Category: English

I deliberately ignored the bank’s collection calls, let my accounts freeze, and officially became a “deadbeat.” I wasn’t panicked, but the intern sure was. In my past life, on Black Friday, the intern used my identity to take out a massive loan, treating the entire company to a shopping spree at the mall. It left me saddled with millions in debt. When I confronted her, demanding she pay it back, she threw herself into my boyfriend’s arms, sobbing. “Sarah, just because I have money doesn’t mean you can accuse me like this!” My boyfriend was even worse, screaming at me. “Sarah, you’re just vain! You took out those loans to buy luxury goods yourself, and now you want to frame Bella to pay for it? How can you be so vicious?” In the ensuing argument, I was pushed down the stairs and fell to my death. My boyfriend and my colleagues all testified for the intern, claiming I fell on my own. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the intern invited the whole company on a shopping spree. Chapter 1 “Tomorrow is Black Friday! To thank everyone for taking care of me, I asked Jake for the day off. I’m taking the whole team to the mall for a shopping spree. It’s all on me!” Hearing Bella’s familiar voice, I looked at the clock on the wall and realized instantly: I had been reborn. The next second, Bella grabbed my arm. “Sarah, new members get a 10% discount at that mall. Can I borrow your ID to sign up?” My body trembled violently. The pain of falling down those stairs in my past life flooded back. In my previous life, on this exact day, Bella invited the company to shop. She used the excuse of a “new member discount” to borrow my driver’s license. It wasn’t until the debt collectors showed up that I realized the million dollars she spent was a loan taken out in my name. When I confronted her, she played the victim, crying into my boyfriend Jake’s chest. “Sarah, just because I have money doesn’t mean you can accuse me!” Jake shouted at me, “Sarah, you’re just jealous and vain! You bought luxury goods and now you’re trying to pin the debt on Bella? You’re disgusting!” During the argument, I was pushed. I died. And they all lied to cover it up. Thinking of the pain, I gritted my teeth. Before I could react, Jake snatched my purse, dug out my license, and handed it to Bella. I snapped back to reality and ripped it out of Bella’s hand. “Jake! Who gave you the right to take my ID?” Jake looked at me with annoyance. “Sarah, what is your problem? Bella is treating everyone tomorrow. She just needs your ID for a membership card. Give it to her and stop holding everyone up.” Bella held my hand, smiling sweetly. “Sarah, if we open the card, all the reward points will go to you. You can use them to buy whatever you need for the house.” Jake put his arm around Bella, eyes full of adoration. “Bella, you’re such a saint. Always thinking of others.” Chapter 2 Jake glared at me impatiently. “Sarah, I wish you were half as sensible as Bella. She’s always thinking of you, and you just hurt her feelings over and over. Give her the ID and apologize.” I laughed out loud. “No thanks. Give your charity to someone else. I can’t afford it.” Jake exploded. He slammed a folder onto my desk. “Sarah! You are targeting Bella on purpose! She’s being nice to you, and you’re being ungrateful! Apologize to her right now or we’re done! I hate jealous, petty women like you.” If this were the old, love-struck me, I would have been introspective, blaming myself. But now? Watching their performance just made me sick. I looked at him coldly. “Fine. Let’s break up. You and your ‘little sister’ can live happily ever after.” Jake’s eyes widened. He looked shocked that I would actually agree to a breakup. “Sarah, are you crazy? Do you know what you’re saying? I only see Bella as a sister! Stop projecting your dirty mind onto us!” Bella looked at me with big, teary doe eyes. “Sarah, Jake takes care of me, but we really are just like siblings. Please don’t fight because of me. How about this? Tomorrow at the mall, I’ll buy you a new Hermès bag. Consider it a rental fee for your ID.” Jake sneered at me. “Sarah, isn’t that what you wanted? Taking advantage of Bella? Without her, you’d never even set foot in an Hermès store in this lifetime. Give her the ID and stop wasting our time.” Colleagues chimed in. “Bella uses your ID but gives you the points AND a luxury bag? People would kill for that deal. Stop being ungrateful.” “You’re just jealous because Bella is a rich intern. She must be some heiress. You could work for a hundred years and never be on her level.” “Seriously, Sarah. As a manager, you only buy us cheap coffee once a week. So stingy. No wonder everyone likes Bella more.” I used to buy them drinks out of my own pocket every week, and they never complained. Now I’m stingy? Ungrateful wolves. Fair-weather friends. Bella started getting impatient. “Sarah, please stop making a scene. Give me the ID. I need to go to the mall after work to set up the card so we don’t waste time tomorrow.” I clutched my bag tight, staring her down. “I have plans tomorrow. I’m not going. I don’t need you to buy me anything. Borrow someone else’s ID.” A flash of malice crossed Bella’s face before she switched back to the crying victim. “Sarah, I know you don’t like me. But everyone has been working so hard… I just wanted to treat the team. If you’re not happy, let’s just forget it. Everyone can just come to work tomorrow instead.” Chapter 3 Bella’s words painted me as the villain who canceled the party. Instantly, my colleagues turned on me. Someone shoved me to the ground. Another splashed water from a cup onto my clothes. “Sarah, do you hate seeing us happy? Just because you don’t want to go, you have to ruin it for everyone?” “How can you be so toxic? We finally get a day off and a shopping spree, and you ruin it out of jealousy?” Someone kicked me in the stomach. I gasped in pain. “You always act so high and mighty. Now you’re ruining everything for us just because you’re envious?” Ignoring the pain, I grabbed a vase from a desk and smashed it on the floor. The crash startled everyone. I used the moment to push them away and stand up. “Are you all insane? I never said you couldn’t go shopping! I just refused to let her use my ID! If you want to go, give her your IDs! Why does it have to be mine?” A colleague rolled her eyes. “It’s just an ID. Why are you being so petty?” She pulled out her own license and handed it to Bella. “Bella, ignore Sarah. She’s ungrateful. Use mine. I’m new too.” “Bella, use mine! I don’t mind. Just buy me a bag!” Bella looked at the people offering their IDs with hidden disgust, but kept a smile plastered on her face. Near the end of the day, I had a sudden stomach cramp and went to the restroom. When I came back to grab my bag and leave, I paused. Something felt off. I remembered leaving my bag unzipped because I was in a rush. Now, it was zipped. I checked immediately. Everything was there. My license was still in the inner pocket. I breathed a sigh of relief. Jake walked by and chuckled. “Sarah, do you have a persecution complex or something?” I rolled my eyes and ignored him, walking out. That night at home, I felt restless. Something was wrong. Just as I was about to sleep, my phone rang. It was a woman from the bank. I had borrowed $300,000 six months ago and missed the payment. It was a month overdue. I checked my records. A year ago, my cousin had an emergency and needed money. Since I was estranged from my parents because of Jake, my funds were frozen, so I took a loan to help her. I had been so busy with work I forgot to pay it back. I was about to transfer the funds when the bank employee continued: “Miss Vance, if you do not repay immediately, you will be blacklisted. All your credit lines across all major banks will be frozen, and no new loans will be issued.” My finger froze. An idea struck me. “I’m sorry. I don’t have the money right now. Go ahead and freeze all my accounts.” I hung up and blocked the number. Finally, I relaxed. Even if Bella had stolen my info, she couldn’t take out a loan now. Chapter 4 The next day, I got a call from our family butler. “Miss, today is your mother’s birthday. Are you coming home? She misses you terribly.” I looked at the calendar. A wave of sadness hit me. It was Mom’s birthday. I hadn’t been home in over a year since the fight. Thinking about how much I hurt my parents for a scumbag like Jake made me want to slap myself. “Uncle Lee, I know. I’ll be there tomorrow.” After hanging up, I decided to go to the mall—one owned by my family—to buy a gift. I walked into a luxury boutique and spotted a new limited-edition bag. Just as I reached for it, another hand snatched it away. I looked up. It was Jake and Bella. Jake handed the bag to Bella. “Bella, this is the new Hermès. There’s only one. It suits your elegance perfectly.” Bella looked at me provocatively. “But Sarah seems to want it too. Maybe I should let her have it?” Jake sneered. “Oh look, it’s Manager Vance. Didn’t you say you weren’t coming? Tell you what—if you get on your knees and apologize to Bella right now, I’ll let you join our shopping trip.” I rolled my eyes and turned to leave. Jake grabbed my arm and threw me to the floor. “Sarah, stop pretending! Without Bella, a bag like this would cost you three months’ salary. I’m giving you a chance. Don’t be ungrateful.” I rubbed my sore arm, stood up, and slapped Jake across the face. His eyes bulged. “Sarah! You dare hit me?!” Bella started crying immediately. “Sarah, I’m sorry! I won’t treat everyone anymore!” My colleagues rushed over, surrounding me. “Sarah, did you do this on purpose?” “Why are you so toxic? You’re like a ghost haunting us!” “Bella is paying for us, and you keep trying to ruin it! You just can’t stand seeing us happy!” Someone grabbed my hair and forced me down. Another sprayed perfume directly into my eyes. It burned like fire. Another colleague took off the shoe she was trying on and pressed the sole into my face. “Sarah, if not for Bella, you’d never even smell luxury like this. Consider this a favor.” The sales associate tried to intervene. “These items are not testers! Once opened or damaged, you must purchase them!” Jake scoffed. “Ignorant. Bella can buy out this whole store with a wave of her hand.” He smashed a vase on the floor next to me. “Sarah, apologize to Bella now!” I struggled up and pushed Jake. “I did nothing wrong! Why should I apologize?” My colleagues started throwing items from the counter at me. The store was a mess. The staff tried to stop them but got pushed down too. “Relax! We’re paying!” The store manager walked up with a card reader. “Then please pay for the damages first. It’s roughly $800,000. Or I’m calling the police right now.” Everyone stopped. “Blind fools. No wonder you just work retail. Bella, pay them so we can leave this dump.” Bella pulled out a black card and tapped it on the machine. Beep. “Insufficient funds. Transaction declined.”

