.” Everyone thought I was mad. I brought a beggar home, not only spending a fortune on a private doctor and imported antibiotics for him, but also paying high prices to enroll him in the most elite financial trading courses. When Rose saw the man, bandaged from head to toe, seriously studying “Security Analysis” in the room, she burst out laughing: “Sister, are you completely infatuated with a beggar? Does he even know how to spell ‘finance’?” Mom followed suit, glaring at me and lamenting with disappointment: “What’s so good about this beggar? This is just throwing money down the drain!” I didn’t even look up, replying calmly: “It’s my money; I’ll throw it however I like.” Indeed, the money I had saved over the years by performing feng shui readings and fortune-telling was now being poured into him like water. I even spent a small fortune on a tourmaline ring, which I gave to him. Everyone thought I was crazy for a man, completely infatuated with a beggar. Only I knew that once he passed this final hurdle, Finn would rise. And I would use his aura to defy fate, to reshape my destiny. Finn, resilient as a pine, sustaining fortune. “Finn, don’t disappoint me.” He certainly didn’t disappoint me. In three months, Finn completed all his financial courses. I gave him seed money to register Aura Capital. In the fifth month, he targeted the stock market, precisely shorting overhyped green energy stocks, profiting two hundred million in a week, making a name for himself overnight. In the seventh month, he transitioned to the commodity futures market. I helped him anticipate policy shifts, earning another eight hundred million. In just one year, Aura Capital grew from a small startup to a giant in the financial world. Finn, too, topped financial headlines, becoming the city’s most sought-after new billionaire, mysterious and low-key. As CEO, I remained steadily by his side. That day came quickly. Finn’s injuries were fully healed, and the bandages were removed from his face. When he was invited to the annual Outstanding Entrepreneur Awards, the entire financial world buzzed with excitement. Major media outlets converged, sensing a story: “One Year to City’s Top Billionaire! Mysterious Newcomer Finn Makes First Public Appearance!” Amidst widespread anticipation, Finn made his entrance. He stood against the light, his eyes like bright stars, tall and slender. In that moment, the entire venue fell silent. A moment later, thunderous applause erupted. Finn’s acceptance speech mentioned only one name: Alicia Stone. The tourmaline ring on his left ring finger shimmered under the spotlights. Now, he had commissioned a matching one for me, personally placing it on my ring finger. He also announced our wedding date: one month later. The media instantly exploded, camera flashes popping everywhere. “Breaking news! The new billionaire, who rose to the top in just one year, makes his first public appearance to propose!” “Oh my god, such a handsome and devoted billionaire, he’s like a perfect character from a novel!” “What more could one wish for after marrying him?!” And I, up close, observed Finn’s strong nose and his lightly pressed lips. The fortune-transferring formation would be fully complete in less than a month. Once I obtained the top-tier Lucky Charm aura, I would soar. By then, Finn would be marrying into wealth. Keeping him wouldn’t be out of the question. However, no one noticed that Rose, working as an intern reporter that day, was also present. She stared blankly at the man on stage, her lips slightly parted, her hands tightly clasped over her chest, as if the surrounding commotion held no meaning for her. Only the frantic thumping of her own heart remained. She murmured dreamily: “My… Prince Charming has truly appeared…” That evening, I returned home after signing contracts at the office. My room door was ajar. Peeking in, I saw Finn sitting at my desk, and Rose was inexplicably wearing my pajamas. The next second, Rose suddenly hugged Finn from behind. Her face was flushed, her eyes fluttering like a startled deer. Finn turned around, realizing it wasn’t me, and yet he didn’t immediately push Rose away. As the two exchanged gazes, sparks flying, I kicked the door open. Rose, like a frightened deer, pulled back her hands and clasped them over her chest. “Sister, you scared me! Why are you always so rough?” I retorted, exasperated: “Why are you in my room wearing my pajamas?” She lowered her head shyly, twisting the hem of the pajamas, and said: “My pajamas are all in the wash, and Mom said I could wear your clothes. You don’t mind, do you, Sister?” “Actually, these pajamas are a bit small on you, Sister. They fit me perfectly.” “And I think I look better in your pajamas.” Shameless, I scoffed: “Get out.” Rose’s eyes instantly welled up. She bit her lower lip. “Sister, why are you so mean to me? We’re sisters, can’t I come into your room? Do you dislike me so much that you always target me?” With that, she looked on the verge of tears, casting a pleading glance at Finn. I also looked at Finn. He frowned, pondered for a moment, then said: “Rose is innocent and kind-hearted; she means no harm.” “And you’re Rose’s older sister, you shouldn’t be so harsh with her.” Rose quickly covered Finn’s mouth with her small hand: “Don’t talk about Sister like that for my sake. I don’t want you two to argue because of me. You two should always be happy together.” After speaking, she wiped her tears with her small hand and ran out, head bowed. I heard her soft sobs in the living room. “I never imagined… my ideal Prince Charming… would be right here in our home. Isn’t this a heaven-sent destiny… but he’s Sister’s…” And Mom and Dad’s comforting voices. “He’s not married, she’s not married… how is he your sister’s then?” “A girl should be brave… pursue true love.” Looking at Finn’s slightly dazed eyes. I knew he was beginning to change. A few days later, as soon as I arrived at the office in the morning, HR handed me a new hire form. Rose Stone. Her position was Chairman’s Special Assistant. I, the CEO, knew nothing about it. As I walked towards Finn’s office, I heard Rose’s sweet voice from inside. “Finn, you’re so good to me, giving me such a high salary. Sister won’t be angry, will she?” Through the crack in the door, I saw Rose leaning across the desk, straightening Finn’s tie. Finn looked down slightly, his gaze at her holding a hint of indulgence.

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Since I was a little kid, I’ve always been a massive poser. My dad was a gambling addict, my sister was an aspiring cam girl, my little brother was a violent sociopath, my grandmother was a raging misogynist, and I… I was a shameless poser. Until one day, I found out I was actually the biological daughter of the richest man in the state. After being brought back into the billionaire family, the very first thing I did was show off. The second thing I did was forget my roots. The third thing I did was post: [I don’t need a lot of money; I need a lot of love.] 1 Since I was a little kid, I’ve always been broke and a massive poser. Even though my family was dirt poor, I pretended to be incredibly wealthy at school. My dad was a gambling addict who owed a mountain of debt and spent years hiding out of state, working odd jobs. My mom ran off with another man and we never heard from her again. Whenever my classmates talked about their parents, I’d say mine were high-level corporate executives who flew around the world every day. “Yeah… they’re super busy. I barely see them a few times a year. But I mean, they do give me a few tens of thousands a month for an allowance.” “I just play golf in my free time, travel around, you know, the usual.” A rich classmate bought a new Miu Miu hair clip and asked why I never wore designer brands. I stared at my fingernails with practiced indifference. “My parents always tell me to keep a low profile, so they only buy me niche, boutique brands. This sweater I’m wearing was custom-made by hand in France.” I discreetly hid the unravelling thread on my sleeve and offered a perfect, condescending smile. “Compared to those mass-produced luxury goods, it’s the difference between something with a soul and something without one, obviously.” For the end-of-the-year talent show, the rehearsal fees and costumes cost a total of two hundred dollars. I was the only person in the entire class who didn’t participate. I raised my hand elegantly. “Teacher, I’ll pass on the rehearsals. I have my one-on-one private piano lessons every day.” After school, a classmate asked me: “Chloe, why isn’t your driver here to pick you up yet?” I intentionally dawdled, refusing to leave. “I told my driver to bring the blue Ferrari today. It might take a little longer. Ugh, I’m used to it. Getting the car ready takes time, after all.” My classmate: “Okay, well, I’m going to head out.” 2 I didn’t dare sneak out of the school gates until every single person was gone, running all the way back to my cramped, dingy house. My younger sister, who was a year younger than me, had her face caked in heavy makeup and was live-streaming some borderline-inappropriate dance. She used to date some punk with bleached blonde hair at school, constantly got into fights, and was eventually expelled. Seeing me walk in, she answered a phone call, then immediately started bossing me around: “Hey, sis. Spot me eight bucks. I’ll pay you back when I get some cash.” I rolled my eyes at her and rejected her flat out. “No.” “Ew, are you looking down on me?” She flew into a rage and glared at me. Then she screamed into her phone: “It’s just a cup of boba! Do you think I can’t afford it?! “Girl, emergency. Spot me some cash.” She started calling her “gang” of street friends one by one. After making dozens of calls, she finally managed to scrape together eight dollars. She smugly winked at me. “Once we’re out in the real world, we’ll see who’s really the boss!” Absolutely delusional. My fingers twitched, suppressing the overwhelming urge to slap her across the face. Whatever. It had nothing to do with me anyway. 3 When I got back to my room, I found that the hundred-dollar bill I had in my drawer was missing. That was the money I had painstakingly saved up, trading all my loose change for one crisp, new bill, specifically so I wouldn’t expose my lie when paying the class fees. “Who touched my things?” My grandmother, holding my violent, sociopathic little brother in the kitchen, looked guilty and wouldn’t meet my eyes. I walked right up to her and asked blankly: “Did you steal my money?” “What do you mean ‘steal’?! You’re the older sister, what’s wrong with spending a little money on your brother?” She shoved me hard, not forgetting to add sarcastically: “Who knows how you even got that money anyway? Tsk, tsk. Better to spend it on my precious grandson.” My six-year-old sociopathic brother was utterly fearless. He giggled and made a face at me. “I took it! So what?! Grandma said your money is my money. “If you dare yell at me, I’ll tell Daddy to come back and beat you to death!” I looked down at him and let out two cold laughs. When our dad was around, I had to act meek and submissive to survive, catering to this little “golden boy’s” every whim. But now that the gambling addict had fled out of state to dodge his debts, he wasn’t coming back for at least six months to a year. It was time to show them who the real master of this house was. I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into my small room. Before the old hag could even react, I swiftly locked the bedroom door. I rolled my wrists, a wicked smile spreading across my face. “Hehe.” I backhanded him twice across the face. He was stunned by the slaps, not daring to move an inch. A few seconds later, he burst into wails and charged at me, trying to hit me. I easily subdued him with a few more slaps. “Still want to fight back?” Hearing the kid crying inside, the old hag outside started frantically pounding on the door. While simultaneously cursing: “Chloe! How dare you hit your brother! Let him go! Oh my god, my precious baby…” I didn’t say a word. I just kept slapping him. Finally, the old hag outside broke. She compromised: “Chloe! I’ll give the money back! Let my grandson out right now!” “Money first. Slide it under the door.” “Here! Here!” She slid a bill through the crack under the door. I let go of my brother, whose cheeks were both swollen, and unceremoniously snatched the bill from the floor. After rubbing it between my fingers, I licked the corner of my lips. “Double the compensation, and I’ll let him go.” “You! You’re breaking your promise!” The old hag slumped against the door handle, looking like she was about to faint. But the sound of another slap from inside instantly woke her up. “If you don’t hand it over, your grandson might get beaten to death.” She sounded like she was having a complete breakdown: “I’ll give it to you! I’m giving it to you, stop hitting your brother!” After receiving the second bill, I satisfactorily let him out. “You… you have such a vicious heart!” The old hag hugged her grandson at the door, pointing a trembling finger at me. “Thank you for the compliment.” I offered a shamelessly sweet smile. 4 Acting as if nothing happened, I pushed past the two of them and slammed a bill down in front of my wannabe-gangster sister. “From now on, don’t tell anyone outside that I’m your sister. If you see me, pretend you don’t know me. Understand?!” Last time, she almost ruined all my hard work by shouting my name at school. Thankfully, my poser skills were top-notch. I claimed she was our maid’s daughter, and no one questioned it. This money was compensation for her silence. My sister looked at me with a lazy, sideways glance. “If you ever need anything, come find me, your big sis Lily. I’ll remember this favor. My street connections are at your beck and call.” I closed my eyes, forcing a smile after a long pause. “Just don’t say you know me. That’s all I need. Thanks.” The old hag yelled from the side: “Lily, if you dare take that money, I’ll have your father beat you to death! Chloe is being ridiculous, and you’re playing along?! “Give that money back to Grandma right now!” My sociopathic brother glared at us with pure hatred, crying and screaming: “You’re all bullying me! I’m going to beat you to death!” Acting like she couldn’t hear them, Lily started calling her “sisters.” “Let’s go. Big sis Lily is treating today. I’m taking you all out for a feast.” I sighed, went back to my room, and shut the door. What kind of cursed, catastrophic starting stats were these?! Whatever, time to read some revenge fantasy web novels. I found a novel about a real vs. fake heiress. When I read the female lead’s background story, I almost cried. What was the difference between her and me?! Oh, right. She wasn’t as good a poser as I was. Thinking about this, I suddenly lost interest and opened Xiaohongshu (a lifestyle/social media app similar to Instagram/Pinterest). The “stealth wealth” posts I scrolled past almost made me die of anger. Shanghai Princess: [Haha, you’re so funny. When I was studying in the US, my Ivy League friends never understood these jokes. I still prefer hanging out with you guys. Being alone in Beverly Hills gets so lonely. It’s so nice to be back in China. But I’ll only be at Harvard for a short time anyway, I still have to go back to Beijing. Even though my official residency is in Shanghai, my parents bought me a villa in the Beijing Manor estate in the East Third Ring Road to live in.] I had previously tried to build a rich-girl persona online, but I got exposed and had to delete my account. Right now, I was studying these posts frame-by-frame, determined to make a comeback. Just as I was thinking this, my sociopathic brother, who only bullied the weak and feared the strong, started pounding on my door. He had called his dad to complain. “She hit me! How dare she hit me! Waaah… “Isn’t her money my money?! Daddy, come back quickly and sell her for cash! Didn’t you say she was only here to pay for my future wife?!” And the old hag added fuel to the fire: “Exactly. She’s completely out of control. Because no one’s here to discipline her, she’s bullying my precious grandson, and she even knows how to steal my money now. “Oh my god, my life is so miserable…” “Shut up!” I gripped my blanket tightly and roared viciously. The noise outside the door stopped. Immediately, my gambling addict dad called me. “You little bitch, do you have a death wish?! Just wait until I get back and show you a lesson! You can forget about your two hundred dollar allowance this month! “Apologize to your brother and your grandmother right now!” I hung up the phone, grinding my teeth. I scrolled through my photo album and found a picture of my brother. I didn’t even need to edit it to make him look ugly; his natural face was already abstract enough. I used my burner account to create a post on Xiaohongshu, asking if he could be a child model. Watching the hate comments rapidly rolling in, I peacefully closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. 