Category: English

My fiancé, Lucas, went off to the countryside for a volunteer program and secretly started dating a local girl. When the program ended and he returned to the city, he dumped her cold turkey and married me instead. Later, he found out his ex-girlfriend died in childbirth due to an amniotic fluid embolism. Lucas spent the rest of his life drowning in guilt and depression. He dragged me through a loveless marriage until I died young from illness. On my deathbed, I told Lucas: “If there is a next life, I don’t want to make the same mistake.” Then, I was reborn. It was the spring of 1977. This time, Lucas chose to stay in the mountains with his country love, Sarah. And I quit my cushy government job to take the college entrance exams. Decades later, I returned to the countryside as a high-ranking official on an inspection tour and met Lucas again. He had built a brick house, farmed land, and had a brood of kids with Sarah. Seeing me dusty and tired from the journey, Lucas sighed: “It’s been decades, haven’t you moved on? You’re not young anymore; just find someone decent and marry.” He thought my motion sickness was heartbreak. The next day, a black Mercedes-Benz pulled up to the village entrance to pick me up. Lucas collapsed in the dust. “Didn’t you say that even if we tortured each other, you’d haunt me forever?” 1 If I hadn’t been accompanying the Governor on this inspection tour, I probably never would have set foot in this backwater again. And I certainly never expected to meet Sarah—the nightmare of my past life—face to face. The sun was high. Her face was flushed with sunburn, but the wrinkles around her eyes couldn’t hide her joy. “My Lucas just contracted a few more acres. After the harvest, we’re building a new wing for our eldest son’s wedding.” The village women around her were chirping like birds: “Sarah, you’re so lucky! You snagged a capable man!” “Right? Back then, most of those city boys just played around and left. Who else stayed for love?” “Besides the Village Chief, you guys are basically the richest family here, right?” Sarah soaked up the praise like a sponge, feigning modesty: “Oh, stop it. He just got lucky with the new policies. He’s not that amazing.” But her chin was tilted so high she could probably drink rain. I looked away. It seemed Lucas was doing well in this life. No regrets here. I had never met Sarah in my past life or this one, yet I recognized her instantly. First, because the neighbors had their black-and-white wedding photo on the wall. Second, because in my past life, my husband kept a photo of her at eighteen hidden away, weeping over it constantly. I was about to turn back to find my delegation when I saw Lucas walking over with a few teenagers carrying hoes. They had his eyes. Definitely his and Sarah’s kids. In my past life, Lucas and I were engaged since childhood. But during his volunteer stint in the countryside, he had a fling with Sarah. Desperate to return to the city, he abandoned a pregnant Sarah and married me. Shortly after our wedding, news came that Sarah died in childbirth. Lucas was consumed by regret. He never touched me again. I lived like a widow for decades and died alone. This time around, Lucas got his wish. A full house of kids with Sarah. Suddenly, a toddler crashed into my legs. The crying drew everyone’s attention. Recognizing me, shock flashed through Lucas’s eyes. “Ava? What are you doing here?” I bent down to help the kid up. “I’m here for work.” A villager asked, “Lucas, who’s she?” Lucas looked uncomfortable. “An old neighbor from the city. We knew each other as kids.” A woman nearby sneered. “Look at that city girl frame. Thin as a rake. Probably can’t bear children. No wonder Lucas picked Sarah.” Hearing this, Sarah puffed out her chest, looking smug. “Just a neighbor. My Lucas has high standards.” She looked me up and down with disdain. “Your face is sallow, and you’re flat as a board. Can you not afford food?” “I heard you city folks need ration coupons for rice. Unlike us country folk—we grow our own and eat till we burst.” I glanced at Sarah’s plump figure and smiled politely, ignoring her rudeness. I turned to leave. But a sudden wave of dizziness hit me. The long journey on bumpy roads had given me severe motion sickness. I stumbled. Lucas rushed forward to catch me. Once I was steady, he let go and stepped back quickly. He looked at me with pity. “Ava, it’s been years… why torture yourself like this?” Sarah rushed over like a guarding hen, blocking Lucas. “Ava, have some shame! You tried to seduce Lucas when you were girls, and now that he’s my man, you chase him all the way here?” Another woman spat on the ground. “Homewrecker! Coming here to ruin a family? We won’t let you bully Sarah!” A young wife put her hands on her hips. “City slut! Still playing these games at your age?” Even an old grandma hobbled over, pointing a cane at my nose. “Didn’t your parents teach you any morals?” The crowd surged forward, trying to push me out of the village. “Get back to the city! We don’t welcome your kind!” I tried to explain, but Lucas stopped the angry mob. “Aunties, please. She’s here for me. Let me talk to her… You know I’m a good man!” Lucas looked at me, his voice dripping with condescension. “Ava, haven’t you moved on after all these years? Stop living in the past. I have Sarah and the kids now. I’m happy. You’re not young anymore. Even if you can’t find someone perfect, just settle down.” His public declaration of loyalty made Sarah beam. She looked at me with scorn. “I know you’re bitter because you met him first. But love isn’t first-come-first-served! You’re obsessed with him, and you’re almost hitting menopause, aren’t you?” “Did you come here because you heard Lucas is the richest man in the village now?” Lucas frowned, looking at my dusty clothes. “Didn’t you get into college back then? How are you doing so badly you can’t even eat properly? You have hands and feet; surely you can find work…” He thought for a moment, then carefully pulled a few crumpled bills from a pocket sewn inside his pants. “Here. I’ll get an ox cart to take you to town this afternoon. Buy a bus ticket and go home. Don’t come back.” 2 I wasn’t about to touch money that was still warm from his crotch. I waved my hand. “You misunderstand. I’m not starving. I’m thin because I diet. It’s called staying fit.” They lived in the mountains; they didn’t know that being slim was the trend in the city now. They still thought being fat meant being wealthy. Lucas was convinced I was lying to save face. He tried to shove the money at me. “Ava, stop being stubborn. Take it… Sigh, we aren’t strangers… just take it.” I stepped back. “No need. I have business here.” In the past, I was meek. I never refused him. Lucas was used to controlling me. Seeing me refuse him repeatedly, his face went cold. “Ava, you can’t fool me. If I wasn’t worried about you dying of hunger in my village, I wouldn’t bother!” Sarah scoffed. “Lucas, look at her. She looks drained… I bet she has some nasty disease!” She pulled Lucas back. “Stay away from her. Who knows what she has! I told you, a factory girl like her couldn’t get into college legitimately. She probably slept her way in…” Her tone was self-righteous, as if she hadn’t seduced an engaged man in a cornfield years ago. Back then, I waited in the city like a fool, unaware they were hooking up. When Lucas first returned to the city in my past life, he was always distracted. When I asked, he just held my hand and said it was nothing. I suspected he had a fling. To quell my doubts, he proposed before he even found a job. That night by the river, he hugged me tight. “Ava, I have you. Why would I look at anyone else? Those country girls are rough and uneducated. Why would I want them when I have you, so soft and sweet?” I thought his distraction was just anxiety about the future. I convinced my parents to let us marry. After the wedding, Lucas took my dad’s job at the factory. It was 1977. The college entrance exams were reinstated. My friends were studying. I had the best grades, but I gave up on college because I didn’t want to be separated from my new husband. Then came the news of Sarah’s death. Lucas changed. He treated me like a plague. When he got laid off in middle age, he gave up. I supported the family and cared for his parents until they died. Only on my deathbed did I realize he didn’t just feel guilty—he hated me. He hated me for taking Sarah’s place. So, my last words were: “If there is a next life, let’s not do this again.” In this life, he stayed for Sarah. I chose a different path. I thought we were both happy with our choices. I tried to leave, but Sarah blocked me. “Ava, if you want ‘youth compensation fees’ from Lucas, forget it. He owes you nothing. He told me everything about your past. It was consensual.” “If you’re really too poor to treat your ‘disease,’ stay and cook for the old bachelor in the village. Maybe he’ll give you leftovers.” The crowd laughed nastily. “Look at the way she walks, shaking her hips. No decent family here wants that. If Sarah wasn’t so generous, you wouldn’t even get to serve the bachelor.” They say poverty breeds malice. I was seeing it firsthand. “I have a job.” “I work for the government. I’m here for poverty alleviation research.” Lucas sneered. “Ava, you studied all those years for a desk job? Stop pretending. Government clerks just push paper. They don’t have the power to come here on inspections.” I felt a sudden sadness. I used to love Lucas for his intellect. A few years in the village, and he had become ignorant and shallow. 3 In his mind, making money was the only measure of success. An old man puffed on his pipe. “I heard those government jobs pay peanuts. A month’s salary isn’t even worth one harvest.” The crowd roared with laughter. I didn’t want to explain that while my salary wasn’t huge, I held the power to decide the future of their entire township. A woman pointed. “Look at her white shirt. It’s frayed at the edges. Looks cheap. Even we dress better!” I looked down at my designer shirt with intentional distressing—a style from Paris I picked up on a study trip. Of course, they wouldn’t know fashion. And the dust here made everything look gray. “Just leave! If it weren’t for the VIPs coming, I’d beat you out of here myself!” Sarah shouted. Just then, the Village Chief ran over, shooing people away. “Scram! The Inspection Team is here! The leaders are resting, but they’ll be out soon. This affects our future subsidies, don’t mess it up!” Lucas’s eyes lit up. “Is it about the land contract policy? Finally!” The Chief nodded. “And there’s a big CEO coming from the city. Self-made billionaire. He’s looking to partner with us.” “If our crops are good, he’ll buy everything at double the market rate. No middlemen!” The crowd buzzed with excitement. “That’s amazing! The grain collectors were squeezing us dry!” “My kid’s tuition is covered!” Sarah shoved me. “Get lost! Don’t be an eyesore for the VIPs!” She turned to the Chief with a fawning smile. “Chief, I’m kicking out this old spinster. She’s trying to steal my man!” The Chief finally looked at me. His face went pale. “Director Ava? Why aren’t you resting in your room?” I smiled politely. “It was stuffy. I came for a walk.” The Chief started sweating buckets, bowing repeatedly. “I am so sorry! Our conditions are poor…” He turned and roared at Sarah. “Shut your mouth! This is the Director from the Central Inspection Team! Our VIP!” Lucas froze. “Chief, you’re mistaken. She came to find me. She… we were engaged. She’s been obsessed with me for years.” Sarah put her hands on her hips. “Yeah! She’s no VIP! She’s a shameless old maid trying to steal my husband!” The Chief looked like he was about to have a stroke. “You idiots! You think your Lucas is some prize? Why would a high-ranking official want him?!” Sarah kept cursing. Lucas looked at me with disappointment. “Ava, I didn’t know you sunk this low. Impersonating an official just to win me back? That’s a federal crime!” “Let me tell you, even if you were the richest woman in the world, I wouldn’t want you! Give up!” Before I could speak, a low hum came from the village entrance. A shiny black Mercedes-Benz rolled slowly into the square. The villagers dropped their tools and swarmed the car. “What is that?” the old man gasped. “Dad, that’s a luxury sedan! Only big shots have those!” The Chief rubbed his hands together. “Quick! It’s the CEO! Welcome him!” The car door opened. A man in a sharp suit stepped out. Tall, imposing, radiating authority. He shook hands with the Chief, then walked straight to me. He gently wiped the sweat from my forehead. “Motion sickness again?” 4 I smiled up at him. “Just a little. You came all this way?” Mark looked at me tenderly. “Let me see… you’re having an allergic reaction too? You always hide it… Besides, your business is my priority.” I let him hold my hand. “Where’s our son?” “I knew you’d miss him. The road was too rough, so my secretary is watching him at the hotel in town.” The Chief’s jaw dropped. “Mr. Chen… you and Director Ava are… married?” “Yes,” Mark put his arm around my shoulder. “I’m here to support my wife’s work. Poverty alleviation.” The villagers who had been mocking me were silent. “She really is a leader…” “Sarah is delusional. With a man like that, why would she want Lucas?” “Look at that car. So grand!” The Chief laughed nervously. “Misunderstanding! All a misunderstanding! The villagers didn’t recognize Mount Tai. I apologize on their behalf!” I smiled coolly. “Chief, you said the folkways here were simple and honest. I disagree. I need to re-evaluate the application for poverty status.” The Chief turned white. Mark cut him off. “Chief, my wife is unwell. We’re going to town to rest. We’ll talk business later.” Lucas stared at me, soul-crushed. “You’re married?” I nodded calmly. “Yes. My son is seven.” Mark and I were college classmates. He came from a prestigious family with deep political roots. We fell in love slowly. His family didn’t care about my humble background. After graduation, I went into government; he went into business during the economic reform. I used to think marriage was a grave. Mark taught me it could be paradise. Seeing how Mark loved me, I finally realized Lucas never truly loved me. I turned to leave. Lucas blocked the car. Through the windshield, he stared at me, eyes bloodshot. Mark squeezed my hand, jealous. “Lucas… that ex-boyfriend?” “No,” I said quickly. “Just a neighbor from childhood. Arranged engagement, never real.” “Ava! You said you’d wait for me to change my mind!” Lucas screamed. Mark’s face darkened. I held him back. “I’ll handle it.” I got out and looked Lucas in the eye. “Lucas, you remember wrong. I never said that in this life.” I emphasized “this life.” His face went ghostly pale. “Ava, I know you. You’re stubborn. You said even if we tortured each other, you’d haunt me forever!” I sighed. He didn’t get it. That was the old Ava. “Lucas, stop living in the past. When you chose Sarah, our fates were sealed. You stayed here; I left. We are strangers now.” Sarah grabbed Lucas. “Lucas! What are you doing? I gave you four kids! You can’t leave me just because she’s rich now!” Lucas shoved her away and yelled at me. “I only stayed with Sarah because I heard you were fooling around with other men in the city! You forgot me! You never wrote!” I was shocked. “Who told you that? You know who I am! And letters? I wrote every week! You didn’t get them?” “Sarah told me! She said everyone was talking about it…” Lucas stopped mid-sentence. Sarah was sweating bullets, eyes darting around. He realized the truth. “Sarah! Did you hide Ava’s letters? Speak!” Sarah fell to her knees, hugging his leg. “I was wrong, Lucas! I just loved you too much!” Lucas stood there, struck by lightning. “So you never betrayed me… I knew it… you were so perfect…” I felt no hate, just pity. “Lucas, we grew up together. Did you really trust rumors over me?” “Ava… listen…” He slapped Sarah across the face. Hard. Blood sprayed from her nose. He kicked her over. “Stop!” Sarah wailed. Villagers pulled him back. I looked at this violent man with disgust. I turned to leave. Lucas broke free and chased me. “Ava! It was a misunderstanding! Don’t go! Let’s start over!” I laughed. “Lucas, you have no spine. If you didn’t want to sleep with Sarah, could she have forced you?” “It was your weak will.” Lucas cried, tears streaming down his face. “Ava, you’re lying… you still love me. Or you wouldn’t be here.” I shook my head. “I forgot you existed until today.”