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I got doxxed and cyberbullied because I paid out of pocket to open a subsidized food counter in the school cafeteria for low-income students. They called me a fake humanitarian and said I was insulting people with “pig slop.” But the meal plan I set was: an entrée, two sides, and a soup for just $1. When I rushed into the cafeteria, scholarship student Lily was smashing her tray onto the counter. Braised pork and gravy splattered everywhere. Mrs. Higgins, the lunch lady, stood there frozen, her face pale. Those hands, which always gave an extra scoop for the students on financial aid, were now trembling uncontrollably. I walked past Lily, went straight to Mrs. Higgins, picked up a napkin, and gently wiped the gravy from her face. It turns out, kindness is the cheapest thing in the world. If that’s the case, this counter is closed. Permanently. Chapter 1 “Isn’t a dollar still money?” Lily’s voice was piercing. “Why do they get to eat seared tuna while we’re stuck eating this greasy braised pork?” She emphasized the word “greasy,” her phone camera pointed straight at Mrs. Higgins’ face. The comments on her livestream were scrolling like crazy: “We support you, Lily!” “Aren’t poor students human too?” Mrs. Higgins was so flustered she could barely speak: “This… this pork was bought fresh this morning. I picked the best cuts myself and slow-cooked it for two whole hours…” “Who cares about slow-cooking!” Lily shoved the tray violently, sending chunks of greasy meat rolling onto the floor. “Look at this fat! The grease is practically oozing out! Feeding us this pig slop… do you have no conscience?” The words “pig slop” stabbed right into my heart. Mrs. Higgins’ eyes instantly turned red. “Lily!” I pushed through the crowd of onlookers, my voice shaking. She immediately turned the camera on me, her voice filled with excitement: “Look everyone! Our rich princess, Quinn, finally decided to show her face!” “Come on, tell everyone right here. Did you serve us this low-quality trash on purpose just to humiliate us?” I forced down the anger rising in my chest: “Mrs. Higgins went to the market before dawn to hand-pick every single ingredient…” “Spare me the fake speech!” She cut me off with a shriek, spittle practically flying into my face. “If you really cared about us, why isn’t the food the same at every station? We want tuna too! Why the discrimination?” I was shaking with rage, my nails digging deep into my palms. The same? Is she insane? She wants seared tuna for a dollar? Why doesn’t she just go rob a bank? The viewer count on the livestream was skyrocketing, and the comments were filled with vile insults. Just then, I saw the most blinding comment of all—it was from Brandon. “Team Lily! Smash the privilege!” Brandon. The guy whose tuition I had covered for three full years. I remember when he first enrolled, he didn’t even have a decent coat. I paid his tuition. I gave him a living stipend. Last year, when his mother needed surgery, I even covered the medical bills. But now, here he was, leading the charge against me online. Suddenly, my phone started vibrating like crazy. Insulting texts from unknown numbers flooded in, one after another. Chapter 2 “Go to hell!” “Think you’re special just because you have money?” “People like you deserve to rot!” On the campus forum, my photo was photoshopped into a black-and-white funeral portrait with the words “Got What She Deserved” plastered over it. My name was trending on Twitter, followed by the hashtag #FakePhilanthropist. What chilled me even more was seeing avatars I recognized in the comments section. The sophomore whose financial aid application I stayed up all night helping revise. The senior I used my connections to get an internship for. Now, they were all kicking me while I was down, attacking me with the most vicious words imaginable. I watched Lily fake-wiping tears for the camera. I looked at the mob reveling in the chat, and at Brandon’s ungrateful comment. In that moment, my heart turned to ice. I turned to leave. The jeers of the wealthy students surrounded me: “I told you not to meddle.” “See? This is what happens to do-gooders.” “Thought she was a savior, but nobody even cares.” I finally understood. Feeding kindness to dogs is the stupidest thing you can do in this world. You think this meal is disgusting? Fine. Then from now on, nobody eats. Back in my dorm, my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Toxic DMs kept popping up on the screen: “You think money lets you do whatever you want?” “Why haven’t you offed yourself yet?” … I turned my phone off. The world finally went quiet. But the insults kept echoing in my brain. Then, a knock on the door. “Quinn, it’s Mr. Davis from the Dean’s Office.” “The administration requires you to come to the admin building immediately to explain today’s situation. You’ve brought negative publicity to the university!” I stayed silent. Getting no response, Mr. Davis’s tone hardened: “Quinn Sterling, if you continue to hide, the school will take necessary measures.” I laughed out loud, coldly. They aren’t going after the rioters, but they’re coming for me? Do they really think I’m a pushover? After his footsteps faded, I turned my phone back on and made a call. “It’s me.” My voice was ice. “Investigate a few people. Lily, Brandon, and the ones leading the charge in the livestream. I want to know everything about them.” The voice on the other end responded quickly: “Understood. How deep?” “As deep as it goes.” I said. “Especially Brandon.” I hung up and opened my laptop. Threads attacking me had already sprung up on the forum, the titles getting nastier by the minute: Exposing the Sterling Family’s Dark Secrets The Dirty Deals Behind the Charity Counter The True Face of a Hypocrite The funniest part was that beneath these posts, many students I had previously helped were jumping on the bandwagon to spread rumors. The guy whose medical bills I paid was now swearing I harassed him. The girl I helped find a job was claiming I stole her wages. Human hearts, it turns out, can be this poisonous. Early the next morning. I was woken up by violent banging on my door. “Quinn Sterling, get out here! We want justice for all low-income students!” Through the peephole, I saw Lily leading a group of twenty people, all of them livestreaming. “See everyone? She’s hiding in there like a turtle!” Chapter 3 Lily cried into the camera. “This is the true face of the rich! She did something guilty and doesn’t even have the courage to face us!” I took a deep breath and threw the door open. “Finally brave enough to come out?” Lily shoved her phone right in my face. “Please explain to everyone right now, why did you poison low-income students with substandard ingredients?” I looked at her coldly. “Are you done?” She clearly didn’t expect that reaction. Her face froze. “Since you’re done, now it’s my turn.” I took a step forward, looking directly into her camera lens. “Lily, do you dare tell everyone how much that ‘simple’ dress you’re wearing costs?” The crowd stirred. I turned to face all the cameras, speaking word for word: “In three days, I will hold a press conference in the cafeteria. At that time, the whole truth will come out.” With that, I slammed the door shut. The show was just beginning. The public outcry grew worse. Even the stock price of my dad’s company took a hit. The night before the press conference, as I was double-checking documents, my dorm door was knocked on again. It was Lily again. She couldn’t hide the smugness on her face. I opened the door and didn’t give her a chance to speak. “Oh, Miss Lily. Visiting so late? Are you here to give me a final ultimatum?” I deliberately hunched my shoulders. “Seeing those comments online, and my family’s stock price! I’m so scared.” Lily clearly didn’t expect this reaction. She paused, then contempt flashed in her eyes. “Now you know fear? Where was this before? Let me tell you, Quinn, at the press conference tomorrow, you better do exactly as we say.” “Publicly apologize, and upgrade our meal standard to match the wealthy students! Or else…” She sneered, the threat heavy in the air. I continued to play the terrified victim, looking at her with anxious eyes: “Or else… or else what? Can you really make my family…?” “Hmph, what do you think?” Seeing me cower, Lily grew even more arrogant. “You can’t even imagine the power of public opinion! A wise person knows when to yield. Bow your head, admit your mistake, and it’ll be better for everyone, right?” She even took a step forward, offering fake comfort: “Quinn, your family has money anyway! What’s the difference between 5 million and 50 million to you? If you let us eat well, we’ll even thank you!” I suppressed a sneer, forcing a look of gratitude and fear onto my face: “R-Really? Thank you for reminding me, Lily… I-I will consider it carefully…” “That’s more like it.” Lily nodded with satisfaction, then turned and walked away with her head held high. Closing the door, the mask dropped instantly. She actually believed I would cave? Tomorrow, when the truth comes out, I wonder how wonderful that smug look on her face will be. I’m actually looking forward to it. On the day of the press conference, the cafeteria was packed. Even the aisles were full. Reporters were ready and waiting. Before I could even get on stage, Lily rushed to the microphone first. Chapter 4 She spoke, voice choking back sobs: “Fellow students, members of the media, standing here today, my heart is heavy.” “We low-income students never wanted to take advantage of anyone. We just wanted fairness!” Tears streamed down her face. “Why can some people eat tuna while we only get pork? Is being poor a sin?” Applause erupted from the crowd. Many scholarship students wiped their eyes. Seeing this, Lily performed even harder: “Today, we only hope Quinn Sterling can give us an answer. We don’t ask for much, just that the food at all stations be standardized…” I watched her performance quietly. Only when she finished did I calmly walk up to the podium. Lily glanced at me triumphantly, as if victory was already in the bag. “Miss Sterling, what is your response?” “Do you admit to discriminating against low-income students?” “How do you intend to compensate the students for the harm caused?” Reporters fired questions like a machine gun. I adjusted the microphone gently. The room went silent. “First, I want to thank Lily for her speech.” I said calmly. “She made me realize my mistake more clearly.” A victorious smile appeared on Lily’s face. She even flashed a peace sign at the livestream camera. “My biggest mistake was treating low-income students differently from wealthy students.” I continued. “I shouldn’t have assumed that scholarship students needed special care. I shouldn’t have assumed they would cherish that kindness.” Lily’s smile began to stiffen. She seemed to sense something was wrong. “So, I have decided to correct this mistake.” I looked around the room, enunciating every word. “Starting today, the subsidized counter is permanently closed. All students will be treated equally and pay market price for meals.” “Since you think a one-dollar braised pork meal is an insult, then go eat the fifty-dollar tuna.”

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One day, I woke up in a “wife-chasing crematorium” novel. I wasn’t the long-suffering heroine or the vicious side character. I was the scumbag male lead’s mother. As I recalled the plot, my son committed every despicable act imaginable. He tortured the heroine’s body, broke her heart, and even desecrated her memory. Meanwhile, he was handing over money, fathering a child, and even offering up a kidney for the “other woman.” It all culminated in the heroine, driven to despair, leaping to her death from a skyscraper. Only then did he clutch her ashes and put on a grand performance of undying love. My blood pressure skyrocketed. My liver ached with pure rage. This son was a lost cause. But they say the child’s sins are the mother’s fault. Since I was now his mother, he could blame me for the coming storm. Because I was about to overhaul this entire family. “Unhand my daughter-in-law, Benny Ford! Your mother has arrived, and she is not pleased!” 1 “Sign it! Don’t make me say it again. Isla can’t wait.” A man’s voice pierced through the fog of my consciousness. My eyes focused on a lavish, European-style living room. A pale woman in a simple dress was kneeling on the floor. This scene, this dialogue… Wasn’t this from that trashy, melodramatic novel I was ranting about last night? In the story, the heroine, Elara Vance, enters into a business marriage with the male lead, Benny Ford. She gives him her whole heart, only to have it thrown to the dogs. Benny is obsessed with his first love, Isla Shen, and treats his wife with icy contempt. After Isla returns to the country, she frames Elara for pushing her down the stairs. Benny, the brainless idiot, not only believes the lie but demands that Elara, who is already pregnant, donate one of her kidneys to Isla. Remembering the infuriating plot and seeing the scene play out before me, I let a string of curses fly. “Benny! What the hell is wrong with you?” My outburst plunged the entire villa into a dead silence. The kneeling heroine stared at me, her tear-filled eyes wide with astonishment. Benny was stunned, looking at me in utter disbelief. “Mom?” That one word sent a jolt through me. I looked down at myself. I was dressed in a chic Chanel suit, a diamond ring big enough to blind someone sparkling on my finger. My face was smooth and youthful, looking no older than thirty-five. I was the picture of a wealthy socialite. I… I had become the scumbag male lead’s mother? The background character who just stood by and watched as her son destroyed himself and his wife? Benny had already recovered, tossing the donation consent form in front of Elara. “Mom, don’t make this more complicated. Elara pushed Isla. She has to donate a kidney.” I rushed forward, shielding Elara behind me. “Is Isla Shen the only person in the world who needs a kidney? There are countless donors on the registry, but you have to force my pregnant daughter-in-law to give up hers? Is she your personal, on-demand organ bank?” Benny’s face darkened. “Mom! Elara viciously pushed Isla down the stairs, rupturing her kidney! This is the punishment she deserves!” Listening to this garbage, I let out a cold laugh. “Do you have proof? Isla opens her mouth and you just believe her? Does this mansion not have security cameras? Do you run your investigations on gut feelings and your company on fortune-telling?” My rapid-fire accusations left Benny speechless, his face turning a furious shade of red. He was breathing heavily. “Mom! You’re being completely