Category: English

I was juggling caterers and florists, trying to finalize the details for the engagement party scheduled for the holiday weekend. That evening, I scrolled past a trending gossip thread: “OMG, you guys, I’m dying. My friend—the one who’s always been so boring and always been less than me—is marrying up! His family? Major players, serious Capitol Hill connections. They’re flying in this weekend to meet her family, and the rehearsal dinner is at my family’s high-end hotel! She’s basically rubbing it in my face! I’m so angry, how do I crash this dinner and ruin her engagement?” The comments were mostly people condemning her for being a psychopath. But one comment, which she had pinned and ‘liked,’ jumped out: “Simple. Kitchens have huge blind spots. Swap out the expensive, fresh-prepped meals with cheap, expired, industrial-grade frozen meals. Use heavily seasoned stuff to mask the taste and expiry date. You might even pocket a little refund.” “That kind of family—the polished, political type—won’t make a scene, but they will absolutely blacklist her family internally for disrespect. A dinner like that is enough to send her straight to the curb. You’ll hear about their breakup in two days…” A message notification from my best friend, Tatum Sinclair, popped up at the top of my screen: “Babe! I looked over the menu. Don’t worry about a thing! I personally told the kitchen to use the absolute freshest, high-grade ingredients to make sure you have the perfect event. It’s your big day, after all (hug emoji).” 1 I stared at the rapidly escalating post, my mind completely numb. No way… could this be that much of a coincidence? I tapped the anonymous account. The profile was a decade’s worth of fragmented, continuous posts, all centered on one person. It started with things like: “My deskmate lost thirty pounds over summer break. What should I do? She’s clearly prettier than me now. If I slipped her weight gain pills, would anyone notice?” It progressed to: “She scored 150 points higher than me on the SATs, sob. My dad already compares me to her, now she’ll outpace me forever, sob. But I have access to her college portal—if I change her university application to a community college, she won’t notice, right?” “It worked! She missed her deadlines and didn’t get into her top school! Hehe!” My eyes narrowed into slits. I remembered that year—the inexplicable slip-up with my college applications, the crushing realization that without a full scholarship, I might have to go south and bus tables to support my parents. I was lucky a spot opened up in a deferred admission program at a decent state school, forcing me into the then-unpopular Computer Science program. I had suspected everyone but her. I couldn’t believe the person who had nearly derailed my life was Tatum. Shaking, I scrolled. “My friend got an acceptance into a top Ph.D. program, but she’s still in the final review stage. I have photos of her skipping classes to work her side hustle—can I use that as evidence to report her?” “Reporting didn’t work! She ditched the Ph.D. to go abroad! She went to my dream school in LA! But her family is dirt poor… you guys, she must have been sleeping with an old professor to afford that, right?” I devoured the posts, one after another. Countless details perfectly overlapped with my reality. It felt like a rapid-fire succession of slaps across the face. No wonder my academic advisor gave me that loaded look when I turned down the Ph.D. offer, subtly asking if I had offended anyone lately… No wonder none of my former classmates invited me to reunions, their eyes holding a strange, guarded pity… No wonder. All the puzzle pieces slammed into place. My fingers trembled as I typed: [Tatum, when can we schedule a food tasting?] My phone vibrated immediately. [Babe, look at you, you’re so busy with the engagement! A tasting is totally unnecessary. Don’t you trust me? We’re sisters! If you keep asking, I’ll seriously break up with you! (pinch cheek emoji)] It was meant to sound playful, but for the first time, I heard the thinly veiled control and threat beneath the joke. The person I had considered my best friend for a decade had been secretly jealous of me, hated me, and fabricated lies about me. I had been blindfolded the whole time. Why? The comments on the hot thread were mostly turning against her: [Wait, Poster, are you serious? I looked at your old threads. Your friend lost weight, did well in school, got an academic award, went to LA… how do you have the nerve to say she’s ‘always been beneath you’?] Tatum’s account replied, brazenly: “So what? No guy ever gave her a second look growing up, while I’ve dated a dozen! The fact that I get all the attention proves who the winner is, doesn’t it? Besides, her parents are market vendors, scraping by to sell produce. How dare she try to marry into a prominent family? The universe is seriously unjust!” Other users were appalled: [I’ve never met a friend this poisonous… She’s marrying up, not winning the lottery. You own a high-end hotel chain; why would you do something this evil?] She replied: “It drives me crazy! This hotel was founded by my dad and his old, bitter ex-wife, so it’s not really mine. All the real money and accounts are run by my half-brother, Rhys, who hates my guts. And my mom is a total doormat who never fights for me! Eliza knows I’m already feuding with Rhys, and she still booked her event here? She’s deliberately giving my brother a massive payout right in front of me!” The hand I was raising to block the account froze mid-air. Devon’s parents—Senator Harrison and his wife—were due to fly in for the weekend meeting with my parents. I had originally wanted to keep the business “in the family,” so to speak, and gave the contract to Tatum’s hotel. The Poseidon Grand had just opened, but the food was distinctive and exquisite. Even Devon, who was notoriously picky, had approved of the food after trying it once. His family was incredibly prominent, their social circle vast. The wedding reception would likely host hundreds of people. My original plan was this: if the initial meeting dinner impressed the Harrisons, I would lock in the hundred-plus plate wedding banquet with Tatum’s family. That real, quantifiable success could elevate Tatum’s status in her patriarchal, dismissive family, finally making her father look at her with respect. Instead, she was plotting to use expired, low-grade food to destroy my engagement and my family’s reputation. “What’s wrong? You look pale.” Devon’s voice cut through my thoughts. He walked up behind me and naturally draped his arm around my shoulder. I quickly locked my phone screen. I managed a weak smile. “Nothing. Maybe