Category: English

I was the dog bought by Young Master Sterling, the wildest one. He tormented me daily with endless enthusiasm. His wealthy, hedonistic friends loved to join in, treating me like their personal toy. One day, this mad dog bit down on Sterling’s lifeline. I smiled at the stunned crowd. “If you want him to live, tell Senator Vance to come see me personally.” They say Senator Vance is benevolent, a saint who loves the world, a moon in the sky too pure to be touched. I want to ask him, why has this world—specifically me, tortured by his nephew until life was worse than death—never received his mercy? Is he blind? Then I’ll drag him down from his pedestal and gouge his eyes out. 1 On my first day in this world, my gambler father sold me to a high-end brothel. For five grand, he skipped away with a grin. On my first night, I was bought for a high price by Sterling Vance. Why? Because I look exactly like his “white moonlight,” his lost love, Claire. Originally, I was supposed to be a warm body in his bed. But I was born with a rebellious streak; I couldn’t bend my knee. I told Sterling, “If you touch me, you’re just a dirty cucumber. How could a filthy, shameless man like you ever deserve someone as pure as her?” Sterling lost it. “You? A cheap whore? You think I’d actually want you?” He didn’t touch me. Instead, he treated me like a dog. He told his rich buddies he bought a new pet for everyone to play with. He locked me in a cage, made me bark for their amusement. If I didn’t perform well, I didn’t eat. I stayed locked inside, teeth clenched, refusing to make a sound. They dangled meat bones in front of me, cooing, “Bark once, and you get a treat.” I closed my eyes and stayed silent. Sterling and his friends bet on how long I would last. His friend Tyler bet I’d break in two days. Another rich kid, Xavier, bet one day. Xavier brought a cage of snakes and held it to my face. “Scared? Just say you’re scared, call me ‘Big Brother,’ and beg for mercy. I’ll let you out.” Sterling laughed lazily from the side, but his eyes held a threatening glint. He had bet on three days. I looked at the hissing snakes and closed my eyes. Xavier raised an eyebrow, opened the cage, and let the snakes slither into mine. My body went rigid, my scalp tingled, and I couldn’t stop trembling. A snake crawled up my arm, cold and slimy. I looked at Sterling. A flicker of interest sparked in his eyes. I closed my eyes again until a sharp, numbing pain hit me. I was bitten. “Enough, Xavier!” The cage opened, and Xavier’s servants took the snakes back. “Got a backbone, huh? Interesting.” “What? Is Sterling feeling sorry for his pet?” Before I blacked out, I heard Sterling’s cold voice: “Get out with your disgusting snakes.” This was only the first day. I had to last three. 2 When I woke up, my arm was bandaged. My head spun. I was still in the cage. My hands were free, but my ankles were chained. Sterling sat opposite me, sipping tea. “You thought I’d let you out? Puppies stay where they belong.” He smiled cruelly. Servants brought in food. Sterling ate meat and drank wine in front of me, dragging the meal out painfully. A bitter taste lingered in my mouth—they had force-fed me medicine while I was out. So I wouldn’t die just yet. I closed my eyes and slept. Soon, Tyler and Xavier returned. Day two. Tyler brought a large dog. Sterling glanced at it but said nothing, implying: As long as you don’t go too far. Xavier, the worst of the lot, looked at the dog, then at me. “Since they’re both dogs, and Tyler’s is male… why don’t we let them breed?” Tyler spat out his tea, eyeing me with disgusting intent. “Blackie loves riding dogs. He hasn’t ridden a human one yet.” They laughed until Xavier was in tears. Friends of Sterling were all trash. Sterling, the hypocrite, tried to hold back but eventually chuckled. A wave of nausea hit me. I didn’t regret rejecting him. “Take your damn dog and get out,” Sterling finally said. “See? told you Sterling treasures her!” Xavier jeered. Sterling glared at him. Tyler whispered something in Sterling’s ear. They muttered, eyes fixed on me, grinning maliciously. Then, another dog was brought in. A female. They put both dogs into my cage. The male dog immediately mounted the female. The cage was cramped; the dogs bumped against me repeatedly. I shrank back in disgust. Suddenly, a hand grabbed my chin, forcing my face toward the scene. “Watch closely.” Sterling’s grip tightened. I was forced to witness it while Sterling watched me with amusement. Pervert. I couldn’t hold it back. I vomited all over Sterling’s hand. Seeing his face turn green, I laughed. 3 After vomiting, Sterling threw me into “the dark room.” Still in the cage. Pitch black. Leaning against the bars, I recalled the plot that had appeared in my brain when I arrived. The original owner of this body was named Rain. Born during a rainstorm. I am also named Rain. This is a melodramatic novel. Rain is the heroine. Her gambler dad sells her; Sterling, the hero, buys her. Sterling’s true love, Claire, just married a prince. Heartbroken, Sterling sees Rain and thinks she’s Claire. He buys her, forces himself on her. He treats her as a substitute, abuses her body and heart. Through all the humiliation, Rain falls in love with him, suffers miscarriages, and eventually leaves. Only then does Sterling realize he loves her. He chases her, more angst ensues, and they live happily ever after. Sterling, despite being trash, rises to high office. Why? Because he has an incredible uncle: Senator Vance. Vance is a legend. Honorable, unmatched, practically a saint. He is Sterling’s fear and idol. Vance is only nine years older than Sterling; he’s more like a father. Vance became a top scholar at sixteen, bringing glory to their humble family. At twenty-four, he helped the current President get elected. Now, at twenty-seven, he is the youngest Secretary of State in history, unmarried, and beloved by the people. But in less than two years, he dies of illness. Overworked and stressed from cleaning up the country’s messes, he falls ill during a mission and never recovers. The President, grieving, projects his love for Vance onto Sterling, paving the way for the nephew’s success. Damn plot armor. But the plot glitched. The original Rain died from a beating at the brothel. I took over. I refuse to play out this sadistic romance. I’d rather die. But this dark room… it’s torture. I don’t know if I’ll go mad or die first. 4 I don’t know how long passed before a bucket of cold water woke me up. Light flooded in. It took a long time to focus on Sterling’s disgusting, handsome face. He dragged me out. I felt dizzy and nauseous. “Vomit on me again, and I’ll chop you up for dog food!” he snarled. I didn’t even have the strength to open my eyes. Vaguely, I felt someone supporting me. A delicious smell filled my nose. Someone was spoon-feeding me meat porridge. It smelled so good… I ate and slowly came back to life. Then I saw Sterling holding the bowl. Ugh. He put the bowl down, surprisingly silent, and left. Once he was gone, I couldn’t hold back. I devoured the rest of the porridge. This was my first real meal since arriving. Sterling had starved me, then fed me medicine. It was dawn on the third day. Sterling bet I would break on the third day. If I hadn’t tasted food, maybe I could have held on. But now, having felt the warmth of a full stomach… my resolve crumbled. I couldn’t hold on anymore. After I finished the bowl, I heard a scoff. Sterling walked back in, dragged me up, and threw me back in the cage. Outside, I heard Tyler and Xavier. They were here to see the result of the bet.

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Twenty years ago, on my wedding day, I discovered my fiancé was having an affair with my maid of honor. I canceled the wedding on the spot. In an act of monstrous collusion, our families—our own flesh and blood—had me committed to a psychiatric facility. “She’s raving mad!” they declared. “She’s slandering her fiancé and her own sister!” In that place, I was subjected to electroshocks, force-fed medication, and often strapped down and beaten. I endured that life for two decades. Twenty years later, I finally walked free. But my hair was completely white. My teeth were mostly gone. I looked utterly broken, like a woman easily seventy years old. I hid myself away in a small regional assisted living center, working as a patient aide under an assumed name. I genuinely believed I would never have to see any of them again. Until one day, my former fiancé arrived. He was with a little girl—the daughter he’d had with my sister. They were there to visit his mother. When he saw me, his entire body froze. His eyes immediately welled up. “Eliza?! God, is that you? I thought you were gone…” I kept my head down, scrubbing the floor. I said nothing. I didn’t want to acknowledge his existence. The doctor had just told me I had late-stage Alzheimer’s disease. At most, I had three months of coherent memory left. After those three months, all the hatred would be gone. The twenty years they stole from me would be wiped clean. 1 I gripped the washcloth, my hand trembling violently. Hot water splashed out, scalding the back of my hand, but I felt nothing. Patty, the head aide, snatched the cloth away, slamming it into the basin. Water splattered across my face. Her voice was sharp and cruel. “Ruth, you move like a zombie! You’re useless!” “If you can’t manage this, what good are you?” I kept my head down, silent. “Hurry up! Next patient!” Mechanically, I picked up a mop and headed toward the next bed. Just then, a commotion erupted at the doorway. A man in a bespoke suit walked in, leading a little girl dressed in an expensive party dress. The man was handsome and towering; the girl was beautiful and perfectly adorable. They were glaringly out of place in this room saturated with the smell of disinfectant and old age. I instinctively shrank back, trying to melt into the shadows. But the man saw me. He stared, riveted, for a full fifteen seconds. Then, his eyes turned instantly red, and his voice cracked as he spoke my name. “Eliza? Is it really you?” The blood in my veins solidified. I recognized that voice. It was Liam Maxwell. The man who had personally signed the papers that delivered me to hell twenty years ago. I lowered my head and scrubbed the floor with all my strength. My voice came out coarse and grating. “You have the wrong person. My name is Ruth Miller.” He strode over quickly and grabbed my wrist. His grip was strong, squeezing my bones until they ached. “Eliza, I know it’s you! Don’t try to hide!” I struggled to pull away, and the mop handle clattered onto the linoleum. The little girl beside him immediately shrieked. “Dad! That old lady is gross! She touched me!” Liam flinched as if burned, releasing my wrist instantly. He turned to console his daughter, his voice melting with tenderness. “It’s okay, Calla-girl, it’s not dirty. Daddy will take you to wash your hands right now.” Patty rushed over like a whirlwind. She didn’t spare me a glance, instead bowing profusely toward Liam. “Mr. Maxwell, please don’t be angry. This old woman has no manners.” Then, she whirled around and slapped me across the face. The smack echoed in the hallway, and my cheek instantly began to swell. “How dare you serve a distinguished guest like this?! That’s three days’ pay, gone!” Liam frowned, holding up a hand to stop Patty before she could strike again. “It’s fine. Don’t hit her.” He looked at me, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “Eliza, I know it’s you. We need to talk, later.” I ignored him, bent down, picked up the mop, and limped toward the supply closet. Behind me, I heard his determined voice. “I will come back every day until you agree to speak with me.” I closed the supply closet door, shutting out his voice. Leaning against the cold wall, my entire body was shaking. That night, I retrieved a worn, rusty tin box from beneath my cot. Inside, there was only one sheet of paper. My diagnosis. The flashlight beam focused on the words, stinging my eyes. Alzheimer’s Disease, Late Stage. The doctor said I had three months of memory left, at best. Three months until I forgot everything. Forgot the twenty years of electroshocks, force-feeding, and restraints. Forgot every ugly face. Forgot the blood debt they owed me. With a trembling hand, I wrote the first line on the back of the diagnostic report. “Let every single one of them pay the price!”