unreasonable!” “You’re the one being unreasonable!” I shot back. “Check the security footage right now! If it proves Elara is innocent, you just wait and see how I deal with you!” “Fine! We’ll check it!” Benny snapped, calling for the staff. “Mr. Henderson, bring up the footage from the landing!” A small crowd gathered in the living room to wait. Soon, the butler returned with a tablet, his expression hesitant. Benny snatched it from his hands. The video was crystal clear. On the landing, Isla and Elara appeared to be arguing. Suddenly, Isla threw herself backward. Elara’s hand shot out, clearly trying to catch her, but she didn’t even touch the hem of Isla’s dress. No one pushed her. She fell on her own. Benny stared at the screen, the color draining from his face. “Do you see it clearly now, my dear son?” I asked, my voice dripping with ice. “Did she push her? Or did your precious Isla stage the whole thing?” I turned and gently patted Elara’s hand. “My dear, what do you think should happen next?” Elara looked at Benny, her eyes red-rimmed. “Benny, you’ve seen the video. I’m innocent. You have to make Isla Shen apologize to me.” My heart sank. That’s it? Just an apology? Had this girl been abused into submission? With concrete proof in her hands, shouldn’t she be seizing the opportunity to divorce him, escape this hell, and take half his fortune to live her best life? All she wanted was an apology? “No. Isla can’t apologize. She’s too fragile, she can’t handle the stress. We’ll just drop the matter this time.” 2 I was even more shocked to find that Benny’s bias was so deeply ingrained. He wouldn’t even allow for an apology. “Drop the matter?” A bitter laugh escaped Elara’s lips. “Benny Ford, you and Isla Shen truly disgust me.” With that, she turned and walked away. I looked at my stupid son, who stood frozen with a dark expression on his face, and sighed. I had no desire to see the rest of this tragic story play out. Just as I was plotting how to get them divorced, Isla herself arrived. “Mrs. Ford! You have to stand up for me!” she cried, rushing over and clinging to my arm before I could say a word. “I never wanted to take anything from Elara, but ever since I came back, she’s been so hostile. Last time, she even pushed me down the stairs…” I frowned, impatiently pulling my arm away. “Enough. We’ve already seen the security footage. You fell on your own. Stop the act.” Isla was taken aback, her pitiful expression nearly slipping. But she clearly had a backup plan. She pulled me aside and mysteriously took out several photos from her purse. “Mrs. Ford, I don’t mean to stir up trouble, but even though Elara is carrying a Ford heir, she was involved with another man right before she got pregnant. Look at this…” She pointed to photos of Elara hugging and having dinner with another man. “I’m afraid the baby’s origins are… questionable.” I took the photos and looked closely. The man’s face was vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Seeing my expression, Isla thought she had me convinced. She raised her voice. “Benny! Come look at this!” Benny strode over. As his eyes fell on the photos, his face turned black as thunder. “Elara!” he roared up the stairs. “Get your ass down here!” I slapped him on the back of the head. “What is wrong with you now? Does the sight of this woman just melt your brain?” “Mom!” Benny stood his ground, his eyes bloodshot. “Are you just going to stand there and watch this woman cheat on your son?” Yes! Absolutely! I screamed internally. I hope she cheats on you, divorces you, and runs for the hills! Before I could place the man in the photo, Benny had grabbed Elara by the wrist. “Elara! Explain this to me! Who is this bastard?” He yanked her so hard she stumbled and fell to the floor. “Benny! We’ve been married for five years! Don’t you know whose child I’m carrying? How could you suspect me…?” Seeing her crumpled on the floor, my heart clenched. I was about to intervene again when a flash of insight struck me. I remembered! The man in the photo bore a striking resemblance to Elara. It was her younger brother, who was studying abroad! “Let her go!” I pried Benny’s fingers off her wrist and threw the photos in his face. “Open your eyes and look properly! That’s Elara’s brother! Your own brother-in-law! You don’t even recognize him? Is your head stuffed with hay?” “Wh-what?” Benny was dumbfounded. Elara picked up a photo and glanced at it. “This is my brother, Liam. He came back to visit last month. We had dinner.” Isla’s face went deathly pale. She tried to argue. “But the baby in her belly might not be…” “Might not be what?” I cut her off sharply. “Are you only happy when you’re trying to brand my son as a cuckold for no reason? I trust my daughter-in-law’s character! It’s not your place, an outsider, to sow discord here!” The more I spoke, the angrier I got. I pointed a trembling finger at the door. “Get out! Get out of the Ford house right now! And don’t you ever set foot in here again!” Isla flinched, and with no one left to defend her, she had no choice but to leave. Benny finally hung his head. “Elara,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.” 3 After dealing with Isla, I subjected Benny to a crash course in how to be a decent husband, trying to steer him off the path of a scumbag. But after just two days of peace, the butler delivered some shocking news. Benny’s father was coming home. Which meant my husband, Donovan Ford, was arriving. The original novel didn’t say much about him, only that he was a workaholic who spent most of his time abroad. He was extremely strict with Benny but paid little attention to his family. “Mom, I’m a bit tired. I’m going upstairs to rest,” Elara said, her expression changing at the news. Seeing my confused look, Benny explained. “Dad was never happy about my business marriage with Elara. He’s a bit old-fashioned and felt our family got the short end of the stick, so he’s always had a problem with her.” “What kind of problem?” I pressed. Benny seemed reluctant to elaborate. “It’s all in the past. Mom, please don’t ask. Dad will be back tomorrow. You should watch what you say, too. Don’t be like you were today.” Oh, this little brat was trying to lecture me now? “Was I wrong to protect my daughter-in-law? Let me tell you something, Benny. If your father starts talking nonsense, I’ll take him on too!” I glared at him. Benny, choked by my response, had nothing more to say and left. I sat alone in the living room, my mind racing. Old-fashioned? A problem with his daughter-in-law? Combined with Elara’s reaction… this was bad. Very, very bad. That evening, Donovan Ford, looking like a man in his thirties despite his age, walked in wearing a deep gray bespoke suit. And behind him were two women. Isla, dressed in her signature white dress, looked as fragile as ever, her eyes darting toward Benny. But the real eye-sore was the sophisticated woman next to her, who bore a striking resemblance to her—Mrs. Shen. “Vivian,” Donovan said, his voice smooth. “Isla and her mother happened to be nearby, so I invited them over.” Mrs. Shen smiled and looped her arm through Donovan’s. “That’s right. Donovan said there was a small misunderstanding at home and asked us to come help mediate.” She acted as if she were the lady of the house. I sneered internally, waiting to see what new trick they had up their sleeves. “I heard about what happened with Elara,” Donovan began, waving a dismissive hand as if he were a great peacemaker. “Young people can be impulsive. But Isla is a Shen, after all. Our families have worked together for years. There’s no need to let a small tiff ruin our relationship.” Mrs. Shen immediately chimed in, her voice soft and cloying. “Exactly, Mrs. Ford. As women, we should be more magnanimous, more virtuous. That’s what makes us appealing. Causing a scene over trivial matters just disrupts the harmony of the home.” She finished with a glance in my direction, her eyes filled with unconcealed provocation. I looked at her, clinging to my husband’s arm. I looked at Donovan’s nonchalant attitude. And then, I understood everything. No wonder Benny’s favoritism was so extreme. It was hereditary. Like father, like son. The rot started at the top. SMACK! I slammed my palm on the table so hard that the tea in Donovan’s cup splashed out. “Donovan Ford! Are you trying to relive your glory days? Has some little flower outside addled your brain?” I pointed directly at Mrs. Shen, who was practically fused to Donovan’s side. “Bringing these two outsiders into my home to lecture my legally-wed daughter-in-law, who is carrying your grandchild! Who do these people think they are, trying to teach the Fords how to behave?”

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1 The doctor suddenly called me into her office to discuss my daughter’s condition. My daughter is only seventeen, but she has been battling cancer for three years. After entering the office, I noticed a man in a suit sitting there as well. As soon as I walked in, they locked the door. The doctor said to me, “I’m sorry, but we misdiagnosed her three years ago. Your daughter doesn’t have cancer.” “She has osteosarcoma. Because of the previous incorrect treatment, it has progressed significantly, and she needs an amputation.” “I formally apologize to you, but what’s done is done. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m sorry.” I stared blankly at the doctor. Three years. To treat my daughter’s cancer, she dropped out of school, I sold our house, and we spent all our savings. My husband slept only four hours a day, working two jobs just to keep her safe. Overworked and exhausted, he fell ill and died young, leaving us, mother and daughter, to depend on each other. My daughter used to be a beautiful girl. Now she is skeletal, her hair has fallen out, and she weighs only seventy pounds. We kept fighting the cancer, ruining our family for it, dreaming only of the day she would be healthy again. But now they tell me it was just a misdiagnosis. There was no cancer at all. Seeing my silence, the doctor continued, “Ma’am, osteosarcoma is easily misdiagnosed. If you look it up, you’ll see it’s one of the most commonly misdiagnosed diseases.” I asked, “Did you call me here to discuss compensation?” She shook her head, “We don’t plan to compensate.” I was stunned. She continued, “The hospital’s idea is that we won’t refund the medical fees for the past three years of cancer treatment. Since you’ll need money for follow-up treatment anyway, we’ll keep it as a balance on our medical card. Is that okay?” I still didn’t speak, feeling the world spin around me. She handed me a contract, asking me to review it and sign if there were no issues. Every line of the contract was predatory. Party A will not refund cash to Party B, only refunding the $830,000 balance to the medical card, which Party B cannot withdraw. Until Party B’s treatment is completed, at which point any remaining balance will be refunded or additional costs charged. Party B promises not to pursue this matter further, not to publicize it on any internet platform, and to waive all civil litigation rights. The doctor said, “Although we didn’t pay compensation and only gave you the medical card balance, we are also taking a loss. It’s like we bore the cost of the past three years of medical fees.” I said agitatedly, “But that was your misdiagnosis! That treatment wasn’t needed in the first place!” She asked, “Is there any point in saying that? Are we not already taking a loss to cover it?” I couldn’t understand their logic at all. 2 My family fought cancer for three years, until we were destitute. Now they won’t pay a cent in compensation, won’t even refund the medical fees, forcing me to keep the money in their hospital to treat the osteosarcoma, and claiming they are the ones taking a loss! I asked the doctor, “If you hadn’t misdiagnosed her three years ago, if we hadn’t wasted these three years, would my daughter still need an amputation?” The doctor sighed, “Why do you have to bring up these hypotheticals? Do you want me to feel guilty? The problem is, I already feel very guilty. I said, what’s done is done, and I can’t change it.” Fate is so tragic. I had been hoping for my daughter to beat cancer, only to be told she never had it, and now she has to lose a leg because of it. I sniffled and asked, “Is there any way to save her leg?” The doctor said, “No, it has progressed too far. Amputation is the best option.” I couldn’t help but say, “I want to take her to another hospital. I don’t accept your plan, and I don’t feel safe letting you continue treating her.” The doctor got anxious. She said, “Why don’t you understand! Amputation is the best option now. Even if you go to New York or Boston, their treatment plan will be amputation! We’ve already covered the cost of three years of cancer treatment. What exactly are you trying to do by saying this? Are you trying to raise the price?” Her sudden agitation left me at a loss. My daughter was misdiagnosed, yet the doctor was acting more emotional than anyone. She suddenly wiped away tears and said, “Do you know? The hospital leadership has already talked to me. If you don’t sign, I will be fired. But even if you sign, the leadership won’t give me any promotion opportunities anymore. I’ve also lost my future. Let’s just let each other go.” I looked at the crying doctor, feeling the irony of the world. She kept saying she was guilty, but all she cared about was her own career. Just then, my phone rang. I picked it up and saw a message from my daughter. She asked, “Mom, are you done talking to the doctor? I finished my checkup.” Looking at the message, I wanted to cry. 3 How do I tell her that her cancer is gone, but she has to lose a leg forever? I wiped away my tears and said, “I don’t want to treat her here anymore. No matter what you say, I want to take her to a major hospital. I want to save her leg.” The doctor panicked. She suddenly stood up, slammed a checkup report in front of me, and shouted at me agitatedly, “You can’t save it! Don’t you just want more money? Look for yourself, it has already metastasized to her lungs!” I stared blankly at the report she suddenly produced, but I couldn’t read it. Because this was the first time I had heard of this disease. But I gathered from her words that amputation wasn’t the end. I asked, “Is her life in danger? Will she die even if she loses a leg?” The doctor said, “Yes. If you cooperate and sign the contract now, we can provide life-saving follow-up treatment.” I stood up. She misdiagnosed my daughter, allowing it to progress to amputation and life-threatening danger. Then she started threatening me with my daughter’s life, saying this was the best choice. At this moment, I was even more certain that I wanted to change hospitals. But just as I stood up, the man suddenly leaned in, grabbed my shoulder, and pressed me down. Forced back into the chair, the man sighed and said, “I understand you care about your child, but sit down first. Let me talk to you.” I turned around, looking at him in shock. I asked, “Are you forcing me to sign?” The atmosphere suddenly became very serious. The doctor glanced at me and said, “Sign it, and there won’t be so much trouble. This is for your daughter’s good. I’ll go out for a bit, you think it over.” She said to let me think, but after she left and locked the door, only I and this man remained in the room. He sat in the seat the doctor had just occupied, adjusted his suit, and said to me, “Let me introduce myself. I am the hospital’s lawyer. My last name is King.” I whispered, “Hiring a lawyer to talk to me, do you really think you can win the lawsuit?” Lawyer King shook his head and said, “Impossible. We will definitely lose this lawsuit, but you must accept the hospital’s conditions.” I looked at him, confused. Since he knew the hospital would definitely lose, why did he want me to accept? 