I’m just a little nervous about your parents arriving.” Devon smiled. “Don’t worry. My mom and dad will love you. But you’re freezing. Your hand is like ice.” He squeezed my hand, looking at me with genuine concern. “Seriously, is everything okay?” I shook my head and leaned against his solid chest. We’d been classmates in grad school in LA. He was quiet, steady, and never boasted about his background. I only learned his father was a powerful State Senator after we started dating. “Oh, right,” Devon suddenly said. “My dad has an old friend who’s the head of Municipal Health Compliance. When he heard we were using The Poseidon Grand, he asked if we could set up a surprise inspection to help his team hit some targets. He said it would be doing him a favor.” I stiffened. “And you agreed?” He laughed. “Your friend promised it was absolutely pristine. The surprise inspection is fully filmed. I figured it would be a huge PR boost for her family.” After a moment, I tightened my grip on his hand, the decision crystalizing. “Good. Tell him yes.” The next day, I was in a company meeting when I got an urgent call. My mother was sobbing on the other end, nearly hysterical. “Eliza, your father… your father was beaten! They took him to the emergency room!” My brain went numb. I grabbed my blazer and ran out. Rushing into the ER, I saw my father lying in bed, pale and frail, his forehead wrapped in gauze, his eye bruised. My mother sat beside him, crying, surrounded by familiar faces—the longtime vendors from the farmers’ market. I felt a surge of panic and anger. “Mom, Dad, I told you I make enough now! You don’t need to be out there selling produce! Why won’t you listen?” My father mumbled weakly. “Your in-laws are so high-status, honey… we were afraid the difference in class would embarrass you. We wanted to sell a few more truckloads to give you a substantial dowry. We didn’t want them to look down on you…” Tears instantly blurred my vision. “But the market can’t just let people beat you up!” My mother, furious now, recounted the event: “They claim they’re the ‘management,’ but they’re just outsourced thugs! They come by every few weeks demanding ‘fees.’ Today, they tried to take two boxes of the best bell peppers. Your dad refused. They saw his refusal, got angry, and the leader claimed he was severely allergic to nightshades—said your dad gave it to him on purpose. Then they shoved him…” She pulled over a man nearby. “Thank God for Mr. Lopez! He rushed over to intervene, drove your dad here, and even paid the initial hospital deposit.” I knew him. Mr. Lopez owned a very popular local gourmet comfort food restaurant. My parents had been supplying him with vegetables for years. He was a kind man, and years ago, knowing our financial struggles, he’d even offered to help pay for my college. I bowed deeply to him. “Mr. Lopez, thank you so much! I’ll pay you back the medical expenses right now…” “Nonsense, we’re neighbors. It’s the least I could do,” he said, waving it off. He leaned in, lowering his voice. “The guy who led the beating, the one who runs the outsourced security? His name is Vince. He’s the younger brother of the owner’s wife at The Poseidon Grand.” I froze. “The Poseidon?” “Yes. That guy is Mrs. Sinclair’s brother. He acts like a thug because of his brother-in-law’s money… Small folk like us, we can’t afford to mess with them.” I felt a bucket of ice water cascade over me. I was chilled to the bone. It wasn’t just online defamation anymore. Now, her family had physically attacked my father. I looked at the bruises on his face, the redness around my mother’s eyes, and slowly curled my hands into fists. The comments under Tatum’s post had become an angry mob, and she couldn’t delete them fast enough. She laid low for two days, then popped up with a smaller, anonymous account, doubling down on her malice: “Her mere existence is a provocation to me! She has everything she doesn’t deserve! Just wait, I’ll make her understand that stealing my life will eventually cost her!” “Did I lie? If I hadn’t messed with her college app, would she have been forced to take that slot in Computer Science and end up as a mid-level executive at a huge tech firm? She stole my good fortune!” “Besides, do you really think her market vendor parents paid for her to study abroad? Professor Henderson was awfully fond of her… Any real man would be disgusted by that kind of shady past. I’m just giving her a relationship test! Maybe she’ll even thank me for it later…” She even posted a picture, almost like a threat, captioned: “Just wait!”— In the corner of the photo, a massive stack of cardboard boxes filled with commercial pre-packaged meal kits was visible. I was shaking with rage when Devon put his book down. “You’ve been distracted for days.” I took a deep breath. “It’s nothing major. My dad had a small scuffle at the market and is resting in the hospital. I was thinking… maybe we should ask your parents to postpone their trip? Airfare is crazy this weekend, and I feel terrible making them fly out when things are so hectic here. Could we arrange the meeting once my dad is fully recovered?” He furrowed his brow. “I don’t think that’s right. If your father is hurt, we should visit and support him.” I quickly cut him off. “Truly, no! It’s just minor cuts and bruises, but he needs complete rest. Let’s wait until everything settles down so they can come and relax comfortably. Please, honey?” Seeing my absolute insistence, he finally conceded. “Okay. We’ll follow your lead. I’ll tell them not to book their flight yet. But you have to promise to tell me immediately if your dad needs anything.” Just then, the doorbell rang. I opened the door to find Tatum Sinclair standing there. I noticed she was wearing a perfect, full face of makeup, a low-cut, tight top, and a miniskirt. “Babe!” She threw her arms around me as she walked in, but her eyes, like searchlights, instantly locked onto Devon in the living room and practically sparked. “Oh, Devon, you’re here today too?” She practically shoved me aside, swaying her hips as she approached him, deliberately bending over to showcase her figure. “I came here to thank you both! Thanks to your booking, my dad finally put me in charge of the back-of-house operations for the hotel!” She shoved a large bag of gifts into my hands. I glanced down—only a few small things were for me; the majority were expensive men’s accessories. One cologne was clearly the male counterpart to the perfume she was wearing today. She naturally picked up the men’s scent and walked toward Devon. “This is the newest cologne. I thought it would be perfect for a CEO like you…” Devon coldly sidestepped her, his brows slightly