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They called me The Glass Doll—a fragile girl with Osteogenesis Imperfecta, the brittle bone disease. And Noah Sterling, my boyfriend, was a pharmaceutical researcher. When he shoved me, sending me crashing to the floor, I grabbed desperately at his pant leg, begging him to get me to the ER. He kicked my hand away, annoyance etched into every line of his face, and scoffed. “Lily, you’ve been on my meds for months. You’re practically cured. Don’t pull this pathetic stunt with me. I have work to do, and I just need to talk to a colleague. Is this really necessary?” Sienna stood beside him, her arm looped through Noah’s, feigning a sweet, scolding voice. “Oh, Noah, honey, you shouldn’t treat your girlfriend like that!” I lay sprawled on the hardwood, registering the crunch of multiple fractures, realizing a splinter of bone had punctured my lung. My breath was catching in ragged gasps. With a trembling hand, I managed to dial 911. “Noah, sweetie, we have to go, or we’ll be late for the lab meeting. I have so many questions I need you to help me with.” Sienna hurried him away, already tugging him toward the door. I’d lost count of how many times Noah had dismissed me, citing his research. Time bled away. I felt warm, coppery blood welling up in my mouth. My vision swam. The 911 operator called back. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, the street is blocked by a private car. We are moving as fast as we can. Please, just hold on a little longer.” I wiped the tears from my eyes. With the last vestige of strength, I typed out a text. “Thank you for healing me. It’s time to pay back this life you gave me.” 1 I lay still on the floor. If it weren’t for the blood flecks on my chin, I would have looked peacefully asleep—serene and undisturbed. Because I rarely went outside, my skin was pale, perfectly white, like real porcelain. My lips were turning blue, but they held a faint smile. And on my cheeks, a trail of tears, a testament to my bitter, desperate regret for the future I wouldn’t see. I looked down at the silent, broken figure and finally understood: I was dead. A half-hour earlier, we’d had the argument. How many times had it happened? The pattern was always the same: we’d finally settle into a quiet, sweet moment, and his phone would buzz—always a colleague—and Noah would bolt, tireless and focused. This time, the colleague had shown up at our door. Noah was a pharmaceutical researcher, a brilliant mind dedicated to finding the cure for Osteogenesis Imperfecta. We’d known each other since we were kids. He knew that my disease meant I couldn’t fall, couldn’t be hit, or I’d suffer severe, multiple breaks. Thanks to him, I had stumbled and limped my way to the age of twenty-five. But today, he had simply shoved me away in frustration. In that instant, I’d heard the sickening, unmistakable sound of bones snapping inside my own body. Watching him ignore me, watching him prepare to leave, I panicked. I grabbed his pant leg, biting back a sob. “Noah, I’m broken. My bones. Please, just take me to the hospital.” He looked down at me, his eyes filled with contempt, and viciously kicked my hand away from his trousers. “Lily, you’ve been on my medication. You’re practically cured. Stop being dramatic. I have to go to work, and I’m just talking to a colleague. Why are you making a scene?” “You just fell. It’s not like you got hit by a car. I am sick of your constant jealousy. It’s exhausting.” I struggled to look up at him, offering a helpless, hollow smile, and called 911 myself. Noah watched my frantic movement, rolling his eyes in disgust. “Still faking.” Sienna wrapped her arms around Noah’s neck, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Noah, honey, let’s go now, or we’ll be late for the meeting. I have a million things I need your help with.” The front door slammed shut, leaving me alone in the house. I didn’t dare move. The only sound in the dead silence of the room was the regular tick-tock of the clock—the steady countdown of my life. The metallic taste of blood was thick in my mouth; I swallowed the warm fluid with effort. My vision blurred in and out. Breathing became a monumental struggle. The operator’s call only delivered more horror. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry. The street is completely blocked. We are trying to find an alternate route, but you need to hang on.” A wave of despair washed over me. I dialed Noah’s number again. If he turned around now, it might still be enough. The phone connected. Before I could even speak, his voice exploded in my ear, a torrent of abuse. “Are you kidding me? I’m working! If you’re hurt, call a goddamn Uber. You are not The Glass Doll anymore. Stop acting like you’re still a helpless baby!” I swallowed the mouthful of blood, my voice a weak whisper. “The ambulance is delayed. Can you just turn around and come back for me?” His reply was cold, devoid of all feeling. “So the ambulance is a little late, are you going to die? Do you have any idea how busy I am? I’m doing all this for you.” I tried to call again, but he wouldn’t pick up. “The number you have dialed is currently unavailable…” I gave a self-mocking laugh, and blood bubbled past my lips, pouring out uncontrollably. He used to panic instantly if I was hurt, rushing me to the hospital himself. “Lily, don’t be scared, it’s just a broken leg. When we get home, I’ll pad every surface with thick foam so you never hit anything again.” He had dedicated his life to this cure. The young Noah had promised me, earnest and determined: “Lily, once you’re all better, I can finally take you out. You’ll be able to run free, and we’ll see the world.” But he broke his promise. 2 I laughed and cried at the same time. We were happy back then. I truly believed that happiness would last forever. But as my condition seemed to improve, Noah’s attitude began to shift. He spent endless nights in the lab, and his time with me dwindled to nothing. I told myself it was a crucial phase of his research; I needed to be supportive. I waited up for him no matter the hour, warmed his mug of coffee, and tidied his side of the bed. I forced myself to ignore the faint smear of lipstick on his collar. I ignored the scent of a perfume that wasn’t mine clinging to his shirt. But the truth was a slow, agonizing realization that I was only lying to myself. That night, he was in the shower. A call came in. Thinking it was my phone, I answered. “Noah, babe, I can’t even sleep without you here tonight.” “Why even go home? Lily is so fragile, she won’t even let you touch her. I know a lot of ways to keep you busy. I can show you next time.” “Noah? Why aren’t you saying anything?” When I finally registered what I’d done, I hung up. My whole body was shaking uncontrollably. That voice. That was no colleague discussing work. They were flirting. They were intimate. It was likely that all those countless nights I spent alone in our quiet house, he was wrapped up in another woman’s arms. I’d called his mother a few times, trying to confide in her, but her words were a harsh slap of reality. “That’s just how men are, sweetie. You have to cut him some slack.” “If you two broke up, where would you go, Lily?” She was right. If I left him, where could I go? I had no apartment, no ability to work, no family, and no friends. I was exactly what she had called me—a fragile porcelain doll, requiring constant, expensive care. I had known he didn’t love me anymore, but I couldn’t leave. A month ago, I was doing some light housework and accidentally bruised my arm. I called him immediately, panicked, and he just told me to go to the clinic myself. I had been to the orthopedic department countless times. It had always been him—Noah—who held my hand, managed the paperwork, paid the bills, and gave me an overwhelming sense of security. This time, there wasn’t even a check-in call. When I returned from the clinic with a cast on my arm, he was sitting on the couch, happily texting someone. I stood silently in the doorway, staring at him. He offered a rushed, dismissive explanation. “I’m just talking about work with a colleague. Go lie down.” I retreated to the bedroom and quietly scrolled through his feed. “Work is exhausting, but thankfully I have you by my side.” The photo showed two people smiling into each other’s eyes. They were in love. I realized I didn’t think I’d ever taken a picture like that with Noah. A little later, he came to bed and lay down, wrapping his arm around me from behind. He saw I was looking at the post. He sounded completely unconcerned as he explained it. “Don’t get the wrong idea. She’s just a friend. I wouldn’t post it if I had anything to hide, right?” I nodded weakly. “I don’t misunderstand. I believe you.” I was calm. No, not calm. My heart had simply gone cold. But I still felt the compulsive need to comfort him. “You don’t have to work so hard. I wish you’d come home earlier.” “Maybe spend one less night…” He pulled his arm away before I could finish, cutting me off. “That’s enough. Work is stressful enough without coming home to a lecture. What can you actually do for me besides complain?” “Other men’s wives are supportive partners—they help run the house and earn a living. You? You injure yourself doing housework and just waste money all day.” I clamped my mouth shut, speechless, the insult stinging my eyes. The worst part was that he wasn’t wrong. Maybe he regretted ever taking me in. He seemed to realize his words were cruel, so he softened his voice. “I only work this hard for you, Lily. If I finish this project, the new drug for brittle bone disease will be fully developed.” A sharp, searing pain dragged me back to the present. The emergency dispatcher called again. “Ma’am, please remain calm and do not move. We are almost there. You must hold on.” Twenty minutes. And I still hadn’t heard a siren. I could feel my heartbeat slowing down. I was biting the inside of my lip, drawing blood, just to stay conscious. How much longer could I possibly last? Clutching the last shred of my sanity, I sent Noah that final, parting message. “Thank you for healing me. It’s time to pay back this life you gave me.” 3 As the text left my phone, I felt my spirit slowly lift from my body. The next thing I knew, I was standing right next to Noah. He was focused on writing a lab report when, suddenly, Sienna draped herself over his back, pouting playfully. “Noah, sweetie, I can’t write this part of the report. You have to help me!” He smiled gently, putting down his pen, and tapped her nose. “What don’t you get? I’ll walk you through it.” With that, he lifted her and sat her right down on his lap, leaning in close for a private tutoring session. Suddenly, a call from the hospital interrupted them. “Hello, are you family of Lily Sterling? We regret to inform you that our resuscitation efforts were unsuccessful. Please come to the hospital to handle the affairs.” Noah hung up without a word. “She’s unbelievable. Now she’s getting people to call and try to trick me. She’s too scared to leave the house, so this is her latest trick to get me to come home.” The phone rang again. Noah Tsked, hung up immediately, and blocked and deleted the number. He tossed his phone aside and returned to his intimate session with Sienna. A few colleagues nearby exchanged eye rolls, their disapproval obvious. Finally, a guy named Leo, who had clearly had enough, turned and muttered in disgust. “How did she even get hired? She doesn’t know anything. Just constantly using the lab as a place to canoodle. It’s sickening.” Noah heard him and stood up to retaliate. “Mind your own business, Leo. She’s not bothering you. Just do your own work.” Sienna shrank behind Noah, tugging his arm gently. “Noah, honey, don’t be mad. He’s not totally wrong. I’m sorry. Let’s take a break until you figure things out with Lily.” She wiped a tear and hurried out the lab door, covering her mouth with her hand. Noah gave Leo a nasty glare and then rushed out, chasing after her in a frantic panic. The remaining lab members started murmuring. “Man, I feel so bad for his fiancée. Twenty years with that jerk.” “Seriously. I wonder what he’s going to tell her.” I watched Noah’s furrowed brow, his expression of deep annoyance. I wanted to tell him: You don’t have to deal with me anymore. I’m gone. You are free. Noah held Sienna close, gently stroking her back. She sobbed into his chest, then looked up at him, teary-eyed and vulnerable. “Noah, you pushed Lily today. She must be hurt. She called you so many times.” Noah was completely nonchalant. “Don’t worry about her. A tiny little fall won’t do anything. She’s just jealous and trying to use her old, pathetic tricks to get attention.” Sienna relaxed, nestled closer into his arms. “If you say so, Noah, then I don’t have to feel guilty.” He wiped her tears and affectionately ruffled her hair. “Guilty about what? She’s not like you—responsible and capable. She just sits at home and moans about everything.” He thought for a moment, pulled out his phone, looked at my last text, and smirked. “Have you had enough fun with your little joke? Are you really hurt? Do you want me to come to the hospital?” Sienna peered over his shoulder at the text and put on a worried face. “Noah, sweetie, you should go check on Lily. You should.” She gently pushed him toward the parking lot. But they hadn’t walked far when Sienna let out a sharp cry. “Ah!” She immediately crouched down, clutching her ankle, fighting back tears. “Sienna, you twisted your ankle? Come sit here!” Noah instantly helped her to a nearby bench, gently took off her high-heeled shoe, and began softly massaging her ankle. Sienna tried to pull her foot away, pushing him. “Noah, no, you need to go to Lily. I’ll just rest here.” “No way. She can handle herself. You, however, can’t walk. Come on, I’ll carry you back.” He turned his back to her and hoisted Sienna onto his shoulders. Sienna hid her blushing face in his neck, but a look of undeniable triumph flashed in her eyes. When they returned to the lab, they walked right past a group of gossiping colleagues. “Did you hear? Some brittle bone patient died at the Central Hospital just now.” “I think… her name was Sterling, maybe?” Noah’s heart skipped a beat. He stopped walking and slowly let Sienna slide to the ground, listening intently.