5 With my allowance gone, and the old hag watching me like a hawk, I didn’t even have the chance to start a fight. After pinching pennies for a few days, I literally couldn’t afford lunch at school. My classmates curiously asked why I wasn’t eating. With 30% elegance, 30% disdain, and 40% careless indifference, I replied: “My parents said the food here isn’t healthy and told me not to eat it. “My family’s Michelin-starred chef prepares custom, high-end meals for me every day. You wouldn’t understand.” Someone questioned: “Then why are you drinking the school’s water?” I remained perfectly composed. “Usually, my family’s water is flown in directly from icebergs. But it’s too much of a hassle, and I’m not that delicate. I’m just treating it as experiencing the common life.” … When I got home that night, I froze the moment I walked in. My bedroom door had been smashed open, and everything inside was completely trashed and thrown everywhere. I rushed to the side of my bed and crouched down. The hundred-dollar bill I had hidden under the bedframe was gone. The old hag and her grandson were hiding in their bedroom. I pounded on the door with all my might but couldn’t get it open, leaving me completely powerless and furious. The living room was completely bare. There wasn’t a single cent left. What was I going to do? The class fees were due tomorrow. I had to swallow my pride, kneel outside their door, and beg her to give the money back. “The class fees are due tomorrow! That money is incredibly important to me. Please, I’m begging you, give it back…” Her mocking, sarcastic voice drifted out from inside: “Now you come begging me? Heh, impossible! “Just wait to embarrass yourself tomorrow!” I was so angry I could die. Just wait. The day I get rich, the very first thing I’m going to do is slap you to death. But mental fantasies weren’t going to solve my immediate problem. I agonized all night, having absolutely no idea what to do. In the morning, my sister handed me a five-dollar bill, winking at me sleazily. “Short on cash? However much you need, you can just ask your big sis! With my street connections, tsk, I can definitely scrape it together for you.” Heh. Thanks, but no thanks. I forced a tight smile, grabbed my backpack, and hurried out. 6 The entire way to school, I was trapped in a state of absolute panic and breakdown. What was I going to do? If I couldn’t even produce this tiny amount of money, my cover would be blown. Everyone would look down on me and isolate me. I would be ruined! It felt like I was standing in pitch darkness, with countless eyes staring at me, pointing fingers at me. HONK! HONK! HONK! The piercing sound of a car horn violently yanked me back to reality. I stood frozen in place, looking left and right. I was… in the middle of crossing the street? “Are you blind?! Do you not have eyes?!” The car window rolled down, and a man wearing sunglasses roared furiously. He carried an aura of absolute superiority; one look and you knew he was a wealthy second-generation heir from an affluent family. And he was driving a blue Ferrari. If only it were mine. Snapping out of my unrealistic fantasy, I meekly apologized: “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention just now.” When he saw my face clearly, the man suddenly froze. He opened the door, stepped out of the car, pulled me to the side, and asked with a frown: “What is your name?” “Huh?” I didn’t know what he was getting at, but I answered obediently: “Chloe Vance.” “Mm… you weren’t scared just now, were you? I was definitely too impatient.” He suddenly raised his hand and rubbed my head firmly. “Leave me your contact info. If you feel unwell later, just contact me. I can compensate you.” Why did this guy’s attitude change so fast? I nodded slowly, completely failing to notice that he had just plucked a few strands of hair from my head. Even though something felt a bit off, my vanity ultimately won out. While he was getting back into his car, I secretly snapped a picture of the luxury sports car on my phone. With his broad shoulders, narrow waist, flawless face, and superior aura, he was the absolute perfect prop for my poser facade. “Wow, is that really your brother?” “Of course! He dropped me off at school today.” Girls around me started screaming: “Oh my god, he’s so hot!!!” I proudly lifted my chin. “My brother is usually incredibly busy attending to various business engagements. He barely managed to carve out some time today to keep me company. “Like I told you guys before, this Ferrari is just the standard model. We have dozens of cars like this in our garage.” Gasps of awe echoed around me. Basking in their envious and jealous stares, I played the part flawlessly. “It’s really no big deal.” 7 When it was time to collect the class fees, I was the only person in the entire class who hadn’t paid. The teacher looked around the room, while I, forcing myself to remain calm, raised my hand. “Teacher, my family always just gives me a credit card. I don’t carry cash.” “You didn’t bring any?” The teacher frowned, then said, “Well, you can just have your parents Venmo it to me.” “Teacher, my parents are out of the country on a business trip. They’re incredibly busy and don’t have time for things like this.” I could lie through my teeth without even blushing. “It’s fine. I’ll just give your parents a call later. “Everyone except Chloe has paid, right? Since we have almost everything, I’ll take my leave.” She didn’t give me a chance to argue further and walked right out of the classroom. I gritted my teeth, having absolutely no idea what to do. I could only pray that my gambling addict father wouldn’t answer the phone. Otherwise, the persona I had painstakingly crafted over the past two years would be completely destroyed. Swallowing hard, I hesitantly opened the contacts app on my phone. Ask that rich guy for money? But why on earth would he help me? I was dreaming. I don’t know how long I sat there spacing out before my homeroom teacher suddenly called my name from the doorway. “Chloe, step out here for a minute.” It’s over. My heart, which had been hanging by a thread, completely died. Following her out into the hallway, I spoke stiffly, like a wooden puppet: “Teacher, is something wrong?” She looked at me sternly. “Chloe, why are you lying?” I kept my head down, not daring to speak. The students inside the classroom were whispering amongst themselves. I could feel their gazes darting toward me, every single one filled with malicious curiosity. “Your father said he doesn’t know anything about this! He said that at home, not only do you bully your little brother and your grandmother, but you’ve also started stealing money!” Her tone was filled with disappointment. “I never expected you to be such a vain person. Lying and deceiving your teachers and classmates at school…” Watching her lips moving, a loud ringing sound engulfed my ears. The overwhelming sense of humiliation from years ago surrounded me once again. It felt like I was back in kindergarten. Because my family was poor and my parents weren’t there to defend me, everyone bullied me and ostracized me. “Chloe is so pitiful, she doesn’t even have a mommy or daddy…” “Let’s go. Don’t play with her. She looks dirty.” Even when playing games, they would intentionally push me to the ground. “Teacher! I saw her cheat! She stepped on the line!” “Yeah, I saw it too!” “Me too!” … And now, my classmates were doing the same. Countless dark shadows pointed fingers at me, their gazes aggressive and invasive. “So Chloe was faking it the whole time. How shameless.” “A poor kid trying to play the rich heiress. I knew I couldn’t stand her!” “Let’s all stay away from her…” I didn’t do anything! Countless hands pushed me into a cramped, suffocating corner. The most innocent-looking malice poured down on me like dirty water. What exactly did I do wrong? Why did they all isolate me and bully me? Just as I felt like I was going to lose my mind, I suddenly felt a warm embrace. I looked up blankly and saw the older brother from this morning. He wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes and ruffled my hair with a look of mock disgust. My brain completely short-circuited. No way. What is he doing here?

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At my absolute lowest point, Liam Vance married me. Everyone said he only married me to spite my younger sister. But when he died in a car accident, he left his entire estate to me. And a voice recorder. Pressing play, his low, raspy voice filled the room— He said: “Chloe, could you… maybe like me back just a little bit?” After all those years, I finally saw the massive, overwhelming love he had hidden beneath the ice. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn. My adoptive mother was gripping my hand, saying: “Chloe, will you go to prison in your sister’s place?” 01 Before I turned sixteen, I was the pampered, carefree eldest daughter of the Sterling family. Doted on by my parents and favored by my older brother, my life was perfect. Until Mia showed up with a DNA test, revealing that a nurse had swapped us at birth. She was the real heiress; I was just the imposter who stole her life. I wanted to leave. But my biological parents had passed away long ago, and Mrs. Sterling couldn’t bear to see me become an orphan. So, they officially adopted me. My adoptive parents treated me well, my brother didn’t give me the cold shoulder, and Mia never made things difficult for me. I was grateful. But later, Mia got into an argument backstage with an actress on a movie set. During the scuffle, the actress fell down the stairs and ended up in a vegetative state. There were no security cameras. But someone had to take the fall. And I happened to be there, witnessing the whole thing. My adoptive mother came to me in tears, begging me to take the blame for Mia. Mia knelt in front of me, sobbing, slapping her own face, and begging for my forgiveness. The whole family cried as if their hearts were breaking. So, I nodded. I took the blame, went to prison, and suffered through absolute hell. At first, the Sterling family still came to visit me, crying out of guilt or apology. But slowly, the visits stopped completely. Once, during a prison activity, the warden asked about our plans after release. I thought about it for a long time before carefully writing down: [After I get out, I want to see my mom and dad.] A fellow inmate saw it and laughed at how simple my wish was. “Of course your mom and dad will come pick you up. Why wouldn’t you see them?” I smiled and didn’t argue. But when I was finally released, no one came. Only Mr. Sterling’s assistant showed up. He drove me to the airport and handed me a large sum of money. He didn’t say a single word. But I understood everything. Mom and Dad didn’t want me anymore. The Sterling family had abandoned me. 02 I didn’t take the money. Not out of pride. I just didn’t want to owe the Sterling family anything anymore. They raised me for twenty years; I went to prison for their daughter for five. We were even. I rented a small apartment and ran myself ragged until I finally found a job that didn’t care about my criminal record. But just half a month later, I was fired. After I persistently questioned him, the manager finally stammered out: “You offended someone you shouldn’t have.” I froze, unable to say another word. Someone I shouldn’t have offended. Aside from the Sterling family. Who else could it be? That day, clutching my bag, I walked out onto the street. A fine, misty rain was falling, the cool droplets blowing onto my face and body. As I passed the central plaza, the giant screen was broadcasting a live event featuring Mia. I stopped and looked up. Standing on the award stage, she was breathtakingly beautiful, radiating confidence. The camera panned, and I saw Mr. and Mrs. Sterling looking at her with tears of joy. Looking at her like she was an invaluable treasure, their eyes full of nothing but love. For some reason, I suddenly remembered my adoptive mother visiting me in prison for the first time. Seeing how dangerously thin I had gotten, she cried and promised: “Chloe, after you get out, Mom will take care of you for the rest of your life. Mom loves you.” But the last time I saw her, two years ago, the only emotion left on her face was a faint trace of guilt. She said: “Chloe, Mia is getting engaged to Liam Vance. She really loves him. After you get out, could you leave the city? So the Vance family doesn’t find out about the past.” Liam Vance. The crown prince of the Vance family. We had TVs in prison, so I would occasionally hear about the epic, deep romance between Mia and Liam. Everyone said Liam Vance was a notorious playboy, but he gave it all up for Mia. He even stepped into the entertainment industry he so deeply despised, just to pave the way for her, funneling resources to her, and even personally presenting her awards. Sometimes, I envied Mia. I envied that she had parents who loved her, a boyfriend who adored her, and in her short twenty-something years, she had already achieved both career success and true love. Unlike me. No parents, no career, no lover. And… no one who loved me. 03 As for marrying Liam, that was a complete accident. After getting fired, I moved back to my hometown and worked as a waitress in a restaurant. It was pretty busy. I have no idea how he found out where I was. When he tracked me down, I was serving beers to a customer. The man had too much to drink and started getting handsy. I frowned and slapped him. Enraged, he kicked me hard, knocking me to the ground. Beer and food spilled all over me. It burned. Still not satisfied, the man cursed and raised his hand to hit me again, but the next second, he went dead silent. I opened my eyes and looked straight into a pair of eyes as bright as stars. Liam Vance smirked, though it looked lazy and lacking any real warmth: “Chloe Sterling, you really are here.” I got up, brushed the food scraps off myself, nodded, and tried to walk past him. But I hadn’t taken two steps. When I heard his voice from behind me: “Seeing as you’re in such a pathetic state, want to marry me?” I whipped my head around in shock: “Have you finally lost your mind?” “I’m serious.” Liam looked me over, his eyes dark and unreadable. He sounded completely serious. “To be honest, your sister dumped me, and I’m pissed. And the Sterling family pushed you to this point. I guess we can consider ourselves an alliance of victims.” The yellow streetlight flickered twice before finally burning out. I couldn’t see his face clearly. I could only hear him let out a scoff, the tip of his cigarette glowing a faint red in the dark: “You have absolutely nothing left anyway. Marrying me, you don’t lose anything. What are you afraid of?” I thought about it. I didn’t say anything. He just waited for me quietly. It wasn’t until a cold wind blew past, making me shiver instinctively, that Liam took off his custom-tailored trench coat and draped it over my shoulders. Instantly, my nose was filled with the faint scent of his tobacco. I said: “Okay.” 04 When the news of our marriage broke, everyone was shocked. They all said Liam only married me to spite Mia. At our wedding, when Liam said “I do,” I noticed Mia in the audience, her eyes red from crying, before she lost her composure and fled the venue. I glanced at the man beside me, but he just smiled and didn’t even look her way. As if he had never loved her, as if he truly didn’t care. After we got married, Liam treated me very well. He arranged for me to be his secretary, keeping us tied together every single minute of the day. When I asked him why, he just gave a flirtatious smile: “I can’t feel at ease leaving a beautiful woman alone at home. What if a thief steals you away? I’d be losing out on my own purity.” I laughed at his nonsense. And didn’t bother arguing with him. All those years in prison, I suffered too much. My body couldn’t handle any strain. A normal person’s cold or cough would turn into a major illness for me. Liam hired top specialists from everywhere to treat me, and I finally got a little better. By my hospital bed, he held my hand, looking incredibly serious and devout: “Chloe Sterling, I bought you. Your life belongs to me. You are not allowed to die before I do!” Such childish words. But seeing the faint bitterness in his eyes, I finally nodded. I didn’t understand why he was sad. But I had long since learned not to ask, not to pry. “Okay.” “Till death do us part.” But, in the end, the one who broke the promise. Wasn’t me. It was Liam Vance. 05 “Mrs. Vance, Mr. Vance passed away at 3:00 AM yesterday due to a severe car accident, despite our best efforts to save him. “My deepest condolences.” Pushing open the door to the morgue, Liam’s parents were already weeping uncontrollably. Looking at Liam’s deathly pale face, I could only think to myself: God favored him, giving him a family background, looks, and abilities that others could only dream of, but why was God so stingy to only give him thirty-four years? What a shame. What a shame. I handled Liam’s funeral entirely on my own. Even after five years of marriage, many people still didn’t believe in our relationship. Mia, whose love had turned to hate, was constantly waiting for me to become a joke. But no one expected that Liam would leave all his property and shares entirely to me. His parents had no objections. They just left, their backs hunched, their former vitality completely gone. A week later, Liam’s lawyer, Mr. Chen, brought me the asset transfer documents. Before leaving, he handed me a voice recorder: “This was recovered from Mr. Vance’s belongings. I believe you should have it, Madam.” 06 “Chloe Sterling.” From the voice recorder, the man’s voice was cool and clear, laced with a bit of static, making it sound even huskier: “I never married you to spite Mia. I married you because I liked you.” I froze, but my heart remained strangely calm. As if I had expected it. Liam let out a soft laugh: “Maybe you’ve forgotten, but we met a long time ago. “Back then, you were the untouchable ‘ice queen’ of the school. You were incredibly smart, the teachers’ favorite. My mentor was always talking about you. Every time he finished chatting with your teacher, he would angrily tell me—” “Liam Vance, I hate you right now. Stay away from me.” He imitated his mentor’s tone, sounding unexpectedly cute. I instinctively let out a laugh. But the next second, I slowly pulled it back. Liam continued: “I hated you so much back then, but I couldn’t stop looking at you. I guess I’m a bit of a glutton for punishment, hehe. “But later, you went to prison. For so-called intentional assault. “I didn’t believe it. I had to find out the truth, but unfortunately, the Sterling family cleaned up all the evidence perfectly. So, I set my sights on Mia.” So that was it. The legendary, deeply moving romance between Liam and Mia was just an excuse for him to uncover the truth behind my imprisonment. But Liam never expected Mia’s lips to be sealed so tight. But eventually, he still found clues. I suddenly remembered that before we got married, Liam had excitedly asked me one day: “Chloe, do you want revenge?” “No.” I shook my head: “We’re even.” After all these years. I finally understood that on that day, he had probably uncovered the truth. He investigated the truth for me. And for me, he buried it again. It turned out, it was all because of me. The emotions in my eyes trembled violently. My entire body couldn’t stop shaking, and tears fell drop by drop.