knitted. “No, thank you. I’m good.” Tatum’s hand hung awkwardly in the air, but she quickly plastered on a smile and pulled out her phone. “Right, I just sent you the menu and the price quote for the engagement party! It’s the absolute top tier, I promise!” I tapped the screen, and my eyelid started twitching. Disguised as fresh-made, the menu listed dishes like Truffled Mushroom Risotto for eight hundred dollars and Seared Scallops with Saffron for over a thousand—astronomical prices. But the pre-packaged meals she had shown on the online post likely cost less than ten dollars per serving to heat up! Did she think the daughter of a farmers’ market vendor wouldn’t know market prices? I forced the anger down and asked, “Tatum, aren’t these prices a little… inflated?” “Inflated? Are you serious? This is for Senator Harrison’s family’s first visit! This has to have status! I know your family is struggling, but that’s exactly why you can’t be cheap now!” She immediately raised her voice, her eyes flickering to Devon. “I remember Professor Henderson always complimented you on how well you dressed, how you always made him look good when you went out… You need to project that confidence now!” My face went cold. “What are you trying to say?” Tatum hurriedly pulled me aside, dropping her voice. “Ugh, I’m just trying to help you! You need to make your background seem a little more solid so they don’t disrespect you!” She feigned deep concern. “When you meet his parents, absolutely do not mention that your mom and dad sell produce… Think about the Harrisons. What will they think? It sounds so trashy!” She sighed dramatically. “I know a few actors from the local drama school. We could hire two of them to play your parents? They have class, excellent conversation skills, and they absolutely won’t embarrass you.” I couldn’t believe my ears. This wasn’t just advice; this was blatant manipulation, trying to shame me into withdrawing from the engagement. But she acted as if she hadn’t noticed my icy demeanor, continuing: “I’m doing this for you! Also, you need to be a little less rigid with Devon. Men, especially men from his background, are going to stray. Just let the small things go and focus on the big picture, okay?” I let out a harsh, cold laugh. “Tatum, if I were to follow your advice, that is when they would truly look down on me! My parents work hard, with honest hands. Why would that be embarrassing? I want to get married with my head held high, not by groveling and trying to sneak my way into a family.” My words choked her. Her face cycled through shades of green and white. She opened her mouth to argue, but not a single word came out.

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My mother’s favorite hobby is playing the rich housewife. Freshman year of college, she sent me exactly two hundred dollars a month. Rain or shine, never a penny more. But to the outside world? She claimed she was wiring me two grand a month. Whenever people asked why I dressed in thrift store finds despite my “generous” allowance, she’d sigh and say, “Oh, Summer is just so frugal. She saves every penny for a rainy day.” Then came my little cousin Tyler’s birthday. Mom bragged to the whole family that I was going to chip in two months of my “allowance” to give Tyler a massive surprise. Privately, she told me to fake a serious illness so I could skip the party and save her the embarrassment of my empty wallet. I agreed. But on the day of Tyler’s birthday, I didn’t stay in bed. I showed up dressed to the nines, walked right up to the head table, and slapped down a thick envelope of cash as a birthday gift. My Aunt Beth’s jaw hit the floor, grinning like she’d won the lottery. My mother, however, looked like she’d seen a ghost. “Summer! Where the hell did you get that money?!” 1 “Mom, what are you talking about? I saved it from my allowance, obviously! You know that. Why do you look so shocked?” I waved her off casually and turned to chat with Aunt Beth. “Right? Sis, I thought you were just hyping it up, but I didn’t think she’d actually drop this much cash on Tyler!” Aunt Beth was beaming. “Summer, you are such a sweetheart! Dropping two grand on Tyler’s ninth birthday? You’re making us look so good!” From the moment I pulled out that cash, Aunt Beth’s attitude did a complete 180. Before, she used to look at me like I was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe. Now? She was practically glued to my side. Tyler was turning nine. It wasn’t a milestone birthday. Everyone knew this party was just a cash grab. Aunt Beth did this every year. Usually, people would slip a twenty or a fifty in a card and call it a day. This time, I dropped two thousand dollars cold hard cash. She was ecstatic. If the restaurant wasn’t so crowded, she probably would have done a backflip. My mother’s face was still frozen in shock. Her mouth twitched, desperate to ask more questions. But with Aunt Beth hovering, she had to swallow her panic. “Summer, honey, I’m going to make the rounds at the other tables. I’ll be back to chat in a few!” Aunt Beth grabbed her wine glass and fluttered away. The second she was gone, Mom grabbed my wrist, her voice a harsh whisper. “Where did it come from?” “Mom, seriously? Is your memory going?” I didn’t lower my voice. In fact, I turned the volume up a notch so the whole table could hear. “I told you, I saved it from my allowance! That’s what you told everyone, right? How could you forget what you said a few days ago?” The table was packed with Mom’s side of the family. Aunt Karen (the eldest), Aunt Sarah (the second eldest), my parents, and me. Ten people squeezed into a booth at a mid-tier Italian chain restaurant. It was cramped, hot, and perfect for my plan. I had a captive audience. Just as I hoped, everyone heard me. Jessica, Aunt Karen’s daughter and my older cousin, looked at me with pure envy. She nudged Aunt Karen. “Mom, look at Summer’s lifestyle! When I was in college, I felt guilty ordering guac at Chipotle! She drops two grand without blinking. Why couldn’t you be generous like Aunt Diane?” “Jessie, look at us, then look at them. We aren’t in the same tax bracket,” Aunt Karen snapped, though she looked annoyed. “Besides, Summer got into Stanford. You didn’t even finish community college. You expect me to fund your lifestyle?” Aunt Karen scolded Jessica, then turned her hawk eyes onto my mother. “Diane, I remember you guys were renting an apartment two years ago. You just bought that new house last year with a mortgage. Where are you getting the cash to fund Summer like this?” Mom froze. She stammered, trying to find an excuse. “Well, you know what they say. You can’t skimp on education. We’ll eat ramen if it means Summer lives comfortably!” She let out a nervous laugh, shoving a breadstick into her mouth to avoid talking. She wanted to change the subject and interrogate me later. I wasn’t going to give her the chance. I glanced at Aunt Sarah, whose face was stiff and pale. I dropped the bomb casually. “By the way, Mom? I remember when we bought the new house, you said our savings were locked in a CD (Certificate of Deposit) and couldn’t be touched, so you borrowed ten grand from Aunt Sarah to cover closing costs.” “Since you’re sending me two thousand a month, we clearly have cash flow. Why don’t you pay Aunt Sarah back? It’s been a while, I don’t want you to forget.” 