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After my rebirth, when Julian’s little secretary, Chloe, once again “accidentally” spilled red wine on my face while pouring me a drink, giggling like it was a joke. I didn’t slap her like I did in my past life. I didn’t scream for a divorce like a shrew when Julian rushed to defend her. Instead, I smiled calmly at Julian. “She’s really cute. Have fun playing with her.” “Let’s consider our seventh anniversary celebration over early. I’m going home.” With that, I grabbed my bag and walked out of the private room without looking back. I had no choice. After divorcing Julian in my last life, my life was a living hell. He crushed me like a business rival, gripping his assets so tight I couldn’t get a cent. I hired every lawyer in the city, but all I got in the divorce settlement was literally $7.50. Right after the divorce, I was diagnosed with cancer. When the pain became unbearable, I swallowed my pride and knelt before Julian. But he let his secretary slap me three times and didn’t give me a penny. In the end, penniless and broken, I froze to death on the doorstep of the home I had lived in for seven years. So, dignity? Dignity is nothing compared to staying alive. 1 I didn’t expect Julian to chase after me. He grabbed my arm. “Let me explain, Sarah. Chloe is just young and playful. She spilled the wine to lighten the mood, to make you laugh.” “She doesn’t have bad intentions. We grew up together, she’s always been mischievous. She treats you like family, so she sometimes forgets boundaries. Don’t hold a grudge against her.” Julian said these exact words in my past life. Back then, humiliated by the wine dripping down my face and shaking with rage, hearing him defend her so tenderly was the last straw. I slapped him in front of all our friends, screamed “Divorce!”, and ran out. I was so stupid then. I thought threatening divorce would scare him. Instead, I walked for four hours in the freezing winter rain, tears streaming down my face. My heels rubbed my feet raw until they bled. I ended up with a 104-degree fever. While I lay dying in our empty house, Julian didn’t call once. That very night, he took Chloe on an overseas business trip. Photos of him adjusting her spaghetti strap dress and her kissing his cheek even made it onto the company gossip forums. The irony was too much. A cynical smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. The next second, Julian angrily shook off my hand. “How many times do I have to tell you? Chloe is the daughter of my dad’s friend. I’m just looking out for her.” “It’s just a little wine spill. Go home and wash it off. Can you stop being jealous over nothing and imagining things between us?” Seeing the sudden anger on his face, a bitterness rose in my chest. Not for him, but for my past self. In my last life, after the divorce, I got pancreatic cancer—the king of cancers. Every day was either nurses poking me with long needles until I cried, or rolling on the floor clutching my stomach, begging for death to come faster. When I ran out of money, I even stabbed myself with a fruit knife, hoping the pain would distract me enough to sleep. Yet even then, I couldn’t bear to sell our wedding ring for pain meds. When the doctor gave me a month to live, I dragged my skeletal body to find him, hoping to reconcile. After all, when my parents died, he swore he’d be with me forever. I knelt before the security guard at our old home, begging him to call Julian. When Julian picked up, he heard my voice and said calmly: “Sarah, we’re divorced. Divorce means we have nothing to do with each other. Don’t contact me again.” He hung up. I collapsed in the backyard of the villa where we lived for seven years. In the final moments of my life, I saw him holding Chloe in the house I had lovingly decorated, drinking from the wine glasses I bought, having a romantic date. The pain in my chest was suffocating. I didn’t want to remember anymore. I quickly hid my emotions and smiled calmly. “Julian, I’m really not jealous. And I’m really not angry at Chloe.” “I’m just tired and want to go home. You should go back inside.” Surprise flashed across Julian’s face. Before he could react, I turned and walked away down the street without a backward glance. 2 As soon as I got home, I went straight to my room. I called the hospital and booked an appointment with a specialist for a full checkup tomorrow. Whether in the past life or this one, I really want to live. Just as I hung up, Julian suddenly came back. I don’t know why. He loosened his tie impatiently. “What did you mean back there on the street?” “Sarah, can you stop throwing attitude for no reason?” Ever since Chloe became his secretary, Julian had become incredibly harsh towards me. He found fault with everything I did. His attitude change and Chloe’s provocations were why I acted crazy in my last marriage. I endured the suffocating pain in my chest and turned around calmly. “Julian, believe it or not, I’m not angry. I’m not being unreasonable, and I’m not throwing attitude.” “Look, I’ve already washed my face. I’m not mad at you, and I certainly wouldn’t dare be mad at Chloe.” With that, I ignored him, went into the bathroom, and locked the door. When I came out, he was gone. Instead, my phone started buzzing non-stop. It was Chloe’s habit. Whenever she was with Julian, she would spam me with photos of their life together. She treated me like her personal cloud storage. In my last life, this made me cry or scream at Julian constantly. But now, looking at the photos, I didn’t curse her. Instead, I replied earnestly: “Your angle is off. Julian’s side profile is better. Hold the phone higher next time.” “Also, crop the photo tighter. Less background makes you look more intimate.” As soon as I sent it, Chloe replied: “Did you get hacked?” I sent a smiley face. “No. Just letting you know, you can have him.” Then I blocked her. This triangular property relationship works for me. I want the title of Mrs. Thorne and the supplementary credit card. Julian’s body and heart? Chloe can have them. Unlike my past self, I’m not stupid enough to want his love anymore. 3 After dealing with Chloe, I lay in bed and closed my eyes. Even though I was reborn, I didn’t sleep well. Just like when I had cancer, I kept dreaming of our past. When we were kids, Julian was introverted. His mother, a strict teacher, used to beat him. Often at midnight, while I was asleep, he would still be doing homework in his thick glasses. His mom would stand there with a stick, hitting his back for every mistake. I lived across the street. Seeing him beaten made me pity him. So on the way to school, I would sneak candy into his backpack and whisper, “Julian, eat one when your back hurts.” The first time I did it, he turned red and ran away. A hundred meters later, he whispered, “I… I don’t eat candy.” I waved at him. “Julian, you should talk more. Your voice is nice.” After that, it became a habit. The lonely boy started waiting for me in the alley, waiting for his candy. We walked through countless springs, summers, and winters together. When we were 18, Julian became the top student in the county and got into a prestigious university. He awkwardly handed me a slip of paper. “I checked. This college is near mine. Ten minutes walk. Your scores aren’t good enough for a bachelor’s, but you can do an associate’s degree there.” I looked at his nervous face. I didn’t tell him my parents had already decided to pay for a private university so I could get a bachelor’s degree. I secretly changed my application to be near him. My parents gave me a mixed-doubles beating, but I never regretted it. We went to the same city. Away from his mother, Julian blossomed. He got contacts, grew out his buzz cut, and changed his style. He traded plaid shirts for white button-downs and black sneakers for white ones. I didn’t know why he changed until I was screaming at a concert for my favorite idol. Julian grabbed me, eyes red. “I changed into the type you like. Can’t you like me yet?” The word “like” hit me like a hammer. Even at different schools, I heard of the legend of Julian. The tech god. Freshman year, he led the team to win a national competition. Sophomore year, he got offers from big tech giants. There were even forum posts tracking his “glow up.” I thought an ocean separated us, that we’d only ever be friends. But he said he liked me. Thick-skinned as always, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him without hesitation. We started dating. My life became feeding him bubble tea and desserts. I had no career plans, just planning our dates. Julian’s life was on a rocket ship. Graduate school, startup, multiple rounds of funding. By the time he got his PhD, his tech company was top 10 in the industry. My life went the opposite way. I failed the transfer exam to a bachelor’s program. After graduation, I lived off Julian. Then my doting parents died in a car crash rushing to see me when I was hospitalized for pneumonia. Orphaned, I cried over their bodies. Julian knelt beside me, ignoring his mother’s glare, and swore to take care of me forever. We got married. I had multiple miscarriages. Then he met Chloe. He started disliking me for having no depth. I only knew how to ask what to eat. Chloe could talk about art and the future of the internet with him. Tears soaked my pillow. When I opened my eyes, it was dawn. Just like in my last life, I woke up crying. Julian sent a WeChat message. “Visiting my mom at the nursing home this afternoon.” 4 I replied calmly: “Busy today. No time.” Julian called immediately. “What are you busy with?” “Sarah, how many times do I have to say it? There’s nothing between me and Chloe. Why are you clinging to small things?” A sneer formed on my lips. Since his success, Julian spoke in short, concise sentences. This was the first time he rambled defensively. He was trying to convince himself he hadn’t fallen for her, trying to lessen his guilt. My heart ached, but I explained calmly: “Julian, I’m not feeling well. I’m going to the hospital for a checkup. I really can’t go.” “Also, your mom has a heart condition and hates me. Me not going is better for her health. She likes Chloe, says only Chloe is worthy of you. Why don’t you take her?” I genuinely meant it as good advice. But Julian exploded. “Sarah, keep acting out. See where it gets you.” He hung up. I listened to the dial tone, smiling bitterly. This is the difference between love and no love. When he loved me, a slight frown from me would make him panic and ask what he did wrong. Now, even my sincere advice is seen as throwing a tantrum.

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I custom-ordered the latest bionic boyfriend, Silas. Dr. Aris, his creator, said his biggest selling point was “absolute obedience to his designated owner.” But just two days after he arrived, Silas started experiencing intermittent memory loss, rebooting his system every two hours. I called Dr. Aris for a consultation. His response was firm. “That’s absolutely impossible. Once an android imprints on an owner, it’s against their core programming to defy a command. Of course, we offer a free replacement. The warranty covers it.” I was skeptical but decided to give Silas one more chance. Then, one night, I discovered his “flirtation mode” had an incredible five-hour runtime. Curious, I tried to reactivate it, only to get a system notification: “System Overload. Owner Command Required.” Suddenly, everything clicked. He had imprinted on another owner. An android that imprints on the wrong person is just a pile of scrap metal. A free replacement would be simple enough. … I stared at Silas’s control panel. “System Overload. Owner Command Required.” Wasn’t I his rightful owner? His chiseled abs were hot to the touch, the texture smoother and more flawless than human skin. I tried tapping the command five or six more times, but the same robotic voice droned on, grating on my nerves. I scrolled through the posts from other buyers on the app. They were all living a dream. [Five or six rounds a night is nothing. If I wasn’t the one getting tired, my android boyfriend could go for another three hundred.] [I almost got hit by a truck the other day, and my android saved my life! He’s my guardian angel!] My own post about my troubles, however, caused a commotion: [OMG! Don’t tell me your android gave its ‘owner key’ to another woman?] [It would have to develop some serious self-awareness to re-imprint. Wait, did you abuse it or something?] Abuse him? I’d spent a fortune on him. From the moment Silas arrived, I followed the instruction manual to the letter, completing the imprinting ceremony. Then I began the process of programming him to be the perfect boyfriend. But no matter what mode I set, it never lasted more than two hours. After that, he wouldn’t recognize me at all. When I had a high fever and ordered him to take me to the hospital, he froze. When we were almost in a car crash, the airbags deployed, and he was still frozen solid. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced. He really had found another owner. Just then, the doorbell rang. I opened it to find Mia, the daughter of our old family estate’s housekeeper. “Clara,” she began, her voice dripping with false concern, “it was me. I felt so bad for Silas, I helped him… relieve the pressure for five hours. Blame me, don’t take it out on him.” I froze for a second before the reality of it hit me. Silas must have sensed my anger and sent out a distress signal to his real owner. “I don’t need you meddling in my affairs.” I was about to shut the door in her face when I glanced back at Silas. His amber eyes were filled with a raw disapproval I’d never seen before. “I hate it when you act like a spoiled princess, looking down on everyone,” he snapped. “Mia doesn’t owe you anything. You can treat me like a dog, but she’s a human being.” Hearing the resentment that had clearly been building for some time, I let out a surprised laugh. “If you despise me so much, why did you beg me to take you home in the first place?” When I was at the research institute, I’d been overwhelmed by the sheer number of models. It was Silas who had looked up at me with those puppy-dog eyes and knelt at my feet. “Please, take me home with you, mistress. I can do anything.” I’d given him a life of luxury, and this is how he repaid me—by wagging his tail for another woman. Silas swallowed nervously, but the defiance in his eyes remained. He shot me a cold glare before escorting Mia out of my apartment. The picture was painfully clear. I called Dr. Aris immediately. “Go ahead and process a replacement for me. You can schedule Silas for decommissioning.” “Three days. I guarantee you’ll be satisfied with the new model.” After I hung up, Silas walked back in. If his proprietary charging station wasn’t bolted to my wall, I’m sure he would have left with Mia for good. He rummaged around for a while before storming up to me, his face a mask of annoyance. “Where’s the oil? The high-grade joint lubricant you bought for me. It’s gone.” I had been worried that commercial lubricants would damage his synthetic skin, so I’d spent a small fortune on a premium oil at an auction. I had loved watching it gleam on his skin as he’d smiled with pleasure. But now… I pointed to the roaring fire in the fireplace. “I burned it.” He was about to be recycled anyway. He wouldn’t need such fine things. And I certainly didn’t want my new android using someone else’s leftovers. Silas stared, shocked into silence for a few seconds before storming upstairs to his charging station. In the middle of the night, I was shaken awake. Silas was standing over me in an apron, holding a plate of dumplings. For a fleeting moment, seeing the red glint in the corner of his eyes, my heart softened. I hesitantly took one and bit into it, only to spit it out immediately. “You don’t know I hate shrimp?” Silas’s breath hitched. I pulled up his control panel and understood instantly. His system was now filled with Mia’s profile. Allergies: Soy, Mango. Favorite Foods: Gluten, Shrimp Dumplings, Sweet and Sour Pork… Of course. I wasn’t his owner. Why would he remember what I liked? A heavy feeling settled in my chest. In a fit of anger, I ripped out his battery pack and locked him in the utility closet. It was, after all, where he was destined to end up. The next morning, I was jolted awake by the sound of a woman’s high-pitched, ecstatic cries. I followed the noise to find the door to the utility closet ajar. Inside, Silas was arched over Mia, his powerful back muscles flexing as he held her ankles, his lips moving up her leg, murmuring, “Mistress Mia.” His throat bobbed, and the tell-tale glyph that only appeared during peak arousal shimmered on his shoulder. It was something I had never been able to coax out of him, no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I catered to him. But for his real owner, it appeared so easily. I didn’t hesitate. I slammed my fist on the closet door. Bang, bang, bang. A moment later, Mia appeared, her clothes in disarray, and had the audacity to question me. “Clara, how could you lock him in a closet? If you don’t want him, I’ll take him right now. Then he won’t have to suffer here anymore…” My parents had only let her live at the estate out of pity. I never realized that years of charity had fed such a greedy ambition. Seeing my own home defiled by these two, I was furious. “I bought him with my money. I’d rather sell him for scrap than give him to you.” At this, Silas’s expression twisted into something ugly. “Scrap?!” he roared. “You’d say something that vile just to insult Mia? I was serving her as her android. It wasn’t her fault!” I was speechless. Just as I was about to throw Mia out, she suddenly swayed and fell backward dramatically. The next second, a powerful force kicked me aside. Before I knew what was happening, I had landed in a massive bouquet of flowers Silas had prepared for Mia. I’m allergic to pollen. As Silas walked toward me, his eyes held a look of disgust I’d never seen before. “How could you hurt Mia? Have you forgotten the trauma you caused her growing up? You’ll make her depression flare up again!” With that, his body temperature automatically rose, and he knelt like a devout servant, gently warming Mia’s ankle with his hands. My breathing became more and more difficult. I nearly crushed the remote control in my hand. “Get… my inhaler.” Silas shot me a disdainful look and sneered. “Stop pretending. You always loved playing the victim to get sympathy. Mia reset my programming. I’ll never fall for your tricks again.” When he first came to live with me, he had done everything to make me happy. Even when his sensors detected I was faking an illness for attention, he would stay by my bedside, attentive and caring. How quickly he’d forgotten who his real owner was. I gave up on them and crawled upstairs to find my inhaler myself. When I came back down, Silas was showing off his eight-pack to Mia, and they were locked in a passionate kiss that went on and on. Now that I thought about it, no matter how I adjusted his settings before, our kisses never lasted more than three seconds. He had even lied and told me it was a bug from the development phase. Seeing me shakily descend the stairs, Mia wiped her mouth and covered it with a hand in mock surprise. “Oh, Clara, I had no idea you were allergic to pollen. It’s just that Silas insisted on buying me flowers. I only accepted to be polite.” She had grown up at the estate; she knew all my weaknesses. Every time I visited, she’d find a way to give me flowers, even sneaking floral pastries into my food. Seeing her smug expression, I was done being patient. I posted about the incident in the family group chat. Mia burst into tears instantly, and Silas’s protective instincts kicked in. “Clara, if you’re angry, take it out on me! Why do you have to drag Mia into this? Leave her alone! Even if you don’t like her, you can’t do this. Her mother will get in trouble. You’re being so childish!” He whispered comforting words to Mia, but the look he gave me was terrifyingly dark. It was clear he no longer knew his place. He was acting as if he were the man of the house. I sat calmly on the sofa and listened as the notification came through: Mia’s mother had been fired. “Clara, please don’t kick us out!” Mia wailed. “Even though you’re our employer, you can’t slander us like this…” Silas’s face grew uglier by the second. He looked like he was about to leave, but the thought of the custom charging station in my apartment must have given him pause. He shot me a cold look. “I won’t be back for the next couple of days. I’m going to stay with Mia and comfort her. I’ll come back when you’re ready to apologize to her personally.” He hesitated at the door, but I didn’t move. Because I no longer cared. Seeing my utter indifference, he stormed out with Mia in tow. The moment they were gone, I violently dismantled his charging station. Then I had an installer set up a new, more advanced model. Dr. Aris had told me the new android had an ultra-long standby time and would need more power than Silas, the three-second man. But as I waited for the delivery, a story exploded across the city’s social media. Trending everywhere were intimate videos of me trying to seduce Silas. The angle was crystal clear; it had been recorded by his automatic monitoring function. I scrolled through the comments, shaking with rage. “No way. Is the heiress of the Jiang family that desperate? Wearing that for an android?” “I can’t even look. I had no idea she was so shameless in private!”

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All because of two thousand dollars in phone credit, sent to my number by mistake. It ended with me cornered in my own home, my head split open, needing eight stitches to close the wound. It all started with a phone call at six in the morning on a Sunday. A woman’s voice on the other end of the line was already barking orders. She’d made a mistake topping up her phone credit. Not only had she typed the wrong last digit, but she’d also keyed in two thousand dollars instead of twenty. Now, she was demanding I transfer the money back to her immediately. As for the two grand in credit—enough to cover my phone bill for the next sixteen years—well, that was just my lucky day, I guess. Are you kidding me? My phone plan is ten dollars a month. I took a deep breath and tried to explain. “You can just call your service provider. They can reverse the transaction for you.” Her response was a direct threat. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re trying to keep my money? You think I can’t find you? I’ll cave your head in, you hear me?” At first, I didn’t believe her. But when I found myself backed against my own front door, with eight stitches crisscrossing my scalp, I believed her then. 1 As a corporate drone trapped in the 9-to-5 grind, sleeping in on a Sunday is my only solace. That Sunday, however, a series of calls at 6 AM shattered that peaceful dream. I irritably swiped to answer, and a torrent of abuse immediately assaulted my ear. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you dead? Took you long enough to pick up!” I pulled the phone away, confused, and looked at the screen. It was an unknown number. “I’m sorry, who is this?” “Never mind who I am. I sent phone credit to the wrong number. I need you to send it back to me, right now. The account number is…” A flicker of annoyance sparked within me. Disturbing someone’s sleep is a cardinal sin. And to do it with such arrogance after making a mistake yourself? She was really stacking her rudeness buffs to the max. Fueled by a week’s worth of early mornings, I asked impatiently, “How much?” “Two thousand dollars.” “How much?” The last remnants of sleep vanished. I was sure I had misheard. “Two thousand! What, are you deaf?” the voice on the other end shrieked. Two thousand dollars? Who in their right mind tops up their phone with that much money? They must be loaded. My first thought was that this had to be a scam. As if reading my mind, the woman on the phone started to explain. “I meant to put in twenty, but I hit the zero key too many times, and before I knew it, I’d entered my PIN. And on top of that, I typed the wrong number. Just send me the money, and you can keep the credit for yourself.” Two grand in phone credit? That was completely useless to me. My plan was a bare-bones, ten-dollar-a-month deal. Two thousand dollars would last me for over sixteen years. I work out to keep from dying of a heart attack at my desk, but I’m not confident I’ll live another sixteen years, let alone need a phone for all of them. Besides, my monthly salary is only three thousand. Who would be stupid enough to dump nearly a full month’s pay into their phone? “That’s way too much,” I said. “I’ll never be able to use that. You should contact your service provider and have them reverse the charge.” “Why should I? It’s my money! Why won’t you give it back to me?” I patiently explained again. “I have no use for that much credit. But you can go to one of their stores with your transaction record, and they’ll cancel it for you.” The woman was relentless. “I don’t know how to do that. The money went to your number, so you have to give it back to me. If you don’t, I’ll call the cops on you. Two thousand dollars is enough to put you in jail for a few years, you know.” I had to laugh. This lady knew a little bit about the law. Very little. “Do what you want,” I said, and hung up. Woken up at the crack of dawn, and then yelled at for no reason. Even a saint would lose their temper, let alone a sleep-deprived wage slave like me. After hanging up, I blocked the number. She made the mistake. Why should I be the one to pay for it? I tossed my phone aside, pulled the covers over my head, and went back to sleep. 2 When I woke up again, six hours had passed. I pulled back the curtains, and the bright noon sun flooded my bedroom. A full night’s sleep and a dose of sunlight-induced serotonin had me feeling refreshed and clear-headed. My stomach rumbled. Time for lunch. A corporate drone with only one day off doesn’t venture outside. I picked up my phone to order some food. My blood ran cold when I saw the screen: ninety-nine-plus missed calls. And with them, an endless stream of profanity-laced texts that would make a sailor blush. Just as I finished placing my order, another unknown number called. Furious, I answered, ready to strike first. “Are you insane? If you made a mistake with your phone credit, call the provider! Why do you keep harassing me?” The person on the other end was even angrier than I was. “Are you f*cking dead? I’ve been calling you all morning and you don’t pick up? You think I won’t use that two grand to buy you a coffin?” This time it was a man’s voice, probably the woman’s husband. My good mood for the day was completely ruined. I’d been living and working on my own for three years since graduation. I always made a point of only sharing good news with my family back home, never the bad, so they wouldn’t worry. With that in mind, I took a deep breath, determined not to cause trouble, and patiently explained the situation one more time. “I have a ten-dollar-a-month plan. That two thousand dollars will take me over sixteen years to use. If you’re in a hurry, you should contact customer service. They can refund the money to your account.” The man didn’t hesitate for a second. “Cut the crap. So what if it takes sixteen years? You can leave it to your grandkids. Customer service will take at least a week to process the refund, and I can’t wait that long. You need to transfer the money to my account right now, or I’ll find someone to cave your head in. You hear me?” Unbelievable. They couldn’t wait seven days, but they expected me to accept a phone credit balance that would outlive my cat. How could they even say that with a straight face? Since six this morning, it had been a nonstop barrage: a mistaken transaction, a rude awakening, verbal abuse, and now a death threat. Did they think they were kings of the world? A volcano of anger erupted inside me. “Can’t wait seven days? Are you in a hurry to get to your own funeral? Why should I have to pay for your mistake? Either you call customer service and get your money back the right way, or I’ll send you ten dollars a month until you die, and then your grandkids can inherit the rest.” I slammed the phone down. To ensure I wouldn’t be disturbed again, I popped the SIM card out of my backup phone and tossed it in a drawer. 