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Leo came to me right before the fall semester started, looking for the money he’d earned lifeguarding over the summer. I threw my hands up. “I don’t have it.” When Mom and Dad found out, they pointed fingers in my face, screaming that I had no shame. Then, I pulled out the bank statements and showed them the truth. Their jaws hit the floor. 1. Because Leo didn’t have his own checking account set up for direct deposit, his wages from two months of lifeguarding had been wired to my account. It was a temporary fix, or so I thought. A week before classes started, he cornered me, demanding the card so he could withdraw cash to buy an iPad for school. I was in the middle of a deep-focus work sprint, buried in spreadsheets, so I just handed him the debit card without looking up. By the time my brain caught up with what I’d done, Leo was already gone. It wasn’t until later that the study door flew open with a violent bang. “Maya, where is the money?” Leo stood there, eyes bloodshot, shaking a fistful of withdrawal receipts at me. “Two months of work, and there’s only a hundred bucks left?” I blinked, pulling my headphones down. “I forgot to tell you. The account is basically empty.” “Just a hundred bucks?” His voice cracked. “Yeah.” “Are you treating me like an idiot? How could two months of wages just disappear?” His gaze, sharp with misplaced rage, locked onto the sleek, silver laptop sitting on my desk. “You used my money to buy that, didn’t you?” Before I could process the accusation, he lunged. He hooked his fingers under the edge of my laptop and yanked it forward with a feral grunt. “Don’t—” The plea died in my throat. CRACK. The sound was sickening. The machine hit the hardwood floor corner-first, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of dead pixels before going black. “My files. My laptop.” The final deck. The quarterly strategy pitch I was due to present in forty-eight hours. It was all in there. I didn’t walk; I scrambled across the floor, falling to my knees beside the wreckage. “Leo, have you lost your damn mind?” I screamed, looking up at him. He hadn’t just broken a machine; he had smashed half a month of my life. My sleep, my sanity, my ticket to a promotion—gone. “That was my presentation! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? I never touched a cent of your money!” “You didn’t touch it? Then where did it go? Did it fly away?” he roared back, vibrating with adrenaline. “You think I’m stupid? You have the card. If it wasn’t you, who was it?” “What is going on up here? The neighbors can hear you from the street!” My parents jammed themselves into the doorway simultaneously. My mother took one look at the scene—me on the floor, Leo panting—and her brow furrowed. “Maya,” she sighed, the exhaustion in her voice performative. “How did you provoke your brother this time? You’re an adult. Can’t you just be the bigger person?” The injustice of it felt like a physical blow to the chest. “I provoked him?” I pointed a shaking finger at the aluminum corpse of my laptop. “He came in here like a psycho and smashed my work computer! My project files are gone, Mom. Gone!” My father looked at the broken laptop. He knew how much these things cost. For a second, the room held a heavy, stunned silence. Then, the silence was broken by a sound so pathetic it had to be rehearsed. “Mom… Dad…” Leo’s tears were instantaneous. Big, alligator tears rolling down his cheeks. “I’m just… I’m so stupid. I worked so hard all summer, sweating in that chair for two months, and Maya took it all to buy herself a fancy new computer. That’s why she wouldn’t let me see the account. I just wanted an iPad for school…” I stared at him, paralyzed by the sheer fluidity of his lie. He was rewriting reality in real-time. My parents, whose hearts were already heavily weighted in his favor, softened immediately. Slowly, I bent down, picking up the scattered papers, trying to salvage what I could. “You’re going to pay me back,” Leo sniffled, his voice gaining strength. “With interest. Twenty grand. Principal and interest.” He shoved past my father and stormed out of the room. 2. “Interest? Twenty grand?” I screamed at the empty doorway, my voice trembling so hard it hurt. “Your little lifeguarding gig paid three grand, tops! I’m telling you, I didn’t touch it! Not a penny!” “Watch your mouth!” My father’s low growl came from behind me. “You ungrateful brat. Spending your brother’s hard-earned money and then denying it? Have you no shame?” My mother’s voice was sharper, cutting through the air like glass. “We raised a wolf in sheep’s clothing. All that education, wasted on a thief. You owe him that money, Maya.” “I didn’t do it.” Nobody was listening. That night, the phone didn’t stop ringing. It was a tribunal by telecommunication. I kept picking up, masochistically hoping for someone to be on my side. First, it was Uncle Bob. “Maya, honestly. Being the older sister means looking out for him, not skimming off the top. Is this what college taught you?” I tried to speak, but he hung up. Then Aunt Karen: “Oh honey, aren’t you embarrassed? A grown woman stealing from a teenager? Pay him back before the whole family finds out.” Every call was an indictment. Then, the screen lit up again. Grandma. No hello. No warmth. “Listen to me, girl,” her voice crackled, old and brittle. “You give my grandson his money back. Every cent, plus whatever interest he wants. He earned that. If you short him even a penny…” She paused, letting the threat hang in the static. “…then you are no granddaughter of mine. Don’t bother coming to Thanksgiving. Don’t bother coming back at all.” “Grandma…” I whispered. Click. From the doorway, a soft, rhythmic crunching sound made me look up. Leo was leaning against the doorframe, casually eating an apple. He looked relaxed, victorious. “Heh,” he smirked, taking another bite. “Karma.” At dinner, the air was thick enough to choke on. “Some people really have thick skin,” Leo muttered to the ceiling. Mom slammed a plate of green beans onto the table. “You have the nerve to sit here and eat? After spending your brother’s blood and sweat money?” “I didn’t spend it!” The anger flared up, hot and white. “I’ve said it a thousand times. The account was empty. Fine. I’ll print the statements. From the day the card was issued until now. We’ll see exactly where it went.” I yanked my phone out of my pocket. The motion was too violent; it dislodged something else. Clatter. My car key hit the linoleum and slid under the table. “Car key?” Leo was faster than me. He scooped it up and dangled it in front of Dad’s face. “Dad, Maya bought a car? Since when did she have a new car?” Absolute silence. Then, the realization dawned on my parents’ faces—a false epiphany that fit their narrative perfectly. “That explains it,” Dad said, his voice dangerously quiet. “I was wondering how a few thousand dollars just vanished into thin air.” He slammed his hand on the table, making the silverware jump. “You used it to plug the hole for your down payment. You’ve got some nerve.” Mom clutched her chest. “Oh, my god. You took his sweat equity to buy yourself four wheels? Maya! is your heart made of stone?” “I didn’t!” I roared, the pressure in my head nearing an explosion. “I saved for that Civic for two years! Leo’s lifeguarding money wouldn’t even buy the tires!” Leo’s smirk vanished. He turned to Dad, whining like a wounded animal. “Dad, look at her. She thinks she’s better than us. She used my money and now she’s lying about it.” SMASH. My father snatched the key from Leo’s hand and hurled it at the floor with all his strength. The plastic casing cracked open. 3. I scrambled to pick up the pieces, my hands shaking. “Are you happy now? A replacement fob costs three hundred dollars.” The absurdity of it, the sheer humiliation, made me nauseous. My father loomed over me. “Three hundred is too much? But your brother’s summer of waking up at dawn, the money he slaved for—that means nothing to you?” “Wait,” Mom cut in, her eyes narrowing. “I remember. When she was looking at cars, she said she was short a few thousand. She asked us for a loan, and we said no.” She pointed a finger at me, triumphant. “That was when she did it. She couldn’t afford it, so she raided the account.” It was a logic built on sand, but to them, it was concrete. “That’s not what happened,” I said, my voice sounding thin to my own ears. “I got a subsidy from the company. A commuter bonus. It was approved last month. I didn’t touch his money.” “Subsidy?” Dad sneered. “Keep lying. If you can’t produce the cash, you spent it.” He pointed at the broken key in my hand. “Stop with the excuses. This car… your brother owns a piece of it now. Since you used his money, he has a share. Actually, the car is his.” I stared at him, horrified. I looked at Leo, whose face had shifted from fake victimhood to genuine, greedy delight. “Are you insane? On what grounds?” “On the grounds that thieves don’t get to drive,” Mom spat. Leo didn’t hesitate. He snatched the broken key from my hand. He held it up, a cruel grin stretching across his face. “Thanks, Sis. Thanks for the new ride.” I watched the key swinging in his hand, gritting my teeth so hard my jaw ached. There was nothing I could do. Not right now. I had to wait. That evening, to celebrate Leo “getting his first car,” my parents insisted on taking the whole family out to dinner. I ate nothing. The food tasted like ash. All I could think about was the key in Leo’s pocket. On the way out of the restaurant, Mom suddenly gripped my arm like a vice. “Wait.” I looked up. We were standing in front of an electronics store. The window display was full of tablets. Alarm bells rang in my head. Mom dragged me toward the entrance. “Let’s go in. Pick out an iPad for your brother. He’s a college student; he needs it.” I yanked my arm away. “Mom, I said no. He already stole my car. Why on earth would I buy him an iPad? Do you think I’m an ATM?” “Why?” Mom’s voice rose to a shriek. “Because you selfishly embezzled his summer wages!” Leo’s eyes lit up. He ran into the store, pointing at the newest, most expensive Pro model. “Mom! I want this one. The big screen.” Shoppers and employees turned to look. “I’m not buying it,” I said, turning to leave. “You will buy it!” Mom stepped in front of me, blocking the exit. “You aren’t leaving until you do.” “Yeah, I deserve it!” Leo, emboldened by Mom, grabbed the box of the expensive tablet and hugged it to his chest. “I want this one. If she doesn’t buy it, I’m sleeping here tonight!” The commotion was attracting a crowd. Whispers started circulating. Mom saw the audience and immediately switched into performance mode. She slumped against a display table, sliding toward the floor. “Oh, what did I do to deserve this?” she wailed. “I raised a heartless daughter! She stole her own brother’s hard-earned money and now she won’t even replace it with a tablet for his studies! God, open your eyes! Why is my life so bitter?” Every eye in the store locked onto me. “What kind of person does that?” “Stealing from a kid? That’s low.” “Look at the poor mother.” I saw phones come out. Young customers were recording, cameras pointed squarely at my face. “Put this on TikTok,” someone muttered. “Expose her.” “Karen in training,” another sneered. A store employee, looking awkward and tired, approached me. “Ma’am, please. Either pay for the item or take this outside. You’re disrupting business.” I looked at Leo, clutching the iPad with a smug, challenging look. I looked at Mom, fake-sobbing on the polished concrete. The explanations died in my throat. Instead, a cold, hard rage clarified my mind. “Fine,” I said, my voice cutting through the noise. “I’ll show you the evidence. Let’s see whose heart is black.” I whipped out my phone. My fingers moved across the screen in a blur. Bank App. Login. FaceID. History. Filter: Custom Date Range. June to August. The list loaded instantly. Crisp, undeniable black text on a white background. “Look,” I said, holding the phone up. “Open your eyes and look.” Dad, who had just parked the car and walked in, pushed through the crowd. “Look closely. From the day his first paycheck hit.” Dad snatched the phone. Mom scrambled up from the floor to look. Their eyes scanned the screen. And then, they froze.