2 “Oh my god, Diane! I totally forgot about that!” Aunt Karen slapped her forehead, jumping on the bandwagon immediately. “Look at you guys now. You clearly aren’t hurting for cash. Pay Sarah back!” “Sarah isn’t like you. Her son still needs a down payment for a house! He’s stuck renting! You borrowed that money ages ago.” “We all know Sarah’s had a rough year. If you have extra, you should pay her back with interest. It’s only right.” “Exactly! Aunt Diane, everyone is here to witness it. Just Venmo her now!” Jessica chimed in, loving the drama. Mom’s face turned a shade of green I’d never seen before. My dad, hearing this, stared at the floor like the pattern on the carpet was the most interesting thing in the world. Aunt Sarah and her family hadn’t said a word. From the moment I walked in wearing a designer dress, Aunt Sarah looked like she swallowed a lemon. She’s usually the quiet, nice one. When Mom claimed her money was locked up, Sarah lent her ten grand without hesitation, even though her own son was trying to plan a wedding. Now, her son’s wedding was on hold because they couldn’t afford a house. The fiancée’s family was demanding a down payment, which Sarah couldn’t provide because my mother had her money. Sarah had asked for it back multiple times. Mom always used the “It’s locked in a 5-year CD” excuse. Sarah was too polite to push. But seeing my “wealth” today broke her. “Karen, Jessie, it’s not that simple,” Mom finally spoke up, sweating. “Ten grand isn’t ten bucks. I told you, it’s in a long-term CD. The bank penalties are huge if I pull it out early.” “I was stupid, I locked it away for five years! Sarah, if you’re not in a rush, just wait a few more years. I promise I’m good for it!” “Years? How many years do I have left to live?” Aunt Sarah finally spoke. Her voice was ice cold. The temperature at the table dropped twenty degrees. “Exactly! Sarah needs that money now,” Aunt Karen pressed. Mom tried to dodge again. “Okay, okay! I’ll go to the bank next week and see what I can do. Let’s just eat! It’s a celebration!” She tried to escape. I blocked the exit. “Mom,” I said loudly. “Didn’t Dad get a huge project bonus last month? Like, thirty grand? Just use that to pay Aunt Sarah. You can transfer the rest later.” 3 All eyes snapped to my mother. She snapped. She stood up and slapped me across the face. Hard. “You little liar! What are you talking about?! When did your father get a bonus?! I haven’t disciplined you in a while and you’re making up stories!” “If you don’t explain where you got that money right now, you aren’t leaving this table!” The slap silenced the room. Even Uncle Mike and Aunt Beth, who were mingling at the back, rushed over. “Diane! What is going on? It’s Tyler’s birthday, don’t make a scene!” “This is family business, Mike! Stay out of it!” Mom screamed, her face red. She grabbed my arm, trying to drag me out. She knew the “bonus” was a lie, but she needed to get me away from Aunt Sarah before the web of lies collapsed. I wasn’t going anywhere. I stumbled backward and deliberately fell to the floor. “Mom! Why are you hitting me?!” I wailed. “Diane, are you crazy?” Aunt Karen tried to help me up, but Mom shoved her away. “Don’t touch her! This brat is out of control! Who knows what shameful things she’s been doing at college to get that money! I’m going to break her legs!” “Shameful?” Jessica scoffed. “Aunt Diane, Summer got into Stanford. She’s on the Dean’s List. We all saw the acceptance letter. What’s shameful about that?” “Exactly,” Aunt Beth chimed in, pulling me behind her. “Summer is the golden child. Why are you treating her like a criminal?” “You people don’t get it!” Mom was panting now. “I don’t give her two thousand a month! I barely give her enough to eat! Where did she get two grand to give to Tyler? Look at her dress! That’s Gucci! Unless she’s selling her body, where did that money come from?!” Silence. Even Aunt Beth let go of my arm. In my mother’s eyes, my reputation meant nothing compared to her hoarding Aunt Sarah’s money. She would rather brand me a prostitute than pay back a loan. So be it. “Summer… is that true?” Aunt Beth asked, her voice changing. She looked at me with a mix of pity and disgust. “If that’s how you got the money… take it back. I can’t accept that. Tyler is innocent. I don’t want him catching… whatever you might have.” She pulled the envelope out of her purse and shoved it back into my hand, wiping her fingers on a napkin afterward. The other relatives scooted their chairs away. Mom let out a manic laugh. She snatched the envelope from me and stuffed it into her bra. “It’s okay, Summer. Mommy doesn’t judge you. Just tell the truth and we can fix you.” I wasn’t nervous. I smirked. “Mom, that’s rich coming from you. You gave me the money. Why are you pretending you didn’t? Just to avoid paying Aunt Sarah back? Are you seriously destroying your daughter to save ten grand?” “Summer! Stop lying! I’m going to kill you!” Mom grabbed a heavy bread basket—the metal kind—and raised it to smash my head. I calmly pulled out my phone and held it up. “Stop! Look! I have proof the money came from Mom!” 4 Everyone froze. Mom hesitated for a second, then swung the basket anyway. Uncle Mike caught her arm just in time. “Diane! Stop! Tyler is watching! Do you want the cops called?” “She says she has proof. Let’s see it!” Mom was forced into a chair, chest heaving. “Proof? What proof? I have my bank records! She can’t fake reality!” “Diane, if she didn’t get it from you, where did she get it? Just look at the phone,” Aunt Karen said, suspicious. “If she’s doing… bad things… we need to know.” “Yeah,” Aunt Karen sighed. “Going to the city changes people. I’m glad Jessica stayed home.” Jessica looked smug. This was the moment she’d been waiting for. The downfall of the perfect cousin. “Fine!” Mom yelled. “Look! I’m going to expose this ungrateful brat!” I unlocked my phone and handed it to Uncle Mike. “Uncle Mike, look. These are the transfers from Mom. Dates, times, amounts.”