3 When my food arrived, I forced myself to put the whole incident out of my mind. I put on my favorite show on my tablet and settled in for a nice, relaxing lunch. After eating, I watched a bit of a new series with my favorite actor, did some laundry, and tidied up the apartment. The day slipped away quietly. I was just about to head to the supermarket to pick up some groceries for a nice home-cooked dinner when my phone rang again. It was my main number this time. I thought it might be my parents or a friend. But when I saw the number on the screen, I froze. It was the police. They told me someone had filed a report, claiming I had defrauded them of two thousand dollars, and that I needed to come down to the precinct immediately. I gritted my teeth, a fresh wave of anger rising in me. Was this ever going to end? I looked up the address the officer gave me. It wasn’t far, about a twenty-minute cab ride. I sighed in frustration. So much for my nice dinner. I might as well get this over with. The constant harassment was ruining my only day off. Half an hour later, I arrived at the precinct. As soon as I gave my name at the front desk, a man and a woman lunged at me, pointing and shouting. “So you’re the deadbeat bitch from the phone?” “Officer, arrest her! She should be executed!” “So young and already a damn criminal. Doing things that’ll make her ancestors turn in their graves.” “Scamming people out of two thousand dollars? Are you that desperate?” An officer quickly stepped in to restrain them. “What do you think you’re doing? This is a police station, not your living room. If you’re so tough, why did you call us in the first place?” The man gritted his teeth, clearly defiant. “Officer, you can’t just let her off the hook because she’s pretty. She’s a con artist.” The officer shot him a glare. “You want to wear this uniform and do my job?” Seeing the officer was serious, the man reluctantly shut his mouth. The officer gestured for me to sit down. “Alright, tell me what happened.” I calmly and objectively recounted the events of the day. The officer looked at the couple, his expression one of sheer disbelief. “This is what you call getting defrauded out of two thousand dollars?” The man’s face flushed with anger. “Of course it is! That two thousand dollars is ill-gotten gains, isn’t it? If she doesn’t give it back, that’s illegal possession of property. In other words, it’s fraud.” The officer frowned. “You’re the ones who made the mistake. What does that have to do with her? Besides, she already told you to contact customer service or go to a store to get the money back. How is that illegal possession?” The woman started arguing illogically. “I did call them! But the customer service agent said because the amount was so large, we had to go to a store in person with our IDs to handle it. And even then, it would take at least a week to get the refund. It took one second for my money to go in, why should it take a week to come out?” “Even if that’s the case, what does it have to do with this young woman?” the officer reasoned. “If you have a problem, take it up with the phone company.” “The credit went to her number! All she has to do is transfer the money to me, and it’s over. Why make it so complicated? It would save everyone a lot of trouble. We’ve been arguing about this all day. I think she just wants to keep the money for herself. So young, and already so rotten.” The officer shook his head, looking exhausted. “It saves you trouble, but it dumps all the risk onto her. You send two thousand dollars of credit to someone on a ten-dollar-a-month plan? If it were me, I’d suspect you were trying to launder money.” The woman shot the officer a dirty look and then plopped down in the chair across from me. “Are you going to transfer the money or not?” she demanded. 4 I couldn’t help it; I rolled my eyes. “Ma’am, have I not been clear enough? I don’t want your money, but I’m not going to be your scapegoat either. If you want your money back, I will cooperate with the phone company through the proper channels. But there is absolutely no way I am paying for your mistake by transferring money directly to your account.” The man’s eyes were dark with malice. He glared at me, his jaw clenched. “Fine. You just wait. I swear you’ll regret every word you said today.” I looked at the officer. “Does that count as a threat?” The officer’s voice was stern. “Rick, what do you think you’re doing? Do you want me to detain you right now?” So the man’s name was Rick. The woman who’d made the mistake was Brenda. Rick sneered. “Forget it. If you cops can’t solve this, we’ll just leave.” The officer’s face was grim, but he said nothing. The woman taunted them as they left. “What, we can’t withdraw our complaint now? Are you going to arrest us for that?” The officer just shook his head wearily. “Well, we won’t trouble you any longer. We’re leaving.” As Brenda reached the door, she muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear, “I always heard the cops these days were useless. I guess it’s true. We shouldn’t have even bothered coming.” Her words left every officer in the room with a thunderous expression. After they left, I said my goodbyes to the police as well. I checked my phone when I got outside. It was already nine o’clock. I took a cab back to my neighborhood and stopped at my favorite noodle shop. On the walk home, I had the unsettling feeling that someone was following me. But when I turned around, the street behind me was empty. I figured the day’s events had just left me on edge. Normally, I would go for a run around my complex in the evenings to clear my head, but after the day I’d had, I just wanted to go home and sleep. I collapsed onto my beanbag chair. Vaguely, I heard the doors of the neighboring apartments opening and closing. A moment later, there was a knock on my door. Thinking it was the building manager making their rounds, I opened it without a second thought. Rick was standing there. He took advantage of my shock, lunging forward and grabbing me by the throat. “You bitch. I finally found you. I’m going to ask you one last time. Are you going to transfer me the money or not?” From six in the morning to nine at night. Fifteen hours. My one day of rest, completely ruined. And the police at the station had made it perfectly clear. How could they be so dense? I shoved him back with all my strength. “Are you insane? You’ll get your two thousand dollars back in a week! Who’s the desperate one here?” Brenda slapped me hard across the face. “Think you’re tough, huh? All you had to do was transfer the money, and this would all be over. But you had to make it difficult. I guess you just like getting hurt.” I staggered back, clutching my cheek, my entire body trembling with rage. Tears welled in my eyes as I choked out, “What right do you have to hit me? You’re the one who made the mistake. I didn’t ask you to send me anything. Why should I have to pay for your stupidity?” Rick sneered. “The credit went to your number. That means you owe me the money. I’m doing you a favor by letting you pay me back.” He pulled out his phone and brought up a payment QR code. “Send me the money now. Otherwise, starting tomorrow, I’m charging interest. A hundred bucks a day. You’re short a single penny, and I’ll break your legs.” “In your dreams,” I sobbed, fumbling for my own phone. “911? I’m being attacked. They’re threatening me. My address is—” Enraged, Rick grabbed a ceramic flowerpot from my neighbor’s doorway and smashed it over my head. The world exploded in a shower of ceramic and dirt. A curtain of crimson fell over my eyes. My neighbor, hearing the commotion, rushed out of his apartment. “What are you doing? Is this a home invasion?” His shout brought other neighbors out into the hall. The men from the other apartments didn’t hesitate; they tackled Rick and pinned him to the ground. “Call 911! Now! Tell them someone is trying to commit murder!”

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On a variety show, the host asked us to confess the most wicked thing we’d ever done. I smiled shyly. “When I was a kid, my best friend and I hid all of her older brother’s pants.” The other guests leaned in, their faces full of curiosity, demanding to know what happened next. Beside me, the famous movie star smiled and finished the story for me. “And later, she turned around, provoked me, and threatened to pants me herself.” I froze. 1 I ended up on this variety show as a favor to a friend, basically just to fill a seat. In the first episode, the host asked us about the most wicked thing we’d ever done. I fell silent for a moment. Not because I couldn’t think of anything, but because I’ve done so many questionable things growing up. Where to even start? After everyone else shared their stories, the camera panned to me. I picked the crown jewel of my childhood pranks without hesitation. “When I was a kid, my best friend and I hid all of her older brother’s pants.” The memory was so ridiculous I couldn’t help but giggle. Sitting next to me, fellow guest Lexi leaned in, eyes wide. “And then what happened?” I racked my brain, then hesitated. I was too embarrassed to finish the story. The truth was, I didn’t apologize. Instead, I doubled down and taunted him. I hadn’t dared to show my face in front of him since. Seeing me stammer, Lexi let her imagination run wild. “Did you get beat up?” I shook my head. “Did you guys start dating?” I shook my head violently like a rattle drum. Lexi, impatient as ever, stomped her foot. “So what happened? Tell us!” I scratched my head, about to speak, when the movie star next to me smiled and chimed in. “Later, she turned around, provoked me, and threatened to pants me herself.” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. Him? He was Liam Stone? Lexi’s gaze darted between me and Liam, her brain clearly overheating. After a long pause, she finally asked, “So, the poor guy who got his pants stolen… was you?” Then she looked at me. “And the little devil who stole them… was you?” I kept my head down, my eyes involuntarily drifting toward Liam. I couldn’t figure it out. I just wanted to share a funny story. How did I end up sitting next to the victim? 2 It wasn’t entirely my fault I didn’t recognize Liam. Back then, he wore a black mask all day long, acting all mysterious. My best friend, Lola Stone, constantly cried to me about how cruel her brother was. Stealing her allowance, eating her snacks… you name it. Eventually, she invited me over to steal Liam’s pants. She called it “teaching him a lesson.” I was at that age where justice felt paramount, and after hearing Lola’s tales of woe, I agreed in a burst of righteous indignation. Our plan was simple. I’d be the lookout in the living room while Lola sneaked into his bedroom to grab the goods. But there was a snag. As I was helping Lola transport the loot to her room, we ran smack into Liam. Remembering his cold stare still makes me feel guilty. But thinking of how much Lola suffered under his tyranny, I summoned my courage and shouted, “If you bully Lola again, next time I’ll pants you myself!” Years later… Lola got drunk and accidentally spilled the beans. The stolen allowance? The snatched snacks? All lies. Just stories she made up during her dramatic phase. I kept a straight face, but inside I was screaming. The stories were fake, but my threat to Liam was very real! Since then, I haven’t dared to see Liam face-to-face. 3 Believing in owning up to mistakes, I immediately apologized to Liam. “I’m so sorry. I was young and ignorant. I’ve learned my lesson. Please forgive me, Mr. Stone.” How profound was this lesson? Well, since that incident, I only believe about a third of what Lola says. The live comments were going wild. [Haha, look at Anna looking like a scolded elementary schooler.] [Mr. Stone, forgive our Anna! She’s just a little bit clueless.] [Don’t blame Anna! Being clueless isn’t a crime!] [I’m crying. I told my bestie my brother bullies me, and she said, ‘Good job, bro.’] [Okay, but Liam doesn’t look mad at all. He’s been smiling the whole time.] Seeing that last comment, I looked up at Liam. Our eyes met. Liam seemed to remember something, and let out a low chuckle. I was terrified. Lola’s words echoed in my mind: Liam has evolved. He’s learned how to play dirty. I pulled out my phone and texted Lola for help. Even from across the ocean, she replied instantly: [Be careful! My brother texted me hours ago saying he ran into you. I could feel the murderous intent through the screen!] Combined with Liam’s meaningful smile, my hands trembled as I typed: [What do I do?] [Your brother holds grudges like crazy!] [Help me! How do I apologize so he’ll accept it?] Lola went silent. I was panicking like an ant on a hot pan. Just then, the director told us to pick partners for the upcoming tasks. Lexi, enjoying the drama, nudged Liam. “Want to partner up with Anna?” Liam smiled, eyes crinkling. “Of course.” Before I could panic, he added, “I want to see how she plans to pants me.” Me: [Internal Screaming] 4 After pairing up, Liam naturally sat next to me. I struggled internally for a long time before finally whispering, “Can I not be your partner?” Liam raised an eyebrow but said nothing. According to Lola, this was the calm before the storm. I lowered my head, speaking fast. “I was young and dumb when I helped Lola hide your pants. I really know I was wrong.” “And I swear, I never actually wanted to pants you! Really!” I even raised my hand in a vow. Liam leaned back on the sofa. “You think I picked you to get revenge for the pants incident?” Talk about stating the obvious. But I nodded anyway and apologized again. “I really know I messed up.” Liam looked at me for a few seconds, then laughed. “Your apology seems sincere enough.” I quickly ran through Lola’s teachings but couldn’t decipher the emotion behind his words. So I sneaked a glance at him. Okay, he’s smiling. That means he’s probably in a good mood. Relieved, I asked, “So about the partners…” Liam kept smiling, but his words killed my hope. “Of course we’re staying together. We’re old acquaintances. Our chemistry should be great.” I tried to smile, but my face wouldn’t cooperate. Seeing my despair, Liam’s mood improved even more. Before leaving, he ruffled my hair and dropped a bomb. “Why has your courage shrunk so much?” I smoothed my hair, staring at his back, thinking angrily that Lola was right. Liam Stone is not a good person!