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The year I landed the offer from the top firm in my industry—a job that would place me two thousand miles away—was the year Pierce and I were most fiercely in love. I wrestled with the decision for three days before choosing my career trajectory. Pierce understood. He comforted me, his voice a steady anchor on the phone. “It’s only two thousand miles, a three-hour flight. I’ll fly to see you every month. I’ll talk to my parents. You just go. I’ll wait for you.” By the sixth year of our long-distance relationship, our calls had grown infrequent, and a simple text might go unanswered for days. I made the call: I was quitting my job, coming home, and marrying him. He had waited long enough. I never imagined our first reunion would be at the police station. He’d been arrested for a DUI. “You never drink. And drunk driving? You’re always so… careful,” I said, the words feeling brittle on my tongue. A girl in a Minnie Mouse pajama set burst into the lobby. Her eyes were red and swollen. She rushed Pierce, grabbed his arm, and sank her teeth into his skin. “Who told you to drive over here! You idiot! I told you I just had bad cramps!” It hit me: Pierce owned a matching Mickey Mouse set. He’d claimed it was a prize he won at a company raffle. Staring at the two of them, I suddenly felt like a punchline. I was the fool in the spotlight. 1 The wind howled outside. I couldn’t tell if the stinging in my eyes was from the sleet being whipped into my face, or the sharp pain of that moment. Tears fell, straight and cold, refusing to be blinked away. “Elara!” Pierce didn’t catch up to me. I took a cab and went to the waterfront, standing by the freezing river for a long time. I cried and laughed at the same time. That man—my stoic, utterly predictable Pierce—was wearing couple’s pajamas. I don’t know how he found me. I looked up, and he was there. Just like always. Wherever I was, he always showed up. “You’re running a fever. Let’s go home.” Pierce swept me up into his arms. “Elara, stop being so stubborn. It doesn’t help anyone.” He carried me into the house I’d only ever seen in video calls. The kitchen island held a vase of fresh flowers, the sofa was piled with plush toys, and the girl’s blanket and pillow were folded neatly into the corner. “She was an intern I was mentoring,” Pierce said, pressing an ice pack to my forehead. “She’s young, working alone for the first time. I took extra care of her.” “You’re imagining things…” His phone buzzed. It was a custom ringtone. The name “Dummy” flashed on the screen, next to a cartoon girl’s grinning emoji. He was the kind of person who hated hassle. He never saved names with anything other than a simple first or last name. I was just a string of numbers in his phone. Pierce clumsily shielded the screen with his hand. “Hold on a second.” He walked out, and never came back in. My head was pounding. The medicine I’d swallowed came back up, a searing, sour mess. “Pierce…” Silence. I pushed myself off the bed and walked out, leaning against the wall. The living room was dark. He was gone. A faint glow came from the screen of his laptop on the balcony. His social media account was logged in. He and the girl had maintained a continuous chat streak for nearly a thousand days. I scrolled through the history. It began with her single-sidedly sharing funny clips. Then Pierce started to give serious comments and reactions. Finally, they were trading messages back and forth—every little thing, every big event, always a response. Meanwhile, when work had crushed me into insomnia, and I wanted to call Pierce, I had to take a gamble. He was busy. He wouldn’t always answer. I sank onto the chair, my vision blurred by tears. Ding— A new message popped up. [Vivi: I took the meds, and I finished all the soup you made me. Now I’m cuddling the sleepy bear you bought me, getting ready for bed.] [Pierce: Good. Don’t let your new boyfriend wander into your apartment whenever he likes. It’s unsafe.] [Vivi: Okay~ Only my mentor is allowed into my boudoir~] [Vivi: Why don’t I just break up with him and you can be my boyfriend? Everyone already assumes we’re together anyway. I know you got drunk over me. My boyfriend said you even got into a fight with him and yelled at him for forgetting my cycle and not buying me pain meds.] [Vivi: You and your girlfriend have been long distance for five years. You must have no feelings left. You should just dump her…] Tears streamed down my face. I sat there, numb, feeling a huge, empty hole carved out of my chest. I could taste the metallic tang of blood in my breath. I learned that sadness, at its absolute extreme, is just numbness. It’s like being dead. Only my stomach was alive, forcing me to empty its contents—first sour bile, then blood—as if I were trying to vomit out ten years of loving Pierce. Slam— The lights in the entryway suddenly flickered on. Pierce stood there, one hand holding a clay pot of freshly made porridge, the other clutching the girl’s uneaten pain medication. Around his neck was a pink cartoon scarf. The end of it was embroidered with a tiny V. I swayed, then fell toward the floor. When Pierce caught me, I didn’t feel warmth. A strange, unfamiliar perfume assaulted my nostrils. It was sickening. “Elara! Wake up! Elara…” I passed out completely. 2 I woke up in a hospital. The room was empty. I pulled out my phone and made a call. “Hello? Can you please reverse my resignation? I accept the international assignment.” Overseas. I needed to go somewhere I would never have to see Pierce again. A nurse walked in. “Dr. Sterling is in surgery. He’ll be here when he’s finished.” I didn’t reply. I just stared out the window. I remembered the first year I was away. Pierce used to video call me every day. He was a man of few words. He wasn’t expressive. But every time I looked up from my documents, I saw his eyes on the screen—filled with a focused concentration and a deep, aching missing of me. The second year, he often flew to see me. He would show up at my apartment door, under my office building, or on a random street corner selling roasted sweet potatoes. No matter where I was, Pierce always found me. By the third year, Pierce had an intern under his wing. He was busy mentoring her, cleaning up her messes, and our communication began to fade. From a mandatory daily video call. To weekly. Then monthly. Finally, I was the one calling him. And he didn’t always pick up. By the fourth and fifth years, our relationship felt different. When I called, the feeling of fear was stronger than anticipation. I was afraid of disturbing him. Afraid of seeing his familiar, tight frown. “Text me if it’s important. Don’t call,” he said. I felt like a child who had done something wrong. I apologized, then tried to win him back with a nervous smile and a gift I’d picked out. “It’s our ninth anniversary today…” “Mentor, can you check this patient chart for me?” I heard the girl’s voice in the background. The video call ended abruptly. I thought about texting Pierce, then realized there was no point. I had no important reason to contact him. I just missed him. Terribly. So much that every time I walked to a street corner, I instinctively searched for his figure, then wiped away tears when he wasn’t there. But this longing had become a burden to him. For two months, he actually blocked my number. I was up to my neck in a huge project, unable to fly home and demand an explanation. All I could do was cry myself to sleep every night. My eyes were permanently swollen, and I was losing handfuls of hair. Two months later, Pierce claimed it was just a prank by Vivi. He hadn’t noticed. “My bad, I’ve been so busy I didn’t look.” “The kid didn’t mean any harm, she was just messing around. Don’t sweat it. I apologize for her.” He wired a huge sum of money to my account. “Don’t put yourself through anything. Ask for more if you need it.” He didn’t know that the biggest slight to my soul was the one he delivered. In the sixth year, I gave up my career and decided to come back for him. Only to hear from a mutual friend that Pierce had been strung along by this young woman for years. They were openly affectionate. They had even met each other’s families. I didn’t believe it. I was naive enough to think Pierce was still the same quiet, sincere, loving boy I’d left. But he had changed. I should have realized it the first time he hung up on me for Vivi, the first time he missed my birthday, the first time he forgot our anniversary. But I was blinded by love. I compromised again and again, and I forgave. Now, finally, I saw clearly. 3 I discharged myself from the hospital. Back at the apartment, I found the social media direct messages had updated on the laptop. Vivi had shared a lot of videos. Pierce had only read them, not replied. [Vivi: Your fiancée is back, so you’re moving me to a different group? Seriously? You hid from me at the hospital, and now you won’t even reply to my texts.] [Vivi: Just tell me one thing: her or me?] [Pierce: I’m getting married.] Five words. The other side went silent. My heart was a complicated knot of emotions. I stared at the screen, so absorbed that I didn’t notice Pierce had come back. “You saw it all?” He stood next to me. “We’ve been together for ten years. It’s time to get married.” “Let’s go pick out the dress this week. You handle the guest list, I’ll handle the venue. We’ll get it done before the fifteenth. I have a conference next month.” His tone was so flat, as if he were discussing a tedious chore. “We need to start trying to conceive right after the wedding. You’ll be considered a high-risk pregnancy in a few years. It’s not good for you or the baby.” I clenched my fists without realizing it. “You haven’t even proposed to me.” “I don’t have time,” he said. “That kind of ceremony isn’t necessary.” I managed a self-deprecating laugh. He had time to spend with Vivi, naming a pile of stuffed animals and throwing them birthday parties. But for us, for me, suddenly time was a luxury he couldn’t afford. “But you’ll get what you deserve,” Pierce said, handing me a bank card. “My salary is all in here. All of it.” “The jewelry, the dowry, the car, the property. Tell me if anything is missing.” I was silent for a long moment. I felt like I was looking at a stranger. When did he stop being patient with me, speaking only in bullet points? He used to love hearing me ramble. He said he loved my vibrant energy, my little tantrums. Maybe I was worn down by work and too mature now, or maybe the long distance had made us strangers. And that’s how a vibrant, young girl found a place in his heart. And pushed me out. “Do you still love me?” I asked. Pierce hesitated. “Yes, I do.” I kept shaking my head. “No, you don’t.” Voicing the truth was harder than I’d anticipated. It took several shaky breaths. Just to keep the tears from falling in defeat. “Why are you crying?” Pierce frowned slightly. “I’m just being practical. You’re not a little girl anymore. There’s no need to be so petty.” I shoved him away fiercely. My voice rose, sharp and loud. “I’m not marrying you!” 4 Pierce was silent for a few seconds. Then, he snatched the laptop and smashed it onto the floor. A shard of plastic grazed my calf, leaving a bloody streak. “I won’t contact her again. Is that enough?” He pulled out his phone. He blocked “Dummy.” He opened his photo album and deleted the pictures of Vivi that took up most of the storage. “Is that enough, Elara? Tell me.” I was stunned. I watched him walk into the living room, violently tearing apart the stuffed animals and ripping up the small blanket. “Elara! Goddammit, I’m asking you, is this enough now?!” He grabbed my arm and dragged me, and I stumbled, falling into the mess of destruction. I had never seen Pierce angry. He had never even used a harsh word against me. Now his eyes were filled with an icy fury. “What is this drama? What are you trying to prove?” “We’ve been dating for ten years. It’s time to get married, isn’t it?” “My mom keeps hounding me. I held off because you were busy with work, okay, I didn’t pressure you. But what now? How many more years do you want to stall? How many years do you have left at your age?” “You’ve been giving me this attitude and questioning my feelings ever since you got back… I waited for you for ten years! Do you think I don’t love you?” “You are being completely unreasonable!” I was too heartbroken to speak. I hung my head, watching my tears shatter on the floor. All I felt was exhaustion, a weariness deeper than the pain. The gap between Pierce and me had become too wide to cross. No matter how hard I ran. No matter how hard I fell. I couldn’t reach even the edge of his sleeve anymore. “What I mean is…” We’re breaking up. I didn’t finish. His phone rang. “Dr. Sterling, Vivi has gotten into huge trouble!” the voice on the other end yelled. Pierce immediately made a move to leave. I grabbed his car keys, my voice desperate and loud. “Think carefully, Pierce!” “If you walk out that door today, our relationship is officially over!” He didn’t hear me. His mind and heart were completely consumed by Vivi’s distress. Pierce snatched the keys away violently. The sharp edge sliced my palm, and a splash of blood stained the white carpet an alarming red. “The first aid kit is in the cabinet. Bandage yourself up. We can talk about this when I get back.” I had never seen him so frantic. His jacket was on backwards, his shoes were on the wrong feet. He practically stumbled out the door. The door slammed shut. Leaving behind chaos and an endless silence. I gently blew on the cut on my palm. It hurt. Tears fell onto it, making it sting even more. I didn’t have the energy to bandage it. I lay back on the floor, letting the hot tears flow freely. I was so tired. Tired enough to wish I could just fall asleep and never wake up. I wouldn’t have to deal with the ten wasted years, the best years of my youth, and I wouldn’t have to feel this agonizing pain. It felt like all my organs were being shredded. In my daze, a call came through. It was our mutual friend, Jamie. “Get to the hospital immediately! Pierce is about to take the fall for Vivi! His career is going to be ruined!” 5 I rushed to the scene. The hospital director’s face was beyond furious. “Vivian Cole!” He slammed his hand on the desk, his face red and swollen with rage. “I’d like to see who is going to cover for you with this malpractice case! This means jail time!” “You’ve always made mistakes! If Pierce hadn’t protected you every single time—if he hadn’t cleaned up every mess—I would have fired you a long time ago!” Vivian burst into loud sobs. “Please stop! I’m scared, wah, wah, wah… I don’t know anything…” “Mentor, save me… I didn’t mean to. I don’t want to go to jail…” Tears poured down her face. Pierce, who had been silent, finally spoke: “I’ll take the blame for her.” My mind exploded. My body moved faster than my thoughts. I flew in front of him and slapped him hard across the face. “Are you out of your mind?!” I knew medicine was Pierce’s life. From the day we met, I had studied with him, worked with him in the lab, and pulled all-nighters with him. When he needed to work on a research topic, I took time off work to support him. When a patient’s family gave him trouble, I was the first to step up. I cared more about his career than my own. “Elara, once I’ve made a name for myself, I’ll give you a wedding the city will talk about,” his promise echoed in my memory, chillingly clear. Now, Pierce pushed me aside, his voice cold. “Don’t interfere.” “We endured so much hardship, we spent so many nights awake, building this career step by step…” My tears finally broke free, and every word was ground out from between my teeth. “And you’re going to throw away everything you worked for—including our future—for a woman you barely know? Just like that, without a second thought?!” His promise to marry me now sounded utterly hollow and insulting. How could he marry me if he was in prison? This wasn’t just an insult to our love. It was an insult to our effort, to our memories. Smack!— I slapped him again, even harder. “Enough!” Pierce finally grabbed my hand. “I’m Vivian’s mentor. It’s my fault for not guiding her properly. I have to take responsibility for her mistakes.” My voice shot up: “How are you going to take responsibility?!” “With your clean record, your career, your life?” He pursed his lips. After a long pause, he spoke. “I believe her. It wasn’t intentional.” “Vivi is still young. And she’s a girl. She can’t go to jail. It’ll ruin her future…” I cut him off. “What about me?” “So you’re just going to abandon me, is that it?” Pierce looked at me, a flicker of struggle in his eyes. But overriding it was a cold resolution I couldn’t comprehend. “I’ll get out as fast as I can…” “And then what?” I laughed, the tears flowing harder. “I wait for you? Wait for another few years? How many ten-year periods do we have left?” “I don’t actually care anymore if you marry me.” “Pierce, I just realized you never took our relationship seriously. That was ten years… Ten years, the best of my youth! I was blind to waste so much time on you!” It was enough. Truly enough. I used all my strength to wrench my hand free from his grasp. My heart was completely dead, my tears all gone. My voice was so calm it frightened me. “Pierce, the wedding is off. We’re breaking up.” “We’re done. Don’t ever contact me again.” Pierce suddenly panicked. He tried to grab me, but I stepped back to avoid him. “No…” “Pierce!” Vivian screamed suddenly. “Let her go!” “It’s better if she leaves! Then no one can steal my man! No one can steal the father of my baby!” The words were a thunderclap. The entire department fell into stunned silence.