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Because my flight was delayed due to a storm, I missed my son’s birthday party by exactly thirty minutes. In retaliation, Caleb deleted every single research paper on my laptop. My son, Noah, smashed the limited-edition Lego set I had queued for three hours to buy him. Then, the father and son duo slammed the door and stormed out. In that moment, a wave of exhaustion washed over me. Suddenly, floating text comments—like a livestream chat—began scrolling across my vision. [Honestly, this is on the Female Lead. She promised these two possessive kings she’d be back on time. Being late triggers their abandonment issues.] [She better open that door and apologize to those poor boys right now! They even had the Polaroid ready for a cute family pic. She ruined the vibe.] [It just shows how much the Male Lead loves her. The kid clearly inherited his dad’s genes. She needs to be more patient and coax them!] [I’m melting for this father-son duo. Both the big one and the little one treat her like she’s their whole world. I stan!] [Omg, my baby boy’s eyes are red! This is so angsty! Auntie is coming with a colorful sack to kidnap you, boo-hoo!] I let out a soft sigh and started walking toward the door. Suddenly, the door swung open. Caleb looked at me with ice-cold eyes. “Since you love your job so much, maybe we should just get a divorce.” Noah stood in the hallway, refusing to step inside, his face void of emotion. “I hate you. I’m going with Daddy.” My breath hitched, a dull ache spreading through my chest. “Okay.” 1 My answer was a simple “okay,” but Caleb didn’t seem satisfied. If anything, he looked angrier. He kicked the suitcase I had just dragged in, grabbed Noah’s hand, and marched into the elevator without looking back. I walked into the bedroom and started packing. The floating comments went wild. [Let me in there! I need to explain for him! This Male Lead has zero communication skills. He just wanted her to go to dinner with them. Would it kill him to speak nicely?] [You can’t blame him! Remember he was abused by his alcoholic stepdad in high school? He only survived because the Female Lead saved him. He’s insecure! It’s normal for him to be afraid of losing her.] [Don’t worry guys, she won’t leave. These are the two men she loves most. Plus, if she leaves, the Male Lead literally won’t survive.] [She needs to go into the kitchen right now, cook an 8-course meal, and make a dozen phone calls to apologize. ASAP.] … I ignored the floating text. I continued packing while dialing my law school classmate’s number. I had lost count of how many times Caleb used Noah to stage these tantrums. The word “divorce” had become a punctuation mark in our daily lives. They would intentionally refuse to eat the dinner I cooked after a long shift. They would pour the warm milk I prepared down the sink. Once, Caleb even turned off my phone alarm, despite me emphasizing that I had a critical surgery the next morning. When I confronted him, he hugged Noah and looked at me with puppy-dog eyes. “He’s just a child. He just wanted his mom to stay home on a weekend.” I rushed to the hospital, glaring at him. “He didn’t know, but did you not know?” My phone had a passcode. Noah hadn’t even learned all his numbers yet. That night, when I came home, my luggage was thrown out into the hallway. Clean clothes from the closet, cosmetics from the vanity, medical books from the study… all in a heap. Noah blocked the doorway, crying and screaming, refusing to let me in. He said I was the worst mother in the world and that he wanted Auntie Chloe to be his mom. After six back-to-back surgeries, I was physically shattered. I crouched down, coaxing him patiently. “Let Mommy in first, okay? Mommy hasn’t eaten all day…” Bang. Caleb slammed the door in my face. They changed the passcode. I was locked out. When my best friend, Jess, came to pick me up, I was sitting amidst a pile of clothes, looking like a wreck. She pulled me up, furious. “There are plenty of guys who would kill to be with you, Lyra! Why are you taking this trash from him? I’m setting you up with ten high-quality men right now. What the hell is this?” That night, Caleb stood outside Jess’s door, holding a shivering Noah. It was a bitter winter night in Seattle. The wind cut like knives. Caleb knelt before me, eyes red, repenting. “Lyra, I’m sorry. I just love you too much. I don’t know why I lose control…” “You know that apart from you, no one in this world can tolerate my temper.” “You know that if you just coax me a little, my anger disappears.” Noah’s face was blue from the cold. He reached out to me. “Mommy, hug. Hug Noah. Noah won’t make Mommy angry anymore.” One was the man I had loved since high school. The other was the child I nearly died birthing. No one knew them better than I did. So, I chose to forgive. But the peace never lasted. Caleb continued to explode whenever things didn’t go his way. Sometimes a few soft words fixed it. Sometimes, like today, he threatened divorce. As Noah grew older, his personality began to mirror his father’s. And I… I was just tired. This time, I really wanted the divorce. 2 The apartment was filled with traces of me. The tableware in the kitchen, the mugs on the table, the photos on the wall… I had hand-picked everything. I didn’t know where to start packing, so I realized that everything I truly needed was already in the suitcase I had just brought back. I had been in New York at a top-tier hospital for a month-long exchange program. I finished everything at 3 PM today and ran to the airport, suitcase in tow. I even tripped and scraped my knee in the process. But the storm delayed the flight. I was thirty minutes late for Noah’s party. When I arrived, Caleb sat on the couch, face dark, interrogating me. “Why didn’t you buy an earlier ticket? Did you not check the weather?” “Do you even care about Noah? Do you care about me?” “Are we less important to you than a bunch of strangers?” Noah snatched the toy from my hand—the one I stood in line for three hours to get—and smashed it on the floor. Then he stomped on it, crushing the plastic bricks, crushing my heart. “I hate Mommy! You break promises! You’re late! Bad Mom! Bad Mom!” … Waiting for the elevator now, I unlocked my phone. I saw a post from Caleb’s childhood friend, Chloe—the “Auntie Chloe” Noah loved to mention. [Birthday vibes with the little prince! Noah, you have to be happy every day! You too…] Caleb’s devastatingly handsome side profile was caught in the frame. Next to him, Noah, with cream on his