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I was recently reading a high school romance novel, and the heroine was basically my dream girl—exactly my type. Just as I was screaming “Wifey!” at the pages in the middle of the night, I transmigrated. But I didn’t wake up as the male lead. I woke up as the invisible side character the male lead doesn’t even glance at. I grieved. I stomped my feet. I cried. I gave up. If I couldn’t win the heroine’s heart, I would win at the GPA game. So, I studied like my life depended on it. I read while eating. I read while walking between classes. I even studied on the toilet. By some twist of fate, my grades got me moved into the same Honors homeroom as the heroine. Just when I thought I could stay invisible and ride out the plot, the male lead cornered me. He accused me of stealing his woman. Chapter 1 The first day I woke up in this book, I fell for the heroine, Elena Vance. It wasn’t love at first sight; I had been coveting her for a long time. Back when I was reading the book, I’d bury my face in my pillow and squeal. The cold, aloof, academic goddess—she checked every single one of my boxes. Seeing her in person? I could barely control myself. But the situation had changed. In this world, she couldn’t be my fictional “waifu.” She was a real person, destined to be a stranger to me. I could only watch from a distance as her sweet romance with the male lead, Julian Sterling, unfolded. A sense of loss sat heavy on my chest, suffocating me. At that point in the timeline, she and Julian weren’t together yet. Plenty of brave guys confessed to Elena. Without exception, she rejected them all with an icy stare. I figured my crush would have to be buried six feet under. I was just a background character with zero presence. Broken family, average looks, zero confidence. I didn’t even get the standard “Transmigrator System” or a cheat code. I couldn’t just snap my fingers and get what I wanted. So, I turned my grief into motivation. I threw myself into my studies. Partly because it’s what a teenager is supposed to do. Partly out of selfishness. I wanted to be closer to Elena. I didn’t ask for much. Just being in the same room as her would be enough. From then on, I became that kid—the first one at school, the one reading textbooks during lunch. After the placement exams, I jumped two hundred spots in the rankings and got placed into the Honors Block—the same homeroom as the main characters. On my first day in the new class, Julian ran up to me immediately. “Liam? Who are you looking for?” In the original text, “Liam” (me) was a total slacker. I was Julian’s “plastic bro”—fair-weather friends. By day, I’d gossip with him; by night, I’d bite my blanket in jealousy of his golden-boy aura. I used to be too busy being a bitter, shady loser to study. That’s why he assumed I was lost. “I tested into this class,” I explained. “Huh?” He froze, then ran to the bulletin board to check the roster. He came back, looking me up and down. “Hell of an improvement, man.” I gave an awkward smile and kept my head down as I took my seat. Elena was sitting on the other side of the room. I pretended to look out the window, but I was watching her from the corner of my eye. Julian seemed to be telling her about me testing in. She didn’t look interested, but she did glance in my direction. I held my breath and smoothly shifted my gaze to my notebook. Close call. Almost made eye contact. Chapter 2 The atmosphere in the Honors Block was definitely different. Intense. At least here, I wasn’t a freak. Everyone else was also solving equations during breaks and forming study groups in the hallways. I stabilized my rank near the top of the grade, attending the same elite prep school as Elena and Julian. Based on entrance scores, I barely scraped into their class. Elena was #1. I was third from the last. Julian, however, dropped to a regular class. Elena’s character setting was the “Genius Ice Queen.” Julian’s setting was the “Charming Natural Talent”—the guy who never does homework but somehow pulls a B+ or A-. The author separated them to let the heroine meet the “Second Male Lead” in her class. The Second Lead falls for her, creating the necessary angst and drama. But none of that concerned me. I was just grinding XP in real life. For the first two years, aside from being classmates, Elena and I had zero interaction. Occasionally, Julian would come to find me, and I’d inevitably be in the same frame as them. It was a relationship where we’d pass each other outside school and not even wave. She truly didn’t care. I, on the other hand, was faking it. My heart would pound every time I saw her, but I kept my face as stiff as a board. Flawless poker face. Good job, me. Because I was addicted to studying, my fake friendship with Julian faded to almost nothing. By the time we hit junior year, he had almost forgotten I existed. But once high school started, he suddenly got enthusiastic again. He said I was studying myself to death and needed to relax. One time, he invited Elena and dragged me along to hang out. If you asked if I wanted to go, the answer was hell no. I could have finished three practice exams in that time. But he wouldn’t take no for an answer. I figured I’d just watch them play while mentally reviewing my error log. When we got to the location, my brain short-circuited. It was the amusement park. Six Flags. According to the plot, this is where they share their first kiss. This is where they break the tension and officially start dating. My mind was a mess. I don’t remember what I ate or what rides we went on. Night fell, and the park lit up with neon lights. Julian pulled Elena away to watch the fireworks. I trailed fifty feet behind them, getting jostled by the crowd. Under the exploding fireworks, they confessed their feelings. Julian lowered his head and shyly kissed Elena. The scene was too beautiful. I couldn’t watch. I lowered my head in panic. Tears fell, one by one, soaking the pages of the notebook I was clutching. I fled. I texted Julian, lying that I had a strict curfew and had to bounce. Naturally, no reply. They had already forgotten me. While they held hands, young and certain, I—the third wheel—ran home wiping my eyes. Then, in my empty house, I broke down and sobbed. I’m sorry. I really couldn’t pretend anymore. But even as I cried until I couldn’t breathe, I gritted my teeth, pulled out a workbook, and forced myself to solve problems. Unrequited love is torture, especially when you have nothing else. My only “cheat code” was that I had been an adult once. I knew the importance of education. I knew not to destroy myself over a love that had no future. Chapter 3 Elena and Julian were officially a couple. They were about to start their decade-long romantic marathon. Sure, they would fight, they would break up. But the text said: Elena never stopped loving Julian, and Julian’s heart always belonged to Elena. Such a beautiful sentence. Such a cruel sentence for me. I wasn’t the only one suffering. There was Chloe. Chloe (the female antagonist/villainess) was a rich girl who loved Julian. In the book, she’d do crazy things out of jealousy. Originally, I was supposed to be her henchman, fanning the flames. But honestly, I was more worried about my AP Calculus midterm. When the teacher beamed and told me I ranked second in the class, I finally felt a little better. I entered as the bottom of the class. By midterms, I was flying. I didn’t let my efforts down. In this class, seats were assigned by GPA. Elena was the immovable #1. I was assigned the desk right next to her. Desk mates! According to romance tropes, this is where the sparks fly, right? Nope. We sat inches apart, but we didn’t speak for days. She was naturally cold. I was guilty of loving her. I didn’t dare speak. The only thing she said to me was a reminder. “Caleb, your water bottle is leaking.” I wiped up the spill and couldn’t help but correct her. “My name is Liam…” Haha. She didn’t even know my name. We existed in this indifferent bubble for a while. Then, suddenly, Julian stormed in and started an argument with Elena right in front of me. He demanded to know why she hadn’t told him she was sitting next to me. Elena frowned, genuinely confused. “Does it matter?” Since the semester started, we’d been through diagnostic tests, monthly exams, and midterms. She had cycled through several desk mates. But Julian only seemed to care about me. He looked at me, then at her, and finally stormed off without saying another word. I figured it was because I was technically someone Julian “knew.” Put yourself in his shoes: his girlfriend is sitting next to his (former) friend and didn’t mention it. He probably felt ignored. After lunch, I wanted to apologize to Julian. “Julian…” I called his name, but he acted like I was invisible, laughing and joking with his crew. “Bro, that movie you mentioned yesterday? I watched it, almost died laughing…” I stood there awkwardly for two seconds and decided not to press my luck. I barely talked to Julian anymore anyway. Bringing up a seating chart change would just make it weird. As for Elena, we really weren’t close. She’d explain it to him eventually. Thinking about this burned too many brain cells, so I dropped it. But two days later, someone ambushed me on my walk home. “Liam, right?” It was Chloe. The villainess. I had my AirPods in, listening to a Spanish listening practice, so I didn’t hear her call me. I just walked past her. Furious, she hopped in front of me and yanked an AirPod out of my ear. “…” I frowned. “Can I help you?” I’m sure I looked annoyed. Chloe looked guilty for a split second before recovering her “mean girl” face. “Listen to me!” She said viciously, “I may not like Elena, that ice block, but I will not allow you to hurt Julian or ruin their relationship.” What a niche accusation. I processed this for a moment. “How am I ruining their relationship?” “Stop pretending. You’re shameless,” Chloe crossed her arms. “You’re the one seducing Elena, aren’t you? Hmph. You have some nerve. I thought you’d be some hot guy, but you don’t even compare to a single hair on Julian’s head.” Me? Seducing Elena? How did I miss such a major life event? “Do you have evidence?” I asked. “Of course!” She said self-righteous. “The evidence is that you’re sitting next to her!” “…You do realize seats are assigned by GPA?” I thought about it. “Oh, you mean I should have tanked my exam on purpose to avoid sitting there?” “That would have been best.” Chloe smiled, satisfied. She didn’t hear the sarcasm. Usually, I ignore people like this. But she was rude, speaking nonsense, and stepping on my last nerve. “Unfortunately.” I sneered, “I’m not like you. I didn’t get in here on a donor’s check. I can’t afford to treat my grades like a joke.” Chloe was a rich kid, forced into this school by her parents. Her parents were self-made; they preferred the elite public magnet school environment over a soft private school. But the concept that “money rules everything” was deeply ingrained in her. She had the capital to treat life like a game. I didn’t. Sitting next to Elena was great. But even if she wasn’t there, I deserved that seat. I deserved her seat. Chloe was enraged and threatened to make me pay. In the book, this was her character. Impulsive, but not inherently evil. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be threatening me to protect the male lead while simultaneously crying about him dating the heroine. I didn’t take her words to heart. Until the next monthly exam. I was caught cheating. Chapter 4 Halfway through the exam, I was dragged out. The proctor said a student reported me for bringing notes into the testing hall. Then, like a magician, he pulled a semi-transparent slip of paper from my hoodie pocket. It was covered in microscopic text—all the key formulas for this test. “Liam! Liam, I always thought you were an honest, hardworking kid. How could you do this?!” “You’re not just disrespecting yourself! You’re shaming your family and this class!” “You came in with average grades and improved so fast… was it all just tricks like this?” I stood in the administrative office. Teachers took turns scolding me, heartbroken. They denied my character. They questioned my past achievements. I said the cheat sheet wasn’t mine. That just earned me another round of yelling for “lying.” I thought back. Before the test, I left my hoodie on my chair to go to the bathroom. That must be when someone slipped the note in and reported me. Obviously, it was Chloe, or someone she hired. It was a low-blow tactic, but impossible to defend against. I mean, who frames someone like this in high school? I had no proof of innocence. I told them it was likely related to the person who reported me. They said they had to protect the whistleblower’s identity. So, I took the fall. Public humiliation. The Dean of Students was strict. He didn’t keep it anonymous. He wanted to make an example of me. [Liam (ID #xxxx) caught cheating during monthly exams. Grade invalidated.] The text scrolled across the digital announcement boards in the hallway. Everyone who walked in saw it. Naturally, I was ostracized. No one wanted to be in my group for projects. No one picked me for PE. During cleanup duty, I was assigned to sweep the outside perimeter alone. “Don’t let the cheater touch it,” they’d whisper, making exaggerated disgusted faces. Luckily. I wasn’t actually sixteen mentally. This frame-up couldn’t break me. When the results came out, my score was voided, and I was moved to the “shame corner” at the back of the room. A new guy took the seat next to Elena. He was a top student, openly crushing on her. He’d bring her water during volleyball, fake being tired during study hall just to lean on her shoulder. Julian didn’t care. Sometimes he’d even link arms with Elena just to make the new guy’s eyes turn red with jealousy. Chloe didn’t bother the new guy either. She just leaned against the back door, watching me with glee. She mouthed a word at me. Deserved. Reading the book, I hadn’t realized Chloe was this childish. I was isolated, and she got a kick out of it. But did it actually affect me? I studied. I ate. During PE, when no one would partner with me, I snuck back to the empty classroom to solve calculus problems. I finished the last question and realized someone was standing next to me. It was Elena. I didn’t know how long she had been watching. Not watching me. Watching my exam paper. She was holding a volleyball loosely; she must have come back to grab it. She stood close. For me, it was close enough. I could smell the clean scent of her laundry detergent. For some reason, neither of us spoke. The classroom was silent. I could hear my own heartbeat. A wave of indescribable melancholy washed over me. I didn’t want to speak. I didn’t want to move. I wished time would stop right here. But I didn’t dare be greedy. I was afraid that if I let it go on for a few more seconds, the atmosphere would become ambiguous. Eventually, I broke the silence. “What’s up?” “Mmm…” She hummed, thinking. “You missed a step in the calculation.” —Which step? Can you teach me? That’s what I should have said. There was an empty seat right next to me—the seat no one wanted. If I asked, maybe she would sit down and explain the complex derivation. Instead, I calmly picked up my phone and opened a scanning app. “Oh. I’ll just look it up on Chegg.” “Okay.” Elena turned and walked away. I uploaded the photo, crying internally. Stupid mouth. Hopeless.