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Recently, I discovered my computer was hacked. The intruder’s goal? To steal a peek at the spicy fanfiction I write. To catch this “criminal,” I crammed four months of computer science knowledge. Armed with my limited skills, I traced the IP and hacked into his webcam. From the screen came the sound of a man panting heavily, making my heart race. After a long while, the face of the campus academic god—a regular on the school website—appeared on camera. Caught in the act of doing something indescribable, he blushed furiously: “You… you found me.” 1 My computer got hacked. Lately, weird, supernatural things have been happening when I write. — Typos in the smut I just wrote would correct themselves. — The formatting would suddenly become neat and tidy. — Documents I panic-saved in the wrong folder would magically appear in the correct one. … Just as I was suspecting schizophrenia from writing too much, my roommate Kiki joked, “Maybe your computer got hacked!” A casual remark, but I took it to heart. Although I don’t have sensitive info or more than four digits in my bank account, my computer holds hundreds of chapters of smut! Some even feature my crush, Shawn, as the protagonist! If this got out, how could I show my face on campus? I swore to catch this criminal! After consulting the “Academic God” of the Computer Science department (Kiki’s boyfriend), I started cramming. Finally, on a dark and stormy night, I hacked the intruder’s webcam. The environment was dim, but I recognized the wooden bunk beds of our dorms. I got excited. Holy crap! If he’s on campus, catching him is just a matter of time! I stared at the screen excitedly, looking for clues. Suddenly, the sound of suppressed panting came through. “Baby… mmh…” I froze. Having read countless books, I knew exactly what he was doing… But even with my theoretical knowledge, this scene was too much. What the hell? Who steals someone else’s smut to do that? So perverted… Although, I wrote the smut. But that’s not the point! Peeping Toms have no honor! However. This guy’s panting sounds kinda hot… My face burned instantly, throat tight, heart pounding like a drum. The guy on the other side sped up, no longer suppressing his voice, letting loose. His panting made my whole body heat up. Finally, with a sigh of satisfaction, he finished. Hearing the sound of tissues being pulled, I braced myself. Soon, a muscular arm appeared in the frame, followed by broad shoulders, collarbones, defined pecs… And finally, a handsome face with flushed cheeks. I forgot to breathe. I knew that face all too well. Me: ? 2 Shawn. The god of the Computer Science department. My crush. The male lead in dozens of my fanfics… So, he was reading stories based on himself while getting off? My brain short-circuited. On the other side, Shawn seemed to notice something was wrong. He panicked, then quickly operated his computer, taking control of mine. We met via video in the most awkward way possible. After staring at each other for four or five seconds, Shawn frantically shut down his computer. Before the screen went black, I clearly heard him curse under his breath: “Fuck…” My screen returned to my wallpaper, but I was still in shock. It took a long time for the panic to set in. Help! Did he read everything? All those indescribable… super spicy scenes! I buried my burning face in the blanket, trying to suffocate myself. We’re doomed. Will he tell anyone? After struggling internally for half an hour, I collapsed on the bed, accepting my fate. Whatever. At least I saw Shawn shirtless before I die socially. Worth it. 3 After that incident, I didn’t write for half a month. Instead, I inexplicably ran into Shawn everywhere on campus. Classrooms, cafeteria, supermarket, track field… I developed a skill: whenever Shawn was near, a chill would run down my spine, and I’d lock onto his location instantly. I don’t know if he saw me, but I ran every time. If we met, would he think I’m a pervert? Even though he’s the pervert… My roommate Summer asked me to watch hot guys play basketball, but I made excuses. “Hannah, heard Shawn is playing today. You’re not coming?” Normally, I’d grab snacks and follow them like a puppy. But now? Too awkward. “I’ll pass. Busy with the Literature Club.” Summer knew I was busy and pouted. Chloe added, “The club has an event soon, she really is busy.” Summer looked regretful. “Fine, you busy bee. We’re going! I’ll take HD photos for you to enjoy later~” I turned my back and mumbled a “Mmh.” “Enjoy”? I wouldn’t dare! Just thinking of Shawn makes me feel like he’s standing in front of me, condemning me. [You little pervert! Look innocent but mind is full of smut! Coveting my body!] I rushed to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. To force myself to calm down, I buried myself in club work. 4 When my roommates returned, I was still at my desk. “So sad, Shawn wore a new jersey today but only played half the game.” “Yeah! Explosively handsome. Did you see those girls next to us? Eyes glued to him!” … I stopped working, ears perking up. New jersey? What color? He’s pale, so blue would look good… As I thought this, Summer and the girls were in front of me. “Hannah, look! Shawn’s new jersey is super hot!” Summer shoved her phone in my face. Holy crap! It really is blue! In the photo, Shawn was as handsome as ever. His fair skin glowed in the sun, broad shoulders, narrow waist, perfect arm muscles. Under the blue jersey, his pecs were defined. I like muscles like that—healthy, not excessive. That’s why Shawn became my irreplaceable crush. Looking at it, the image of shirtless Shawn from that night popped into my head… My face burned again. This reaction was intriguing to others. “Oooooh~ Hannah, you’re blushing!” “You’re definitely gonna dream of him tonight!” They teased me. Why did Chloe say I’d dream of him? I kept my crush on Shawn buried deep. Until one night, Chloe got up to pee and heard me talk in my sleep. Calling Shawn’s name. They kept my secret but teased me whenever we saw him. I covered my face, grabbed my laptop, and fled to my bed. Their teasing got louder. I feel like I’ve done every embarrassing thing possible. 5 Ding~ WeChat message from Club President Liam. [Hannah, the freshmen sent the event brief. Check it for errors.] I replied [Okay]. Only when busy can I stop thinking about Shawn. I received the file and opened my laptop. Just as I was about to log into WeChat, the screen flickered, and another feed appeared. Familiar wooden bed, dark blue sheets… Isn’t this Shawn’s bed?! Why did his webcam turn on? I didn’t touch anything! Just as I was about to fix it, Shawn appeared in the frame. He seemed fresh out of the shower, shirtless, wearing only light blue basketball shorts… quite tight ones. A towel draped over his shoulder, damp hair dripping water droplets that slid down his firm chest, soaking into the blue sheets. Faced with this “Hunk Out of Bath” scene, my brain exploded. Who can handle this! Shawn looked at the screen, locking eyes with shocked me for a few seconds. First surprise, then he pursed his lips nervously, cheeks slowly turning red. He carefully pulled up the towel to cover his chest, looking at me shyly. “You… why are you… peeping at me again?” Me: ? What do you mean? Peeping? Again? Sitting in bed, accused of crimes from the sky! I looked at the curtains. Roommates were chatting, oblivious. “What peeping? I just opened my laptop! You hacked me first, that’s how I caught you!” Shawn tugged the towel coyly. “Who knows? How could a little girl like you do such things?” Excuse me? This is outrageous! Before I could speak, Shawn crossed his arms, pretending to cover himself. His well-developed pecs created cleavage with just a slight movement. “If I hadn’t worn pants, you would’ve seen everything.” I almost jumped off the bed to curse at the screen. Zap! The screen went black, flashed twice, and returned to my wallpaper. He ran? Without explaining? Ineuliably labeled a pervert. Thinking about it, I felt this kid did it on purpose. Can I tolerate this? I suspect he’ll leak my smut writing secret. Need to negotiate. Emotional, I grabbed my phone and mobilized my network to find Shawn’s class schedule.

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My sister and I transmigrated into a book together. I was lustful, despising the crippled CEO for being useless in bed. My sister was greedy, despising the poor boy for having no money. So that night, we swapped. I took the poor boy, trampling his dignity beneath my feet. She became the CEO’s canary, spending his money like water. When my sister couldn’t take the angst anymore, she planned to fake her death and run away with a fortune. I couldn’t take it either—rubbing my sore waist—and followed right behind her. Years later, while living our best lives, my sister suddenly texted me in the middle of the night: “Don’t come home. Ethan found me.” I pushed the male model off me and rushed to save her, only to be pulled into the embrace of a new business tycoon. Anxious, I slapped him. He smiled darkly, kissing my wrist. “Baby, you’re still so weak.” 1 The moment my sister’s twenty million dollars hit the account, I was busy humiliating the poor boy, Seth, stepping on him literally and figuratively. “Did I say you could sleep on the bed? Filthy!” But Seth didn’t look angry. Instead, he stared at my foot obsessively, his face flushed. The System screamed in my head like a marmot: [Host! Your mission is to humiliate him, not reward him! Use some force!] Oh. So that’s why Seth was blushing. I put on a mean face, glared with my almond eyes, and ground my heel into his chest. Seth tensed up, his eyelashes trembling as he let out a muffled groan. Two seconds later, I got bored. “Hard as a rock. Exhausting.” The System warned: [If you don’t complete the mission, you’ll be electrocuted.] I immediately aimed a kick at his face. That should be humiliating enough, right? But I lost my balance and fell flat on my face. I clutched my bruised shin, eyes red with tears. The System cursed: [Pathetic!] Seth immediately cradled my foot, massaging it gently. “Baby, does it feel better now?” Looking at his innocent, handsome profile, my tears stopped. Damn, I was getting hungry again. I deliberately pressed my toes against his abs, staring at the redness spreading from the corners of his eyes. “Did you shower?” Seth’s voice was hoarse. “Baby, I cleaned everything.” My gaze drifted down. “Really? Let me check.” After six months, only I knew how terrifying his needs were. When we did it, he was like a mad dog. But the moment I cried pain, he wouldn’t dare move, even if he was about to explode. Customer service 10/10. … Three hours later, I lay limp in his arms, demanding he carry me to the shower. “Baby, I…” He begged, voice raspy. I glanced down, used to it. “I’m tired. Figure it out yourself.” After the shower, he leaned in for a kiss. I slapped him. Because I never let him sleep in the bed. Use and discard. And a final insult for good measure: “Useless thing!” Seth looked crushed, like a broken puppy. Eyes red with grievance, he kissed my foot. “I’ll work harder to satisfy you, Baby.” “Baby, you worked hard.” “Goodnight, Baby.” He retreated to the sofa with his blanket, looking desolate. The System arrived with the electric shock. I was unbothered: [Just tell me, was he humiliated or not?] The System checked the data and rolled its eyes: [Fine, you win, you yellow-brained girl!] Before sleep, I got a text from my sister. “How’s the plot going on your end?” Me: “Just about to cuckold him. You?” Sister: “Ethan is about to get engaged to his white moonlight. Time for me to fake a pregnancy and run.” My competitive spirit ignited. “What! Why is your plot moving faster than mine?!” 2 My sister and I are twins. We transmigrated into this book after a plane crash. Originally, I was supposed to be the substitute lover for the disabled CEO, Ethan. Destined to be abused physically and emotionally, die tragically, and make him regret it for life. My sister was supposed to be the vicious fiancée of the poor boy, Seth. Treating him like a dog, cheating on him with a rich kid, cuckolding him like crazy, and finally ending up ruined by beggars. We only get to live in this world if we complete the System’s tasks and finish the plot. It’s the only way to break free from the System’s control. But I’m lustful. I despised the crippled CEO for being old and useless. My sister is greedy. She couldn’t stand being poor. So we swapped. She took my angst-filled heroine script, using the opportunity to drain Ethan’s bank account. I took her vicious villainess script. While despising the male lead, I went to town on him! I died a virgin in my past life. What’s wrong with enjoying myself now?! 3 To rush the plot, I started acting up the moment I opened my eyes. Seth brought a fried egg to the table. I flipped the plate. My favorite runny yolk! My heart bled, but I put on a mean face. “Disgusting! Eggs every day? Why did I even date you!” I opened a “Rich Kids of Instagram” page and shoved photos of luxury cars and watches in his face. “Look at other boyfriends! Cars, bags, mansions! You just give me eggs and make me live in a basement!” Only I knew that despite being poor, Seth never mistreated me. He bought me top-tier skincare sets. Beautiful clothes every month. He gave me the best while he wore cheap street clothes and used one bar of soap for everything. Accusing him like this was excessive. But Seth showed zero resentment. Only guilt. “Baby, I’m sorry. Give me a little more time. I promise I’ll give you the life you want.” My conscience pricked, but I showed him a photo of a designer bag. Under the System’s threat, I barked, “Buy me this bag! Or we break up!” Seth was in the critical stage of his startup. Every penny counted. How could he afford a designer bag? But that afternoon, Seth took me to the store and bought it. Carrying the Birkin, my heart pounded. [System, this plot is wrong.] [Shouldn’t I drag him to the store, force him to buy it, then humiliate him publicly by linking arms with a rich guy and dumping him?] The System exploded too: [I don’t know! Wait! Where did he get the money?!] But the plot must go on. Carrying the bag Seth bought, I turned and linked arms with the rich guy waiting nearby. “Baby?” Seth grabbed my wrist, disbelief in his eyes. I shook him off, sneering. “Seth, one bag emptied your account. I don’t want to live a hard life with you.” “Baby, what do you mean?” Seth stared at me, eyes red, expression agonizing. I trampled his pride into the dust. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want you anymore. Thanks for the parting gift, though.” I turned to leave. Seth suddenly rushed forward, hugging me so tight he wanted to merge me into his bones. His voice trembled. “Baby, I’ll take that as a joke. Let’s go home, okay? I’ll buy you anything you want.” Suppressing the sting in my nose, I slapped him. Under Seth’s dark, terrifying gaze, I fled into the rich guy’s car. “Drive! Fast!” Thinking of the original host’s tragic fate, my tears fell like free rain. [Waaaah, System, will I really not die if I abuse the male lead like this?] No, I have to find my sister. She’ll know what to do. 4 Meanwhile, my sister was busy “running with the ball” (fake pregnancy escape). The moment she stepped into the airport, Ethan’s men dragged her back. She sat on the floor, looking pathetic, red-rimmed eyes fixed on the man in the wheelchair. “Ethan, why won’t you let me go? I just want a peaceful life.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. Ethan frowned impatiently, pinching her chin. His tone was icy. “You staged this whole show just for me, didn’t you, Jenny? Thinking you can manipulate me with a baby?” My sister turned her face away, showing a stubborn profile, refusing to explain. Ethan warned her in a low voice, “Jenny, don’t forget. I kept you around because you look like her. But you crossed the line touching her!” “For the sake of the child, I’ll let it slide. Do it again, and you won’t survive my anger!” My sister looked at him with panic. “In five years, have you never loved me?” A flicker of hesitation crossed Ethan’s eyes, quickly replaced by disgust. “Do you deserve it?” My sister collapsed, laughing and crying, heart dead. He waved his hand. Bodyguards dragged her for a checkup. “How’s the child?” His doctor friend, Dr. Xiao, looked awkward. “Ethan, Ms. Jenny isn’t pregnant.” “What did you say?!” Ethan almost stood up from his wheelchair. My sister’s eyes widened. “Impossible!” “Ms. Jenny, I’m a doctor. I have professional ethics. The test results don’t lie.” Dr. Xiao avoided my sister’s gaze guiltily. Ethan looked at my sister, face dark as thunder. “Jenny, you’ve got guts!” Ethan was crippled early on due to a family plot. Doctors said he likely couldn’t have children. My sister used this to try and ruin his wedding with his white moonlight, Susan. She touched his reverse scale. 5 My sister was locked in the basement. Once everyone left, I jumped out of my hiding spot (spatial inventory). Before I could tearfully hug her, she pulled out eye drops and flooded her eyes. “This consumes too much tears. Almost fainted from crying.” I was heartbroken. “Sister, I can’t watch you suffer. I permit you to fake your death before me.” She smirked. “Don’t worry. Soon. The day Ethan gets married is the day I die.” “Wonder if he’ll like my wedding gift.” A few days later, she was released. Susan begged Ethan for her. Duh. If my sister stayed locked up, how could she cause drama? When Ethan came to the basement, we were cracking sunflower seeds, discussing which city to retire in. Hearing the wheelchair, I grabbed a handful of shells and vanished into my space. Ethan looked at her gloomily. “Apologize to Susan.” My sister laughed dryly, like a soulless puppet. “Okay.” Ethan felt a sudden irritation. He grabbed her chin. “You pushed her into the water, gave her a high fever. An apology is letting you off easy.” He looked at her flat stomach, a storm brewing in his eyes. “Why lie about the pregnancy, Jenny?” My sister stroked her belly gently, smiling. “Does it matter now?” Ethan couldn’t stand looking at her. He turned his wheelchair. “After this, don’t let me see you again.” My sister laughed softly. “As you wish, Ethan.”