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My boyfriend always had this habit of whispering sweet nothings into my ear after he thought I’d fallen asleep. Little things. Baby. Wifey. I love you so much. I had caught him doing it a few times before, but I was always too exhausted to keep my eyes open, letting the exhaustion pull me under. Tonight, though, I wanted to tease him. I kept my breathing even, feigning sleep. Right on cue, his voice dropped into that low, soulful register. “Sweetheart. I love you the most…” My heart melted into a puddle. I cracked my eyes open, throwing my arms wide to pull him into a massive, suffocating hug. Only to find him staring at the glowing screen of his phone, his thumb holding down the voice memo button on iMessage. 01 My arms hung suspended in the dark. To hug, or not to hug. Time seemed to freeze in our dimly lit bedroom. It would have stayed frozen, too, if Tyler hadn’t suddenly looked up, his eyes going wide with sheer panic. He shoved the phone behind his back so fast I heard his elbow crack against the headboard. His mouth opened and closed, but no actual words came out. Slowly, I retracted my awkward, hovering arms. I shoved down the sudden, violent spike of adrenaline in my chest and forced a painfully calm smile. “Who are you sending voice notes to?” Tyler scooted backward, pressing himself against the wall. “Harper… it’s not what you think…” “Give me the phone.” He let out a hollow, synthetic laugh. “Haha, come on, I was just messing around with the boys!” “I said, give me the phone.” What happened next genuinely blew my mind. In the span of three seconds, Tyler’s expression underwent a masterclass in manipulation. When he looked back up at me, his face was a perfectly calibrated mix of thirty percent innocent, forty percent pathetic, and thirty percent deeply offended. His voice actually trembled when he spoke. “Harper! It’s for my work! Is this really the kind of person you think I am?” I didn’t quite understand the sheer audacity of it, but I was spectacularly awestruck. “Tyler, let’s get one thing straight. You’re the one sexting someone else in our bed. Who exactly gave you the audacity to point the finger at me?” I was so furiously angry that a laugh tore out of my throat. I actually started clapping, offering a slow ovation for his performance. I had to admit, the way the corners of his eyes flushed pink, the way his unshed tears caught the bedside light—he looked beautiful. If he didn’t, I never would have given him the time of day to begin with. He was a D-list TikTok thirst-trap, a guy who built an audience by flexing his abs and looking pretty for the camera. He had slid into my DMs claiming he was “obsessed” with the menswear I designed, asking to borrow a few pieces for a shoot. He borrowed the clothes, and eventually, he borrowed his way into my apartment. I was not a woman who believed in love. But Tyler… Tyler was relentless. He was the Good morning, the Did you eat?, the Goodnight texts. He was the one who always had to send the last message. He remembered Valentine’s Day, our anniversaries, the little mundane milestones, slowly, painstakingly building a glittering illusion of romance around me. And now, with his own hands, he had shattered it. My chest felt like it had been carved out with a rusted spoon, but I have always been fiercely proud. I never believed in it anyway, I told myself. Tyler just slipped up and let the mask drop. He was nothing but a harsh lesson, a cosmic reminder that I was right to never expect anything from love. He was an empty, vacuous thing wrapped in attractive packaging. He was a songbird I kept in a gilded cage, and if the bird couldn’t stay loyal, I simply wouldn’t keep him. I am the one throwing him away. I repeated the mantra in my head, desperately trying to convince myself, but the tears blurred my vision anyway, hot and entirely out of my control. “Harper, please…” Tyler leaned in, trying to use his usual boyish charm to coax me down. Except this time, I took a step back. I dodged him. “I messed up. I swear on my life I’ll never do it again, okay?” I crossed my arms defensively over my chest, staring at him. I let the silence stretch out, heavy and suffocating. Tyler abruptly grabbed the water glass from the nightstand and hurled it onto the hardwood floor. It shattered into a hundred pieces. “Fine! Then let’s break up!” “Done.” My immediate, icy response must have stung his fragile ego. He looked stunned, and then, like a petulant toddler throwing a tantrum, he screamed, “Get the hell out! I never want to see you again!” I rolled my eyes, turned on my heel, and marched out to the living room to pack my bags. As a freelance fashion designer hustling from the ground up, I was constantly flying between coasts, living out of suitcases. I barely spent any time at home. If the post-pandemic industry slowdown hadn’t forced me to take a breather, I never would have been home long enough to discover my boyfriend’s little secret. I didn’t have much unpacked anyway. It took me exactly ten minutes to zip up my duffel bag. But right as my hand hit the front doorknob, I froze. Wait a damn minute. I pay the rent on this apartment! The realization hit me like a freight train, followed instantly by a wave of pure rage. I dropped my bag with a heavy thud and marched right back into the bedroom. When Tyler saw me walk back in, the corner of his mouth twitched upward into a smug little smirk. He fully believed I’d changed my mind, that I couldn’t bear to leave him. Once upon a time, I thought his boyish arrogance was somewhat endearing. Now, I just wondered how someone so young could be so utterly repulsive. I mirrored his smile, drew in a deep breath from my diaphragm, and said, “Get the hell out.” 02 The more I compromised, the more I felt like a fool. Standing in the center of my apartment, everywhere I looked, I saw traces of Tyler. Worse, the intrusive thoughts began to spiral: What if, while I was traveling for work, he brought other women back here? Into this bed? I physically recoiled from the mattress. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Ugh! I was so angry. I shouldn’t have just kicked him out; I should have cursed him to hell and back and slapped that smug look off his face! And so, at two in the morning, I found myself rage-cleaning. I was crying, violently scrubbing the counters, and tossing all my bedsheets into the washing machine on the hottest cycle. Work had been practically stagnant lately. Life was already hard enough. Why the hell was I volunteering to suffer over love? “Smart women don’t catch feelings, they catch flights. Single, thriving, and building an empire!” Chanting this newly adopted life motto, I threw a couple of clean sweatshirts over my bare mattress and finally cried myself to sleep. The next morning, I was violently jolted awake by a FaceTime call from my best friend. I had texted her in the middle of the night to tell her I got cheated on. The second she woke up at ten a.m. and saw the message, she called. That’s the thing about true best friends; they show up when your world falls apart. “Hey,” I croaked, my eyes swollen to the size of golf balls. Even through the blur, I could see Blair looking at her screen like she’d just seen a ghost. “Holy shit! Harper, did you get jumped?” “Shut up. I’m mourning the death of my love life, do you mind?” She scoffed. “No, you’re looking at this all wrong. Ending a toxic relationship is a cause for celebration! I told you from day one that Tyler was a walking red flag…” She caught the bleak look on my face and quickly pivoted. “Okay, fine, fine, we can mourn. But I’m taking you to a much better place to do it!” An hour later, standing on the edge of a literal cliff with the wind violently whipping my hair across my face, I realized I didn’t know my best friend at all. When she said she was taking me out for a “plunge,” I assumed she meant that new subterranean speakeasy downtown. Bars. Cocktails. Dim lighting. Because of this assumption, I had spent an hour doing a full beat of makeup and poured myself into a custom-designed, emerald-green silk playsuit. It hugged every curve, the deep v-neck toeing the line between elegant and dangerous. Instead, Blair drove us two hours upstate to a gorge. To go bungee jumping. Cocktails and cliffs. Vastly different dress codes. Blair spent a solid minute looking me up and down. “Well. Thank God you wore shorts.” I knew what she meant—you can’t exactly strap into a harness in a miniskirt—but a few guys in the line next to us still let out low, sleazy chuckles. Instinctively, I whipped my head around to glare at whichever creep was laughing, but my eyes instantly locked onto someone else. He was taller than the rest of the guys in line. The kind of tall that commands a room without trying. He was wearing casual clothes, but as a designer, I understood the architecture of fabric; from the way his shirt draped across his shoulders and chest, I could tell he was built like a god. He had the natural, effortless proportions of a runway model, possessing more raw magnetism than any professional I’d ever dressed. It’s an occupational hazard. When I see a perfect canvas, I stare. Sensing my eyes on him, he looked right back at me. Suddenly, the tips of his ears twitched—the smallest, most imperceptible movement, like a golden retriever spotting its owner. The tiny detail delighted me. The corner of my mouth hooked up into a brazen smirk. He immediately brought a large, long-fingered hand up to cover his right ear, ducking his head slightly as a dark, dusty pink began to spread across his cheekbones. Blair aggressively elbowed my ribs, grinning like a menace. “Oh, he’s a ten. Let me wingman this for you.” Her eyes were practically stripping the poor guy naked. I quickly grabbed her arm and dragged her forward before she could embarrass me further. Unfortunately, the universe has a sick sense of humor. We had paid for a tandem jump because Blair claimed she was too scared to go alone. But the second we stepped onto the metal grating of the platform and she looked down into the gaping chasm below, she dug her heels in. She refused to jump. Almost everyone else was paired up. If I didn’t find a partner, I’d have to take off the harness and do the walk of shame back to the car. The instructor asked the crowd three times if anyone wanted to tandem jump with me. I saw a few of the sleazy guys eyeing me, thankfully held back by their glaring girlfriends. Just as I accepted that I had driven two hours upstate for nothing, the gorgeous guy stepped out of the crowd. “I’ll jump with her.” His voice was a deep, gravelly timbre that went straight to my knees. “Step closer to him!” the instructor barked. “Hold on tight!” 03 The instructor kept yelling at us, but we were standing so rigidly apart you could have driven a Honda Civic between us. Suddenly, Blair planted her hands on my lower back and shoved me forward. I collided hard against his chest. Maybe it was his solid muscle, or maybe it was my own momentum, but we actually bounced off each other for a second before his arms came up. It was a strange, electric sensation. My cheeks felt like they were on fire. Despite being with Tyler for a long time, our physical intimacy had been incredibly sparse. It stemmed from trauma. My mother had gotten pregnant with me out of wedlock before marrying my father, and she spent my entire childhood enduring the subtle, biting contempt of his family. Because of that environment, I grew up with a deep-seated, psychological aversion to letting men touch me. Tyler had tried, of course. He would put on the tacky lingerie sets he modeled online and parade around the bedroom. But all I could ever think about was how the stitching was uneven, how the structural integrity of the garment failed to support the torso, and how the fabric choice was cheap. I had worried about frustrating him. I had even quietly resolved to finally sleep with him next month for his birthday, and then… Thinking about it now, a bitter laugh bubbled up in my throat. Tyler wasn’t exactly suffering in my absence. He clearly had plenty of other girls keeping his bed warm. Suddenly, two massive hands gripped my waist. He pulled me flush against his body. He’s so hot. Literally. He felt like a furnace. Before I could process it, gravity vanished. We plummeted. I always thought I wasn’t afraid of dying. I thought I was cynical enough to accept the end. But as the wind ripped the air from my lungs, every biological instinct screamed, Survive! Fueled by sheer terror, I locked my arms around his neck, burying my face in his chest, clinging to him like if I pressed hard enough, I could fuse my skeleton with his and somehow be safer. A bungee jump only lasts a few seconds, but when you’re in freefall, time dilates into a terrifying eternity. Every time the cord snapped taut and we rebounded, I felt the heavy thud of his chest and heard a low, muffled groan rumble in his throat. I was mortified, but I was way too terrified to let go. Realizing he was making noise, he bit down hard on his lower lip to stifle it. Seeing his lips bruised to a dark, flush red made my face burn even hotter. When we were finally hauled back up, I had to sit on a nearby bench for ten minutes just to stop my legs from shaking. My jumping partner had vanished the second our boots touched solid ground. Damn. I should have asked for his Instagram, I thought, a wave of disappointment washing over me. I slapped both hands against my cheeks. Pull it together, Harper. What the hell is wrong with you today? A cold bottle of water suddenly appeared in my line of sight. I traced the arm holding it all the way up to his perfectly sculpted face. “Thank you,” I said softly. I took the water, noticing the cap had already been cracked open for me. I took a small sip, then pressed the condensation-covered plastic against my burning cheek. It was too hot out here. “Let me get your Venmo. I’ll pay you back for this,” I said, mustering my courage. “Everything at these tourist traps is a rip-off.” He froze, looking at me like a deer in headlights, before frantically waving his hands. “No, no, it’s not expensive! I can afford it.” His panicked desperation to assure me he wasn’t broke was equally endearing and frustrating. I blinked, then let out a soft laugh. Sometimes, men used awkwardness as a shield. He clearly knew I was trying to get his contact info and was politely shutting me down. He probably had a girlfriend and didn’t want the drama. Thinking about that, my crush on him deepened a little, even as my heart sank. There were genuinely good men in the world; my mother and I just had the rotten luck of never running into them. Blair finally came bounding over, looking entirely too pleased with herself as she unzipped her massive backpack. It was packed with craft beers and heavy snacks. No wonder she had complained about it weighing a ton when I offered to carry it earlier. “Are we having a picnic, Blair? Seriously?” I asked through gritted teeth. She