nose, was feeding a spoonful of cake to the person taking the photo. They were laughing, playing, and capturing memories. Compared to me… They looked more like a family of three. [Oh no, the Female Lead is definitely misunderstanding… The Male Lead is just forcing a smile. His phone is definitely on loud, waiting for her to call.] [Why does she look actually mad? Don’t torture me! My baby Noah is so young… he’s just more sensitive than other kids.] [Chloe is just a plot device, guys. She’s a test for their relationship. Life isn’t smooth sailing, wake up Female Lead!] [Exactly. Just go find them, apologize properly. This gloomy, possessive man loves you so much, he’ll forgive you.] … I tried calling Caleb. I wanted to tell him Noah had a magnet school interview tomorrow. Divorce is an adult problem; it shouldn’t affect a child’s education. The call connected and was immediately hung up. I called again. Blocked. I called Noah’s phone watch. The background noise was loud. It sounded like a karaoke room. “Caleb, bro, why are you fighting with Lyra again? Aren’t you scared she’ll actually divorce you?” Silence for about three seconds. Then, Caleb scoffed, his voice dripping with arrogance. “Divorce is just a leash I use on Lyra. It works every time.” “You guys know how hard she chased me in high school.” “We’ve been married for years. Every time I’m unhappy, she apologizes like her life depends on it.” “She can’t leave me.” Laughter erupted in the room. “I always wondered why I couldn’t get you even though we grew up together. Turns out, being a simp pays off,” Chloe’s voice chimed in, dismissive. “I didn’t expect Lyra to look so dignified but be such a doormat in private.” “Right? Back then she beat up Caleb’s stepdad for him. A total maniac.” “And when she had Noah, the doctors told her not to, but she risked her life just to ‘give Caleb a family.’ Hahaha!” … I gripped my phone so hard my knuckles turned white. The compromises I thought were sacrifices for love… in Caleb’s eyes, they were just proof of my servitude. He wasn’t acting out because of insecurity. He was acting out because he was entitled. He was certain I couldn’t leave. He thought he had me in the palm of his hand. 3 I rented a serviced apartment on the other side of the city. Fully furnished. Perfect for someone suddenly getting a divorce. The complex was full of young professionals. I remembered back in college, Caleb hated the cafeteria food. He would either starve or eat junk. He had a bad stomach, and he was wasting away. So, I rented a small off-campus kitchen. I cooked for him every day. Med school was brutal. During finals, I barely slept. But I still made three meals a day, begging him to eat. Back then, he ate every bite. Later, he started learning to cook for me. When I was stressed, he’d follow online tutorials to make soup. But after marriage, everything changed. Caleb would trash the meals I spent hours making. He wouldn’t allow me to prioritize anything over him. … It had been a long time since I lived alone. I realized a small one-bedroom apartment could be incredibly tidy. My time after work was mine again. I could eat what I wanted, read what I wanted, sleep when I wanted. I didn’t have to manage anyone else’s emotions. It felt strange, but I liked it. On the third day, a colleague saw me walking slowly to the parking garage. “Not rushing home today? Usually, you’re running before you’ve even changed your shoes.” I smiled. “Yeah. I can take my time now.” My colleague nodded vigorously. “Good! This job is lethal enough. If you have to deal with a mess at home too, it’s just torture.” Yeah. I had endured that torture for six years. Finally, I was free. That night, I got a call from Noah. He was screaming. “Stupid Mommy! Dumb Mommy! Bad Mommy! Why didn’t you take me to the interview?! Sasha got her new uniform and I got nothing!” “I don’t care! Come back and take me to the interview right now!” I paused. When Caleb hung up on me that day, I had texted his best friend, Mark. I explicitly asked Mark to remind Caleb about the interview. Plus, there was a blackboard by the front door where I wrote the month’s schedule. He had to have seen it. I called Mark. He stammered for a while before admitting Caleb hadn’t gone home for days. “I mentioned it to Caleb, but I don’t know if he listened. Plus, it was Noah’s birthday… he wanted to go to Disneyland. Caleb was hesitant, but Chloe convinced him.” “So they went…” “I see,” I said. Mark’s tone shifted to a lecture. “Lyra, honestly. Work is work, family is family. How could you not take him to the interview yourself? Even if Caleb blocked you, you should have double-checked. Noah is your son.” I cut him off. “He is also Caleb’s son.” I never believed parenting was solely the mother’s burden. The interview date was on the blackboard. Visible every single day. Why could I remember, but Caleb—despite reminders—couldn’t? “Lyra, you weren’t like this before. Caleb just cares about you too much, he has a bad mouth but a good heart. Stop fighting with him, come back and fix Noah’s school situation—” I hung up. Blocked. Different values don’t belong at the same table. In the world of crows, the swan is guilty of being white. 4 [It’s over. The Female Lead is actually mad. Being a mom means worrying more, okay? Our Caleb is basically a child himself, how can he take care of a kid?] [Exactly. Whenever the Female Lead is around, the Male Lead’s IQ drops because he trusts her too much. He only blocked her for one night!] [The Male Lead is just awkward and sensitive. If she doesn’t go back to save him, he’s going to close off his heart again. So sad…] [Does she not want her husband or son? You can’t take a child’s tantrums seriously. She’s being selfish.] [Are the people above me insane? Nobody feels bad for her? She has a career and dreams. Why should she revolve around those two idiots?] Exactly. Why should I revolve around him? The meaning of love shouldn’t be “salvation.” It shouldn’t be about my utility to him. It should be about mutual growth. About standing side by side, weathering storms and enjoying the sunshine together. But Caleb… Did you ever want me to grow? In recent years, there wasn’t a single moment where I saw a future for us. … Two days later. The Emergency Room. Seattle was hit by a massive storm. The ER was flooded with car accident victims. I had just finished stabilizing a critical patient when chaos erupted near the nurse’s station. I wiped blood from my scrubs and looked over. It was Caleb and his entourage. Chloe was in a wheelchair. Little Noah stood beside