4 Lawyer King said, “The hospital conservatively estimates that if treatment starts immediately, your daughter will live for about two more years, and there is even a possibility of full recovery. I admit your daughter was not in mortal danger initially, and all of this was caused by the hospital’s incorrect treatment over the past three years.” My heart sank. He looked full of confidence. But what was the basis of his confidence? Lawyer King said, “If you accept the hospital’s conditions, we will start follow-up treatment immediately. But if you don’t accept, as far as I know, your family really can’t scrape together any money. Without money for treatment, your daughter might not live for a year.” I instinctively said, “I can make the hospital pay compensation, and then take the child to a big city for treatment.” The lawyer asked, “And what if we appeal?” I stared at him blankly. He shrugged and said, “Civil disputes are very slow. We’ll drag it out for six months first. After the court ruling comes down, we’ll appeal if we’re dissatisfied, dragging you for another three months. When the ruling comes down again, we’ll delay the payment for a while.” I said excitedly, “Aren’t you bullying people?” He nodded, “Ma’am, you’re right, we are bullying you. But we are legal. Even if we drag it out until your daughter dies, we haven’t broken the law.” Lawyer King suddenly took out his phone, placed it in front of me, and dialed 911 on the keypad. He said, “You can call the police if you’re not convinced. It doesn’t matter. Even if the police come, I can say openly in front of them that I intend to drag this out until your daughter dies, because we haven’t broken the law.” Listening to his words, I felt the world spinning. My daughter doesn’t have much time left, all because of them. But not only did they have no guilt, they used this fact as a weapon to cut deep into my heart. Sitting in the chair, I felt a helpless despair spread throughout my body, making it hard to even breathe. Lawyer King said, “How about this, you don’t need to rush to sign. Go talk to your daughter first, and feel free to ask anyone for advice. Ma’am, I advise you, the law is fair, but the law is often too late.” He patted my shoulder and sent me out of the office. I stood at the hospital entrance in a daze, my head full of the words spoken by Lawyer King and the doctor. I took out my phone and searched for the contact information of many doctors and lawyers. Those doctors told me that if osteosarcoma has metastasized to the lungs, treatment must be immediate, as life is already in danger. 5 Those lawyers asked me first if there was any way to raise money to get through the immediate crisis. After knowing that I really couldn’t raise the money, they told me that now it’s either money or my daughter. Just as Lawyer King said. The hospital pushed us to a dead end, and then took advantage of our lack of retreat to bully us to their heart’s content. Legal murder. What an ironic term. I wanted to cry, but I held it back. Because I saw my daughter, Sunny, waiting for me on a stone pier by the road with two bowls of fried rice from a cheap takeout place. Thinking I hadn’t arrived yet, she opened both bowls and carefully moved the eggs from her bowl to mine. Since my husband died from overwork, she was always afraid that one day I wouldn’t be able to hold on either. She always secretly gave me the nutritious food, lying that she had already eaten. With my husband gone, this family of mother and daughter needed a pillar. I didn’t want my daughter to see me cry. She held the bowl, her thin hands trembling. My daughter used to be such a beautiful girl, but now she is skeletal, finding it difficult even to hold a bowl of rice. When she noticed me walking over, she quickly arranged the two bowls of rice, handed me the one with more eggs, and said to me with a smile, “I’ve already eaten half.” I took the rice, held back the urge to cry, and sat beside her. Sunny rubbed her aching leg, smiled and said to me, “Mom, my birthday is coming up.” I looked at her expectant little face and asked, “What do you want?” She said, “I want a hoverboard. I checked online, it only costs three hundred dollars. My leg always hurts, so that would make it easier to get around, and it can take me to work.” Sunny took out her cheap smartphone. The screen was cracked in several places, but she couldn’t bear to replace it. She pointed at the hoverboard on the screen, full of anticipation. Holding the bowl, I couldn’t stop my tears from falling.

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While preparing for euthanasia abroad, a reporter suddenly asked me: “Miss Miller, what is the biggest regret of your life?” I thought for a long time before slowly speaking: “When I was a child, my parents went to an orphanage to adopt a child. I chose a quiet boy, and in the end, despite everyone’s objections, I insisted on marrying him.” My words piqued the reporter’s curiosity, and she continued to ask: “Did you end up marrying him?” I touched the scar on my wrist, the wound long since healed into a scab. This was a rare moment of clarity for me. “I did, but then we divorced. He got together with my best friend of twenty-five years. I heard recently that they had a second child. That’s good.” The afternoon the interview aired, Julian Vance rushed from back home and stopped the procedure. He looked at me, his eyes filled with uncontrollable joy: “Jane, it’s so good you’re not dead! Your mother talks about you all the time, she misses you, we all miss you.” I pulled my hand back from his grasp and said softly: “Sir, do we know each other?” Chapter 1 Julian looked as if he had been hit over the head with a club, freezing in place for a full two seconds. “Jane, even if you hate me, you don’t have to pretend not to know me, right?” I looked at the face in front of me with confusion. It did look somewhat familiar. The foreign nurse beside me leaned in and whispered a reminder. “Miss Miller, have you forgotten? You showed us photos. This is your ex-husband.” Ex-husband? It dawned on me. I fished a yellowed notebook out of my hospital gown pocket. I flipped through a few pages seriously, my finger stopping on a certain line, finally matching the face. “So it’s you. You came just in time. You can collect my body. After I die, remember to bury me next to my dad.” Julian snatched the notebook from my hand and threw it hard on the ground: “Jane, are you crazy! How long are you going to keep this up! Five years ago, you faked your death and left, leaving everyone in pain and guilt. Isn’t that enough?” I lowered my head and said nothing. The brain tumor was pressing on my nerves. I had forgotten too many things, and I didn’t even have the energy to argue. Because of Julian’s arrival, I didn’t die. Maybe because I wanted to die closer to my dad, I agreed to go back with him. On the way back, Julian kept talking: “After you disappeared, everyone went crazy looking for you.” “When the car was pulled out of the sea, the driver’s seat was empty. Everyone thought you were dead.” “Your mother cried for a whole month, almost going blind. She asked me to bring you back this time too. When we get back, have a good talk with her. There’s no deep hatred between mother and daughter.” My head hurt listening to him, so I interrupted his chatter: “Mr. Vance, my notebook says the reason our marriage broke down was that you cheated with my best friend. Is that true?” Screech! The sound of tires rubbing against the ground was piercing, and the car lurched violently. Julian pursed his lips tightly and said nothing. The topic ended there. Chapter 2 The car pulled into the driveway. Sarah Reed was supporting my mother at the door. Seeing me get out of the car, my mother snorted and turned her head away. My heart ached, but I didn’t speak. Although the memories in my head were fragmented, my body had muscle memory. I subconsciously walked through the living room and pushed open that familiar door. My desk, my piano, they were all gone. Replaced by Lego blocks and Transformers scattered all over the floor. Julian blocked my way, trying to hide the scene inside. “Jane, I’ll clear the room for you right away.” Before he finished speaking, a five-year-old boy suddenly rushed out from the corner. He spread his arms to block the door, glaring at me viciously. “This is my toy room! Don’t touch it! Bad woman, get out!” The boy threw the toy car in his hand hard at me. The hard metal hit my kneecap, a piercing pain. I groaned, swaying, almost falling: “Leo!” Sarah rushed over to cover the boy’s mouth, her face full of panic. I didn’t get angry. I just felt the pain in my knee travel along my nerves straight to my heart. It was too crowded here. I even found it hard to breathe. I turned and dragged my painful leg outside. Julian chased after me. He forced me into the car and took me to a high-end hotel. The moment the room lights turned on, those forgotten memories flooded back. When I was seven, my parents took me to the orphanage, saying they wanted to adopt a brother for me. Among the children trying to show off, only Julian shrank in the corner. My parents didn’t like him, thinking he was too solitary and couldn’t be tamed. But when some older kids pushed me down to steal my candy… Julian shielded me, refusing to move even when beaten black and blue. That day, I cried and threw a tantrum in my parents’ arms, pointing at his bloodied face. “I want him! I want this brother!” Just like that, Julian came home with us. For over a decade, we went to school together and grew up together. He protected me in the palm of his hand, never letting me suffer a single grievance. Later, we got married. But on our first wedding anniversary, I had booked a restaurant but couldn’t contact him. Afraid something had happened to him, I followed his phone’s location. It was a high-end hotel like this. Sarah opened the door in a sexy nightgown, and Julian lay asleep on the bed. One was the husband I had loved for over a decade, the other was my best friend of over a decade. In that moment, my world collapsed. Chapter 3 I didn’t even have the courage to rush in and question them. Instead, I ran away like a deserter. Despair, shame, and nausea filled my mind. I stood on the bridge, looking at the dark, churning river water, and jumped. The cold river water poured into my nose, and suffocation surrounded me. My dad was worried about me and had been following me. Seeing me jump, he jumped in without hesitation. He used all his strength to push me ashore, but he struggled in the turbulent current and finally sank. Later, when my dad’s body was fished out, my mom cursed me madly, punching and kicking me. “What couldn’t you get over? I told you long ago, men are like this. If you can accept it, stay. If not, divorce! Why did you have to cause trouble!” For a long time afterwards, whenever my mom saw me, she would say: “Why wasn’t it you who died?” Yes, I wanted to know why too. Why could she forgive Julian, forgive Sarah who destroyed my family, but not forgive me? The moment the memories returned, the intense pain made my whole body spasm. I clutched my chest, squatting on the ground, gasping for breath: “Jane, what’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?” Julian looked at me curled up on the ground, his tone tense. A knock on the door sounded. He stood up to open it. The door opened, and Sarah’s gaze quickly swept over Julian. Seeing his clothes were neat, her tense shoulders quietly relaxed. She sidled into the room, her gaze falling on me, putting on the airs of the hostess. “Jane, since you’re back, you should come home.” “I’ve had the room cleared. Leo is young and doesn’t know better. You’re the elder, don’t hold it against him.” Five years later, I looked at my once-best friend this closely again. The question I couldn’t ask five years ago, I finally had the chance to ask today. “Sarah, why did you betray me?” This question was not only about Julian’s change of heart, but also about Sarah’s intrusion. They clearly knew what the other meant to me. Chapter 4 The fake smile on Sarah’s face could no longer be maintained. The so-called decency was torn open, so she stopped pretending. “Yes, it’s all my fault. But Jane, can I control my feelings?” “I just wanted to fight for my own happiness. Is that wrong?” What a righteous reason. To fight for happiness, one could shamelessly climb into their best friend’s husband’s bed. “Enough!” Julian suddenly roared, interrupting her tearful complaint: “The past is in the past, why bring it up!” “Now that Jane is back, I will do everything I can to make it up to her. I will return the Miller family’s company to her.” At these words, Sarah’s crying stopped abruptly. “Julian, you’re giving everything to her, right? What about me and Leo?” Julian’s silence ignited Sarah’s anger. She looked at the man in front of her with disappointment and slowly backed towards the door. “Fine! Since you want to make amends so much, let’s divorce!” With that, she turned and ran out of the room. Julian stood there, his gaze shifting between the direction Sarah disappeared and me. One second, two seconds, three seconds. In the end, he made his choice. “Jane, rest well here. I’ll come pick you up tomorrow.” Leaving this instruction, he turned and chased after her. Looking at the empty doorway, I suddenly laughed out loud. Jane, oh Jane, your return this time is simply humiliating yourself. Curling up and coughing violently for a while, I looked at the blood on my palm and suddenly missed the childhood days snuggled in my parents’ arms. Before I die, let me take one last look.