ignored my murderous glare and immediately turned her aggressive friendliness onto the guy. “It’s way too heavy to hike back down with! Harper, you know how kind I am, I’m just forcing us to drink it to save your back. Come on, handsome, sit with us!” I fully expected him to make an excuse and leave. Instead, he stood there, genuinely contemplating it, before nodding seriously. “It is too heavy to carry back.” I’m usually a happy drunk. The only problem is that alcohol destroys my verbal filter. Three beers in, I completely forgot there was a stranger sitting with us. The fresh memory of Tyler’s betrayal came crashing down, and the floodgates opened. I ended up burying my face in Blair’s shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. “Blair, is this karma? Did I reject too many guys in college? Was I too mean? Is that why the universe cursed me with a walking red flag the second I graduated?” Blair patted my back, looking at me with a mix of pity and exasperation. “I told you to be nicer. You could have just strung a few along for the ego boost, like everyone else does! College is supposed to be fun, but you chose to be a nun. Who are you blaming now?” “Wait. You didn’t have a boyfriend in college?” A deep, quiet voice cut through my tears. I sniffled, pulling back to look at his face. Through my blurry, tear-filled vision, I gave him a deeply serious answer. “No!” 04 A sudden, striking light flared in his eyes. “You didn’t?” he murmured to himself. “Wait a minute,” Blair interjected, zeroing in on him. “Why would you assume she had a boyfriend in college?” He stared at me for a long time. His eyes were dark, unreadable, and intensely focused. I tilted my head, waiting for his answer. Finally, a slow, devastating smile broke across his face. “Just a guess.” Oh, God. My heart skipped a violent beat. It was a genuine, unguarded smile. It transformed his already perfect face, making the sharp angles softer. The slight curve of his eyes made him look boyish and incredibly warm. It felt like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. Staring at beautiful men was clearly good for the soul. I felt spiritually cleansed. Halfway through the afternoon, Blair wandered off to find a bathroom. When ten minutes passed and she hadn’t returned, I got anxious and decided to go look for her. My face was still warm from the alcohol, but I wasn’t drunk anymore. I was lingering in that pleasant, hazy space between tipsy and entirely lucid. “Do you want me to come with you?” He started to stand up, concern etching his brow. I was fast. Before he could fully rise, I planted a hand firmly on his shoulder, pressing him back onto the picnic blanket. I told him to stay and guard the bags. It was weird. This was the first time we’d ever met, but there was an inexplicable familiarity to him. I didn’t even know his name yet, but my intuition screamed that he was the safest person on this mountain. I shook my head, marveling at how strange human connection was. You can see someone every day for years and feel miles apart, or you can meet a stranger and feel like you’ve known them for a lifetime. It was a shame I hadn’t met him sooner. The dirt trails leading into the woods were uneven and rocky. I slipped my expensive heels off, carrying them by the straps, and walked barefoot against the cool earth. I swayed slightly, taking deep breaths of the pine-scented air. With every exhale, it felt like the heavy knot of grief in my chest was loosening. Cell service in the mountains was practically nonexistent. I walked for ten minutes and couldn’t find the bathrooms. When I realized the path was getting narrower and the crowds had completely disappeared, a spike of anxiety hit me. I had wandered off the main trail. I spun around to head back. But as I rounded a bend, three men stepped out from the trees, blocking my path. The leader had bleached blonde hair and a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. He looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on the deep cut of my silk playsuit. “You lost, sweetheart? Want us to escort you back?” He reached a hand out toward my arm. I took a sharp step back, forcing my voice to stay level. “No. Thank you.” I kept my eyes pinned to the dirt, trying to sidestep them, but they shifted, forming a wall. “Hahaha! Did you hear that, boys? She’s got manners!” “Since you already thanked us, it’d be rude not to show you a good time, right?” The greasy, predatory grins on their faces made my stomach violently turn. Bile rose in my throat. Stay calm. Stay calm. Without breaking eye contact, I slid my hand behind my back and rapidly pressed the emergency SOS button on my iPhone. Then, I held out my phone and the gold watch on my wrist. I prayed this was just a mugging. I forced a tight, placating smile. “Take this. Consider it a gift. I won’t go to the cops, just let me walk past. Please.” The two guys in the back looked at the watch, hesitating, but the blonde leader’s eyes never left my chest. He spat his cigarette onto the dirt. “I have never seen a girl built like this in my life. I wouldn’t care if I died tomorrow, I’m taking this today.” The pure malice in his voice stripped away any illusion of safety. The hesitation in the other men vanished, replaced by the same sick, hungry look in their leader’s eyes. The situation was critical. I instantly changed tactics. I dropped my hands, adopting a shy, submissive posture, and softly suggested that just the blonde guy take me into the denser trees. His ego was massive. He genuinely believed his raw magnetism had won me over. He grinned ear to ear, waving off the grumbles of his friends. I picked him for two reasons: he was the most distracted by his own lust, and he was the skinniest and shortest of the three. Against him, I actually had a fighting chance. We walked deeper into the woods. At first, he was patient. But soon, his hands started reaching for me. I pushed his chest back. “I have HIV!” I blurted out, praying it would kill the mood. Instead, the adrenaline seemed to make him crazier. He laughed, a high, unhinged sound. “HIV? Let me give you an exam, then!” He lunged forward to rip my playsuit. In a split second, I swung the heel of my shoe with everything I had, smashing it squarely into the bridge of his nose, and bolted. “Fuck! You dead bitch! I’m going to kill you!” The sound of his screaming alerted the other two. Heavy footsteps crashed through the brush behind me. I ran like I had never run in my life. Sharp rocks and dead branches slashed at my bare feet, but I didn’t feel it. My brain shut down every system except one: Run! The wind roared in my ears, but the heavy thud of their boots was gaining on me. Suddenly, through the trees, I heard voices! The main trail was right above the embankment! Just make it up the hill. Just make it up the hill and you’re safe! My hand reached out for the dirt ledge— And a heavy hand locked around my ankle. “Help—!”

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1 After relinquishing my seat as the billionaire’s wife to a penniless university student, my former mother-in-law compensated me with fifty billion euros and promptly shipped me off to Eastern Europe. During those years in Eastern Europe, I opened a small flower shop in a quaint seaside town. I found a new social circle, fell in love with a new boyfriend, and was on the verge of getting married and starting a family. Then one day, the door to my flower shop burst open. An old friend stood there, her face a mask of shock as she blurted, “You’re still alive? Why didn’t you go back to London to find Aaron Britton? Do you have any idea how frantically he’s been searching for you all these years?” I simply offered a faint smile, holding up the ring on my finger. “But I’m already married and have a child.” The words hung in the air, instantly chilling the atmosphere to an unsettling silence. At my friend’s urgent, silent prompting, I turned my head. Aaron Britton stood in the doorway, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his noble, frosty eyes fixed on me. But my mind drifted back to our third year of marriage, when Aaron confessed he’d fallen for a university student named Alice. He asked for a divorce, offering to leave with nothing. I cried, I raged, I even begged him, casting aside all my dignity. Yet Aaron merely looked at me with cold indifference. “Mora, I’m sorry, but I don’t love you anymore.” I ran to Alice’s university like a madwoman, creating a scene that solidified her reputation as the other woman. Alice, in turn, hated me enough to run me over with her car. Lying in a pool of my own blood, my first thought was to send Alice to jail. But Aaron rushed back that very night, kneeling by my hospital bed, pleading. “Mora, please, let her go. She’s so young. I won’t divorce you; I’ll come back to the family. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” In that moment, watching him beg so humbly for another woman, I felt my heart twist into a knot of agony for the first time. But I loved him too much, loved him enough to agree to his terms. For the next three years, Aaron indeed cut all ties with Alice. Everyone said he’d turned over a new leaf. He came home punctually every day, remembered all my preferences, brewed me ginger tea during my period, and held me tight when I had nightmares. But once, while we were dining at a restaurant, he got into a furious brawl defending a harassed waitress. The moment I recognized her face, a chill colder than ice spread through me. He pulled a business card from his inner pocket and handed it to Alice, his voice low. “Go see this person. He’ll arrange a decent, easy job for you.” Alice suddenly looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears, and knocked the card to the floor. “I don’t want any of this. What I want, what I’ve always wanted, is just you. Aaron Britton, only you.” Alice’s tears streamed down her face. “For three years, I thought about you every single night, unable to sleep.” “I secretly went to our old dating spots and just sat there all day long.” “Aaron, why can’t we be together when we clearly love each other?” Her sobs were heart-wrenching. Aaron looked at her anguished face, his eyes swirling with profound pain and struggle. “How do you think I feel? But only by returning to my family could I protect you.” “Alice, please listen.” He turned to leave, but Alice suddenly lunged at him from behind, kissing him fiercely, heedless of their surroundings. Hidden behind a planter, I watched, transfixed, as Aaron’s Adam’s apple bobbed, making a final, desperate struggle. Then, he cupped the back of her head with one hand and passionately, fiercely, returned her kiss. I stood there, my blood seeming to freeze in my veins. I thought my heart had died three years ago, that it couldn’t ache anymore. But I was wrong. A dead heart could still be tormented. Now, seeing the undisguised passion and adoration in his eyes, I suddenly felt like those three years of steadfastness had been a colossal joke. 2 I couldn’t bear to watch any longer. I turned and stumbled towards the elevator. A large hand suddenly reached out from the side, clamping over my mouth. It was the drunk man Aaron had beaten. “That was your man, wasn’t it? He beat me up, so I’m going to make you pay.” “Thump!” A heavy punch landed on my abdomen, followed by a rain of fists and slaps on my body and face. My consciousness slowly blurred, and I finally collapsed onto the floor like a broken rag doll. Just as I thought I was going to die there, passersby rushed in and saved me. The doctor’s expression was grim after the examination. “Multiple contusions, possibly fractured ribs. We need a family member’s signature.” The nurse in charge dialed the top contact on my phone. It rang for a long time before being answered. The other end was quiet, then came a series of sounds that made my cheeks flush. A few seconds later, Aaron’s voice, feigning calmness, came through the phone. “Hello, Mora, I’m sorry, the company has an urgent overseas video conference. Drive home safely yourself. I’ll be back once I’m done.” He didn’t even wait for my reply before hastily hanging up. Lying in the hospital bed, I forced a smile that was uglier than any cry, my voice hoarse and broken. “I don’t have family. I’ll sign myself.” With the final stroke, my vision completely blackened, and I passed out. When I awoke again, I was in a hospital room permeated with the smell of disinfectant. A familiar, concerned voice spoke by my bedside. “Mora, you’re awake. How do you feel? Does it still hurt?” Looking at his face so close to mine, at the distinct dark red mark visible on his neck, I felt a wave of nausea. Seeing no response from me, he took my hand, his eyes sincere. “Don’t worry, I’ve dealt with the man who hit you. No one who harms my Mora gets away with it.” I looked at Aaron, this man I had loved for over a decade, who was now so unfamiliar that he chilled me to the bone. Some mistakes, once crossed, should have been corrected completely. Now I finally understood that some hearts, once they fly away, can never truly return. I slowly withdrew my hand, masking the surging pain and deadness in my eyes, and then nodded gently. Aaron immediately let out a sigh of relief. He thought I had, as always, chosen forgiveness and endurance. 