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Four years of college dating. Three years of marriage. And then, on a Tuesday that was aggressively ordinary, Grant dropped the bomb. I asked him why, my voice trembling in a way I hated. His response was terrifyingly calm, a CEO firing an underperforming intern. “You live in sweatpants, Nora. Your hair is always in that same messy bun. You refuse to wear makeup when I take you to client dinners. And our anniversary? It’s always the same homemade spaghetti.” He adjusted his cufflinks, looking through me. “I am done with this repetitive, beige existence.” That night, we slept in separate rooms. We didn’t speak. And neither of us noticed the pilot light on the vintage gas stove in the kitchen had flickered out, while the gas kept running. The explosion took the house, and us, instantly. When I woke up—alive, breathing, and inexplicably back in time—I realized Grant had come back too. We never spoke of it. We just severed ties with a silent, mutual efficiency. Until the high school reunion. He walked in with his arm around a girl named Sienna, looking like the poster couple for Town & Country. “Nora,” my friend Jess nudged me, wine glass tilting dangerously. “Grant’s dated half the cheerleading squad since graduation. Why haven’t you found anyone?” I smiled, swirling the ice in my water. “Who says I haven’t? I’m getting married next month. You should come.” 1 The words had barely left my lips when Grant guided Sienna to our table. The air in the room shifted. A dozen pairs of eyes darted between us like we were a spectator sport. Three years ago, we were the golden couple, the prom king and queen who actually made it. Then, post-graduation silence. I stared at the tablecloth, trying to make myself small. Of all the empty seats in the banquet hall, Sienna pulled Grant into the ones directly next to me. The tension was thick enough to choke on. The class president, trying to salvage the mood, raised a pitcher of beer. “Alright, gang’s all here! Let’s do a round!” He moved to fill the glass in front of me. “She’s allergic to alcohol. She can’t drink that.” Grant’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and instinctive. The table went dead silent. Everyone knew about my severe intolerance; it was a defining trait of my college years. Grant cleared his throat, realizing his slip. He grabbed his own glass and downed it, a frown etching lines into his forehead. Beside him, Sienna’s smile faltered, brittle as dried leaves. She laughed, a high, forced sound. “Oh, silly me. I almost forgot Grant was talking about me,” she lied, clinging to his arm. “My immune system has been so weak lately; the doctor said alcohol might trigger a reaction.” The table erupted in polite, awkward laughter, making jokes about Grant being such a protective boyfriend. I felt a wave of exhaustion. “Excuse me,” I said, standing up. “Restroom.” I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the past. When I stepped back into the hallway, Grant was there, leaning against the wall, a cigarette burning between his fingers. Seeing me, he immediately crushed the cigarette against the sole of his shoe. He stared at the smoldering butt, freezing for a second. I hated smoke. In our old life, Grant never smoked around me. If he indulged, he would stand outside on the porch for thirty minutes, letting the wind strip the scent away before coming near me. I loved him then. I felt nothing now. I tried to walk past him without a glance, but his hand shot out, gripping my wrist. He leaned in, the smell of tobacco and expensive cologne invading my space. “Nora. Did you hear I was coming? Is that why you’re here?” His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “What? Want to try again?” I yanked my hand away, looking at him with genuine amusement. “Grant, you are hallucinating.” He took a half-step back but blocked my path, his jaw tight. “Fine. Better that way. Saves me the trouble of rejecting you. By the way, I heard you’re working at City General. I’m surprised. I didn’t think you had it in you to actually hold down a job.” I ignored the barb. I’d heard it all before in our first life. During our worst fights, he called me a parasite. He said I’d die without him, that I was just a pet he kept fed and housed. “Grant?” Sienna’s voice echoed from the banquet hall. “Where are you? We’re leaving!” Grant didn’t say another word. He turned on his heel and walked away. 2 The second time I saw Grant was strictly professional. His conglomerate was donating a fleet of MRI machines to our hospital. In the conference room, I stood by the projection screen, my voice steady as I ran through the hospital’s history and accolades. Grant sat in the front row, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the mahogany table. The Chief of Staff called his name twice before he blinked, snapping out of a trance. His eyes had been fixed on my face, clouded with a strange confusion. “Must be Dr. Vance’s captivating presentation,” the Chief joked nervously. People chuckled. The tension broke. When the meeting ended, I exhaled a breath I felt I’d been holding for an hour. My only goal was to escape. “Nora,” the Department Head intercepted me at the door. “Dinner tonight with the donors. Mandatory attendance.” That evening, I tried to slide into the seat furthest from the head of the table at the steakhouse. “Sit here.” Grant’s voice wasn’t a request. He pulled out the chair directly next to him, his eyes locking onto mine. The room went quiet for a heartbeat. “I want to hear more about the hospital’s logistics,” he added slowly, daring me to contradict him. “Dr. Vance wouldn’t mind, would she?” He had cornered me. The Department Head practically shoved me into the chair, signaling me with frantic eyes to play nice. I sat, stiff as a board, every nerve ending screaming run. Halfway through the meal, a serving spoon hovered over my plate. A large scoop of lobster risotto landed in front of me. “I remember you love lobster risotto,” Grant said, his voice dropping to that intimate register again. “This place has the best in Chicago. Eat.” I stared at the creamy rice, the chunks of rich meat. A sudden sting pricked my nose. Not for him. For me. I hated lobster. I hated the texture. But Grant loved it. So, for seven years, it became our favorite. Just like I stopped eating fish because he disliked the smell, even though I grew up by the coast. Grant didn’t know me. He only knew the reflection of himself he had forced me to become. I didn’t pick up my fork. Under the table, a warm hand covered mine. It felt like a branding iron. I jerked up, my chair screeching against the floorboards. Clatter. My sudden movement knocked the silverware off the table. The room froze. Everyone stared. I pressed my lips together, fighting the tremor in my voice. “I apologize. I’m not feeling well. I need to go.” And then, I fled. 3 In the back of the Uber, I scrubbed the back of my hand with a wet wipe until the skin turned raw and red. It stung, but the physical pain was better than the nausea rolling in my stomach. The moment I walked into my apartment, an unknown number flashed on my phone screen. I swiped answer. Grant’s voice filled the quiet room, sounding slightly unhinged. “Nora. You still feel it, don’t you?” He sounded so sure of himself. “If you didn’t, why did you freak out tonight?” I hadn’t eaten all day, and my stomach was cramping violently. I didn’t have the energy to scream. “Grant. I am married.” A scoff cracked through the speaker. Pure derision. “Married? At least come up with a believable lie. Who else could possibly give you the life you want?” “You think that hospital salary is going to buy you a brownstone in the Gold Coast? You think you’ll be wearing designer silk on a resident’s pay?” “Admit it, Nora. You’re just punishing me for not calling you sooner.” “But you didn’t call me either, did you?” I let out a dry, incredulous laugh, digging through my drawer for my stomach meds. “Grant, when two adults don’t speak for years, that’s called a breakup.” “I am asking you, for the last time, stay out of my life.” I hung up, tossed the phone onto the sofa, and dry-swallowed two pills. I lay back, closing my eyes, waiting for the silence to heal me. 4 The next morning, the stomach cramps had faded to a dull ache, but my head was pounding. The door to my exam room swung open. Grant walked in, guiding Sienna. I didn’t even blink. I put on my doctor face. “What seems to be the problem?” Sienna leaned into Grant’s chest, giggling softly. “Doctor, I’ve been so nauseous lately. Throwing up in the mornings.” I wrote out a lab slip without looking up. “Go to the lab. Get a blood draw.” An hour later, I held the results. My voice was clinical, devoid of emotion. “You’re pregnant.” Sienna’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. She grabbed Grant’s bicep. “Grant! Did you hear? We’re having a baby!” Grant didn’t look at her. His eyes were laser-focused on me, burning with intensity. I ignored him, going through the standard script about prenatal vitamins and scheduling the next ultrasound. “Do you have any questions?” I asked, picking up my pen. “Get rid of it,” Grant said. Sienna’s smile shattered. Tears welled up instantly. “What? Grant, why? Why don’t you want our baby?” Grant’s voice was flat, final. “I said no. That means no. There is no ‘why’.” Sienna followed his gaze. She looked at him, then at me. The realization hit her like a physical blow. “It’s her, isn’t it? Grant, look at me! Is it because of this bitch?” “You broke up years ago! I am your girlfriend!” Grant frowned, annoyed by the scene. “Now isn’t the right time for a child. I need to focus on the merger.” “Lies! It’s all lies!” Sienna screamed, lunging across the desk. Rrrrip. She snatched the medical file from my hands and tore it in half. Paper rained down like confetti. “You whore! Did you seduce him? Is that why he won’t touch me? Is that why he wants to kill my baby?” Smack! The slap caught me off guard. My glasses flew off my face, skittering across the tile floor. One lens shattered. My ear rang with a high-pitched whine. Grant’s face went pale. He grabbed Sienna, pulling her into a hug, his voice dropping to a soothing murmur. “Okay, okay. Calm down. It’s bad for the baby.” “If you want it that much, fine. Keep it.” He wrapped his arm around the sobbing woman and turned to leave. “Stop.” They froze. I bent down, picked up my broken frames, and placed them on the desk. Then, looking straight at them, I picked up the landline and dialed 911. 5 The police station was a drab gray box fluorescent-lit and smelling of stale coffee. Grant sat on a bench, holding Sienna, whispering comforts. I sat alone on the opposite side. My left cheek was swollen, pulsing with heat. I ran my tongue over a cut inside my mouth, tasting copper. An officer walked over, looking weary. “Ma’am, if you don’t accept mediation and insist on pressing charges, Ms. Miller could be facing assault charges. It’s a serious offense.” Sienna heard this and dissolved into theatrics, clutching Grant’s lapels. “Grant, I’m scared… it was just hormones… I didn’t mean it…” Grant patted her back, then looked at me. His eyes were cold, filled with the arrogance of a man who had never been told ‘no’. “Name your price, Nora. How much to make this go away?” I tried to speak, but my jaw ached. He hadn’t changed. Not one bit. When you amused him, you were a queen. When you inconvenienced him, you were debris. I looked him in the eye. “I don’t settle.” Grant sighed, like a parent dealing with a toddler’s tantrum. “Nora, don’t push it.” “It was one slap. Take the check and stop making a scene.” “I don’t want your money,” I said, enunciating every syllable. “I am pressing charges. I will not forgive this.” Grant’s jaw tightened. He pulled out his phone and speed-dialed his legal team. His lawyer arrived in twenty minutes—a shark in a three-thousand-dollar suit. He started listing reasons why a “simple misunderstandings” shouldn’t ruin a young mother’s life. Then my phone rang. It was the Department Head. “Nora! You need to drop this immediately. Make peace with Mr. Lockwood. If you don’t, consider your tenure review cancelled. In fact, consider your job gone.” It was Grant’s move. Threatening my livelihood. “Fine,” I said into the phone. “I quit.” Ten minutes later, the station doors burst open. The Head of HR and two administrators from the hospital stormed in. “Dr. Vance!” The HR director barked. “You are causing a PR nightmare! People are saying you’re a homewrecker who got into a brawl with a pregnant patient!” “Our stock dropped two points! If you don’t settle this and issue a public apology, we will sue you for breach of contract and damages. We’ll ruin you!” I stood there, surrounded, the walls closing in. Then, a voice cut through the chaos from the entrance. “I’d like to see you try.”