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The Present She was my best friend in high school. The kind of friend you’d bury a body with. One New Year’s Eve, she came over to keep me company. We started drinking cheap whiskey at eight and didn’t stop until the ball dropped. She passed out cold, so I carried her to my bed. Just as I was tucking her in, her eyes snapped open. “You wanna try it?” Her eyes, usually sharp and guarded, were glassy and direct. “Us?” Everything changed after that night. … This morning, a package landed on my porch. Inside was a letter and a collection of junk: my old varsity wristband, a guitar pick I thought I lost, and a strip of faded photo booth pictures. I thought one of my buddies was pranking me until I saw the handwriting. Spiky, rushed, unmistakable. Then I looked at the postmark. This letter was mailed ten years ago. My heart hammered against my ribs. Suddenly, I wasn’t twenty-eight anymore. I was seeing a face I hadn’t thought about—hadn’t let myself think about—in a decade. A face that looked like a boy but smiled like an angel. “No way,” I muttered. “You’re still messing with me?” Junior Year Ten years ago, I was a senior. I was a burnout, exiled to the back row of the classroom—the “stoner row”—next to the trash can. No one wanted to sit next to me. Three days into the semester, we got a transfer student. Alex. Alex walked in looking like a member of a grunge band: shaggy hair, flannel shirt, oversized denim jacket. The girls in class perked up, thinking we finally got a cute emo guy. Mr. Henderson, our math teacher and a man who looked like he ate nails for breakfast, glared at the new kid. “Alex Miller. I can see your house from here. How are you late on your first day?” Alex didn’t flinch. “I can see the sun from here, too, but I can’t touch it. You wanna try?” The whole class inhaled sharply. Henderson was a former marine. He once broke up a fight in the parking lot by lifting two linebackers by their collars. We thought Alex was dead meat. Instead, Henderson just sighed. “Find a seat. Open your books.” Alex walked straight to the back and dropped a bag next to me. Headphones around the neck, eyes glued to the front. “Hey, man,” I whispered. “You got a death wish? Henderson eats kids like you.” Alex glanced at me, pure disdain. “I’m not your ‘man’.” My jaw hit the desk. Alex was a girl. And she was terrifying. The Bond We didn’t speak for a week. She read comics, listened to her Walkman, and drew on the desk. Then came the Ramen Incident. During study hall, she made instant noodles with hot water from the teacher’s lounge. She spilled some broth on the desk. “Hey, Slick,” she snapped at me. “Pass me a napkin.” “My name is Jake,” I shot back. “Not Slick.” “Napkin!” she barked. I threw a wad of paper towels at her. She wiped the desk, balled it up, and sank a three-pointer into the trash can next to me. “Whatever, Slick. Don’t be so sensitive.” The nickname stuck. That was Strike One. Strike Two happened in the Computer Lab. We were supposed to be learning Excel, but the guys were setting up a LAN party for Counter-Strike. Suddenly, my buddy Ben raised his hand. “Mr. G! My screen froze!” “Mine too!” “Same here!” The teacher, a clueless guy named Mr. G, started panicking. “Who isn’t frozen?” I looked around. My screen was the only one working. Alex, sitting to my left, stood up. “Jake’s computer is fine.” Mr. G rushed over. “Why is yours working?” I grinned nervously. “Built different, I guess.” That’s when Alex reached over, grabbed my mouse, and minimized my window. Behind it was a pop-up ad I hadn’t closed—a very graphic, very adult pop-up ad featuring a woman in compromising lingerie. “Sir,” Alex said with a straight face. “I think Jake gave the network a virus. He’s looking at porn.” The class erupted. My reputation was nuked. From that day on, girls avoided me, and guys high-fived me in the hall. ” didn’t know you were into the weird stuff, Jake!” I looked at Alex. She was smirking. Game on, I thought. The Shift I finally got leverage a month later. Alex was acting weird—pale, quiet, refusing to stand up during lunch. I noticed a dark stain on her jeans. I knew exactly what it was. “Hey, Alex,” I said loudly. “Let’s go to the cafeteria. My treat.” “No,” she hissed. “I bet I can beat you there. Unless you’re scared?” She glared at me, trapped. She wanted to kill me, but she couldn’t stand up. I waited a beat, then took off my oversized flannel shirt and tossed it to her. “Tie it around your waist,” I whispered. “You leaked.” Her face went crimson. It was the first time I’d seen her look embarrassed. “Do you have… supplies?” I asked. “What?” “Tampons, pads. You know.” She looked like she wanted to die. “No.” “Stay here.” I ran to the nurse’s office, grabbed a handful of supplies, and sprinted back. I slid them to her. “Go. I’ll watch the door.” The next day, she returned my shirt. It smelled like laundry detergent—lavender. “Your shirt was filthy,” she grumbled. “The water turned black.” She was still mean, but the wall had cracked. We weren’t just desk-mates anymore. We were bros. The Letter: Part 1 Hey Slick, It’s me. Your favorite nightmare, Alex. If my math is right, you’re twenty-eight now. How’s life? Did you become a rock star, or did you sell out and become a suit? Getting this letter must be weird. We sat next to each other for a year, but we never really talked about the real stuff. I spent most of that time pranking you. You probably hated me. I acted like a dude, dressed like a slob, and kept everyone at arm’s length. It was armor, Jake. If I didn’t care, I couldn’t get hurt. If I didn’t let anyone in, they wouldn’t have to watch me leave. But you… you were different. You were warm. Being around you was like standing next to a campfire in the middle of winter. That’s why I was so mean to you. Every time you were nice to me, I panicked. I wanted to be close to you, but I made myself run faster. I was a coward. The Fight Senior year. Winter. Alex was moody. I asked if it was “that time of the month” and she told me to go to hell. Finally, she cracked. “Can you beat someone up for me?” I blinked. I was on academic probation, hanging by a thread. “Who?” “Tyler Vance.” Tyler was a varsity linebacker and a total prick. “Why?” Alex bit her lip. “He… he’s bullying me.” That was all I needed. That night, I kicked open Tyler’s dorm room door (we were at a semi-boarding school). He was playing poker. I dragged him off the top bunk and broke his nose before his roommates pulled me off. “Touch her again, and you’re dead,” I spat. The next morning, I was suspended. Sent home until May to “reflect” before finals. As I packed my locker, Alex stood there, eyes red. She gave me her prized vintage Walkman. “Jake… I didn’t think you’d actually get expelled.” “Worth it,” I grinned, sporting a black eye. “Now I can play video games all day.” She tried to smile, but a tear rolled down her cheek. The Letter: Part 2 I regret asking you to fight him. Tyler wasn’t bullying me. He was blackmailing a girl in our class, Linda. He had photos of her. I wanted to stop him, but I was scared. So I used you. I watched you pack your bag. You were smiling, trying to make me feel better, even though your dad was going to kill you. If I had just three more months… maybe things would have been different. The saddest thing isn’t losing. It’s almost winning. It’s the “what if.” New Year’s Eve Two days into my suspension, Alex showed up at my house. She was wearing a white puffer jacket and a red scarf. For a second, she actually looked… pretty. “How’d you find me?” I asked. “Stole your address from the office,” she said. “Get dressed. We’re going out.” We spent that winter causing trouble. My parents were away on business, so we owned the town. Arcades, pool halls, skating rinks. She was terrible at skating—she’d grab onto me and drag us both down onto the ice, laughing hysterically. Then came New Year’s Eve. She showed up with a bag of snacks and a bottle of Jack Daniels. She mixed the whiskey with hot water and lemon—said it was an old family remedy for the cold. We drank. A lot. We watched the countdown on TV. By midnight, we were wasted. She fell asleep on the couch. I carried her to my room because it was freezing downstairs. I put the blanket over her. That’s when she opened her eyes. “You wanna try it?” she whispered. “Try what?” “Sex.”

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My twin brother was bullied to death in high school. The rich kids who did it hid behind their “minor” status, got a slap on the wrist, and went right back to their luxury cars and parties. They thought the problem was buried six feet under. What they didn’t know was that I exist. I was born with Antisocial Personality Disorder, locked away in a psych ward for being too dangerous. But now, I know the truth. I’ve escaped. And I’m walking through the school gates wearing my dead brother’s face. Time to teach them what a real monster looks like. 1 After our parents died, it was just me and my twin brother, Jacob. Neither of us won the genetic lottery. Jacob was born with an intellectual disability—he was innocent, slow, a permanent child. Me? I was born wrong in a different way. The doctors called it Antisocial Personality Disorder. I had violent tendencies and zero empathy. When I was little, I hurt people. My parents, terrified I’d kill someone, pulled me out of school and locked me in a dark room. In that darkness, Jacob was my only light. Everyone feared me—even Mom and Dad—but not Jacob. He’d sneak in, giggle, call my name, and feed me butterscotch candies through the crack in the door. At night, he’d hug me, singing nursery rhymes to calm my rage. When our parents died in an accident, the relatives didn’t want a psychopath. They shipped me off to a state mental hospital. Jacob was left behind to fend for himself in the public school system. I missed him. So, I learned to act. I wore a mask of sanity. I suppressed the violence. I played the model patient for years, just so I could get out and protect him. I finally escaped. I ran all the way home, clutching a piece of candy a nurse gave me, imagining Jacob’s smile. But when I got to our old neighborhood, the neighbors told me Jacob had been missing for two days. Some classmates had “taken him to play.” Mrs. Higgins next door, the only one who ever pitied us, touched my head. “Go find him, Caleb. Those kids didn’t look right. Your brother is slow… don’t let them hurt him.” Panic, a rare emotion for me, seized my chest. I followed her directions to an abandoned textile factory on the edge of town. That’s where I found him. Jacob was curled up in a corner like a broken doll. His legs were snapped. His fingers were bent at impossible angles. He was covered in blood, cold and stiff. One of his eyes was gone—shattered by a rusty nail driven straight into the socket. I didn’t feel sadness the way normal people do. I felt a cold, black void opening up. My brother was gone. The only person who treated me like a human. I fell to my knees beside his body. I pulled him into my arms and screamed until my throat bled. “Jacob! Wake up!” I shoved the sticky, half-melted candy into his slack mouth. “Eat it, Jacob. It’s sweet. I saved it for you. Look at me! Caleb is back! I’m here!” He didn’t move. I pried his fist open. Inside was a crumpled, blood-soaked piece of paper. A “confession letter” they forced him to write. It listed his “crimes”: being stupid, breathing too loud, existing. They killed him for fun. 2 I carried Jacob’s body back to our run-down apartment. I boiled water and cleaned him, wiping away the blood and grime. I pulled the nail out of his eye. I sat there from dusk until dawn, staring at the five names scrawled at the bottom of that bloodied note. My hit list. I needed a plan. But before I could even formulate one, a rat scurried into my trap. Late that night, a window creaked open. Someone was breaking in. It was one of them. Doug. He probably went back to the factory, saw the body was gone, and panicked. “Shit,” he whispered, tripping over a bottle. “Did the retard actually die? That was scary as hell. Whatever, even if he croaked, I’m a minor. Can’t touch me.” He turned on his flashlight and screamed. I was sitting in the corner, staring right at him with wolf eyes. “Jacob?!” Doug fell on his ass, scrambling backward. “You—you’re alive? You freak, don’t scare me like that or I’ll beat you again!” I stood up and flicked the light switch. Doug paused. “Who are you? You… you’re not Jacob.” I smirked. “Smart kid. You can tell us apart even with identical faces.” “Jacob’s eye is messed up,” Doug stammered, realizing his mistake too late. “You… are you his brother?” I didn’t answer. I kicked him in the chest. I’m stronger than the average person. Doug flew back, coughing up blood. He crawled backward until his hand touched something cold. Jacob’s body. He screamed like a banshee. I squatted down in front of him. “As you can see, my brother is dead.” I slapped his sweaty face with an icy hand. “You killed him. Now, how should I punish you?” I beat him until his face was unrecognizable. He broke. “Please! Stop! It wasn’t me! Chloe stabbed his eye! Trent broke his legs! Gavin broke his fingers! I just… I just tricked him into going there!” Four names. The list had five. “Who is Henderson?” I asked, squeezing his throat. “Henderson… cough… he’s our guidance counselor… and homeroom teacher!” My blood ran cold. The teacher was in on it? I didn’t kill Doug. Not yet. I needed him. I dragged him to the basement and threw him down the stairs. Then I carried Jacob’s body down and laid it next to him. “No! Don’t leave me with a corpse! Help!” He was too loud. I went to the kitchen, grabbed a cleaver, and went back down. I sliced the corners of his mouth and used the handle to smash his front teeth out, one by one. “Quiet,” I whispered. He passed out from the pain. I locked the door. Let him rot with the guilt and the ghost. I went upstairs, found Jacob’s spare uniform, and cut my hair to match his. The next morning, I walked into the high school as Jacob. 