3 After being discharged, I returned to the villa, opened the safe, and took out a yellowed divorce agreement. Aaron’s signature, made three years ago, was in the bottom right corner of the paper. At the time, he had said, “Sign it, Mora. Let’s part amicably.” I had torn the agreement to shreds like a madwoman, throwing it in his face, crying, “Aaron, I’d die before I’d sign this.” Now, looking at this agreement, which I had carefully pieced back together and preserved, I felt nothing but profound irony. With each stroke, I wrote my own name. Once done, I took a picture of the signed agreement and sent it to my lawyer. [Attorney Miller, please expedite my divorce proceedings. All terms as per the agreement, the sooner the better.] After sending the message, I started packing. It turned out that living in one place for so long, leaving only required one night. Aaron didn’t return until the next evening. He carried an exquisite gift bag, a gentle smile on his face. “Mora, look what I brought you. The limited edition bracelet from your favorite brand. I had someone bring it back from abroad.” He walked in and saw me sitting by the window, lost in thought. “You must have been bored from being in the hospital for a few days. There’s a business gala tonight; it’s a good chance to get some fresh air.” I didn’t take the gift, just raised my eyes to look at him. Only then did Aaron notice my suitcase by the wall. “What’s this?” “Just tidying up some old things. Planning to donate them.” I explained calmly, then stood up. The gala was held in the ballroom of a five-star hotel. When Aaron walked in with my hand in his, he attracted many glances. He introduced me to several important partners, behaving thoughtfully, chatting and laughing, giving the impression of a deeply loving couple. I smiled and nodded cooperatively, but my heart was utterly cold. Until a server carrying a tray of drinks approached. It was Alice. Suddenly, without warning, the crystal chandelier overhead detached and plummeted towards Aaron. In a flash, Alice, standing nearby, threw herself forward with all her might, pushing Aaron violently aside as if her life depended on it. “Crash!” The massive chandelier smashed down, landing squarely on Alice. She fell into a pool of blood, instantly losing consciousness. “Alice!” Aaron’s eyes widened with horror, and he lunged forward, kneeling beside Alice like a madman. He suddenly looked up, his bloodshot eyes roaring, “Call an ambulance, now!” He scooped up the blood-soaked Alice and rushed out, heedless of everything. In his panic and urgency, he even bumped into me, who was standing in his way. I staggered from the impact, hitting my forehead hard against a cold Roman pillar beside me. Sharp pain shot through me, and warm liquid trickled down my temple. I clung to the pillar, barely steadying myself, and when I raised a hand to touch my forehead, it came away scarlet. Aaron, meanwhile, cradling Alice, had vanished from the ballroom like a gust of wind, never once looking back at me. The surroundings were chaos – gasps, murmurs… Someone came over to ask if I was alright, but I felt as if I couldn’t hear anything. Clutching my bleeding forehead, I stumbled out of the chaotic ballroom. I didn’t go to the hospital, but found a nearby clinic for simple disinfection and a bandage. Back home, the villa was empty and still cold. I washed the blood from my face and sat on the sofa, opening my phone. The top trending video in the city was of Aaron. The video was filmed at the renowned St. Michael’s Cathedral on the city outskirts, known for its 999 steep stone steps. It was said that a truly devout person, climbing the steps on their knees, would find their prayers for safety answered most effectively. In the video, Aaron had shed his blood-stained designer suit, wearing only a thin shirt. His expression was solemn, his gaze resolute, as he arduously climbed towards the cathedral at the summit, one step, one kneel, one bow at a time. A reporter nearby held a microphone, asking, “Mr. Britton, who are you praying for? Is it for your family?” Aaron looked into the camera, his eyes tender and firm. “For the person I love most, praying for her safety.” The person I love most… I slammed my phone shut, but the suffocating pain in my chest refused to subside. 4 In the following days, Aaron never returned. Until one day, as I stepped out to throw away the trash, two police officers approached me. “Are you Ms. Mora Thorne? We’ve received a report from Ms. Alice Davies, accusing you of hiring someone to assault her, specifically instructing them to throw acid on her. We need you to come with us to assist with the investigation.” My pupils constricted. I couldn’t believe it. “I hired someone to throw acid on her?” Just then, Aaron walked over. Hearing the police’s words, his face instantly changed. “There must be a mistake, right? My wife couldn’t possibly do something like that.” The police officer’s expression was serious. “We have preliminary evidence: the suspect’s confession and relevant transfer records.” He handed a document to Aaron. Aaron took it, flipping through it quickly. The more he read, the darker his face grew, the colder his eyes became. Finally, he slammed the document onto me, the papers scattering across the floor. “Mora Thorne, tell me, what is this?” I looked down at the papers on the floor, which contained blurry screenshots of bank transfers and a handwritten confession. It stated that a woman named Thorne had instructed him to throw acid on Alice. Before I could explain, Aaron’s voice was icy and resolute. “Take her. Handle it as you see fit.” Then, he didn’t spare me another glance, turning and quickly walking away. He was rushing to see Alice. I spent an entire night in the cold detention center. The next morning, the police informed me that Alice had agreed to a settlement. I signed the papers and walked out of the detention center. Just as I was about to hail a taxi home, someone from behind covered my mouth and nose with a towel. When I regained consciousness, I felt myself stuffed inside a sack, my mouth gagged with a cloth, my hands and feet tightly bound. Faint voices reached my ears; it was Aaron and Alice. “Aaron, do we really have to do this to her? Isn’t it too much? She’s still your wife, after all.” Aaron’s voice was icy. “Too much? Did she think it was ‘too much’ when she hired someone to throw acid on you?” “You’ve undergone three skin graft surgeries, enduring unimaginable pain! I’ll use my own methods to give her a lesson she’ll never forget.” Lying in the sack, my blood seemed to freeze instantly. It was Aaron. He was the one who had me kidnapped, all to avenge Alice. The man I loved most, my husband of seven years, was doing this to me for another woman. Then, I felt the mouth of the sack tighten. Something heavy was then forced inside, pressing down on me. It was rocks. “Mmm… mmm…” I struggled wildly, trying to scream, but only muffled whimpers escaped. The sack was roughly lifted, and with a splash, I was thrown into the icy cold river. The river water instantly surged in from all directions, submerging my mouth and nose, filling my lungs. Suffocation, cold, despair. I thrashed desperately in the sack, but my hands and feet were bound, and the rocks dragged me down to the bottom. Just when I thought I was certainly going to die, the sack was suddenly pulled out of the water. I choked, greedily gasping for the freezing air. But a few seconds later, I was forced back under. This was repeated over and over. Pulled up, pushed down; pulled up, pushed down… a cruel game of cat and mouse. In the fear of imminent death and the extreme cold and pain, countless images flooded my mind uncontrollably. Sixteen years old, a blushing boy handing me a love letter under a cherry tree, clumsy handwriting, burning sincerity; Eighteen years old, at the departure gate of an international airport, he hugged me tightly: “Mora, wait for me to come back. I’ll definitely marry you.” Twenty-two years old, his first attempt at cooking for me; Twenty-five years old, at our wedding, the tears glinting in his eyes as he lifted my veil… Those beautiful, sincere affections and promises I thought would last a lifetime, it turned out they were all lies. Or perhaps they were once true, but later given to someone else. And I, like a fool, clung to the phantom of the past, unwilling to let go. The next time I was pulled out of the water, I finally couldn’t hold on any longer, and I coughed up a large mouthful of blood mixed with river water. Before my consciousness completely faded, I thought I heard Aaron’s cold voice from the bank. “That’s enough! Throw her ashore and let her fend for herself.” I don’t know how long I lay on the riverbank until a faint glimmer of dawn light stung my eyes. I struggled, using my last ounce of strength to open my phone. The screen lit up, and two unread messages popped up. The first was from Aaron: [Mora, since I chose to return to the family, I won’t do anything to betray you again. Please stop hurting Alice. She almost had her face ruined this time, and her mental state is very fragile. I’ll stay with her for a few days and then come back to you.] The second was from my lawyer: [Ms. Thorne, all divorce procedures have been completed. Your divorce certificate has been sent to your home by express delivery. I wish you all the best for your future.] I looked at these two messages and suddenly laughed. I laughed so hard I coughed up more blood, laughed until tears streamed down my face. I blacklisted Aaron’s number without hesitation, then, supporting my bruised and battered body, I shakily stood up. Every step felt like treading on knife blades, and the fractured part of my leg sent excruciating pain shooting through me. But I just bit my lip, moving forward with difficulty, one step at a time. Returning to that cold, empty villa, on the living room coffee table, there was indeed an express delivery envelope. I tore it open, and inside were two dark red divorce certificates. I picked up the one belonging to me and opened it. In the photo, I was wearing the white shirt from our wedding, smiling gently and serenely. I did not pick up Aaron’s. I gently placed the blank divorce certificate in the most conspicuous spot on the coffee table. Then, I turned and picked up the suitcase I had already packed. I took one last look at this place I had lived in for seven years, loved for seven years, and dragged myself through for seven years. No lingering attachment, no looking back. I opened the door and walked out.

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1 My brother was drugged, and I was forced to unbutton my own shirt. After I got pregnant, our parents told us we weren’t biological siblings and told him to marry me. My brother nodded, then went out street racing that same day and got into a terrible car accident. I didn’t care that both his legs were paralyzed; I was absolutely determined to be his bride. I thought he would be moved by my devotion, and that we would grow old together. On our wedding night, the villa caught fire. When I choked awake from the smoke, my very first thought was to drag him out of the inferno. Instead, he smashed a heavy vase over my head. Right before I lost consciousness, I heard his freezing, emotionless voice. “You and our parents destroyed my true love. I’ve already legally transferred all my assets to Chloe as compensation.” “Since you people ruined my life, you can all burn in hell with me.” … I was jolted awake by my brother, Arthur Sterling’s, agonizing, heavy panting. I opened my eyes to see my familiar old bedroom. There were no red wedding decorations, and there was no suffocating, rolling black smoke. I had been reborn. The sheer shock and overwhelming joy made me dizzy. “Mia, get me a glass of water.” Arthur’s low, raspy voice drifted through the wall from the next room, sending a violent shiver down my spine. I glanced at the watch on my wrist, a cold sweat instantly breaking out across my back. I had been reborn on the exact night my brother was drugged. The sticky, horrifying sensation of blood blinding my eyes from my past life, and the agonizing pain of burning alive, seemed to physically hit me all over again. My immediate instinct was to run. To get as far away from Arthur as possible. Before I could even put my shoes on, he was already standing in my doorway. “Mia, I just called Chloe Sinclair. I need you to drive over and pick her up right now.” Even though the drugs were heavily amplifying his lust, I still caught the distinct, unmistakable look of guarded disgust in his eyes when he looked at me. A terrifying, bold thought suddenly bloomed in my mind. My brother had also been reborn. I nodded frantically, grabbed my car keys, and squeezed past him, practically sprinting out the door. Even as I stepped out the front door of the villa, I could feel the intense discomfort of Arthur’s gaze burning into my back. The address Arthur gave me was an apartment near his company headquarters. So, Arthur and Chloe had moved in together this early on. When he said I ruined his true love, he actually meant it. The second Chloe saw my car, she yanked the passenger door open and slid in. “How is your brother doing right now?!” Chloe looked incredibly anxious, but I couldn’t tell if it was just my imagination or if there was a hidden, eager thrill of getting exactly what she wanted dancing in her eyes. “You’ll see when we get there.” I had zero desire to make small talk with Chloe. Not because I was jealous, but because neither my mother nor I had ever liked her. Chloe was an impoverished student whose education was sponsored by my family. Initially, my parents adored Chloe because she was incredibly hardworking, driven, and had phenomenal grades. She was the top scorer in her entire city’s college entrance exams. My parents personally drove her to the capital to start university. My mother was especially happy. Since Chloe was a year ahead of me and had exceptional grades, she could tutor me during my crucial senior year of high school. She was incredibly responsible with me. Every week after our tutoring session, she would give my father a highly detailed progress report. Even after I explicitly told her that my mother was the one managing my academics, she completely ignored me and kept reporting directly to my father. I always felt her eyes radiated a calculating, manipulative shrewdness, but at the time, I just assumed I was being overly sensitive. Until one night, she called my dad, sobbing hysterically that a drunk man was harassing her. When my dad rushed to the scene, she threw herself directly into his arms. My dad was so terrified he threw his hands up in the air, his face turning a sickly shade of green. My mother, who had just parked the car and arrived at the exact same moment, saw the entire thing. Chloe sobbed pathetically, claiming she viewed my dad as a father figure and was just so terrified that she reacted instinctively. My parents verbally comforted her, but after that incident, she was never allowed inside our house again, and my dad never personally handled any of her issues. After graduating college, she wanted to study abroad. She showed up at our house with a basket of fruit, looking incredibly pitiful, and begged my parents for a massive loan. My mother wasn’t stingy. She had her secretary wire Chloe fifty thousand dollars. Right before Chloe left, she came to say goodbye and ran straight into my brother, who had just returned from completing his master’s degree overseas. The very next day, Chloe returned the fifty thousand dollars to my mother. She claimed she had an epiphany: a person should be grounded and practical. She decided to work first and earn her own money to fund her studies abroad. My brother, who was just leaving the house at the time, looked at the plainly dressed but incredibly resolute Chloe. His eyes were entirely filled with deep admiration. 