her, pouting, holding her hand tightly. “I’m warning you, treat her right now or I’m calling the superintendent!” “Sir, please, just wait your turn based on the number—” The nurse was trying to reason with him while triaging a patient with a high fever. “Cut the crap! My friend fell down the stairs and her knee is bleeding! Get your best doctor here now!” Caleb interrupted her, arrogant and loud. “Or I’ll make sure you all lose your jobs!” After graduation, Caleb rode the AI wave and government grants to build a tech fortune. He certainly had the connections to make life hard for us grassroots medical workers. I just never thought the boy who came from nothing would one day use his privilege to oppress others. “Dr. Lyra is here!” A nurse spotted me just as she was about to call security. The noise died down instantly. Everyone turned to look at me. Chloe’s expression shifted from calm to agonizing pain in a split second. Caleb glanced at me, his tone commanding. “I demand you treat Chloe immediately. Aren’t you supposed to be ‘dedicated’?” One of his friends looked awkward. “Caleb… we just finished dinner. Chloe missed a step and scraped her knee…” A nurse ran to me. “Dr. Lyra, her vitals are stable. BP is normal. But they want to cut the line.” I checked Chloe’s injury. A scrape. “Hospital policy,” I said professionally. “Only critical patients cut the line. Ms. Xu has no chest pain, no difficulty breathing, and stable vitals. She does not qualify.” “Lyra, is this necessary?” Chloe looked up, tears brimming. “I know you hate me. I’ve been keeping Noah company because he’s sad. I only fell because I was worried he’d run into traffic…” “Ms. Xu, the cause of the injury does not determine triage priority—” “You’re just an old witch! You want to hurt Auntie Chloe!” Noah charged out of nowhere, ramming his head into my stomach. “I won’t let anyone hurt my favorite Auntie Chloe!” I stumbled back, nearly falling. “Noah, come here! We’re changing hospitals.” Caleb scooped Chloe up in his arms and marched toward the exit. “This isn’t the only hospital in town. I’m filing a complaint against everyone here. Including you.” He glared at me coldly. Chloe buried her face in his chest, looking shy and protected. Behind me, the whispers started. “That’s Dr. Lyra’s husband? Zero class.” “Dr. Lyra is so nice, how did she end up with trash like that?” “He seems legally illiterate. I think Dr. Lyra got scammed.” “That kid is her son? Yikes.” I lowered my eyes and smiled bitterly. A heavy weight pressed on my chest. This was the choice I fought for years ago. Now, I was paying the bill. I didn’t regret my decisions. I just needed to reflect on my judgment of character. There was nothing wrong with my sincerity or kindness. The problem wasn’t me. It was Caleb. The floating text returned. [The Female Lead is blind! He’s putting on a show for her! Can’t she see?] [He mentioned divorce to save her face at the hospital! I’m crying for this misunderstood love!] [I hate it when characters don’t communicate! Just apologize! He’ll run back like a puppy!] [Lyra, think about how much he suffered as a kid! Have a heart!] [I’m having a heart attack. Does she really think he likes Chloe? If she just coaxes our Caleb, he won’t look at another woman.] [Are these comments bots? I’m a VIP reader, not an idiot! He needs a slap, not a hug.]

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My name’s Oscar. I’m 27, run a private logistics firm that’s done surprisingly well over the last few years. And until recently, I was dating a woman named Daniella. We’d been toget her for about two years. On paper, it looked picture-perfect. She was smart, charming, from an old money family with all the polish you’d expect—polished teeth, polished dinnerware, polished judgments. Me? I was the outsider. The guy who didn’t grow up summering in Florence or brunching with investment bankers. The guy whose father left when he was ten, who worked two jobs in college and built his business from the ground up without connections, handouts, or family dinners in mansions with fireplaces taller than him. And to be honest, I was fine with that. I liked my quiet wins. Daniella and I met at a conference in San Diego. She was working in non-profit consulting, had a sharp wit, and was surprisingly down-to-earth—for a while. The first six months were great. She said she liked that I was independent, a builder, someone who didn’t need his hand held. I thought she admired me. I thought her family might too, eventually. I was wrong. I think they tolerated me at best. Or maybe Daniella was just really good at pretending they did. 1 The first time I met her family was at her dad’s 60th birthday. It was a massive affair—black tie, rooftop venue overlooking the city, string quartet playing something I couldn’t pronounce. Daniella told me not to wear a tie, that her family was “super chill” about that stuff. When I showed up in a navy jacket and open-collar shirt, her mother gave me a once-over and said, “Oh. Bold choice.” That should have been my first clue. The little jabs continued for months. Her older brother, Chase, once asked if I’d parked my “Uber” out front or if I’d taken the night off. Her sister, Brielle, corrected the way I pronounced charcuterie like I’d insulted her ancestors. Daniella always laughed it off. “That’s just how they are,” she’d say. “Don’t take it personally.” So I didn’t. At least, not for a while. I tried to brush it off, smile politely, offer a bottle of wine I’d spent way too long choosing, and act like I didn’t see the way her dad’s eyes glazed over anytime I mentioned my company. They were the type of people who asked what school you went to not because they cared, but because they wanted to rank you. And since I didn’t go Ivy, I didn’t rank. I started noticing Daniella slowly picking up some of those habits, too. Correcting me at dinners, telling me my shoes were “too brown” for that suit, or that my tone on the phone sounded “a little aggressive” when I was dealing with clients. Once, she asked if I could “maybe downplay the whole entrepreneur thing” around her cousins because they were really into “traditional careers.” I remember standing in her kitchen, frozen, staring at her like she’d slapped me. I didn’t say anything at the time. I just nodded and said, “Sure.” Looking back now, I wish I had spoken up sooner. But love does weird things to your sense of self-worth. I think it all really started to shift last Thanksgiving. Her family invited me to join them at their estate. Yes, estate. In Connecticut. It was a whole