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The words hit me on the drive to drop my sister off at college. “You know, Mindy,” she said suddenly, “you’re such a show-off.” I slammed on the brakes. My sister, Stella, just waved her phone at me, unfazed. “Insisting on driving me to campus in this thing,” she scoffed. “It’s all about flaunting your new car.” “You buy me a thousand-dollar phone but can’t even be bothered to get me a case for it.” “Mom and Dad are right,” she continued, her voice dripping with disdain. “You don’t actually care about us. You just like showing off how much money you have.” From the back seat, my parents chimed in. “All you do is throw money at us, but there’s no heart in it,” my mother said. “You’re just not close to us.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I spun the steering wheel, pulling a sharp U-turn and heading straight for the train station. “Fine,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “To keep me from ‘showing off,’ you can all take the train.” 1 My mom’s temper flared instantly. “What is that supposed to mean? We say a few words and suddenly you’re throwing a tantrum at your own parents?” Stella was lounging in her seat, scrolling through her phone. She shot me a classic eye-roll. “My sister’s making the big bucks now, can’t you tell? You guys better apologize. We can’t afford to get on her bad side.” My dad’s hand shot up, his face contorted with rage, ready to teach me a lesson. “We’ve spoiled you rotten,” he roared. “How dare you expect your elders to apologize to you!” I felt like a spectator watching a bizarre family drama unfold. I hadn’t said another word, yet somehow, I was the villain again. Seeing my stony silence, my mom’s tone softened, a practiced, manipulative shift. “Look at you,” she chided my dad. “Are you really going to hit your own child? We’re the grown-ups here. She just needs to say she’s sorry, and we can put this all behind us.” “Why should I apologize?” I asked. “What did I do wrong?” My voice was flat, as if I were asking if they preferred coffee or tea. But my detached tone was like gasoline on my father’s fire. His hand flew, and a sharp crack echoed through the car. “Still talking back!” he bellowed. I cupped my swelling cheek, the shock rendering me speechless. Stella burst into delighted laughter. “Careful, Dad,” she chirped. “She’s not the same old Mindy. She might call the cops on you for domestic abuse.” My mom made a disapproving sound at Stella before stepping closer to inspect my face. “Who do you have to blame but yourself?” she said coolly. “You know your father’s temper. You should have known better than to provoke him.” Not a single one of them asked if I was okay. It was all my fault. Always. “Alright, you’ve made your point,” my mom sighed, as if I were the one being dramatic. “Now be a good girl and drive your sister to school before she’s late.” A hollow laugh escaped me. “No,” I said, my voice firm. “I’m not taking her to school.” The smug, theatrical smile on Stella’s face froze. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? You want me to beg.” My mom immediately jumped in. “Forget your sister begging. I’m begging you, okay?” My dad just snorted with contempt. The tension in the car was thick enough to cut with a knife, and it was starting to attract attention from passersby at the station. Someone leaned in, their face a mask of nosy concern. “It’s a family matter,” a woman clucked. “Just talk it out.” That was all the opening my mother needed. Her lips started moving, and in an instant, I was painted as the jealous, disrespectful daughter who hated her sister and defied her parents. The onlookers stared at me with judgmental eyes. “Young lady, you reap what you sow,” one woman said, shaking her head. “Being cruel to your own family will bring you nothing but bad luck.” An elderly woman at the front of the small crowd fixed me with a piercing glare. “A girl like that is poison to a home.” My mom and Stella were a well-oiled machine. “Mindy, it was just a small thing,” Stella pleaded, her voice suddenly sweet and wounded. “If you just apologize now, we can all forget this happened.” They couldn’t even articulate what I was supposed to be sorry for, but they were determined to force an apology out of me. My sanity was fraying. My fists clenched so tight my knuckles turned white. “Looking at those clothes, you must make good money,” a man in the crowd sneered, holding up his phone. “Big companies care about character, you know. You don’t apologize, we put this online. Your career will be over.” He shoved the phone right in my face. My mother stood just behind him, her expression a perfect portrait of wronged, tearful motherhood. “Just say you’re sorry, sweetie,” she whispered. My dad grunted. “Words are useless. A couple more slaps is what she needs. I bet she’ll apologize then.” 2 A fire ignited in my gut. I lunged, grabbing my dad, and landed a solid punch right in his jaw. He stumbled back, stunned. My mom and sister froze, their mouths hanging open in disbelief. “What the hell, you crazy bitch!” my dad roared, regaining his senses. “You dare hit your own father?” He charged at me, fists flailing wildly. It was his go-to move. Anytime life didn’t go his way, his fists found me. My mom would just watch, pulling my sister into a protective embrace. “Just take it, Mindy,” she’d say. “He’s your father. He won’t kill you.” But I wasn’t that helpless girl anymore. From my first year of college until now, I’d spent seven years training in Taekwondo. I had been waiting for this moment. When his fist came flying at my face again, I blocked it effortlessly and slammed my own fist back into him, hard. He lost his balance and crashed to the ground. My mom and Stella rushed to his side. “That’s your father!” my mom shrieked, her calm facade shattered. “How could you hit him?” “I’m his daughter, aren’t I?” I shot back. “He hit me.” “You have a heart of stone.” A heart of stone? I thought my heart was far too soft. The clothes on their backs, the phones in their hands, what part of their comfortable lives hadn’t I paid for? And what did I get in return? Not a single kind word. Just a slap in the face. Well, I was done feeding the ungrateful wolves. I lost it, raining blows down on my father. My mother screamed for me to stop, but her only action was to shield Stella, pulling her further away from the scene. “Mindy, he’s your dad, you can’t kill him!” “Don’t worry,” I said, my voice cold. “I’m his dear daughter. I won’t kill him.” The crowd of gawkers instantly scattered, backing away as if the violence was contagious. No one wanted to get involved now. My mom frantically dialed her phone, trying to call for reinforcements, even pleading with the strangers who were now keeping a wide berth. I watched her, a bitter memory surfacing. The year I got into college, they told me they couldn’t afford my tuition. Then, a week later, they booked an international tour for the three of them. I’d cried, I’d begged. My mother had just covered her face and whimpered, “This is just how it is, honey. We don’t have the money.” They had the money for a family vacation abroad, but not for my education. I was the one who had to take out student loans to make it through. “Mom,” I asked, my voice trembling with years of unspoken pain. “Am I even your real daughter?” She turned to me, tears streaming down her face. “How can you ask me that? After I raised you from a baby, after everything I’ve done for you?” She hadn’t raised me. Not really. She’d raised Stella. I’d raised myself on the scraps they left behind. “I used to desperately want an answer to that question, Mom,” I said, my voice steadying. “But I think I have my answer now.” She stared at me, confused. “What are you talking about?” “Nothing,” I said. “It means nothing.” And it was true. It was all so meaningless, trying to squeeze love from people who had none to give. I’d earned my own money, and I’d showered it on them, hoping to finally buy their affection. But all I got was their contempt. This love… I wasn’t going to beg for it anymore. 3 Instead of calling the police, my mother called our relatives—the family’s jury and executioners. My aunt and uncle, Carol and Kevin, arrived and herded us all back home, where the verbal assault began. “You’re not a child anymore, Mindy,” Aunt Carol scolded, her voice sharp. “Why do you have to be so difficult with your parents?” “Your sister is younger than you,” Uncle Kevin added. “It’s only natural for them to dote on her a little more. Making a scene in public like that just embarrasses everyone.” “Doting on her a little more” meant Stella went to a private international school while I went to a public one. It meant my mother didn’t hesitate to spend three thousand dollars on a summer camp for Stella but refused to pay twenty dollars for my school uniform. She even stormed into the school to complain. “My daughter doesn’t like wearing a uniform! If you force her to buy one, I’ll report you to the school board!” After that spectacle, the teachers avoided me. The other students steered clear. They’d whisper behind my back. “Her mom’s crazy, so she must be crazy too.” I grew up isolated, a ghost in the hallways. I didn’t make a real friend until I got to college. But my parents hated that, too. They complained that my new friends were cutting into my part-time work hours, that the money I sent home was less than before. They sent an anonymous letter to the university, accusing my friends of being a bad influence. Just like that, my friendships were severed. No one wanted to be near the girl with a ticking time bomb for a family. I broke down. I gave them every penny I had, sobbing, begging them to just leave my school life alone. The next week, they used that money to treat all of Stella’s friends to a lavish dinner at a five-star hotel. I stood outside the private dining room, watching through a crack in the door, feeling like a rat spying on a world of warmth and belonging that would never be mine. It wasn’t that they were just biased. It was that, in their hearts, there was never any room for me at all. “Every time we try to talk to you, you just clam up,” Aunt Carol said, snapping me back to the present. “You’re not charming like your sister. No wonder your parents don’t love you.” I was done listening to their brainwashing. “There’s no grudge between a father and daughter that lasts overnight,” Uncle Kevin declared. “Take your dad to the hospital, look after him, and this will all be over.” “I’d rather he were dead,” I said, the words tasting like poison. Uncle Kevin lunged forward, his finger pointed at my forehead, but he froze when he saw the feral look in my eyes. “You’ve really lost your mind,” he muttered. “From this day forward, I have nothing to do with any of you,” I announced, my voice ringing with finality. “Don’t ever contact me again.” I stormed out to my car and started pulling their luggage out, tossing it onto the curb. My mother, completely ignoring my declaration, yelped in protest. “Be careful! That stuff is expensive!” I shot her a smile devoid of any warmth. “I paid for all of it with my credit card. If I want to smash it to pieces, no one can say a word.” That set Stella off. She stepped in front of my mom, her chin high. “Those are my things! How dare you touch them with your filthy hands?” “Your things?” I laughed. “Did you pay a single cent for any of them?” With that, I picked up her favorite possession, a delicate music box, and smashed it on the pavement. “My music box!” she shrieked, her voice cracking. Onlookers were starting to gather again, pointing and murmuring, but no one dared to step closer this time. It wasn’t like I could resell any of it anyway. One by one, I destroyed everything. A shard of glass from a shattered picture frame sliced my hand. Blood welled up, but I felt no pain. Only then did my mother seem to feel a pang of something. “You wasteful child! That’s thousands of dollars’ worth of stuff!” Fueled by a fresh wave of rage, I reached out and ripped the pearl necklace from her neck and the diamond pendant from Stella’s. “The clothes you wear, the jewelry you flaunt, wasn’t it all bought with my money?” I spat. “You have no right to judge me. You three are nothing but leeches, living by sucking my blood. I’m the one who feeds you, who keeps you. I have the right to destroy you, too.” That was the final straw. My mother collapsed onto the ground, wailing and slapping her thighs. “We’re done!” she screamed. “As of today, you are not my daughter!” 4 I packed a bag and left without a second glance. My company had offered me a general manager position at a branch in another state. I’d been hesitant to accept, thinking my family needed me. Now, I called my boss immediately. That same day, I was on a plane. A month passed before my mother finally called. “We’ve given you a month to think things over,” she said, her tone imperious. “It’s time for you to come home and apologize.” I hung up without a word and blocked her number. But I forgot about her on my messaging app. A barrage of texts followed, all variations on the theme of my ungratefulness. I was so tired of hearing it. I blocked her there, too. Soon, Aunt Carol and Uncle Kevin began their telephone assault. I blocked them all. But this family was relentless. They used an unknown number to finally get through to me. It was Uncle Kevin. “What’s the meaning of this, staying away for a whole month?” he demanded. “If I recall correctly, it was Mom who said we were done,” I replied coldly. “That isn’t my home anymore.” My directness seemed to stump him. He resorted to blustering. “That’s your mother! She was just angry. You can’t take her words to heart.” No one knew the killing power of words better than I did. They were like curved blades, hacking away at my heart, piece by piece. Sensing my resolve, Uncle Kevin softened his tone. “A mother and daughter don’t hold grudges overnight. Come back for dinner. Let’s talk.” Dinner wasn’t the point. If we were truly going to separate, I needed to get my name off the family’s official records. When I walked through the door, my mother shot me a look of pure disdain. Stella, ever the actress, gasped dramatically. “Well, well, look what the cat dragged in! The princess has returned! Mom, Dad, roll out the red carpet!” “She’s no damn princess,” my dad grumbled from the couch. He had recovered well enough to curse at me with his usual vigor. I held out my hand. “I need the household register.” “What do you want that for?” my mom asked, not even bothering to look up from the vegetables she was chopping in the kitchen. “Are you really serious about cutting ties with us?” she scoffed, finally turning to face me. “You don’t have the guts.” A heavy, suffocating weight settled in my chest. If I could, I would sever the past along with our ties. But I knew that was impossible. Aunt Carol was unusually pleasant, and Uncle Kevin even brought me a glass of water. It was all deeply strange, until they led me to the dining table. Then it all became clear. “Mindy,” Aunt Carol began, her smile stretched thin. “Your parents tell us you’re doing very well at your company. We were thinking you could get your cousins, Brian and Jessica, jobs there.” It wasn’t a request; it was a royal decree. I understood now. This wasn’t a family dinner; it was a shakedown. I put down my chopsticks. “I don’t have that kind of power.” Their friendly masks dropped instantly. “We’re family,” Uncle Kevin snapped. “We ask for one small favor, and you make excuses? Are you saying you’re too good for us now?” “Don’t think you’re hot stuff just because you’ve got some fancy job,” my dad chimed in. “You need your own people in the company. Brian and Jessica would be loyal to you.” His business philosophy was decades out of date. I couldn’t even begin to argue with him. “I don’t need them,” I said flatly. “I only came here today for one thing.” “Fine,” he snarled. “Say it and get out.” The moment he realized he wasn’t getting what he wanted, he couldn’t stand the sight of me. Aunt Carol and Uncle Kevin just sniffed dismissively. “No wonder you two always favored the younger one,” Aunt Carol muttered. “The older one is useless.” I’d heard it a million times. It was just their way of trying to manipulate me. “The household register. I’m moving my name off the records.” My mother’s face went pale. “What? Are you really disowning us?” I didn’t answer, just kept my hand outstretched. But she clutched her purse, refusing to give it to me. “You never loved me,” I said, my voice cracking. “Can’t you at least let me leave in peace?” While they were distracted, I made a break for my parents’ bedroom. All the important family documents were kept in the bottom drawer of their wardrobe. There it was, a bright red folder at the very bottom. I pulled it out triumphantly and opened it. And then I froze. I wasn’t on the family’s household register at all.