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I selected a diamond ring at the auction house, intending it to be my wedding band with Marcus Ashford. But no matter how high I bid, the young woman Marcus sponsored always topped my offer by a single chip. Marcus laughed, a sound laced with indulgent exasperation. “Babe, the kid has a thing for sparkly bits. Let her have it, be sweet.” In return, I executed the scorched-earth close. Daisy Monroe ran out of the room that day, crying. Marcus kissed my forehead with a look of helpless affection. “My impulsive little firecracker.” He didn’t follow Daisy. And for the next year of our marriage, he made sure I knew he hadn’t, relentlessly demanding, night after night, an exhausting variety of attention, never letting up for a moment. Then the invitation to a private event arrived. There, an intimate photograph—a blurred shot of my face lost in pleasure beneath Marcus—was brazenly displayed as an auction lot. Marcus stood with an arm wrapped possessively around Daisy’s waist. “You like your scorched-earth tactics, don’t you?” he said, his smile cold and predatory. “Three hundred and sixty-five private photos. If you don’t want them falling into the wrong hands, you can take your time buying them back.” 1 I stood rigid in the auction hall, listening to dozens of men in tailored suits talk openly and vulgarly in front of the massive screen. “God, she’s filthy! I’ve been around the block a hundred times, but this is the first time a single photo has gotten me this worked up.” “Tsk, tsk! I wouldn’t have guessed. Eliza Sutton looks like a choir girl, but she’s filthier in bed than a high-end escort. And she had the nerve to tell me to get lost the one time I tried to touch her at a charity event.” “Ashford’s got all the luck. He gets to break in a debutante from a family of academics.” A man nudged his neighbor and gave a suggestive wink toward Marcus, who sat alone at the main table. My hands clenched into fists, trembling as I turned to look at my husband. The seat that was once mine was occupied by Daisy. Marcus made no effort to hide his satisfaction, his lips curving into a subtle smirk. “For the winner of each photo,” he announced, his voice carrying clearly across the room, “we’re including the full video recording from that night.” “Ashford, you’re a legend!” The men erupted in cheers. Marcus’s beautiful eyes fixed on mine, a thread of amusement woven into his gaze. “Don’t look at me like that, Eliza. I told you, you can use your scorched-earth tactics. Three hundred and sixty-five pictures. Take your time.” “Oh, Ashford, surely you know! The Sutton Group went belly-up recently. Miss Sutton barely has two cents to rub together!” “One of those scorched-earth bids costs five million dollars! She’d be lucky to have ten million in liquid cash left.” Marcus raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Oh? Is that so?” “Damn shame. Three hundred and sixty-five shots, each one better than the last. Honestly, I’d love to buy the whole collection and observe them at my leisure.” A man stroked his chin, sighing. “Too bad, Ashford is the only one here with that kind of capital.” Marcus chuckled, raising a hand. “Gentlemen, Ashford Holdings will not participate in the bidding for any of today’s lots. All proceeds will be donated to a vetted charity. Bid freely.” The room exploded with renewed cheers. “That’s a true entrepreneur! Thank God Ashford secretly squeezed out Sutton Industries’ partners, or we might not have gotten a hold of these photos today!” “What are you worried about? We’ve got dozens of guys here. We can all share!” “No way! That third shot is too wild. I’m taking it!” Only I stood there, my fists trembling, staring at Marcus in disbelief. “The Sutton Group’s collapse,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Was that your doing?” Marcus simply looked back, the smirk playing on his lips. Tears streamed down my face, my voice raw and coarse. “Why… because I executed a scorched-earth bid a year ago?” Marcus ignored my plea, taking the microphone. “Time is limited, Mrs. Ashford. If you aren’t going to participate in the auction, I’m going to let my friends start.” The men watched me, their expressions smug and expectant. Each man in this room was a mogul, a titan in our social circle. The paltry ten million I had left was barely enough for one of their weekend trips. How could I possibly compete? “I need a restroom.” I quickly wiped my eyes and turned to leave the hall. I genuinely feared I would lose my mind right there on the spot. A roar of laughter erupted behind me. “The little tramp actually has shame, hahaha!” “Ashford, don’t wait for her. Ten million dollars? She can’t play with us. She’s just embarrassed and using the restroom as an excuse to run.” “Silence.” Marcus’s voice cut through the noise, cold and sharp. He stared intently at the entrance. The entire room fell silent; no one dared to cross him. A moment later, I pushed the door open. I walked back in, my eyes still red, and took my seat under the collective gaze of the room. “Start the bidding.” Marcus glanced at me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. To ensure clarity, the main screen behind the host had been transformed into a panoramic, wraparound display, continuously scrolling through my humiliation so everyone could “enjoy” it from any angle. “Lot number one.” The host smiled knowingly. “Starting bid, two hundred thousand.” A collective gasp went through the crowd. “Classy! So tasteful! A fine art exhibit! Only the Sutton debutante could make it look this good.” “Two hundred fifty thousand!” The host didn’t smile; instead, he put up a text description. I shot to my feet. It was a detailed narrative of the pivotal moments from my wedding night with Marcus. Aside from me, the only person who could have written those details was… I trembled as I stared at Marcus. He sat there calmly, a look of detached mockery on his face, as if none of this involved him. Only when Daisy leaned in to whisper to him did he turn, his eyes filling with a tenderness he’d never once offered me. The clamor around me was deafening. “I thought the photo was hot enough, but the story is even wilder! Don’t snatch it up too fast—five million! I want the video!” “Six million!” “They started this hot on the first night, I can’t imagine what came later… Ugh! Ten million!” “Scorched earth.” I heard my voice, shaking and weak. All heads turned toward me. The host maintained his professional smile. “Lot thirty-eight executes the scorched-earth bid. Are you certain?” I collapsed back into my seat, my voice a barely-there whisper. “Certain.” “Damn! Too bad, that video was definitely going to be explosive.” “What are you afraid of? How many lots can she cover?” “Exactly. The later ones will be better anyway. The more experience, the hotter the content.” “Lot thirty-eight, scorched earth! Congratulations, Mrs. Ashford, you’ve secured the video package!” I closed my eyes, my fingernails digging deep into my palms. The large screen immediately moved to the second photograph, complete with its accompanying narrative. “Lot number two, starting bid two hundred thousand!” The room erupted. “Is this even real? It’s better than any of the study material I’ve ever seen!” A man sitting close to me poked my arm. “Tsk, tsk, tsk! I never would have thought it. You look so pure, but in private, you’re just a low-down tramp.” I shot him a venomous glare. He roared with laughter. “Hey, I like them just like you! If Ashford doesn’t want you, come to me! I’ll spot you one of your bids. How about it?” “Don’t touch me.” My voice was icy enough to kill. The man snorted dismissively and sat back. “Playing innocent? You’re used goods. Ten million!” “Twenty million!” “Twenty-five million!” “Scorched… earth.” I don’t know where I found the strength to utter the words. The host glanced at me, his smile deepening with a hint of malice. “Lot thirty-eight, scorched earth!” The transaction was complete. He turned back to me with an artificial smile. “That’s two scorched-earth bids, ma’am. Based on our verification, you have less than five hundred thousand left in liquid cash, you know?” My voice was hollow. “Continue.” “Heh.” The disdain on the host’s face was momentarily unchecked as he brought up the third photograph. “Lot number three, starting bid two hundred thousand!” “Scorched earth.” My voice drew the immediate, bewildered attention of the room. The host frowned. “Mrs. Ashford, your initial verification was ten million, four hundred and thirty thousand dollars. You’ve used two bids. The remaining cash is insufficient.” A man winked at me. “Beg me, little sister, and big brother will cover it for you.” I ignored them and looked only at Marcus. He was watching me, too. But there was no sign of help in his eyes, only a curl of contempt on his lips. Everyone looked to him. After all, he was still my husband. “Why are you all looking at me?” Marcus said casually, a lazy curl to his lip. “I said, all lots are open for you gentlemen to bid on.” The men relaxed with a collective sigh. “Thank you, Ashford, for being a gentleman.” It was then that Daisy, who had been sitting quietly beside him, raised her hand. “How about this,” she said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “I’ll execute the scorched-earth bid for my sister.” Marcus looked at her. A brief flash of astonishment was quickly replaced by undisguised delight. Daisy looked at me. “After all, big sister once sponsored my university tuition abroad. I have to show my gratitude, don’t I?” The smile in Marcus’s eyes deepened. His usually cold demeanor melted away as he looked at Daisy, his face full of warmth. The men in the room began to jeer. “No wonder Ashford loves Daisy! Who wouldn’t love such an obedient girl?” “Daisy is such an angel. She blushes at a dirty joke, unlike some people.” The implied accusation was like a sharpened blade stabbing into me. Daisy’s lips curved in a subtle, victorious smirk before she turned back to me. “Don’t worry, sister.” “You’re a hypocrite.” She faltered. “What?” “Your way of showing gratitude is by stealing my seat and hooking up with my husband?” I leaned back in the chair. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t fallen so far as to need help from a cheap traitor and a human garbage heap.” “Eliza Sutton.” Marcus finally spoke, his tone ice cold and utterly foreign. I gave him a fleeting, frigid glance and addressed the host. “It’s my bid. I’ll handle it myself.” “Well…” The host looked troubled. “If you insist on the scorched-earth bid, we’ll have to liquidate the remaining Sutton real estate. However, the value has dropped significantly since the bankruptcy. It’s barely enough to scrape together five million.” “Execute it. Don’t waste time.” “Tsk, tsk, tsk! This woman is insane.” The men shook their heads and scoffed. “Throwing away her last assets just to save face. It’s a pity; that third one was the one I really wanted.” “Don’t worry. We haven’t even gotten to the half-way point. Three hundred more to go. What are you worried about?” “Exactly. I took a sneak peek—the later ones get so filthy she looks subhuman, hahaha!” A chorus of gazes, pitying and mocking, shot toward me. “Just the death throes of a desperate woman.” “Wait for the next one. She’ll just have to watch us take her private photos.” “Tsk, tsk, tsk! I wonder what her expression will be then. Will it be the same as when she was on Ashford’s bed?” Laughter rang in my ears. I swallowed the lump in my throat, gripped my fists, and looked up at the host. The fourth photo was displayed quickly. “Lot number four, starting bid two hundred thousand!” “No way! I love this one! Fifteen million!” “Twenty million!” “Twenty-five million!” “Scorched earth.” I spoke. All eyes immediately swiveled to me. The host’s professional smile was finally beginning to crack. “Mrs. Ashford, please stop disrupting the process. If you continue, we will have to ask you to leave.” I said, coolly, “I’m not disrupting anything. I said I want to execute the scorched-earth bid. And not just for this one. I am bidding on all three hundred and sixty-five photos and videos in this entire collection.” The host and the crowd exchanged glances, then burst out laughing. Even Daisy let out a delighted little gasp and buried her face into Marcus’s shoulder. Marcus’s eyes were so full of gentle adoration they could have melted water, and the frozen mask of his face finally relaxed. “Is she insane? Three hundred and sixty-five lots? That’s over one point eight billion dollars! She couldn’t afford that even before she went bankrupt!” “Only Ashford can play that big! Who does she think she is?” The host took a moment to regain his composure and his professional smile. “Mrs. Ashford, you liquidated all your assets on the last lot. You cannot bid on this one. Now, which gentleman bid twenty-five million? Twenty-five million, going once!” Smash! I snatched the glass of water from the table and hurled it forward. It shattered at the host’s feet with a loud crack, making him leap back. I glared at him. “I said I am executing the scorched-earth bid. Are you deaf?” “Eliza Sutton!” A man’s patience snapped. “We played along for three lots! You’re broke now! Stop putting on a show!” “Fraudulent bidding has consequences. The fact that we even want your photos is a compliment, don’t be ungrateful!” The host’s smile was gone entirely. “Mrs. Ashford, if it weren’t for Mr. Ashford, you wouldn’t even have the right to execute a scorched-earth bid here. If you continue to act out, I will have security escort you out!” I narrowed my eyes. “Who said I’m broke?” Marcus watched me, an unreadable tension in his posture. The crowd paused. “Don’t joke around. This is a private auction, but do you think our asset verification methods are a joke? We know exactly how much you have.” I looked at the host. “If I still have funds, I can still bid, correct?” “Yes, but…” “Re-verify my assets.” I cut the host off. The crowd exchanged bewildered looks. Marcus frowned, almost imperceptibly. I pulled the microphone closer to me. “What’s the matter? Can’t you gentlemen handle a simple re-verification?” “Hmph! Verify it then! We’ll let you lose with honor!” My photo was wiped from the main screen, replaced by my bank account balance. The host stood back up. “Lot thirty-eight, second asset verification.” Everyone stared intensely at the numbers, a nervousness creeping onto their faces. Whispers broke out. “How is she so calm? Does she actually have the money?” “No way… Ashford secretly blocked all her company’s partnerships. Who in this city has more pull than him?” “So she’s just completely lost it? Humiliating herself in public? Maybe… maybe she got a backer we don’t know about…” “Impossible! What backer is bigger than Ashford?” “Verification complete.” Everyone leaned in, holding their breath. Subtracting the cost of the three scorched-earth bids… Account Balance— Zero. “Hahahahahaha!!” The room exploded with laughter. “We thought she had some secret plan. Turns out she’s truly lost it!” A faint sneer appeared on Marcus’s lips. Daisy was laughing so hard she was wiping tears from her eyes. The host gestured to the security detail. “I apologize, Mrs. Ashford. You are disrupting the process. I must ask you to leave. Thank you for your support of this auction. Security!” A line of large men immediately moved to surround me. “Wait.” I sat calmly, looking down at my wrist watch. My index finger tapped the armrest, keeping rhythm with the second hand. After three more taps, I made a “go ahead” gesture. “You may re-verify my assets now.” “Eliza Sutton, what do you think we are, here to waste time with a lunatic?” The host was furious, waving his hand. “Drag her out and toss her.” But the words died in his throat. His eyes slowly widened, and he snapped his head back, staring intently at the screen. “This… How is this possible?” Marcus suddenly stood up. Everyone else was on their feet. “That’s… that can’t be real, can it?”