2 A month later, Chloe officially joined our family’s corporation and became my brother’s personal secretary. I warned my brother that Chloe had ulterior motives and was intentionally targeting him. “Mia, not everyone’s brain is completely consumed by childish romance like yours.” Yet, within a year, he moved Chloe directly into his private apartment. I drove like a maniac the entire way. Chloe gripped the “oh shit” handle with a death grip. “Mia, I know you’re upset, but please consider our physical safety!” When Chloe rushed into the villa, I didn’t follow her. Instead, I just sat in the car, zoning out completely. I knew exactly what was about to happen between my brother and Chloe better than anyone. I wasn’t jealous. My horrific, agonizing death in my past life—and the fact that my parents were dragged down to a miserable end because of me—made me realize with absolute clarity that my love for my brother was nothing but lethal poison to him. And the comment Chloe made in the car just now completely validated that brutal truth. “Mia, he’s your brother. Your twisted, disgusting obsession with him is what drove him to flee the country to study in the first place. Now that he has me, you need to give up.” So Arthur had known for a very long time that I was in love with him. He went abroad to study entirely to escape me. If I had known that sooner, in my past life, when I handed him that glass of water and saw him suffering so agonizingly, I never would have unbuttoned my own shirt. Before getting out of the car, Chloe threw one last sentence at me. “You’re a grown woman now. It’s time you found someone appropriate to date and marry.” She was probably terrified I would keep obsessing over Arthur. Don’t worry. I have absolutely zero lingering fantasies about Arthur Sterling. I sat in the car for the entire night. It wasn’t until dawn broke that I finally opened the front door and went upstairs. Arthur, wearing a bathrobe, was walking out of his bedroom. “Where the hell were you last night?” His neck was covered in undeniable, dark hickeys, and his voice was thick, raspy, and languid. “I went to hang out with Lily.” Lily was my best friend; Arthur had met her before. The fact that he still possessed the mental bandwidth to casually ask about my whereabouts made me feel a surge of relief. Maybe he had finally let go of his resentment, and we could cleanly revert back to a normal sibling dynamic. “I know you look down on Chloe’s background and think she’s poor, but let me make this incredibly clear: she is the woman I am absolutely going to marry. Show her some respect from now on.” When did I ever look down on her background? I couldn’t stop a genuinely confused frown from crossing my face. “Wipe that arrogant, superior look off your face. She literally sacrificed herself to clean up the catastrophic mess you caused.” I was even more confused now. “What are you talking about?” Arthur’s patience evaporated. “Are you honestly going to stand there and deny you spiked my drink last night?! Do you have any idea how pure and innocent Chloe is?! She wanted to wait until our wedding night to give herself to me, and you ruined everything!” “I didn’t do it!” I yelled back defensively. Yes, I had been in love with Arthur for years, but I would never, ever resort to such cheap, disgusting, underhanded tactics. “Chloe and I went out for dinner, came straight home, and the only thing I drank was the glass of milk you left on my nightstand! If it wasn’t you, who the hell was it?!” In my past life, I always wondered why my brother never investigated who drugged him. I always assumed he fell for a trap at some business dinner and was too ashamed to bring it up. It turned out he believed I was the one who drugged him. No wonder he hated me so intensely. Hated me so much that he dragged the very parents who gave us their blessing down to hell with him. Hated me so much that he refused to even let the six-month-old child growing inside me take a single breath in this world. My heart tasted like bitter ash, and my eyes burned. “Believe whatever you want, but I am telling you, it absolutely was not me.” Right at that moment, Arthur’s bedroom door cracked open. Chloe, wearing one of Arthur’s oversized dress shirts, peeked out like a terrified, fragile little rabbit. “Arthur, is Mia mad at me?” Arthur shot me a look loaded with intense warning. “Mia would never be mad at you. She’s going to offer us her full blessing.” “You’re absolutely right, brother. Sister-in-law.” I forced a bright smile onto my face. “You saved him. I’ll advocate for you both and convince Mom and Dad to agree to the wedding.” A flash of barely concealed triumph crossed Chloe’s face, while Arthur looked at me with intense, analytical suspicion. What was there to be suspicious about? He was literally willing to die for her. Even if I knew she was a manipulative snake, I absolutely refused to let my parents risk even a single hair on their heads. “Please don’t put Uncle and Auntie in a difficult position. I know I’m not worthy of Arthur. I just want to stay by his side.” Ah, so Arthur has a fetish for manipulative ‘green tea’ victims. No wonder he never loved me. 3 Arthur wrapped his arms around her, looking incredibly heartbroken for her. When he wasn’t looking, Chloe shot me a look of absolute, smug victory. “Mia, my clothes got… torn by your brother. Could I borrow an outfit from you?” Chloe asked with manufactured shyness. “Didn’t I buy you a dress last month? I haven’t seen you wear it once. Since you clearly don’t like it, just give it to Chloe.” That was the dress he bought me for my birthday. Did I not like it? He knew perfectly well I treasured it too much to actually wear it. He was actually taking back the gift he gave me. My heart gave an involuntary, painful squeeze, but it settled almost immediately. Chloe put on my dress and did a beautiful, dramatic twirl. Completely ignoring my presence, she threw her arms around Arthur, acting incredibly coquettish as she asked him if she looked pretty. But none of this triggered me anymore. This time around, my only goal was for my parents and me to stay alive and well. My parents were on a two-week vacation. The very first day they returned, Arthur aggressively and impatiently announced his intention to marry Chloe. When I walked through the front door, the floor was covered in the shattered remains of my father’s teacup. My mother’s face was dark as she rubbed my father’s back to calm him down. Arthur sat directly across from them, his face completely devoid of emotion. “Mom! Dad!” I ran over and threw myself into their arms, fighting with everything I had to hold back my tears. Their expressions instantly softened into absolute warmth and tenderness. “Why are you still acting like such a little kid? You’re all grown up and still throwing yourself at us like this.” My dad affectionately ruffled my hair, and my mom pulled me down onto the sofa next to her. “Your brother wants to marry Secretary Sinclair. What do you think, Mia?” My dad had always favored me, and Arthur immediately shot me a look that was utterly devoid of warmth. “I think it’s wonderful. Chloe and Arthur are a perfect match.” My mom’s brow furrowed deeply. “Do you honestly believe that?” “Mom, Arthur is 26 years old. He has the right to choose his own happiness. All we need to do is support him.” What was the point of not supporting him? We couldn’t stop him anyway. Seeing that my parents still refused to relent… “It doesn’t matter if you like Chloe or not. Arthur likes her. After he gets married, we can just live separately. I’m going to stay with you and Dad forever.” My words visibly softened their expressions. I quickly shot Arthur a pointed look. This was our unspoken, childhood routine. Whenever Arthur wanted to do something my parents disapproved of, it was my job to butter them up and put them in a good mood before he asked. “Mom, Dad, after Chloe and I get married, we will be incredibly filial to you. I am begging you, please agree to this marriage.” Seeing Arthur drop solemnly to his knees, I piled on the persuasion as hard as I could. Realizing there was no room for negotiation, my parents finally nodded and agreed. Arthur got exactly what he wanted—he was going to marry Chloe. The tragedy of my past life definitely wouldn’t repeat itself this time. I slowly uncurled my tightly clenched fists. After my parents went to their room to rest, I went back to my own bedroom. I had just opened my diary, preparing to write, when the door suddenly swung open from the outside. I looked up. It was Arthur. He glanced at my notebook, his face instantly turning a dark, furious shade of green. I had barely stood up when his hand shot out and clamped violently around my neck. “Mia, are you writing down all your filthy, disgusting fantasies about me again?!” His hand was massive, and as his grip tightened, I felt like I was suffocating. “What the hell are you talking about?!” I struggled to force out a few syllables. Arthur snatched my diary off the desk. “When you were a teenager, didn’t you use a diary exactly like this to document your sick, incestuous obsession with me?!” So he really had read my diary. What right did he have to violate my privacy like that?! A mixture of absolute fury and profound injustice exploded in my chest. I used all my strength to violently pry his fingers off my throat. I snatched the diary back and slammed it hard against his chest. “What exactly is your problem?! I gave you and her my full blessing, isn’t that enough?!” “Yes, I used to have feelings for you, and that was my mistake! But I absolutely do not like you anymore! What more do you fucking want from me?!” I rarely ever lost my temper with him. He looked completely stunned. “You love reading my diary so much? Then look at it! I did write about a man in here, but it absolutely isn’t you!” With that, I shoved past him and sprinted out of the house. Sitting in the coffee shop with Lily, she was vibrating with absolute excitement. “Did you really agree to date my brother?! Are you actually going to be my sister-in-law?!” In her overwhelming joy, her voice spiked, drawing stares from the other tables. I quickly reached over and clamped my hand over her mouth. “I… randomly ran into him a couple of days ago, and we just really hit it off.” My face felt incredibly hot. Lily excitedly rubbed her hands together. 4 “Confess right now! My brother asked you out six months ago and you rejected him! How did you guys hook up again?!” Lily’s older brother, Julian Thorne, had indeed confessed his feelings for me six months ago. At the time, my entire universe revolved around Arthur, so I rejected him. After being reborn and desperately trying to fix my mistakes, Chloe and Arthur started aggressively flaunting their relationship in my house every single day. Chloe took every available opportunity to aggressively mark her territory and assert her dominance over him. Even though I backed down completely and repeatedly swore I had absolutely zero interest in Arthur, it didn’t matter. I had no choice. I had to avoid them. Feeling incredibly depressed, I went to a bar to drink. After downing a few too many and feeling incredibly dizzy, a random guy cornered me outside the restrooms and tried to get handsy. I was terrified, tears springing to my eyes, when Julian suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He threw a single, brutal punch that dropped the guy to the floor, completely unconscious. When Julian pulled a literal handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe my tears, I couldn’t stop myself from bursting into laughter. “Julian Thorne, are you an ancient relic? Who even carries a handkerchief anymore?” He helplessly shook the expensive piece of plaid fabric. “Do you have any idea how much this tiny square of fabric costs?” “I don’t care how much it costs, it’s definitely not as convenient as a tissue.” He nodded in reluctant agreement and tossed the outrageously expensive handkerchief straight into the trash can. “Whatever Mia says, goes.” Lily always complained that her brother wasn’t as aloof and aristocratic as my brother. She said he acted like a cynical, irresponsible playboy. But that “irresponsible playboy” had become a terrifying, ruthless titan in the city’s business world. Since taking over the Thorne family corporation three years ago, he had nearly doubled its market value. A tiny handkerchief instantly bridged the gap between us. Whenever I was in a bad mood, I would text him, and he always managed to say something incredibly bizarre and weird that hit my exact sense of humor perfectly. Since being reborn, the only times I actually felt completely relaxed were when I was texting Julian. “I thought elite CEOs were supposed to be swamped with work. How do you have the time to text me all day long?” Julian replied almost instantly. “Because it’s you on the other end, and I absolutely refuse to make you wait a single second. I’ve basically had my phone glued to my hand 24/7 for the past few weeks.” Is this what it feels like to be loved? Arthur never, ever made me feel this way. This time, I wanted to experience what it actually felt like to be loved. I agreed to give it a shot with Julian. I’ve kept a diary since I was a little girl. Lately, the man filling its pages was him. I had no idea if Arthur had actually read it, but the next time I went home, the diary was sitting perfectly aligned on my desk. Arthur hadn’t been home for days, so I took the opportunity to finally tell my parents about me and the Thorne family heir. I held their hands and made them promise that they would always live with me. My parents smiled and nodded, treating me like a child. I didn’t care; they nodded, which meant they were officially bound to stay by my side. That evening, Arthur brought Chloe home for dinner. Dressed head-to-toe in luxury brands, she actually managed to project a decent aura of high society elegance. At the dinner table, my parents weren’t exactly thrilled, but thankfully, they didn’t make a scene. After dinner, we all sat together in the living room. “Arthur, Chloe. We absolutely do not oppose your marriage, but there are a few fundamental things we need to establish upfront.” Arthur had been occasionally glancing at me all evening, his eyes carrying an unreadable, deeply uncomfortable weight. Chloe sat perfectly straight, her eyes practically shining as she stared at my father. “Arthur is getting married, and Mia has a serious boyfriend now too. To avoid any future conflicts, I am telling you both right now: regardless of who is getting married or moving out, our family’s assets will be split exactly 50/50 between the two of you.” Before Arthur could even open his mouth, Chloe blurted out: “That’s completely unreasonable! Mia is a daughter; she’s going to marry into another family! Giving her half is literally just handing your wealth over to outsiders!” My mother hadn’t looked Chloe in the eye the entire night. “You haven’t even married into this family yet, and you’re already trying to dictate our finances? Don’t you think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself?” I looked at Arthur. He looked back at me, the corners of his mouth suddenly curling up into a smirk. “Mia, is your new boyfriend only with you because he’s after our family’s money?” He pulled Chloe into his side. “I agree. Splitting it 50/50 is completely unreasonable.” Chloe leaned heavily into Arthur’s chest. “Mia is just an adopted daughter. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind supporting her financially for the rest of her life. She can just find a random guy to marry and they can both keep living here.” My parents’ faces turned terrifyingly dark. Looking closely, I could see my father’s shoulders trembling slightly. “Who the hell told you Mia was adopted?! You are the one who was adopted!”