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The day before the SATs, Ethan, my childhood friend, met a party girl named Bella at a bar. She invited him to celebrate his 18th birthday with her. Ethan, who usually prioritized his studies above all else, surprisingly agreed. Earlier that day, I had accidentally overheard Bella talking to her friend in the restroom: “Tonight, I’m going to make sure Ethan has the time of his life! He won’t even make it to the SATs tomorrow!” So, in my past life, when Ethan mentioned his plans, I tried desperately to stop him. But all I got in return was his mockery: “Maya, Bella planned this party for my 18th birthday. Just because you’re a coward who won’t celebrate with me doesn’t mean you can stop me from pursuing my happiness.” For the sake of his future, I ignored his insults and secretly told his parents. That night, Ethan’s parents locked him in his room and personally escorted him to the exam center the next day. Ethan got into an Ivy League school as he wished. But Bella, because her plan failed, got drunk and was assaulted by strangers. Unable to bear the trauma, she jumped from the 33rd floor and died instantly. When Ethan heard the news, he broke down completely. He invited me to his house, pretended to make amends, and then drugged me to create compromising evidence. After I left, he called the police and accused me of sexual assault. My future was ruined. My parents, unable to withstand the cyberbullying, committed suicide by carbon monoxide poisoning at home. Ethan stood outside my house, coldly recording my parents’ dying moments. He brought the recording to visit me in prison. “Maya, I want your whole family to pay for Bella’s life!” The shock gave me a heart attack, and I died in prison… When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day before the SATs. I looked at Ethan, who was chatting excitedly about his birthday party tonight, and smiled. In this life, I’ll let him do whatever he wants… Chapter 1 “Maya, what’s with that attitude?! Can you not be so sensitive just because there’s a girl around me?!” The familiar voice snapped me back to reality. I looked down at my hands, free of handcuffs, and then at Ethan, who was pointing at me… I was really reborn! In my past life, today was the day I stopped Ethan from going out with Bella to celebrate his 18th birthday. Ethan got into his dream school, but Bella died tragically. After hearing the news, Ethan pretended to be nice, lured me to his house, stripped off his clothes, filmed a video, and posted it online. Then he called the police, accusing me of assault. I was thrown in jail. My parents, hounded by cyberbullies, committed suicide. Ethan stood outside our door, filming their death throes with a smile, then left. The next day, he visited me in prison, played the video, and screamed at me: “Maya, if you hadn’t stopped me, Bella wouldn’t have died! My grades were always perfect. Even if I went out with Bella the night before, I would have still gotten into an Ivy! You selfish bitch! Bella died for nothing, and I want your whole family to pay!” He knew I had a congenital heart condition. So, the moment I saw the video and my heart gave out, I saw the smile lingering on his lips… The chilling memory made my face pale. “Come on, Ethan, you have to understand Maya. She’s the top student, too scared to go out and have fun. It’s normal for her to be jealous that Bella gets to go out with you…” Ethan’s friend’s words pulled me back. Ethan looked at me with a sneer, then patted his friend’s shoulder proudly: “Bella said she prepared a huge surprise for my 18th birthday tonight. I’m really looking forward to it. Celebrating with such a beautiful girl… I’m sure I’ll perform even better tomorrow…” I laughed inwardly. This morning, I overheard Bella and her friend talking in the restroom: “I’m going to play with Ethan all night tonight. Don’t disturb us!” “He has the SATs tomorrow! Don’t go too crazy!” “SATs? Once he’s my man, he won’t be taking any exams. If he goes to college, he’ll forget about me…” It was because of this conversation that I tried so hard to stop Ethan. This wasn’t a birthday celebration; it was a trap to ruin his life… But Ethan didn’t know good from bad. Thinking of this, I looked up at the smug Ethan and smiled. “Go ahead, Ethan. I also believe that with a beauty like Bella accompanying you tonight, you’ll definitely perform beyond expectations tomorrow.” Chapter 2 Ethan was stunned for a moment by my response. But the thought of his upcoming date quickly brought a smile back to his face. Thinking about preparing for tomorrow’s exam, I picked up my backpack to leave. But as soon as I stood up, Ethan’s friends pushed me back into the chair. Ethan looked at me coldly, snatching my phone and exam admission ticket. “Trying to leave? I bet you’re going to tattle to my parents! I’ll keep these safe for you. I’ll give them back at the exam center tomorrow! If you dare go to my parents, don’t even think about taking the SATs tomorrow!” I looked at Ethan helplessly. “Ethan, you know how important this exam is to me. I promise not to tell your parents, but please don’t joke with my future, okay?” Whether Ethan could make it to the exam center tomorrow was a big question. I couldn’t leave my admission ticket with him. Seeing that Ethan had no intention of returning it, I rushed forward and grabbed the ticket still in his hand. My voice was colder than ever before. “Ethan, give it back.” “Ooh, the top student is angry! Ethan, you were right. Look at her, she’s definitely going to snitch! Don’t give it back!” Ethan’s grip, which had loosened slightly, tightened again at his friends’ jeering. I was frantic, my voice pleading. “Ethan, please don’t do this. You know how important this is…” Seeing me on the verge of tears, Ethan’s hand loosened a bit. But just as I was about to grab the ticket, his friends chimed in again. “Ethan! Think about your date with Bella! Don’t let her ruin it!” Ethan’s eyes changed instantly. He yanked his hand back hard! Rip… My admission ticket tore in half… The friends who had been cheering him on suddenly went pale. Tears that had been welling up in my eyes finally fell. A wave of despair and helplessness washed over me. Reborn, yet I still lost my future… Ethan’s face turned green and white. After a moment, he threw the torn pieces at me. “Maya, it’s your fault for trying to stop my date with Bella! You made me do this!” With that, he grabbed his friends and ran off like a madman. As the classroom door closed, I heard laughter from the hallway. “Ethan, Maya really is your doormat. You tore her ticket and she didn’t even say anything!” “Meh, she’s just weak. Not like Bella, so bold and free…” Ethan’s words pierced my heart like a needle. My tolerance for him was mistaken for weakness… Ethan and I had studied together since middle school. Going to a top university together was our promise for the future. But ever since Ethan met Bella outside of school, everything changed. It seemed Ethan no longer wanted a shared future with me. Thinking of this, I threw the torn ticket into the trash can and knocked on my homeroom teacher’s office door. “Mrs. Davis, I’ve thought about the early admission offer from State University. I think it suits me better…” Mrs. Davis looked delighted. “Good! You shouldn’t have given it up. The physics lab at State U will let you shine.” Back home, my parents were relieved to hear I didn’t need to take the SATs. They had been worried about me giving up a guaranteed spot for Ethan. Now, things had worked out as they wished… Chapter 3 Just after dinner, there was an urgent knock on the door. I opened it to find Ethan’s parents, looking anxious. “Maya, do you know where Ethan went? He sent us a message and then stopped answering calls. He has the SATs tomorrow, where could he have gone?” My mom looked at me too. “Maya, you’re usually with Ethan…” “Auntie, I don’t know.” I interrupted my mom and looked at Ethan’s mother. “Maya, do you know where he usually goes?” I forced an awkward smile. “Auntie, I really don’t know…” Ethan’s mom, getting no leads, shook her head and left helplessly. As soon as the door closed, my dad poked his head out. “Had a fight with Ethan? You really don’t know where he is?” I smiled at my dad and went back to my room. Of course I wouldn’t tell. Let him enjoy his wonderful night with Bella! My mom was the head of the Parent-Teacher Association, so she dragged me and Dad to volunteer at the exam center early in the morning. As soon as we arrived, we saw Ethan’s anxious parents. Seeing me, they rushed over. Mrs. Davis followed closely behind. “Maya, Ethan didn’t come home all night. Weren’t you together at school yesterday? Did he tell you where he was going?!” Mrs. Davis also asked, “Maya, you know how important this exam is to Ethan. It’s about to start, and he’s nowhere to be found. Think hard, where could he be?” Looking at Ethan’s frantic parents, I felt a pang of sympathy. But the image of my parents’ tragic death in my past life flashed in my mind. I gritted my teeth and looked up at them. “I really don’t know…” Mrs. Davis sighed and patted Ethan’s mom on the shoulder. “Maya is a good kid, maybe she really doesn’t know. Let’s try to find him another way…” But I knew they wouldn’t find him… Bella didn’t want Ethan to take the exam. Ethan was probably passed out in some hotel room right now… Sure enough, the exam started, and Ethan didn’t show up… Ethan’s parents were ordinary working-class people. To let Ethan focus on his studies, his mom quit her job to take care of him full-time. His dad worked three jobs, sleeping only three hours a day. They worked hard for over a decade to lift Ethan to this point. But the obedient, sensible Ethan disappeared right before the exam… The moment the exam center gates closed, Ethan’s mom collapsed, wailing in despair… “Mom…” Finally, just as the first exam was ending, a pale, staggering Ethan appeared at the gate. His mom sprang up from the ground and rushed towards him, slapping him across the face. “You bastard! Where the hell have you been…?!” I was cooling off with my parents nearby. Just as I was about to stand up, Ethan spoke. “Mom, it was Maya! Yesterday at school, she confessed her feelings to me. When I rejected her, she held a grudge, drugged me, and took me to a hotel. I just woke up! Maya ruined my life…” Chapter 4 I stood frozen in place. Before I could react, Ethan’s parents charged towards me. Ethan obviously didn’t expect me to be there. Seeing me, he quickly lowered his head. Remembering my parents’ tragic end in my past life, I quickly stepped in front of them. Ethan’s dad’s fist landed heavily on my face. “Animal! Just because Ethan rejected you, you ruined him?! Do you know how much our family sacrificed for today?!” I tried to explain, but his dad was too emotional. Before I could speak, he kicked me to the ground. That punch seemed to use all his strength. I felt my nose break, blood gushing out instantly. My eyes, nose, and mouth were covered in sticky blood. Seeing me hurt, my dad rushed forward like a madman. But before he reached me, he was kicked down by Ethan’s dad. Ethan’s dad had done manual labor for years; he was incredibly strong. “A pair of animals! I’ll kill you both today! You ruined Ethan’s future! Don’t think you’ll have a good life either!” More and more parents gathered around. Many of them knew about Ethan’s academic performance. Hearing that he missed the exam because of my revenge, they were furious. They rushed forward, raining punches and kicks on me and my dad. “Like father, like daughter! We’ll teach you a lesson today! Bad from a young age, you’ll be a cancer to society when you grow up!” “Ethan’s dad, hit them hard! If you kill them, we’ll testify for you!” Enduring the severe pain, I looked at Ethan in the crowd. His crying face had turned into a smug smile. The last bit of affection I had for him vanished completely. I finally realized that this Ethan was no longer the boy who chased after me day and night asking for help with math problems. In that case, there was no need to save his dignity! I mustered my last bit of strength, took out my phone, found the video Bella sent me last night, and pressed play. I turned the volume up to the max…

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