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“You’re an unmarried girl, whose bastard is in your belly?” My parents questioned me like they’d lost their minds. They demanded to know who the father was. I looked at them and suddenly smiled. “The kidnappers.” My parents and brother froze instantly, their faces pale as sheets. I continued softly, “Don’t you remember? The kidnappers demanded a ransom, but you only agreed to save your other precious daughter, saying you wanted to teach me a lesson.” My mother collapsed onto the sofa. “That’s impossible. We just wanted you to learn not to bully Amber anymore. I didn’t… we didn’t think…” I squatted in front of my mother. “You never thought the kidnappers would assault me, did you?” Without waiting for her answer, I continued, “Take a guess. Do several grown male kidnappers have any humanity?” My mother opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. “When I came home covered in bruises, why did no one ask me what happened?” “You didn’t come to save me. You only took Amber.” “You didn’t come the first day, nor the second. A whole month…” “Did you think the kidnappers still believed they’d get the ransom?” Well, now it’s fine. I’m dying. 1 The next day, I prepared to go to the hospital for surgery. Coincidentally, I ran into Mr. and Mrs. Shaw and their son, Ethan. Amber’s stomach issues had flared up again, and the whole family was rushing to accompany her. I went to the doctor’s office to confirm the surgery time. Walking out to handle the hospitalization paperwork, Ethan saw me. He grabbed my arm, Amber glaring daggers from behind him. “What are you doing at the hospital? Amber’s stomach acts up because you refuse to eat or drink, and you’re still causing trouble?” Ethan demanded sharply. I waved him off. “I’m not bored enough to visit you guys.” To me, the Shaw family were now strangers. 2 Since I decided not to be a Shaw anymore, I would completely cut off all emotional ties with them, just like… my parents did to me. Perhaps in my bones, I truly shared the same cold blood as the Shaws. I shook off Ethan and walked away. I used to always watch the backs of my parents and Ethan. Finally, I didn’t have to anymore. The biopsy results came back. Stage 4 Glioblastoma. Surgery was pointless, but the baby couldn’t stay. How could I keep the baby? Coming off the operating table alone, I almost lost half my life. I slept for two days, but it felt like a shallow nap. If death is like this, it doesn’t seem too hard to accept. The doctor said the abortion was successful, but the cancer cells had spread. I knew my time was even shorter. A month later, I was discharged. The doctor urged me to continue chemotherapy. That’s when I got a call from Amber. She said if I was leaving the Shaw family, I should make a clean break. She asked to meet at a coffee shop to return my things. Twenty minutes later, I arrived. Amber was already impatient. I didn’t expect Ethan to be there too. He looked me up and down. I had lost weight too fast this month. I looked like I had zero body fat, and the cancer pain left dark circles under my eyes. “Lily, look at yourself. How can you compare to Amber? You’ve embarrassed the Shaw family,” Ethan said. I didn’t speak. I picked up my luggage to leave. Ethan called out to me, looking displeased. Probably because I ignored him. For four years, I spent every moment trying to please him. When had he ever received such cold treatment from me? Seeing he had nothing to say, I prepared to push open the glass door and leave. Ethan tried to grab me but accidentally pulled my hair… my long, brownish-curly hair fell off. Ethan and Amber were shocked. “Why did you shave your head?” 3 “Are you crazy? Don’t you care about your image at all?” Ethan asked, noticing the shocked looks from other customers. Amber sneered, “Lily, what’s your trick this time? People cut flesh to repay parents; are you shaving your head to show determination?” Her words were like knives. I smiled. “Don’t you know what ‘starting from scratch’ means?” I held out my hand to Ethan. “Give me back my wig.” Ethan clutched the wig silently, just staring at me. Amber snatched it and threw it into my arms. I calmly put the wig back on. A skeletal woman with a shaved head on the street does affect the city’s image a bit. “Amber, you don’t need to be so scared. I won’t return to the Shaw family,” I said with a smile. “Not in this life, and definitely not in the next.” “I’m not scared! Mom, Dad, and Brother only love me!” Amber snapped, exasperated. Before going to the hospital for chemo, I went to pick out my grave. Right next to my adoptive parents. In my next life, I want to be their biological daughter. This life hurt too much. Next time, I just want the life I had before 17. To my surprise, the cemetery sales manager was Oliver Gu, the neighbor boy who lived next to my adoptive parents. He didn’t ask much, nor did he try to comfort me artificially. He was probably used to life and death. The brief shock was likely just because it was his first time serving the plot owner directly. Oliver seriously introduced the details and even picked out a high-quality, reasonably priced urn for me. He accompanied me to my parents’ grave. “Dad, Mom…” I missed you so much. I quickened my pace up the 108 steps. Standing before the familiar tombstone, the sight before me made me black out for a second! 4 The tombstone was defaced with large characters written in stinking dog blood. I rushed toward it… [LILY IS A SLUT. PARENTS WHO RAISED A SLUT ARE ANIMALS!] I dropped to my knees, frantically wiping with my sleeves. As I wiped, I apologized, “Dad, Mom, I’m sorry… Your daughter is unfilial, disturbing your peace even in heaven…” “I’m useless. How did this happen…” “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” My hands rubbed until the skin broke. My light-colored clothes were stained red and dirty. Oliver ran back to the office, fetched a bucket and rag, and helped me clean. The rain fell harder, soaking me through. Oliver dragged and carried me down the mountain. I was the real daughter the Shaw family found. But when I returned at 17, the house already had a fake daughter, Amber, the same age as me. Amber. What a nice name. Embbodying all the Shaw family’s love. Before I got lost, my name was Pearl. The pearl in my parents’ palm. In the four years since my return, no one seemed to remember to change my name back to Shaw. I kept the name my adoptive parents gave me, Lily Liu. My adoptive parents treated me well. Unable to conceive, they thought finding me was a gift from heaven. They said they would always cherish me, their baby. But when my DNA was uploaded to a database during a school blood drive, my biological parents, who had lost me 13 years ago, found me. My adoptive parents let me return. They believed I could get better educational resources with the Shaws. At least I wouldn’t need to work part-time to study. But now, I’m dying. Brain tumor, late stage. My adoptive parents were also insulted like this. I felt like my internal organs were being crushed by a giant hand. 5 They don’t love me, and I don’t want to love them anymore. I just want to live for myself at the end of my life. Tomorrow is the painless surgery. But why did I have to see my deeply loving adoptive parents insulted like this? My adoptive mother passed away when I was 12. My adoptive father died in an accident last year. Can’t the dead leave in peace? My childhood memories of Mr. and Mrs. Shaw are blurry. I only remember my brother, Ethan, five years older, taking me to the amusement park. He told me to wait while he bought ice cream. I waited from morning till night. My brother never came back. In the end, a cleaner at the park, my adoptive mother, found me and took me home. On the first day back at the Shaw mansion, Amber cried to me, “I don’t want anything. I know I stole Sister’s identity all these years. But now I just want to be with Dad, Mom, and Brother. Please, Sister, don’t kick me out.” And what did Ethan, the brother who lost me, do? He pushed me away. “Amber, no one will kick you out, and no one dares to. You are my sister, my only sister.” Ethan hugged Amber tight, glaring at me. As if I were a villain trying to break up their family. My biological mother also had red eyes. Looking at Amber, she choked out to me, “Lily, when you got lost, Mom went crazy. So Dad brought Amber home. It was Amber who accompanied Mom through the days and nights without you.” The moment I turned to look at Amber, she smiled at me provocatively. “Mom, let’s not talk about this. Let Sister stay in my room tonight. The guest room isn’t ready yet.” Amber emphasized the words “guest room.” “How can we do that? Amber, you’re picky about beds. You won’t sleep well if you change rooms,” Mom said hurriedly, then abruptly stopped, remembering I was there. For the next four years, I lived in the guest room next to the nanny’s room on the first floor. I never moved. Don’t think about it. Can’t think about it anymore.

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This was supposed to be our wedding condo, yet here we were, finalizing the designs based on the preferences of my fiancé’s dead brother’s widow. On the walk-through, Dean frowned at the freshly applied slate-blue accent wall. “Have this wall repainted,” he instructed the foreman. “Switch it to a warm apricot. Willa always said warm colors make a place feel like home.” It was our home, a space meant for me, yet his entire aesthetic barometer was calibrated to another woman’s taste. But this time, I didn’t argue, I didn’t push back, and I didn’t offer a single, petulant complaint. I calmly folded the architectural drawings. My voice was level, devoid of any discernible emotion. “Fine. Whatever you want. After all, the woman who hosts the home in your heart has always been Willa.” His fingers, mid-buttoning his cuff, froze. He looked over, a flicker of genuine shock in his eyes. The condo was a catch—perfect location, lavish finishes. Too bad the woman moving in wouldn’t be me. 1 The drive back to the Walker estate was silent. Dean glanced at me several times in the rearview mirror, clearly wanting to speak, but ultimately saying nothing. I leaned my head against the window, watching the blur of sycamore trees rush by. My heart felt like a desolate, quiet field. Five years. That’s how long it took me to finally face one brutal truth: Dean had never truly loved me. I was just a stand-in, a shadow filling the space while Willa wasn’t there. When we pulled up to the house, Mrs. Walker was waiting, welcoming me with a wide smile. “Avery, dear, you’re here! Come wash up, I made your favorite—braised short ribs.” Mrs. Walker took my hand, her smile beaming. I offered a polite, detached, “Thank you, Mrs. Walker,” and followed her into the dining room. My gaze immediately landed on Willa, seated next to Dean’s chair at the head of the table. She was wearing a soft lavender slip dress, her hair loosely pinned up, and an ankle wrapped in a bandage. She was painstakingly attempting to shift her chair. “Willa,” I greeted her flatly, taking the seat opposite Dean. She looked up at me. A flash of something—was it triumph?—crossed her eyes before melting into a look of fragile vulnerability. “Avery, I hear you and Dean checked out the condo today? I’m so jealous,” she sighed, her voice soft. “When Rhys and I got married, we barely had a proper studio apartment…” At the mention of her deceased husband, her eyes immediately welled up. Dean set his fork down. His voice was gentle, laced with concern. “Willa, don’t think about those painful things. Your brother-in-law is here to take care of you now.” I looked down and sipped my water, a perfect outsider. A year ago, I would have slammed my hand on the table and demanded to know whose fiancé he actually was. Now, the desire to even fight was gone. Mrs. Walker quickly intervened. “Eat, everyone, the food is getting cold.” Dean carefully placed a piece of de-boned fish into Willa’s bowl. “You’re hurt, Willa. Fish is good for healing.” She offered a breathy thank you, her gaze flickering subtly toward my face. I took a bite of my short rib, chewing slowly. It tasted overwhelmingly bitter. Finished with the fish, Dean wiped his fingers on a napkin and, without looking up, scooped a chunk of kiwi from Willa’s salad bowl and dropped it onto my plate. The piece was still glistening with fish broth residue. “Avery, you should have some fruit. Vitamins.” I stared at the chunk of kiwi. I am severely allergic to kiwi. Even a trace of it can swell my throat shut. He knew this. He had sat with me in the ER while I was on an IV drip, but he had clearly never cared enough to remember. Before, I would have pushed the plate away, my eyes burning with tears as I launched into a tearful accusation of his neglect. Now, I simply pushed the dangerous piece of fruit to the far edge of my bread plate. “I’m finished.” I put down my napkin and stood up. “Mrs. Walker, I have a headache. I’ll go rest in the guest room.” Mrs. Walker looked surprised, but nodded quickly. “Of course, dear, the linens are all fresh.” As I walked up the stairs, I heard Willa’s soft voice drift up from below. “Dean, this soup is so hot, I can’t hold the bowl steady…” “Don’t move. I’ll feed you.” My foot paused momentarily on the step, but I didn’t turn back. The intimate, bantering tones from downstairs pricked like fine needles on a heart already gone numb. After dinner, I came downstairs, my handbag in hand, ready to leave. Dean was on the sofa with Willa, watching a reality show. He looked up, a slight frown marking his face. “You’re leaving this late?” “I have an early closing at the firm tomorrow,” I said, my tone flat. “I’ll drive you.” He started to reach for his keys. “Don’t bother. I called a ride-share.” “Avery,” he stood up abruptly, his voice tinged with irritation. “What is your problem? You’ve been impossible since the condo viewing.” I met his eyes. My mind was finally crystal clear. “Nothing is wrong. I just saw things clearly.” “What things?” “That you don’t have me in your heart.” He stiffened, his gaze darting away. “Stop being dramatic.” “You know whether I’m dramatic or not.” I gave a shallow, detached smile. “But it doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t want you, either.” I pushed the front door open and stepped out. I heard his quick footsteps behind me, but I didn’t pause. Just as I reached the edge of the circular drive, I heard Willa’s panicked, choked voice ring out. “Dean, please don’t leave! My ankle is throbbing! I think the bone shifted…” The sound of his footsteps instantly stopped. The crisp autumn air was sharp, and it quickly dried the sudden wetness at the corners of my eyes. I settled into the ride-share. The driver looked at me through the rearview mirror. “Little fight with the boyfriend?” I shook my head, gazing out at the blur of city lights. “No. Just refusing to play the supporting role anymore.” Back at my apartment, I pulled out my old phone and scrolled through five-year-old text messages. Back then, Dean was an idealistic intern doctor, barely scraping by, and his eyes were only on me. I scrolled through the silent slide show of old photos. The year of the flash flood. I was stranded outside my office building, soaking wet. He gave me his only raincoat, got completely drenched himself, but laughed with a warmth that could melt anything. He was the top of his class; I was a fresh-faced attorney. We were solid. He would get up at three in the morning to make me soup when I was pulling all-nighters on a brief. I said I wanted to see the Aurora Borealis, and he saved his stipend for a year to fly me to the Arctic. He even made a solemn vow: “No matter what happens, you will always be my first choice.” I was naive enough to believe that was my forever. Then, two years ago, his brother Rhys died in a car accident, leaving Willa a widow. I knew Willa was their childhood friend, the quiet benchmark of perfection they both looked up to. Dean said he had to be “like a father” to Willa, fulfilling his duty to his brother. But somewhere along the line, his phone wallpaper changed to a family photo with Willa dead center. He forgot my birthday, but remembered the exact date of Willa’s cat’s neutering surgery. When I was rushed to the hospital for an emergency appendectomy, his reply was a one-word text: Busy. I found out later that night, Willa’s house had lost power, and he had stayed up all night with her because she was afraid of the dark. I finally understood: his devotion had only existed because Willa was married to someone else. I was the comfortable compromise. I was nothing more than a placeholder during his emotional vacancy. The sudden ring of my phone sliced through the quiet. Dean’s name flashed on the screen. I hesitated, then answered. “Be ready tomorrow. We’re going to look at furniture.” His tone was completely authoritative, as if today’s drama had never happened. “Okay.” I hung up, staring blankly at the ceiling. This, I decided, would be my last time playing my part. The next morning, Dean arrived precisely on time. His favorite jazz station was playing softly in the car, and I leaned back, resting my eyes. “How did you sleep?” he asked casually. “Fine.” He noticed my coldness, and his jaw tightened. He started to speak, but stopped himself. Mid-route, his phone rang. The ringtone was exclusive—it was Willa. The moment he answered, his expression turned instantly anxious. “Willa? What’s wrong?” A panicked scream, mixed with the sound of thunder, came through