3 I found Jacob’s desk. It was in the back, next to the trash cans. The surface was covered in permanent marker: Retard. Waste of space. Freak. The chair was sticky with glue. I sat down, my face expressionless. The other students whispered. “Weird… Jacob doesn’t look stupid today. Did he get a brain transplant?” “Jacob,” a boy with glasses walked up, looking terrified. “Mr. Henderson wants to see you.” I stood up. The boy looked at me with pity, like I was walking to my execution. I walked into Henderson’s office. It was empty. I started rifling through his desk. Why was a teacher on Jacob’s hate list? The bottom drawer was locked. “Looking for something, Jacob?” A greasy voice slithered from behind me. I turned. Henderson was leaning against the doorframe, his gold-rimmed glasses glinting. He looked like a viper. He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. “Bad boys who snoop get punished.” I wanted to snap his neck right there. But I had to play the part. I cowered, protecting my head. “Sorry! Sorry, don’t hit me!” He slapped me twice. Then he sat in his chair and pulled me onto his lap. “Baby, I missed you. Why didn’t you come to school? Was it because we played too rough last time?” His hand slid down my back, towards my pants. I froze. My brain short-circuited. This sick, twisted animal assaulted my brother? Henderson’s breath smelled like rot. “Are you still sore?” I stood up abruptly, suppressing the urge to vomit. Henderson narrowed his eyes. “What? Are you defying me now?” I clenched my fist. Just as I was about to crush his windpipe, the bell rang. Henderson sighed. “Get to class. We have plenty of time later.” 4 I walked to the door. Henderson stared at me, smiling that predatory smile. He thought I was the prey. I turned and smiled back. A smile void of any humanity. “You’re right, teach. Plenty of time.” I didn’t go to class. I went to the boys’ bathroom. Jackpot. The Trio—Trent, Gavin, and Chloe (who had walked into the boys’ room like she owned it)—were vaping in the back. I hid in a stall and listened. “I heard the retard is back. How? I broke his leg,” Trent said. “And Doug is missing,” Chloe whispered, her voice shaking. “You don’t think… is it a ghost? Did he die and come back?” Trent smacked her head. “Shut up! There are no ghosts. If we can break him once, we can break him again.” I pushed the stall door open. They froze. Chloe screamed. Gavin dropped his vape. Trent tried to act tough, but his hands were shaking. “Jacob? You… how are you walking?” I huddled into the corner, shaking, mimicking Jacob perfectly. “Don’t… don’t hurt me…” Trent laughed, relief washing over him. “See? Same old pussy.” He walked over and grabbed my hair. “Where’s your psycho brother, huh? Usually, you cry for him to save you. Why so quiet?” My fists clenched at my sides.

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During the Great Quake, my sister and I were buried under the rubble. The rescue worker told my parents, “The structure is unstable. If we pull one out, the whole thing might collapse on the other.” Without a second of hesitation, my parents screamed, “Save Sarah first!” Sarah, my older sister, screamed too. “Save me! Get me out first!” During the rescue, the firefighter kept telling her, “Don’t move. Stay still.” But Sarah didn’t listen. She panicked, thrashing and pushing against the debris around her. Because of her, the secondary collapse happened. I was crushed to death under tons of concrete. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back. It was the day of the earthquake. 1 I jolted awake in bed, sweat clinging to my skin. I checked the date on my phone. It was that day. Two hours left. The quake would hit at 2:00 AM. It was exactly midnight. I didn’t waste a second thinking. I shoved my feet into my sneakers and ran out the door. In my past life, so many people in this building died. Since I was back, I couldn’t just let them perish. Even saving one life would be worth it. I started from the first floor, pounding on doors like a maniac. “Wake up! Gas leak! Everyone out!” I made sure people were awake before sprinting to the next unit. By the time I had woken up all seven floors, there were only five minutes left. I sprinted back to our apartment. Two minutes. In my last life, I wasted the best escape window trying to wake Sarah up. This time? I’d leave that honor to Mom, the one who loved her most. I burst into my parents’ room. “Mom! Dad! Earthquake! Get up!” They groaned, waking up groggy. I checked the time. Forty seconds. “I tried to wake Sarah, but she won’t budge! What do I do?” My dad sat up, annoyed. “Who says there’s an earthquake? Are you crazy? It’s the middle of the night…” Before he could finish, the floor lurched. “Sarah’s still asleep!” I screamed, feigning panic. Mom’s face went white. She scrambled out of bed and ran toward Sarah’s room, shrieking, “Sarah! Sarah, baby! Wake up! Earthquake!” Dad grabbed my arm. “Run!” The quake didn’t give us time to think. It was violent, immediate. Just as Dad and I stumbled out of the building entrance, a deafening BOOM tore through the air. The building collapsed. Mom and Sarah were trapped inside. Screams and sirens filled the air. Dust choked my lungs. My ears rang, but my mind flashed back to my previous life. That night… the shaking started. I ran to Sarah’s room. She was dead to the world. I shook her, screamed at her, but she wouldn’t wake up. Mom and Dad had already run out. I missed my chance. We were both buried. When dawn came, the rescuers found us. I heard Mom’s voice, frantic and terrified. “Sarah! Hold on, baby! They’re coming! Don’t be scared!” The rescue captain examined the wreckage. “Ma’am, it’s tricky. The debris is interlocking. If we pull one girl out, the shift will likely crush the other. We recommend taking the one on the left first; the structure is more stable there.” That was me. The one on the left. But I knew. I knew who she would pick. Growing up, Sarah was the golden child. I was the spare. “Save Sarah,” Mom said instantly. “The one on the right. In the white pajamas.” Sarah started screaming then. “Mommy, save me! My leg hurts! Me first!” I lay there in the cold dark, watching through a crack as Mom’s desperate eyes fixed solely on Sarah. The firefighter was gentle. He kept warning her, “Kid, do not move. If you move, the debris will fall on your sister.” But as they pulled her, she thrashed. She kicked. She pushed away a support beam. The moment she was free, the weight of the world slammed down on me. I screamed. “Mom! Help me! It hurts!” The rescuers wanted to dig again. They called for backup. But I heard Mom’s voice, cold and final. “Leave it. Even if you get her out, she’ll be crippled. I don’t have the energy to raise a vegetable.” The small hole of light was sealed up. I died in the dark, abandoned. I blinked, coming back to the present. I looked at the ruins. This time, you get to feel what it’s like to be chosen. Or rather, not chosen. 2 “Dad! Watch out for aftershocks!” I pulled my shell-shocked father toward the open park. He was trembling. It was his first time seeing his world end. But I’ve died once. Every breath I take now is a bonus. Rescue teams arrived fast. Dad rushed over, begging them to save his wife and daughter. The building was a pancake. He had no idea where they were. But I did. I “accidentally” led the first team in the wrong direction, where we saved an old lady instead. By the time we circled back to where Mom and Sarah were, six hours had passed. “Dad! I hear Mom!” I shouted. Dad grabbed the captain. They assessed the situation. Then came the verdict. The same verdict. “Sir, it’s complicated. The structure is compromised. We can likely only extract one safely without causing a secondary collapse.” I peeked through a gap. I saw Sarah’s pale face and Mom’s terrified eyes. Dad hesitated. Both were his loves. How could he choose? Unlike Mom in my last life, he struggled. Then, Sarah’s voice pierced the air. “Dad! Save me! I don’t want to die! I’m young! I can make money, I can marry rich, I can take care of you when you’re old!” She sobbed, desperate. “Mom is just a housewife! You can find another wife easily! I’m worth more than her, Dad!” I watched Mom’s face contort in shock. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Surprise, Mom. The daughter you worship sees you as a replaceable servant. Dad made his choice. “Save my daughter.” Mom screamed. “David! Don’t you dare! If I die, I will haunt you forever!” “And you, Sarah! You selfish little brat! I can’t believe I raised you!” Sarah, pinned and in pain, snapped back. “So what if I’m selfish? It’s the truth! Dad is making the smart investment!” Mom’s eyes were full of pure hatred. It was beautiful. But I couldn’t let Mom die just yet. I leaned close to the gap. “Mom! Don’t be scared! I’ll get you out! Don’t give up! I promise I’ll save you!” Such a good daughter. Such a contrast to the ungrateful Sarah. I wasn’t saving her because I loved her. I was saving her because I wanted her to live with the knowledge of her favorite daughter’s betrayal. The rescuers worked hard. They pulled Sarah out. Her legs were black. Necrosis. “Likely amputation,” a medic muttered. Surprisingly, the secondary collapse didn’t happen this time. Maybe because Sarah was too weak to thrash around, or maybe the physics were slightly different. They got Mom out too. Both went to the hospital. Dad stayed with Sarah. I stayed with Mom. I wondered… now that she knew Sarah’s true colors, would she still love her? 3 I sat by Mom’s bed, staring at her sleeping face. It was the first time I’d looked at her this closely in years. She never really looked at me. Grandma told me Mom wanted a boy. She paid a fine to have a second child, hoping for a son. When I popped out a girl, she was furious. She dumped me at Grandma’s in the village. I survived on rice porridge and the charity of neighbors until I was eight. Then Dad brought me to the city for school. Sarah was two years older, already a star student. I was a village kid who barely knew the alphabet. I struggled. I was always last in the class. Mom hated me. I became the live-in maid. Dishes, laundry, sweeping—all mine. I had no time to study. Sarah was the princess. My birthday was a month after hers. They never celebrated mine. They said I would “steal her luck” if I ate her cake. But now? Sarah’s legs were gone. Her face was slashed by rebar. Mom woke up. She looked at me, confused, then relieved. “Mom? You awake? I’ll get the doctor.” She grabbed my wrist. “How is your sister?” I kept my face neutral. “Not good. Her legs… they had to amputate. And her face is badly scarred. She hasn’t woken up yet.” Mom went silent. She stared at the ceiling. When Mom was discharged a few days later, Sarah finally woke up. She lay in bed, seeing Mom alive and well. Her expression was a mix of shock and disappointment. “Mom… you’re okay. That’s… good. Don’t be mad at me, I was just scared.” Mom looked cold. She remembered everything. I walked over and held Mom’s arm. “Mom, sit down. You’re still weak. It’s a miracle you survived. If you hadn’t…” I trailed off, but the implication hung in the air. If you hadn’t made it, Sarah would have been happy. Sarah glared at me. “Lily, shut up! Stop trying to drive a wedge between us! Mom will never love you!” That snapped something in Mom. She turned, grabbed my hand, and teared up. “I’m sorry, Lily. I treated you badly. I promise, I’ll make it up to you. You’re my good daughter.” I smiled back. We’ll see about that. 4 Dad came in with takeout boxes. Three of them. One for him, one for Mom, one for me. None for Sarah. “Why don’t I get one?” Sarah demanded. Dad didn’t look at her. “Doctor said you need a liquid diet. I’ll get you porridge later.” “Why? What surgery did I have?” Silence filled the room. Sarah started to panic. “Tell me! What happened?” Mom, impatient, walked over and ripped the blanket off Sarah’s lower body. Empty space where her calves should be. Sarah’s mouth opened in a silent scream. Tears streamed down her face. Mom wasn’t done. She took a photo of Sarah’s scarred face with her phone and shoved the screen in front of Sarah’s eyes. Sarah screamed. A raw, animal sound. “Shut up!” a nurse yelled from the hallway. “This is a hospital!” Sarah shook her head violently. “No… impossible… I was saved… how…” I ate my chicken, watching the show. “You thought you’d be living the good life?” Mom sneered. “You told your dad to find a new wife? Look at you now. If he finds a new wife, do you think she’ll take care of a cripple? Do you think he will?” “I spoiled you rotten, and you wanted me dead. I raised a wolf.” Dad chimed in, trying to save face. “Honey, I never wanted to leave you. Sarah begged me…” Mom shot him a look. “I only heard Lily promising to save me. Don’t treat me like an idiot.” We moved into a temporary shelter. Sarah needed 24/7 care. She couldn’t use the bathroom alone. Mom refused to touch her. Dad said it was inappropriate. So, naturally, they looked at me. In the past, I would have done it. But Sarah was enjoying ordering me around. One afternoon, Sarah said she needed to poop. I “didn’t hear her.” I was outside washing dishes loudly. Mom and Dad were out. I finished the dishes and started hanging laundry. Mom came back. “Lily, let me help you.” THUMP. A crash from inside. We ran in. Sarah had tried to crawl to the commode and fallen. She was covered in her own filth. Mom gagged and walked out. Dad came back just then. He pulled me aside. “Lily, I found a boarding school in Beijing that will take you. Transfer immediately.” I packed my bag in five minutes. I left Mom and Sarah in the stinking shelter. Mom had to clean her up. She scrubbed Sarah in a plastic tub while Sarah cried. They didn’t speak. But I saw it. The bond. A mother never truly abandons her favorite. But me? Why was I so easy to throw away?