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I was reborn on the exact day I originally confessed my feelings to my childhood crush. Surrounded by the cheering crowd, he looked at my tear-stained face and asked coldly, “Mia Harrison, do you really find this pathetic attention-seeking fun?” Then, he turned to the girl standing next to him—his perfect ‘unattainable ideal’—and his voice softened entirely: “Wait for me a minute. I’ll come find you as soon as I deal with this.” He turned back to me, lecturing me impatiently: “Why are you always crying?” “If you have free time, you should try reading a book. Stop obsessing over this romantic nonsense all day…” I was so incredibly annoyed. I shoved him hard, stumbling past him, and threw myself directly onto the notorious school delinquent who was standing behind him, watching the drama. “Hubby…” I buried my face in his chest, sobbing hysterically. Eighteen-year-old Liam Vance was still alive. Everything could still be fixed. 01 Before Liam died, he made me pinky-promise that I would live to be a hundred years old before I came to find him. I promised him, and then I turned around and lied. On the third day after his death, I followed him. Right before I closed my eyes, I even found a convenient excuse for myself. When I saw him, I’d tell him I had a nightmare that he was flirting with other ghost girls in the afterlife, so I had to come check on him. The truth was, I hadn’t slept at all. Without him, I literally couldn’t sleep. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back in my 18-year-old body. I was standing in the middle of a crowd, holding a bouquet of flowers, surrounded by relentless chanting and cheering. “Confess! Confess!” The crowd was massive, but my eyes instantly locked onto that blinding head of bleached blonde hair. He was standing in a corner no one was paying attention to. His gaze swept over me—seemingly casual, but incredibly intense. Looking at him, I instantly lost control of my tears. Just as I opened my mouth to speak, Arthur Sterling’s voice cut through the noise. “Mia Harrison, do you really find this pathetic attention-seeking fun?” In my daze, I finally noticed the person standing right in front of me. His brow was slightly furrowed, his expression freezing cold. The lively atmosphere instantly died. The awkward silence stretched until Chloe Sinclair finally broke it. “Arthur, we need to finalize the draft for the award acceptance speech.” Arthur turned to look at her. “Wait for me a minute. I’ll come find you as soon as I deal with this.” His expression held a rare, genuine tenderness. Chloe was a top-tier academic prodigy, just like Arthur. People constantly joked that the valedictorian and the salutatorian were a match made in heaven. Chloe would just scoff and reply dismissively: “I’m not one of those pathetic little girls who only has romance and boys in her head.” When she said that, Arthur looked at her with a rare, profound admiration. He had told me the exact same thing once—that he despised girls who only cared about romance. But back then, my brain was exclusively occupied by him. I was actually delusional enough to think that if I confessed to him on my birthday, he wouldn’t embarrass me in public. It was only much later that I realized how deeply he despised feeling emotionally manipulated. Just like he did right now. He snatched the flowers from my arms, looking incredibly impatient. “If you have free time, you should try reading a book. Stop obsessing over this romantic nonsense all day.” 02 I froze. Whispers erupted from the crowd. “Look, Mia is crying.” “She’s been trailing after Arthur for years. Looks like the school beauty just became the school joke.” “Ugh, I feel second-hand embarrassment just watching this.” In my past life, I definitely cried hysterically because of the sheer humiliation. But right now, the only thing I could see was that blonde guy standing in the corner. I stared directly at him, my mouth opening and closing. I was trembling so hard I couldn’t make a sound. The tears just kept streaming down my face. Seeing my reaction, Arthur frowned deeply and let out a heavy sigh. “Mia, why are you always crying?” I was so incredibly annoyed. He wouldn’t stop talking, and he was physically blocking my view. I forcefully shoved Arthur out of the way, sprinting forward and throwing myself onto the boy I had miraculously gotten back. “Hubby…” “Hubby, you’re still alive… thank God, waaaahhh…” His chest was burning hot, radiating that familiar, sunny scent. I held onto him, sobbing so hard I was hiccuping. The body in my arms went completely rigid. “Uh… sis… I think you’ve got the wrong guy?” His face was flushed bright red all the way to the tips of his ears. 03 “Mia Harrison, who the hell are you calling ‘hubby’?!” Arthur’s voice rang out from behind me, laced with unmistakable anger. “How many times are you going to pull this exact same stunt?” Oh, right. In my past life, to make Arthur jealous, I frequently pretended to be overly intimate with other guys. He would get slightly annoyed and then offer some half-hearted coaxing. Except, this time, the guy I chose was the delinquent thug he despised more than anyone else in the school. I ignored Arthur, clinging to Liam and crying even harder. “Waaaah, hubby, you really are still alive…” I couldn’t believe it. My hands instinctively dove under his shirt, desperate to feel his chest and confirm the fatal stab wound from my past life wasn’t there. Liam was absolutely terrified by my actions. “Holy shit! What are you doing?!” I sobbed through my hiccups, “Take your shirt off. Let me see.” His face instantly turned a dark, explosive red. “I am a respectable man!” I cried even harder. “Waaaah, hubby, I need to see it, please, just let me see…” His hands hovered in the air, completely unsure of where to put them. Finally, he lowered his voice in sheer desperation. “Hiss… wait… can we wait until there’s no one around, please?” Watching this spectacle, Arthur’s eyes filled with absolute disgust. “Mia, aren’t you humiliated putting on this kind of show in public?” “I am not going to coddle you this time.” He turned on his heel and stormed off. Without the main attraction, the crowd quickly dispersed, grumbling in disappointment. 04 “Princess, the show’s over. Aren’t you going to let go?” The voice above my head carried a heavy dose of sarcasm. I just shook my head violently, burying my face in his neck, sobbing and hiccuping. “Never. I am never letting go for the rest of my life…” Eighteen-year-old Mia Harrison didn’t have shattered legs. She wasn’t consumed by clinical depression. Eighteen-year-old Liam Vance hadn’t jumped in front of a knife for her yet. Everything could still be fixed. Liam stared at me in disbelief and threatened, “I’m going to walk out of here right now, you know that?” “Mm…” He scooped me up into his arms and carried me out of the classroom. The moment we stepped into the hallway, the booming voice of the Dean of Discipline echoed toward us. “Hey! Liam Vance! Instead of being at practice, you’re out here holding a female student?! Are you sexually harassing her?!” I continued to cling to him like a koala, completely unbothered. Seeing my absolute refusal to move, Liam’s face flushed red as he frantically explained: “Reporting to the Dean! The female student broke her leg! I’m carrying her to the nurse’s office!” The Dean’s tone softened considerably. “You little punk. Didn’t know you had a caring side.” Suddenly, the memory hit me. In my past life, Liam had done exactly this. Carrying me all over the world to see specialists for my legs, staying by my side through every grueling physical therapy session. Once the Dean was out of earshot, Liam looked down at me, looking like he was about to lose his mind. “Seriously, Princess, what exactly is your endgame here?” I kept my arms locked tightly around his neck. “Hubby…” He shuddered, his scalp literally tingling. He gritted his teeth. “Do not call me ‘hubby’!! Who the hell is your hubby?!” “You are…” I pouted, looking incredibly wronged. “You’re my favorite, sweetest hubby…” His brain looked like it was about to short-circuit. He reminded me through gritted teeth: “Princess, do you remember who literally threw my love letter in the trash yesterday?” I felt a sudden, massive wave of awkwardness. My timing couldn’t have been worse. Liam had confessed his feelings to me yesterday. And I had viciously stomped his letter into the dirt. “I absolutely despise meathead sports jocks like you. All brawn and zero brains.” Ironically, I was an arts student—all flexibility and zero brains. Honestly, I didn’t actually hate Liam. I only hated him because Arthur hated him. Arthur despised anyone he considered stupid, especially someone like Liam, who had terrible grades and threw his weight around the school. I blinked innocently, offering my most sincere, earnest explanation: “Um, yesterday was actually… a test. I was testing you.” I quickly added a solemn vow: “Hubby, I promise, from now on, I will only ever like you.” The corner of Liam’s mouth twitched violently. “Hiss… can you please stop calling me ‘hubby’?” I shook my head firmly. “No.” He gritted his teeth, finally accepting his fate. “Ugh, whatever… call me whatever the fuck you want…” He looked down at me, still clinging to him like a monkey, and sighed heavily. “But seriously, Mia… “You are a human being, not a primate. Can you please get off me now?” “But I want to hold you a little longer, hubby~” His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. The tips of his ears were burning bright red. Eighteen-year-old Liam was trying to act tough, but he was actually just a soft, easily flustered puppy. 05 Liam ended up carrying me all the way to his Second Great-Uncle’s house. The old man sat in an alleyway, doing fortune-telling and mystical readings, acting cryptic and bizarre every single day. “Uncle, I think she’s possessed.” The old man stroked his beard, taking one look at my tear-streaked face and bloodshot eyes. “Hmm. Eyes blood-red. She’s definitely got something dark attached to her.” He pulled out a piece of yellow paper and hastily scribbled a talisman on it. “Stick this talisman on her. It wards off evil spirits and demonic attachments.” Liam set me down outside the door and ordered me: “Wait here for a second. Do not follow me. I’ll be right back.” I completely ignored him and stealthily crept right up to the doorframe. I heard him asking in a hushed, secretive whisper: “Uncle… what I actually want to know is… do you have a talisman that will make her stay ‘possessed’ like this forever?” I secretly rejoiced in my heart: You little idiot. You’ve been madly, hopelessly, dangerously in love with me this whole time. Liam, in this life, it’s my turn to run to you. 06 I actually lived with the Sterling family. Our families had been close for generations, and Arthur and I had an arranged marriage setup since we were babies. When I was ten, my parents died in a sudden accident. Arthur had gripped my hand tightly. “Mia, you still have me. I will always stay by your side.” I moved into the Sterling estate, and his parents treated me incredibly well. Since I started dancing at a young age, his mother hired the absolute best instructors for me. My closet was overflowing with beautiful clothes she bought for me. But no matter how good they were to me, I wasn’t their actual child. They were raising me to be their future daughter-in-law. It wasn’t until my legs were shattered and I couldn’t walk normally that they decided a “crippled” daughter-in-law was too humiliating for their family image. They told me: “Mia, we’ve always loved you like our own daughter, and Arthur sees you as his own little sister. Don’t worry, we will definitely find you a good husband.” At the dinner table, Arthur’s parents put food in my bowl and asked about my studies. Remembering what they said in my past life, I found the whole scene incredibly ironic. I set down my chopsticks. “Uncle, Auntie, I want to move into the school dormitories. It’ll help me focus better on my studies, and you both know my academic grades aren’t very good.” They looked visibly surprised. “The dorm environment is so rough, how could you possibly live there?” “Mia, don’t put so much pressure on yourself. Arthur’s grades are excellent; just have him tutor you.” I shook my head calmly. “No, he’s been really busy preparing for academic competitions lately. I shouldn’t bother him.” Arthur’s mother seemed to pick up on something. “Did you two have a fight?” Arthur remained silent. I just smiled. “Not at all. He treats me very well, and I’ve always seen Arthur as my own older brother.” “I’m sure that in the future, he’ll find a daughter-in-law for you who is just as brilliant and exceptional as he is.” Arthur’s gaze snapped to me, pausing for a long moment.

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The daughter I raised with my own two hands stood in the center of the ballroom at my husband’s sixtieth birthday gala and announced to the three hundred guests: “Starting today, my son’s legal surname has been changed to Miller. He’s officially a Miller now, just like his father!” A tomb-like silence swept through the hall. Beside me, my husband, Arthur, gripped his wine glass so hard his knuckles turned a ghostly white. Our daughter, Mia, seemed utterly oblivious to the atmospheric shift. She leaned into her husband, Nathan Miller, clinging to his arm with a saccharine smile. “Dad, Mom, you aren’t upset, are you? Nathan is an only child. The Miller legacy needs an heir, too.” Nathan—the man I once thought was a humble, steady soul—looked at us with a glint of predatory triumph in his eyes. It wasn’t an explanation; it was a coup. I slowly set my silverware down. The clink of porcelain against the table sounded like a gunshot. “Mia,” I said, my voice as steady as a deep, dark lake. “Are you absolutely sure you’ve thought this through?” She flinched slightly under my gaze but quickly puffed out her chest. “Of course! Mom, it’s the twenty-first century. Does it really matter whose name the kid carries?” [Does it matter? Of course it matters.] [She was telling me that my grandson no longer belonged to our family.] [She was telling everyone in this room that the legacy Arthur had built from nothing—a name that stood for integrity and power—stopped with us. She was declaring us a dead end.] 1 The atmosphere of the gala plummeted from celebratory to sub-zero in the span of a single sentence. Around us, our friends and business associates exchanged looks. The whispers began to swarm like hornets. “Wait, what’s happening? Wasn’t the boy named after Arthur?” “How incredibly disrespectful… to do this in public, on his sixtieth? It’s a slap in the face.” Arthur’s face had gone from a flushed red to a sickly, ashen grey. He was a man who had fought his way to the top of the tech industry, a man defined by his dignity. He had never been humiliated like this, let alone by the daughter he worshipped. His hand trembled, the red wine in his glass rippling dangerously. Mia, however, kept pouring gasoline on the fire. She nudged Nathan playfully. “Oh, Dad, don’t be like that. You’re acting like we committed a crime. Nathan and I talked it over—it’s what’s best for our little family. Besides, I’m still your daughter, and Leo is still your grandson. That never changes.” [Never changes?] [No. Starting tonight, everything changes.] Nathan finally spoke. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, the light reflecting off the lenses to hide his calculated expression. He addressed us with a performative respect that didn’t reach his eyes. “Exactly, Arthur, Evelyn. Mia is a Miller now. It’s only natural for our son to carry my family name. We’re all one family, after all. What’s mine is hers.” [One family?] [You live in a house we bought. You work a high-salaried “consultant” job at Arthur’s company where you do nothing. You drive a hundred-thousand-dollar Porsche that I signed for. And now you’re systematically stripping the “Arthur” name away from the next generation to claim the inheritance for your own bloodline?] I saw it clearly now. This wasn’t a discussion. This was an ambush. They had chosen his sixtieth birthday, in front of every influential person we knew, to nail us to the pillar of “the end of the line.” They gambled that we would swallow our pride to save face. They thought that because Mia was our only child, we would eventually roll over. They thought we had no other choice. My fingertips went numb with rage. A dizzying heat rushed to my head. But I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I took a slow, deep breath, pushing the tidal wave of emotion back down. And then, I smiled. It was a soft, thin laugh that sliced through the murmurs, silencing the room instantly. Mia and Nathan’s smug expressions faltered. I stood up slowly, raising my glass to the room. “Tonight is about celebrating Arthur’s sixty years of life and legacy,” I said, my voice carrying clearly to the back of the hall. “Thank you all for being here.” I paused, my eyes locking onto theirs. They were starting to look uneasy. “And just now, our daughter and son-in-law announced a ‘joyous’ development. They’ve decided to focus entirely on the Miller legacy. As parents, we are… enlightened by this news.” I leaned into the word enlightened. “Since you two have made such clear plans for your ‘little family’s’ future, it’s only fair that we start making clear plans for our own.” The color drained from Mia’s face. I didn’t look at her. I turned to Arthur. His eyes were a storm of fury and hurt, but beneath it, I saw him catch my drift. I gave him a small, resolute nod. “Arthur, dear? I think it’s time we took back the keys to that new Cayenne we got for Nathan.” The room was so quiet you could hear the air conditioning hum. “Since Leo is a Miller heir now, destined to build the Miller empire, it would be embarrassing for him to be driven around in a car paid for by the family he’s disassociated from. People might think the Millers are struggling if they have to rely on their in-laws for a ride.” I paused for effect. “And we should probably deactivate the business credit cards. A grown man building his own dynasty shouldn’t be using his mother-in-law’s platinum card for his lunches, right?” Nathan’s polished mask shattered. He looked like he’d been stripped naked in public. His face turned a bruised shade of purple. Mia gasped, her voice trembling. “Mom… what… what are you saying?” What am I saying? I’m speaking English, Mia. Keep up. [You wanted the title? Fine. But you don’t get the perks that come with the name you just threw away. If you’re going to stab us in the back, don’t expect us to keep sharpening the knife for you.] I walked around the table until I was standing directly in front of them. Nathan was vibrating with suppressed rage. I held out my hand, my expression perfectly neutral. “The keys, Nathan. Now.” 2 Nathan froze. His hand instinctively went to his pocket, where the heavy fob of the Porsche sat. That car was his trophy. It was his ticket into the country clubs, his proof that he had “arrived.” Taking it back here, in front of everyone, was a social execution. “Mom…” Mia scrambled toward me, grabbing my arm, her voice thick with tears. “What are you doing? It’s just a name! Is it really worth all this? You’re humiliating him!” [Humiliating him? He spent weeks planning this “Red Wedding” of a birthday announcement. He humilated your father in front of his peers. Where was your concern for our dignity then?] I shrugged her hand off coldly. “I’m doing this out of respect for the Miller name,” I said. My eyes were twin needles, sewing Nathan to the floor. “Mr. Miller, do I need to call security to assist you?” “You—!” Nathan’s composure evaporated. The venom in his eyes was naked now. The guests were breathless. This was no longer a party; it was a televised war. I could feel the weight of their stares—some sympathetic, some hungry for the drama. I didn’t care. Reputation is earned, but respect is enforced. If they were bold enough to stage a coup at a birthday party, they would be bold enough to start counting down the days until we died so they could claim the estate. Arthur stood up. He walked over and took my hand, his grip a solid anchor. “My wife is right,” he said, his voice echoing with the authority of a man who had led thousands. “The keys. Give them back.” Nathan’s jaw worked, a vein throbbing in his temple. He looked like a cornered animal. Finally, under the crushing weight of three hundred pairs of eyes, he reached into his pocket. With a jerky, violent motion, he slammed the keys into my palm. I didn’t even flinch. I gripped the keys and turned to the room, giving a polite, shallow bow. “I apologize for the family drama. It seems the celebrations must end early. Arthur and I will make it up to you all soon.” I tucked my arm through Arthur’s, and we walked out of the ballroom without a single look back. Behind us, Mia’s hysterical sobbing and Nathan’s muffled roar of frustration echoed against the gold-leafed ceiling. We didn’t stop. The drive home was a haunting silence. Arthur’s hands were clamped onto the steering wheel, his knuckles white. I could feel the tremors of his heart through the seat. He was holding it in—the betrayal of his only child, the public shaming. I tossed the Porsche keys into the center console and pulled out my phone. “Mr. Higgins? It’s Evelyn. Deactivate every supplementary credit card under Arthur’s account immediately. Yes, all of them. Effective five minutes ago.” I hung up and turned to my husband. “Arthur. Let it out.” The light turned red. The car came to a halt. Arthur slumped over the wheel, his broad shoulders shaking. This man, who was a mountain to the world, let out a low, broken sound—a wounded animal’s cry. I didn’t try to stop him. I just rubbed his back. I knew that the house we had built—the home filled with laughter and memories of a “sweet” daughter—was gone. After a long while, Arthur looked up, his eyes bloodshot. “Evelyn… I failed. I spoiled her until she turned into this.” “We both did,” I corrected him. “We thought giving her everything would teach her gratitude. We forgot that greed is a beast that only gets hungrier the more you feed it.” The light turned green. Arthur shifted the car into gear, but his expression had shifted, too. The grief was still there, but it was being paved over by a cold, hard resolve. “You’re right. If they want to play dirty, they’ve picked the wrong opponents.” He picked up his phone and dialed. “Mr. Whitaker? This is Arthur. I need you at the office tomorrow at 9:00 AM. My wife and I need to restructure everything—assets, trusts, the whole estate. We’re starting over.” [Plan B was officially in motion.] 3 The next morning, before we could even leave for the lawyer’s office, the doorbell started ringing like a fire alarm. I knew exactly who it was. Arthur’s face darkened. He started toward the door, but I blocked his path. “Don’t,” I said. “Let them ring. Let them wear themselves out.” [Opening that door would bring the battlefield into our sanctuary. I wasn’t going to let their hysterics stain my floors.] Through the heavy oak door, Mia’s muffled screams were audible. “Dad! Mom! Open up! You can’t do this to us!” “We made a mistake! Let’s just talk! Please!” That was Nathan, sounding significantly less like a conquering hero this morning. I led Arthur to the breakfast nook. We sat there, sipping coffee and eating toast with practiced nonchalance, as if the circus on our porch didn’t exist. Arthur looked at me, his nerves finally beginning to settle. He took a bite of toast, though I could tell he couldn’t taste it. “Your composure is terrifying,” he managed a weak smile. “It’s not composure, Arthur. It’s the coldness of a heart that’s finally seen the truth.” I took a sip of my latte. “Remember: as of yesterday, we are no longer their parents. We are their creditors. And they owe us a debt they can never repay.” My phone buzzed on the table—a number I didn’t recognize. I hit speaker. “Hello? Is this Mia’s mother?” A sharp, screeching female voice pierced the air. I frowned. “Who is this?” “This is Nathan’s mother! My son and daughter-in-law are standing on your doorstep in the freezing cold! How can you be so heartless? What kind of parents are you?!” Ah, the mother-in-law. The cavalry has arrived. I kept my voice flat. “Mrs. Miller, I think you’re confused. First, this is my home. Who I allow in is my prerogative. Second, they are adults. If they’re cold, they can go to a cafe. Third, and most importantly: your son has been living off my wealth, driving my cars, and occupying a ghost position at my husband’s firm for years. As his mother, you should be embarrassed, not indignant. Where did you get the audacity to call me?” There was a stunned silence on the other end. She clearly hadn’t expected me to bite back. A few seconds later, she shrieked, “How dare you! Nathan is a brilliant man! He’s the father of your grandson! So what if he changed the name? It’s just a name! You have so much money—why are you being so petty? You’re just trying to humiliate us because you’re bitter you don’t have a male heir of your own!” Clang. Arthur slammed his fork onto the table. That last line—”no male heir”—hit him like a poisoned dart. I squeezed his hand and leaned into the phone, my voice dropping an octave. “Mrs. Miller, thank you for the reminder. Whether or not our legacy continues is none of your concern.” “Furthermore, I’m giving you formal notice. Your son has forty-eight hours to vacate the apartment we provide for him. If he’s not out, I’ll have the sheriff’s department handle the eviction.” “And as for his job? He’s fired. Tell him not to bother showing up today. Or ever.” I ended the call and blocked the number. One clean motion. Arthur stared at me. There was shock in his eyes, but mostly, there was a sense of liberated relief. “Evelyn… you really did it.” “I did what we should have done years ago.” I stood up. “Let’s go. Mr. Whitaker is waiting.” We drove out through the garage, never opening the front door. In the rearview mirror, I saw Mia and Nathan chasing the car, their faces twisted in panic. Behind them stood a frumpy, middle-aged woman—presumably the mother—shaking her fist at our departing taillights. I looked away. [This is only the beginning.] At the law firm, Mr. Whitaker listened to our story with a grim expression. “Arthur, Evelyn… are you certain about this? Setting up a living trust, moving all assets into it, and leaving the primary beneficiary… blank?” “Yes,” Arthur said, his voice like iron. “My daughter has proven she isn’t fit to steward a single cent of what I’ve built.” “And the secondary beneficiary?” Whitaker asked. I looked at Arthur. He looked at me. We shared a silent, secret smile. I turned to the lawyer. “Mr. Whitaker, I also need you to contact the best reproductive health clinic in the city. I want an appointment with their head of department for a full evaluation.” Whitaker froze, adjusting his glasses as if he’d misheard. “Evelyn, are you saying…?” “I’m saying,” I said calmly, “that my husband and I are going to have another child.” “A child who will actually carry the name. A child who will be raised to know the value of a legacy.” 4 The silence in Whitaker’s office was absolute, broken only by the faint hum of the HVAC system. He looked at us, his eyes traveling from shock to confusion, and finally to a strange kind of respect. “I understand,” he nodded, asking no further questions. “I’ll set everything in motion. The trust documents will be ready for your signatures by the end of the week.” When we stepped out of the office, the sun was blindingly bright. Arthur took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhaling a breath he seemed to have been holding for decades. “Evelyn… I never imagined we’d end up here.” “Neither did I,” I said, tucking my arm into his. “But now that we are here, we walk forward with our heads held high.” [Better to build a new world from scratch than to drown in the mud of the old one.] By that afternoon, the clinic had already called. They were efficient, which I appreciated. When we returned home, the porch was finally empty. Mia and Nathan must have retreated to lick their wounds. But the house felt different—hollow, echoing with the ghosts of yesterday’s screams. I went straight upstairs to Mia’s old room. It was still the “princess suite” we’d designed for her, filled with expensive gifts we’d brought back from every corner of the globe. Arthur followed me, his eyes dimming as he looked at the childhood mementos. I didn’t hesitate. I pulled several large packing boxes out of the closet. “Clear it out,” I told him. He blinked. “Evelyn… everything?” “Whatever doesn’t belong here needs to go.” I started grabbing designer dresses and handbags from her closet, tossing them into the boxes without looking at the labels. These things were worth a fortune. They were monuments to how much we had adored her. [Now I realize they weren’t gifts of love. They were just kibble for a parasite.] As I cleared her desk, I knocked over a stack of books. A pink leather journal fell to the floor. I picked it up. It wasn’t locked. Driven by a dark curiosity, I opened it. Arthur leaned in over my shoulder. The handwriting was unmistakably Mia’s. The most recent entry was dated two days before the gala. [Nathan’s mom is nagging again. She says Leo is almost three months old and we can’t wait any longer on the name change. She’s right. My parents only have me; everything they own will be mine eventually anyway. If we change it now, it’ll make Nathan and his mom feel secure. He’s an only child, too—he needs to feel like he’s providing a legacy.] [I’m a little worried Dad will be mad, but Nathan says, “What can they really do?” We have their only grandson. They won’t cut us off for real. They’ll throw a tantrum for a few days, and then we’ll bring the baby over, let them hold him, and they’ll melt. Then we can ask for the seed money for Nathan’s new firm. No one will look down on him then.] [Nathan has a plan. He’s going to announce it at the gala. In front of all those people, my parents will have to play along for the sake of their reputation. Nathan is so smart. He really knows how to handle them.] Every word was a serrated blade, sawing through what was left of my heart. It wasn’t a whim. It wasn’t a “misunderstanding.” It was a calculated siege. We weren’t parents to them; we were livestock to be harvested. They wanted our money, our status, and finally, they wanted to erase our name while keeping our gold. [Feeding on the legacy. The phrase turned to ash in my mouth.] Arthur was shaking with such fury he snatched the journal from my hands and ripped it into shreds. “Animals! They’re both animals!” His eyes were bloodshot, like a wounded lion. I didn’t stop him. I just pulled out my phone and took photos of the torn pages before they hit the floor. I sent them to Whitaker. [Mr. Whitaker, can these be used as evidence of “subjective malice” or intent to defraud?] He replied instantly. More than enough. Rest assured, I will handle this. I deleted the photos, tucked my phone away, and went back to packing. My movements were faster now, sharper. The last shred of maternal guilt had evaporated the moment I read those words. [Perfect. Now I don’t have to feel bad about what comes next.] [Mia, Nathan… you didn’t just close the door. You burned the house down yourselves.] 5 The next day, Arthur and I were at the fertility center. The lead specialist was a woman in her fifties, Dr. Chen. She was calm, clinical, and didn’t judge. She reviewed our medical histories and current physicals. “Arthur, Evelyn, based on your labs, you’re both in remarkably good health for your age,” Dr. Chen said, looking at me. “Specifically you, Evelyn. At fifty, your ovarian reserve isn’t completely depleted. That’s rare.” Arthur and I shared a look. A spark of hope ignited in the dark. “What are our chances, Doctor?” Arthur asked, his voice tight. “IVF at this age is a mountain to climb,” Dr. Chen said honestly. “The hormone cycles, the retrieval, the implantation—every step is a gamble. And a geriatric pregnancy carries significant risks. You have to be prepared for a war of attrition.” “We’re ready,” I said, not missing a beat. “Whatever it takes.” [I’d sign a contract with the devil himself for a fresh start. A medical battle is nothing.] Dr. Chen nodded. “Very well. Then we begin immediately. Evelyn, you’ll need to follow a strict regimen. Supplements, diet, no stress. We’ll start the first round of stimulation tomorrow.” The following weeks were a blur of needles and vials. Every day, I injected myself with hormones. I took a pharmacy’s worth of pills. My abdomen turned black and blue from the bruising. I was nauseous, exhausted, and my mood swung like a pendulum. Arthur cancelled every non-essential meeting. He was home every day by four, cooking specialized meals, rubbing my feet, and walking with me in the garden. We spoke less, but we were closer than we had ever been. we were soldiers in a trench, fighting for a common goal. Meanwhile, Mia and Nathan were spiraling. After being barred from our house, they tried the “family guilt” card. They started calling my extended family, my siblings, my cousins—anyone who would listen. “Evelyn, have you lost your mind?” my sister called to berate me. “Mia is your only child! How can you be so cruel over a surname?” “The poor girl is struggling! Nathan lost his job! They have a baby!” I didn’t engage. I gave everyone the same answer: “This is a private matter. If you wish to support them financially, feel free. Otherwise, stay out of it.” Then they tried to use the baby as a weapon. Mia sent me photos and videos of Leo every single day. [Mom, Leo smiled today. He misses his grandma.] [Mom, I’m sorry. Please. Don’t you want to see him?] [Mom, if you keep ignoring me, I don’t know what I’ll do. I might just take Leo and jump off a bridge!] I looked at the photos of that innocent child—a child I once would have died for—and felt a wave of physiological revulsion. [Using your own son as a ransom note. You really are a piece of work, Mia.] I blocked her on everything. But they didn’t stop there. Since Nathan had been fired and the apartment had been seized, they had to move into Nathan’s parents’ cramped, dated house in a mediocre suburb. The transition from luxury to “normalcy” was brutal. When you’re used to spending without thinking, poverty feels like a cage. And the bars were starting to rattle.

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