the speaker. I couldn’t make out the words, but Dean’s face went white. “Don’t panic. Lock the doors. I’m on my way!” He slammed the brakes, screeching to a halt on the shoulder of the highway, miles from any exit or town. “Avery, you need to get out and call a cab.” He didn’t even look at me. His hand was already on the door handle. I asked calmly, “A reason?” “Willa’s power went out in the storm, she has extreme nyctophobia! I have to go!” He slapped the steering wheel in his agitation. “Don’t be difficult, Avery. This is an emergency!” Watching his frantic desperation, I remembered his vow: “You will always be my first choice.” It was a worthless promise. It evaporated the moment Willa needed him. I unclipped my seatbelt, pushed the door open, and stepped out. The car sped away, disappearing into the torrential downpour. The sudden storm instantly soaked my trench coat. We were on an isolated access road; getting a cab was impossible. I pulled out my phone and sent my best friend my location. “Come get me. I’m moving out.” Forty minutes later, my friend Sloan’s SUV screeched to a halt in front of me. “Dean is an absolute bastard!” Sloan fumed, handing me a towel. “Dumping you here?!” I was toweling my soaked hair, my expression serene. “Are you really doing this?” Sloan asked anxiously through the rearview mirror. “Five years is a long time…” “Exactly. Five years is long enough. I won’t waste a sixth,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Cutting your losses is required learning for an adult.” Back at my apartment, I started packing. The lace dresses I bought to mimic Willa’s style, the expensive skincare she recommended—all of it went into black garbage bags. I looked at my reflection—no makeup, no pretense. I looked both strange and familiar. For five years, I’d tried to live as another woman’s imitation. Clearing every trace of him was liberating. At eleven that night, my phone buzzed with a text from Dean: Did you make it home? I looked at the three words, thought of his retreating taillights in the rain, and my finger hovered over the screen for a moment before I tapped the button: Block Contact. The world finally went quiet. On Monday morning, I was at my firm to finalize my resignation. I had given notice two weeks earlier; today was my last day. Dean’s hospital was only two blocks from my office. As I walked out of the building, hugging a box of personal effects, I ran straight into him. He looked terrible—dark circles under his eyes, his face etched with exhaustion. Clearly, he hadn’t slept. Dean grabbed my wrist, his grip like steel. “Why did you block me?” “Let go.” “Answer me!” His voice was a dangerous, suppressed whisper of anger. “What kind of game are you playing?” “Dean, we’re finished.” He froze, as if he didn’t understand the language. “What did you say?” “I’m breaking up with you.” I repeated, pulling my hand free. “Excuse me.” “You think this is how you make me compromise?” He scoffed. “This tactic is boring, Avery. You’ll be back when you cool off.” I ignored him, stepping toward the curb. “Stop!” He lunged, blocking my path, his voice low and threatening. “Don’t push your luck.” I looked up at him, feeling nothing but profound exhaustion. “I used to care if you were angry. Now, you’re just noise.” His expression solidified, as if he were seeing me for the first time. “Move. I’m in a hurry.” I hailed a passing taxi. He roared behind me, “Avery, you will regret this!” I got in the car without looking back. The window rolled up, sealing his shocked face outside. Regret? My only regret was not walking away sooner. In the afternoon, I drove to Dean’s hospital. Not for a reunion, but to return his apartment key and parking pass. The nurses at the front desk all recognized me, and I walked directly to his Chief of Staff office. I pushed the door open, and there was Willa, sitting in Dean’s executive chair, idly fiddling with his fountain pen. The cream cashmere sweater she wore made her look elegant and demure. When she saw me, a hint of a victorious smile touched her lips. “Avery? Looking for Dean? He’s on rounds. Do you want to wait?” “No. Just here to drop something off.” I placed the key and pass on the desk. She rose and walked toward me, her voice soft and conspiratorial. “I heard you two booked The Celeste Ballroom at The Observatory for the wedding? The ceiling is stunning.” She paused, a calculating glint in her eyes. “I’ve always wanted to hold a charity memorial for Rhys there, but their schedule is impossible…” “And?” “Well,” she bit her lower lip delicately. “Do you think if I asked Dean, he would give me the date?” I smiled, a cold, empty gesture. “You can try.” She was visibly thrown by my calmness. The door burst open, and Dean strode in. He frowned when he saw us. “What are you doing here?” “Returning the key. Now we’re even.” “Wait,” he stopped me, then turned to Willa. “Willa, can you step out for a minute? I need to talk to her.” Willa nodded sweetly. As she passed, she gently tugged his sleeve. “Dean, the venue I mentioned…” “I heard you. We’ll talk about it later.” His tone was slightly impatient, but he didn’t refuse her. After she left, the air felt thick and heavy. Dean walked up to me, his voice softening. “Avery, stop throwing a tantrum. Let’s talk this out.” “There’s nothing to discuss.” I turned to leave. “Stay right there!” He blocked the doorway. “We are going to finish this conversation now.” I looked up at him, utterly drained. “Dean, I’m tired.” “You’re tired? Go home and rest, don’t cause a scene here.” “Not physically tired,” I pointed to my chest. “Here.” He was momentarily stunned. “For five years, I tried to be the woman you wanted. I wore the clothes you liked, ate the food you preferred—all just to get a single genuine look from you.” “Avery…” “But I understand now,” I cut him off. “You don’t love me. I was just the substitute you settled for while she wasn’t available.” “That is absolute nonsense!” He was genuinely angered now. “Haven’t I treated you well? You have my bank cards, the condo is in your name, what more do you want?” I laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. My eyes stung. “Yes, you gave me a lot. Everything but your love.” “Avery, don’t do this!” He softened his tone, reaching for me. “Avery, please believe me, I do love you. But Rhys is only two years gone, and Willa is suffering. I’m just trying to take care of her for my brother.” He stopped, then continued, his focus instantly shifting. “By the way, Willa said she really needs that Celeste Ballroom date for the memorial. It’s vital for her healing. Could we maybe postpone our wedding for a few months? Or switch venues?” I stared at him, suddenly feeling a chilling sense of disbelief and deep irony. “What did you say?” “The wedding is just a ceremony. Our relationship doesn’t need a spectacle to prove itself. Besides, we’re family. Willa’s needs are our family’s needs. Be reasonable.” I looked at him for a long time, until he dropped his gaze, unable to meet mine. “Fine,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “Give it all to her.” Dean let out a relieved breath and smiled. “I knew you would understand. After the memorial is over, we can—” “The venue, the wedding cancellation, and you. I’m giving all of it to her.”

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The entire Kingston family can hear my thoughts. I, Dr. Avery Stone, the country’s top forensic pathologist, was finally brought back to the Kingston estate. They looked at my face, but recoiled from the lingering scent of formalin and disinfectant that clung to my lab scrubs. My adopted sister, Seraphina, glided over in a twenty-thousand-dollar designer gown, her voice dripping with frail concern. “Oh, Avery,” she whispered, her eyes wide. “Daddy bought you so many new clothes. You should really change out of those. They look… unlucky.” I gave her a long, cold look. [A ‘mean girl,’ huh? Too bad the last one who tried this act on me ended up as a skull fragment soaking in a jar on my specimen shelf, her cranium neatly opened. On second thought, she’s not even worth the dissection. Not even worth the gloves.] A crash! My father, Arthur Kingston, president and CEO, shattered his prized hand-thrown ceramic mug on the marble floor. My older brother, Liam, a cardiac surgeon, sprang off the sofa, his face a sickening shade of purple. He pointed a trembling finger at me. [What is he staring at? I hear he’s a doctor, too. Maybe I should send a referral for him to my lab sometime.] My mother, Eleanor, simply rolled her eyes back and collapsed onto the Persian rug. The three of them looked like they were seconds away from collapsing entirely. 1 My mother came to after someone administered smelling salts. The moment she saw me, her entire body began to shake uncontrollably. Liam braced himself against the wall just to stay standing. Seraphina drifted toward me, her hand outstretched, trying to take mine. I subtly shifted, making her miss. She pulled her hand back, the perfect, fragile expression fixed in place. “I’ve already finished decorating your room, sister. Come see if you like it.” I followed her, glancing into the room. It was done up in a cloying pink, the height of teenage-girl style, right next door to hers. The air hung heavy with a sickly sweet perfume. I frowned, the scent catching the back of my throat. “I won’t be staying here. I don’t like the aesthetic.” Liam was about to launch into a lecture about my ingratitude when my internal voice cut him short. [Bubblegum pink? The cleanup would be a nightmare. Pink shows bloodstains too clearly. No, I need something discreet. The storage room downstairs is better. No windows, far from their rooms. Much less chance of a scent complaint when I get a late-night delivery.] Liam’s flushed face instantly turned chalk-white. My father, Arthur, his voice a ragged whisper, finally spoke. “Then… then you’ll take the storage room for now. I’ll have the staff clean it out…” I cut him off again. “Don’t bother. I’ll do it myself. Just make sure the plumbing is good for a separate shower stall.” [And the drainage system needs to be reliable. I don’t want to block the pipes when I’m flushing out tissue fragments. That would be messy.] My father squeezed his eyes shut and swayed slightly, barely managing to nod his consent. Seraphina didn’t notice the others’ bizarre reaction. A flicker of triumph crossed her eyes; she thought I was being deliberately exiled to the damp, musty storage closet for irritating her parents. I ignored them all and headed straight for the storage room tucked away on the first floor. I shoved the door open. A rush of old mildew and damp dust hit me. I tapped the wall with satisfaction. [Decent insulation. The sound of the bone saw shouldn’t bother them while they sleep.] Just outside the door, my mother, who Liam had managed to steady, heard that last thought. Her eyes rolled back for the second time, and she fainted again, crumpling without a sound. The atmosphere at dinner was as dead as a morgue. The long dining table was laden with expensive cuisine, yet no one dared to touch a fork. The family sat stiffly, perfectly upright. A crime report played on the large plasma screen. “…Earlier today, police discovered the remains of a dismembered male body in the suburbs. The brutality of the act suggests an extremely disturbed perpetrator. Police are pursuing all leads…” The image on the screen was heavily pixelated, but the scattered outline was still unsettling. Seraphina dramatically covered her eyes, leaning weakly against my mother. “Oh, it’s just so awful. The criminals these days are so cruel.” I stared at the screen, my brow furrowed in concentration. [Oh. This is my guy. They’re only releasing the news now? The Bureau’s internal comms are moving faster than the local precinct on this one.] [Poor bastard. I remember his file. He suffered. They put him on a stimulant cocktail. Kept him conscious, start to finish. He watched himself being fileted, piece by agonizing piece.] Liam, the surgeon, could clearly picture the horrific scene. His stomach churned. He shoved his chair back, rushed to the restroom, and began to retch violently. Startled by the noise, my mother’s head snapped sideways, and she fainted for the third time that day. Chaos erupted. Seraphina, confused, looked around, wondering why her family had suddenly developed such a weak constitution that a news report could send them into hysterics. My father, Arthur, desperately tried to maintain composure. He was shaking as he reached for a glass of water to calm his nerves. At that exact moment, a loud, piercing wail of a siren cut through the dead silence of the room. “Wee-ooo! Wee-ooo!” The entire family, including Liam, who had just stumbled out of the restroom, jumped in terrified unison. I calmly pulled my phone from my pocket. “My call,” I explained. Arthur’s mind was instantly a storm of panic. He was convinced I had chosen a police siren as a ringtone to brazenly mock law enforcement. Oblivious to his internal meltdown, I answered the call. “Hello? What’s the situation?” “Yes, a new assignment?” I listened, my face tightening. “Blunt force trauma to the skull? Got it. I’m on my way. Keep the scene contained.” I hung up, dabbed my lips with a napkin, and stood up. “Stop right there!” My father slammed his hand on the table, springing up with a jolt. “Avery! Where are you going this late? I’ll give you money! Any amount you want! Just… just stop doing this!” The last part was a plea. [Give me money? This isn’t about money. The Bureau gave me an assignment. If I don’t go, someone else will get the material. The good material.] Arthur’s anger instantly froze, replaced by an expression of pure, deep despair. He and Liam exchanged a look, blood draining from both their faces. “She… she has an accomplice,” Liam stammered. My father collapsed back into his chair, defeated. I simply found their reaction baffling, turned, and walked out. This assignment was particularly grim. One body was a high-fall from a skyscraper, impacting a glass canopy on the way down. The other was a highly decomposed, “bloated man” submerged in water for too long. It was well past midnight when I finally finished processing the two bodies. A thunderstorm raged outside, the rain hammering against the windshield as I drove my SUV, exhaustion heavy in my limbs, back to the Kingston villa. The lights were blazing in the living room. The moment I opened the door, a wave of formalin mixed with the faint, metallic aroma of decomposition instantly overwhelmed the room’s subtle, expensive air fresheners. The Kingston family was assembled, sitting bolt upright on the sofa, clearly waiting for me. Seraphina saw me, immediately clamped a hand over her nose, and a flash of undisguised disgust crossed her eyes. In the next breath, she plastered on an expression of worried concern and rushed over. “Avery, where were you so late? And that smell! What is that smell?” Before I could answer, she reached out to grab the large, metal evidence box I was carrying. “Let me take that for you, sister. You look so tired.” Her movement was quick and aggressive. Before I could stop her, she had it. Then, she took a tiny, seemingly “unintentional” stumble. “Ah!” CRASH! The metal evidence box landed with a sickening clang on the polished marble floor. The heavy-duty latches sprung open, and several organs preserved in formalin tumbled out. A length of wet, glistening intestine, still bearing the trace of the body’s last meal, plopped onto the fine area rug. “I’m so sorry, sister, I didn’t mean to…” The words died in Seraphina’s throat. The moment she registered what was scattered across the floor, her beautiful face turned paper-white. Her stomach heaved, and she bent over, vomiting instantly onto the marble. [You wanted to play games. You wanted to see. Now look. I wasn’t going to open the box, but you just had to be nosy.] [Since you enjoy the view so much… I’ll have to figure out what to do with all of you now.] I calmly slipped on a pair of latex gloves from my pocket, knelt down, and picked up the slick length of intestine from the rug. I straightened, walked over to the retching Seraphina, and brought the organ right up to her face. “You wanted to see?” She lifted her horrified eyes to mine, saw the grotesque object inches from her nose, and promptly pitched forward, unconscious. [Such a coward. Don’t start what you can’t finish.] Holding the intestine, I slowly turned. CRACK! A flash of lightning illuminated the night sky, and the massive chandelier above the living room flickered violently. In the stark, stuttering light, my father, my mother, and my brother saw me: Dr. Avery Stone, standing over the inert body of Seraphina, holding a human intestine. The scene was pure, unadulterated horror. They didn’t even manage to scream. Their terror wasn’t even a high-pitched shriek, just a low, guttural surrender to panic. One by one—Arthur, Eleanor, Liam—their eyes rolled back, and they crumpled to the floor, joining Seraphina. The entire Kingston living room was now a tableau of bodies. I sighed and shook my head. “Well. A family that faints together, stays together.” I spent a considerable amount of time meticulously cleaning the floor, repackaging my “treasures” back into the evidence box. Then, I dragged them, one by one, back to their respective rooms, arranging them neatly in their beds. Only after the whole family was tucked in did I return to my storage room, finally satisfied enough to sleep.

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