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It was the third year I’d been bound to the Maxwell name, serving out my debt. The third year I belonged to Sloan Maxwell. That’s when I decided to leave. I managed to acquire a slow-acting poison, injected it, and walked alone to the edge of the city’s oldest bridge. I thought I would finally die in peace, a quiet exit from the endless storm. But a Rolls-Royce Ghost cut through the sheet of rain and screeched to a stop beside me. The tinted window lowered, revealing the exquisite, cold face that had captivated countless men. “Get the client in the car.” I was practically thrown into the back seat, my sodden clothes soaking the expensive leather in a flash. Sloan didn’t seem to notice. Instead, she gripped my jaw, her thumb rubbing away the rain streaking my forehead. “If you were truly determined to die, you should have chosen a more private way,” she murmured, her voice silk over steel. “Otherwise, I will always find you before death does.” “Will you? I think this time, you’re too late.” Watching the blood bubble from my mouth, a flicker of genuine panic—a rare and startling thing—crossed Sloan’s eyes. “Asher Reed, you have not finished paying for the sin you inflicted on Owen. I forbid you to die!” She summoned the best doctors money could buy, but it was useless. My consciousness was already sinking. In the haze, my mind flashed back to the night that changed everything. Sloan had been standing beneath the fireworks, smiling at me, her phone vibrating in her hand, unseen. Later, she would say it was my selfish insistence that made her miss the final desperate plea from Owen, trapped in the fire. My sin was needing her. My life was supposed to be the payment. I thought, I have paid the full price. But then I opened my eyes. I was back. Back to the very first day I met her. She was standing there, a girl in a white sundress, like a dew-kissed gardenia in the summer, smiling and waving. I fled like a man possessed. This time, I would not let our lives become entangled. Never again. 1 I ran until my lungs burned, finally leaning, trembling, against an old maple tree on the roadside. I scanned my surroundings frantically. On this exact day in the previous life, I had dropped a prized steel fountain pen. Sloan had picked it up. “Excuse me, classmate, you dropped this.” Just that one look, and I was irretrievably lost. I followed her like a shadow, chasing the faint hope of a fleeting smile. But she remained aloof, a beautiful, perfect statue. I was naive enough to think my relentless passion could eventually melt her cold composure. I poured all my teenage longing into my best friend, Owen Bell. I dragged him to watch Sloan play tennis, pointing to the most radiant girl on the court. “See that? That’s the one I love.” I was full of innocent joy, introducing the two most important people in my life to each other. I was too blind to see the lightning-fast spark of tenderness in Sloan’s cold eyes when she looked at Owen. I missed the complex, unspoken things in Owen’s gaze whenever I brought her up. There was already a current, an undertow of feeling between them that I knew nothing about. I was the clueless fool standing on the shore. On my twentieth birthday, I mustered every ounce of courage and asked her out. “Sloan, could you… could you spend the evening with me for my birthday?” I expected the usual excuses, the polite refusal. But she said yes. She arranged for a spectacular firework display, igniting the night sky in bursts of blinding, dazzling light. I stood there, mesmerized by her elegant profile, illuminated by the flashes of fire. I felt like the luckiest man alive, and I even asked, foolishly: “Sloan, how did you know I love fireworks?” She didn’t answer. All the fireworks that night were shaped like forget-me-nots. Owen’s favorite flower. She just drank with me, glass after glass. Fueled by the alcohol and the stunning light show, I finally lunged, kissing her. “Sloan, I love you. I’ve loved you for so long. Please, be my girlfriend.” Only later did I learn her true plan: she intended to use my birthday party as the setting to confess her feelings to Owen. But Owen never showed up. She stayed silent for a long time before finally agreeing to be with me. The fragile bubble of happiness lasted less than half the night. The moment she picked up her phone, she saw the emergency text from Owen. He’d been trapped in a sudden fire right before the party and had been begging her for help. “Sloan, save me.” “Sloan… I’m so scared.” She was with me, celebrating my birthday, and she missed the chance to save him forever. It became my unforgivable sin. She believed that if I hadn’t selfishly demanded she attend that damn party, if I hadn’t monopolized all her time and attention, she would have seen the message. She would have saved him. So, when Sloan graduated and took over the Maxwell family empire, the first thing she did was systematically dismantle and crush my family’s company. I fell from wealth into the deepest mire. My parents, unable to cope, both ended up in intensive care. I knelt before her, begging her to spare my parents. The cold, elegant girl of my memories stood over me, looking down. “Asher Reed, sell yourself to me. Use your life to pay the debt.” Facing the exorbitant hospital bills, I had no choice. I signed a devastating contract and became her captive husband. I thought it would buy my parents safety, but they died anyway. The day after Sloan and I formally signed the marriage certificate. I never knew if Sloan arranged it, but I never got to see them one last time. From then on, she kept me isolated in the Maxwell Estate, escalating her cruelty. I watched her kiss countless men who bore a passing resemblance to Owen, and I was thrown into the basement innumerable times for being “disobedient.” She used every extreme method to punish me, slowly driving me toward a breakdown. She demanded I spend my entire life repaying a mistake I didn’t know I’d made. It wasn’t until my first failed attempt at self-harm that she, as if bestowing a terrible gift, choked me and told me the truth: “Asher Reed, if it hadn’t been for you that night, I would have saved Owen. I have only ever loved him. You are only here to pay the debt for your sin.” The memory seized my chest, a fresh, sharp pain. I doubled over, clutching my heart, sinking to the ground beneath the maple tree. Since our meeting was a mistake from the very start, I prayed it would never start again. 2 I thought by avoiding the beginning of the entanglement, everything would change. But a month later, Owen burst into my studio. His face was lit up with the flush and shyness of a boy in love. He grabbed my hand. “Ash, I’m in a relationship!” A cold, heavy dread settled in my stomach. I managed a strained smile. “Oh… right? Congratulations.” “Guess who it is!” He winked playfully, not waiting for my answer, and announced the news with pure bliss: “It’s Sloan Maxwell! She asked me out. We’re officially together.” I didn’t hear a word Owen said after that. My head was ringing. I almost laughed at the pathetic fool I’d been in the last life. I thought I had brought him into her life. It turned out they were destined. Whether I was there or not, they would find each other. They were the perfect pair. I was the inconvenient, extra obstacle. “Ash? Ash, what’s wrong?” Owen’s voice jolted me back. I realized my face was wet, tears streaming down my cheeks. I quickly wiped them away, forcing a smile that felt worse than a grimace. “Nothing. I… I’m just so happy for you.” My purpose this time was to let them have their happiness and keep myself out of the vortex. This was enough. They had nothing to do with me. From that day on, they were inseparable. They walked the campus hand-in-hand. But Owen, still clinging to the habit of our old friendship, always wanted to bring me along. I had to invent excuse after excuse to refuse. Then, he found me one night. “Ash, Sloan’s friends are throwing a party tonight at The Gilded Room. You have to come with me. It’s my first time meeting so many of her people, and I’m a little nervous.” I instinctively shook my head. “Owen, I can’t…” “Please, Ash, my best friend.” He tugged my arm, looking at me with soft, dependent eyes. “You’re my anchor. If you don’t go, who will I talk to? Just come and keep me company, okay?” “…Okay.” The word was a struggle to breathe out, but I couldn’t resist his earnest plea. I arrived with Owen at The Gilded Room right on time. The private lounge was opulent, filled with laughter, expensive clothes, and the clinking of glasses. Sloan and her friends were already there. The moment Owen saw her, he became a happy magnet, rushing to sit in the seat next to her. “Sloan, this is my friend, Ash Reed.” Sloan gave me a brief, dismissive nod, looking through me as if I were a complete stranger. I finally relaxed a fraction, choosing a seat as far away from them as possible, trying to disappear. The dinner was a refined Western affair. A plate of seared foie gras with black truffle was served. Owen reached for his cutlery, but Sloan stopped him with a slight frown. Without a word, she subtly signaled the waiter. “He doesn’t eat organ meat. Replace that with the filet mignon.” Owen looked up at her, delighted. “Sloan, you remembered that?” Sloan simply reached out and gently ran her fingers through his hair. She accepted the steak, meticulously cut it into bite-sized pieces, and placed the plate back in front of Owen. Not skilled with a knife and fork, he smiled gratefully and began to eat. I silently sliced my own foie gras, a bitter taste rising in my throat. I was severely allergic to shellfish, but in the previous life, Sloan had only watched the red welts rise on my neck after I’d accidentally eaten shrimp and mocked me: “Asher Reed, you truly are precious.” Love and indifference were always so clear. Only the previous me was blind enough to miss it, becoming a sacrificial lamb to their romance. The dinner was half over, and I needed to escape. I stood up and leaned over to Owen. “I think I’ve had a little too much to drink. I have a headache. I’m going to get some air.” Owen stood up, immediately trying to steady me. “Ash, I’ll come with you.” I quickly waved him off, telling him to stay and enjoy himself, planning to slip out and head back to campus. But as I turned, I noticed Sloan’s right thumb. She was unconsciously stroking her ring finger. That was a nervous habit she’d developed after she put on her wedding ring in the last life. Did she remember? Did she come back, too? A cold wave of terror hit me. If she was back, would she let me go this time? I didn’t dare think about it, sprinting out of the lounge and into the elevator. Just as the doors began to slide shut, a slender, pale hand shot out, blocking the mechanism. Sloan stood in the doorway, her gaze fixed on me. Gone was the cool, gentle demeanor she showed Owen. This was the dark, predatory look of my contract wife from the last life. I backed up until I slammed against the cold steel of the elevator car. “Ms. Maxwell… I truly don’t feel well. I… I need to go home.” She grabbed my wrist in a crushing grip, locking me in place. The raw, desperate memory of her breaking my arm in a moment of grief-fueled rage—and then having it reset—sent a tidal wave of fear through me. I struggled wildly. “Let me go! Sloan, let me go!” She didn’t release me. Her bottomless black eyes swirled with an emotion I couldn’t decipher. “Asher Reed. You came back too, didn’t you?” 3 I panicked, trapped as she cornered me against the elevator wall. “Don’t pretend. Since we’ve been given a second chance, I only expect you to play your current role well. Don’t make Owen unhappy. Remember. This is what you owe him.” She cut me off, leaning in so her shadow completely enveloped me. “He’s nervous because you’re not there. Clean yourself up and go back to him.” With that, the swirling, complex emotion in her dark eyes snapped back to icy coldness. She turned abruptly, hit the lobby button, and stepped out. I couldn’t hold myself up any longer, sliding down the cold wall to the floor. A second chance. I hadn’t gone near her. I hadn’t even spoken to her beyond a few words. Why did she still believe I owed Owen? Why was I still the sinner? My phone vibrated. A text from Owen: “Ash, are you okay? Why are you taking so long?” Seeing his name, I quickly wiped my tears, scrambling back to my feet. At least for now, I couldn’t afford to cross this madwoman. I pushed the lounge door open. The atmosphere inside was at a fever pitch. Everyone was gathered, cheering for Sloan and Owen in the center of the room. “Owen, I love you. Will you be my boyfriend? And when we graduate, let’s get married.” Owen nodded hard, his voice thick with tears. “Yes, I will!” A deafening cheer and whistle erupted from the crowd. Owen hugged Sloan ecstatically, and as he looked up, he saw me standing outside the circle. He immediately grabbed Sloan’s hand and ran toward me. “Ash! Did you see that! Sloan, she… she proposed to me!” He was incoherent with excitement, pulling me into a massive, exuberant hug. “Ash, I’m so happy!” “You too, you absolutely have to find your own happiness. Find someone who loves you.” I silently hugged him back and nodded. “I will. We all will be happy.” But when Sloan heard that last line, her expression suddenly darkened. Owen, who was still holding my arm, tightened his grip. But when I looked at him, his smile was as sweet and joyful as ever, as if nothing had happened. The air between the three of us became heavy, awkward. After the party, Sloan drove us both back to campus in her Rolls-Royce. At the dorm entrance, Owen unbuckled his seatbelt and kissed her cheek. “Sloan, I’m heading up now. Drive safe.” Her expression softened for a fleeting moment, and she nodded. I yanked my door open and jumped out, desperate to escape her presence. Owen stood on the curb, smiling as he waved to Sloan’s car. Only when the taillights of the Rolls-Royce Ghost disappeared into the night did he suddenly call my name. Under the cold glow of the streetlamp, he looked at me, the sweetness gone from his voice. “Asher Reed. You love Sloan too, don’t you?” 4 Owen’s question was a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. “No, I don’t.” I frantically shook my head. He didn’t press the issue. He just patted my shoulder. “Asher Reed, I only want you to remember that you’re my best friend, and Sloan is my fiancé. I don’t want you to do anything that will make us both regret it.” After that night, Owen stopped seeking me out, and I actively avoided both of them. For days, I didn’t see either of them. Soon, my birthday arrived. Terrified of repeating the worst night of my past life, I took a leave of absence from the university and hid at my parents’ home. They were thrilled to have me back and wanted to throw a big party. I immediately refused. I barricaded myself in my room. But as dusk fell, my mother called up the stairs. “Ash, a Miss Maxwell is here to see you.” I bolted downstairs. Sloan was standing right at our front door. She wore a tailored black trench coat, radiating cold. When I reached her, the heavy, embossed invitation card in her hand was flung directly at my face. “Asher Reed. Why, in this life, are you still trying to take Owen from me?” My cheek stung. Confused, I picked up the card. It was clearly a formal invitation for “Mr. Asher Reed’s Twentieth Birthday Gala.” I had no idea what she was talking about. I instantly denied it. “I didn’t do this! I haven’t planned a party!” “Do you still think you can lie?” Sloan scoffed, then tossed a handful of photographs at me. The photos showed a strange man and a stack of gasoline cans. “My people caught a man trying to set a fire outside Owen’s dorm building this afternoon.” “He claims you ordered him to do it.” “Asher Reed, how can you be so wicked! Wasn’t ruining Owen’s life once not enough for you?!” Before I could speak, her cold, furious hands clamped around my throat. “Cough… cough…” The suffocating panic of the previous life’s torture returned instantly. Sloan’s face was contorted with hatred; she genuinely wanted to kill me. Tears streamed down my face, drowned by a mix of despair and absurdity. “Sloan… even if I were still obsessed with you…” “Why would I… try the same… trick you already know?” The hands gripping my neck went rigid. The pure murderous rage in her eyes receded slightly, replaced by confusion and sharp scrutiny. Slowly, she released me. I collapsed to the floor, desperately sucking in air. “I will investigate this.” She looked down at me, her voice still an icy warning. “Asher Reed, you had better hope to God this has nothing to do with you.” “And you’re lucky. Owen is safe this time. If he weren’t, I would make sure you never saw the light of day again.” At that moment, the phone in her coat pocket began to vibrate, a frantic, insistent sound. Sloan’s expression changed instantly. She snatched the phone out. A text message from Owen was clearly displayed on the screen: “Sloan, save me.” Her face went pale, then iron-hard. She grabbed my wrist, her eyes bloodshot, glaring at me.

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After my grandmother secretly sold me to human traffickers, my mother went insane. My father spent the rest of his life resenting my brother for not watching me closely enough. My brother spent ten years searching for me alone. After traveling the length and breadth of the country with no hope, he slashed his wrists… My grandmother, along with my uncle’s family, seized our house and all our assets. I wanted to burn the house down with them inside. Instead, I was reborn. I was back to that day. I heard my grandmother take the money and tell the trafficker: [Take the girl. Leave my precious grandson for now.] 1 If I hadn’t been snatched by traffickers, I would have been the princess of the family. My dad, my mom, and my big brother adored me. But I was sold into the mountains. A high fever left me slow and “dull,” so the family that bought me sold me again because I was a “waste of food.” I was passed around like a bad penny. Eventually, no one wanted to buy me as a person. They said even if my brain was broken, my kidneys and heart were still good. So, I was stripped for parts and died on a cold table. Only in death could I finally go home. I learned that after I disappeared, Mom and Dad couldn’t handle the grief. They passed away one after another, leaving my brother, Leo, all alone. But Leo never gave up. For ten years, he carried my photo everywhere, asking strangers if they’d seen the little girl with the big eyes. “She’s my sister,” he’d say. “She’s very pretty and very good.” He wore shoes until the soles fell off. He starved himself, living on plain water and stale bread, crying himself to sleep holding my picture. When he finally heard news of my death, the last thread of hope snapped. He was just skin and bones by then. [Mom! Dad! Bella, wait for me. I’m coming to find you!] The blade sliced across his wrist… [Leo!] I tried to save him, but my ghostly hand passed right through his body. The grief and rage were overwhelming. Was I helpless? Was I forced to watch my family die because of me? Suddenly, a blinding light shot through the window. When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in the back of a truck that reeked of stale cigarette smoke. I stared at the man in the black leather jacket. Him. The trafficker. That bastard. He pulled a stack of red bills from his pocket and handed them to the woman opposite him. [Auntie, count it. Five hundred bucks. I hear you got two boys, too? I’ll pay triple for them.] 2 Five hundred dollars. That was the price of my family’s destruction. Through the haze of smoke, I saw my grandmother’s “kind” face. She stuffed the money into her pocket with a satisfied smirk. [Dream on. I’m not selling my grandsons.] A chill went down my spine. Tears welled up in my eyes. Why Grandma? Why would she sell me? The trafficker asked what I was thinking: [Auntie, aren’t you scared your youngest son will find out?] [You don’t say, I don’t say, nobody knows,] Grandma scoffed in her thick country accent. [Besides, what’s wrong with selling a girl? She’s just gonna be raised for someone else’s family anyway. If I don’t sell her now, she’ll just get married off later.] [His older brother got arrested and needed a thousand for bail. He refused to give it! Wouldn’t help his own brother but treats a useless girl like a treasure. Me selling his daughter? He forced my hand!] The trafficker laughed loudly. [Alright, Auntie. Call me when you have new stock.] [With this money, I can get my eldest son out!] Grandma added one last instruction: [By the way, take this girl far away. One less mouth to feed, and maybe my rich youngest son will finally give me more alimony!] Because of that one sentence, in my past life, I was sold to a deep mountain village in another province. I never saw the sun again until I died. This time, they will pay. The sedative in my system hadn’t worn off yet. I memorized the route, looking for a chance to escape. There was another child in the truck—a boy who looked like a porcelain doll. He was unconscious, probably snatched too. The truck stopped on a small country road. A woman in a hat leaned into the window and whispered: [Mike, you got a boy this time?] Mike, the trafficker, looked around cautiously and nodded. 3 [Yeah. Twelve hundred.] [Done.] The woman sighed in relief, excitedly handing him cash. She turned around to reveal a bamboo basket on her back. [Put the boy in here.] [Waaah… Mom, don’t leave me alone! Take me with my brother!] I struggled up, grabbing the woman’s sleeve. I knew this was my chance. [Why would I buy a girl?] The woman turned away, but her eyes flickered. The boy in the basket woke up. He didn’t expose me. Instead, he started crying for his “sister.” Mike seized the opportunity to upsell: [Buy her for company. Girls are cheap and can do chores. Sally, we go way back. I won’t gouge you. Seven hundred, take her.] The woman, Sally, was persuaded. I was tossed into the basket for a discounted price. The basket was covered tightly with a cloth. Sally, careless with two sleeping kids, set us down by the roadside while she went to the bathroom. [Stay put. There are bad people around here.] Once her footsteps faded, I shook the boy awake. [Want to go home?] The little guy nodded silently. [Then follow me. No crying. I’ll take you back. If you make a sound, I leave you behind.] I put on my fiercest face. We climbed out of the basket and bolted into the crowd. I didn’t go to the police. The local cops might be in on it. I couldn’t risk it. At the bus station, I used the single dollar in my pocket to buy two tickets. Back then, you didn’t need IDs for buses. The ticket lady looked suspicious, but I grabbed the boy’s hand and smiled sweetly. [Miss, we’re going to the county seat to find Mom. She’s waiting at the station for us.] We made it to the county town, but we had no money for train tickets to the city. So, I smeared dirt on my face and begged all the way. The little boy, whom I nicknamed “Bun,” had a stomach rumbling like thunder. He looked hungry, but he never complained. I was starving too. [We’ll be home soon.] When it got unbearable, we raided trash cans for leftovers. Finally, we scraped together enough for tickets. I spotted a woman boarding and tailed her closely, pretending we were her kids to sneak onto the train. 4 Just as Bun and I stepped onto the train, a group of people rushed the platform. Sally pointed at us and screamed: [My babies! Someone stole my babies!] She lunged to drag us off. Other passengers started pushing us from behind. [Kids, quit running around. Go home with your mom.] My heart hammered in my throat. Was there no escape? I remembered Leo slashing his wrists, clutching our family photo. I went feral. I bit Sally’s hand as hard as I could and wrapped my arms around a seat leg. [Liar! You’re not my mom! Help! She’s a trafficker!] Sally shrieked in pain and slapped me across the face. Crack. Her accomplice kicked me in the ribs. [You dare bite your mother?] I curled into a ball, gasping. The bystanders looked indifferent. Domestic dispute. Not their problem. Through the dizziness, I saw a college girl try to stand up, but her mother pulled her down. [Don’t meddle. It’s family business.] My scalp burned as someone grabbed my hair. The accomplice asked, [Sally, what about the girl?] Suddenly, a small body threw itself over me. Bun cried incoherently: [No… don’t take sister.] Sally scooped him up, her face instantly shifting to a loving smile. [Oh, my precious son. Come on, Momma’s taking you home.] The taste of blood in my throat woke up every nerve in my body. I looked up and screamed with everything I had left: [You don’t even know our names! My mom loves me! She would never hit me like that! You are lying!] Eyes turned toward me.

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