production. Horse stables, a winter wine tasting, a fireplace in every room, and a long list of passive-aggressive digs delivered over cranberry sauce. I brought a limited-run wine from a vineyard my company had a contract with—something truly rare—and her mom looked at it and said, “Oh. Red. That’s bold for turkey.” Chase offered me a “man’s apron” for the turkey carving contest and laughed like he was hosting a roast. Her dad didn’t even acknowledge me when I shared that we’d just signed our biggest contract yet. He just asked if I’d thought about getting an MBA to “fill in the gaps.” Still, I stayed. Because Daniella would squeeze my hand under the table or give me that look like, Just survive this weekend, and we’ll be home soon. I told myself I could endure the snide comments, the carefully veiled insults, the quiet condescension. I told myself it was just a test, that maybe someday I’d be part of the circle. And a tiny, insecure part of me—one I thought I’d buried years ago—wanted that. Wanted to be accepted. Respected. Wanted to belong. But something started brewing in me after that weekend. A slow, creeping sense of shame I couldn’t place. Like I was slowly turning into a version of myself that would smile through disrespect just to keep the peace. That version made me sick. Then came the birthday dinner. It was supposed to be a celebration. My birthday was technically the next day, but Daniella said her family wanted to treat us to an early dinner at this ultra-exclusive restaurant in the city, one I knew had a months-long waitlist. I was surprised, even flattered. I showed up in my best suit. Even brought a small gift for her mother—a rare tea set I found from a little boutique in Tokyo Daniella had mentioned her mom collected. We were seated at the head table, right in the center of the room. Waiters in white gloves. Candlelight glinting off gold-rimmed glasses. The works. The whole family was there. Her parents, siblings, their partners, even a couple of cousins I barely knew. I remember thinking, Maybe this is it. Maybe they’re finally trying. The dinner started out fine. A little too formal, but manageable. Then the wine started flowing. And with it, the comments. “So, Oscar,” Chase leaned in with a smirk, “how’s business? Still hauling boxes?” “Chase,” Daniella said, laughing nervously. “He doesn’t haul anything. He runs the company.” “Right, right. Logistics. Very glamorous.” Then her mom chimed in, asking if I’d ever considered going back to school to “polish up the resume.” Her dad asked if I wanted him to connect me with someone in his firm, “just in case the startup thing didn’t pan out.” Every laugh at the table felt sharper than the last. Daniella wasn’t defending me this time. She was quiet. Distant. Staring at her wine like she was waiting for something. Then she cleared her throat, put down her glass, and said, “Actually… I’ve been meaning to say something.” The whole table fell silent. Even the waiter paused mid-pour. My stomach tightened. “I think it’s time we went our separate ways,” she said. Just like that. “This… us… it’s not working anymore. I think we both know it.” I felt the air get sucked out of the room. My ears rang. For a moment, I thought I’d misheard. Before I could speak, her brother laughed. “Man, you’re really nothing without us, huh?” Her mom added, “Be grateful we even let you sit at our table, dear.” And just like that, the dam broke. I felt everything—shock, betrayal, rage—crashing down all at once. But I didn’t argue. I didn’t yell. I didn’t ask why, or beg, or plead, or try to save face. I just checked the time. And seconds later, like clockwork, a fleet of black SUVs pulled up outside the restaurant. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the whole family watched in stunned silence as the drivers in suits stepped out—coordinated, calm, like something out of a movie. A moment later, a waiter returned with a small bow and said, “Sir, your security detail has arrived.”

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I was driving out of Harbor City for our long-planned Fourth of July trip when my wife suddenly pulled over and forced me out of the car. “The dog got loose and bit the neighbor across the way,” Seraphina said, her face tight with forced calm. “I have to go handle it.” Before I could even speak—before I could ask what dog, or what neighbor—she hit the gas and left me stranded on the shoulder of the interstate. I’d just finished calling the State Police for help when my phone pinged with a notification: a bank transfer. Withdrawal Alert: Rabies Vaccine Fee: $1,500,000. I instantly called Seraphina. “Have you completely lost your mind?” I yelled into the phone, the sound of passing semis drowning out my own voice. But she sounded frantic, not crazy. She claimed the neighbor was critically injured and would sue us unless we paid the absurd compensation immediately. It was ridiculous. The entire complex belonged to my family. There were no “neighbors” across the way; the entire exclusive tower was reserved for my immediate family. I hung up, dialed 911, and reported illegal trespass and suspected danger at my primary residence. While waiting for the State Trooper to pick me up, I sent a text to my assistant: Fire Seraphina Maxwell immediately. Then, have my attorney draw up divorce papers. I want her to walk away with nothing. 1 My fury was a physical weight, a hot, toxic energy that kept me vibrating the entire drive back. The Olympus Estates, the most luxurious high-rise in the city, had been my parents’ gift to me for my thirty-fifth birthday. To avoid any hassle or intrusion, the entire building was designated for my private use. So who was the ghost Seraphina was paying a million and a half dollars for a vaccine? The patrol car finally dropped me near the security gate of The Olympus, but the armed guard stopped me cold. “Hold it right there. This area is restricted. Ms. Sera Maxwell of Pinnacle Properties is hosting a major birthday party inside.” He puffed out his chest. “Everyone here is high-level—the city’s elite. Unless you’re her husband, you’re not getting in.” My blood boiled over. I shoved my pass toward him. “The entire building belongs to me! Let me through!” He didn’t even glance at the card, smirking instead. “The whole building is yours? Look at you. You look like you slept in your car. Trying to run a scam?” He laughed, a cruel, short sound. “Everyone knows the complex belongs to Ms. Maxwell. Don’t tell me you’re claiming to be her husband.” I was shaking with rage. What exactly had Seraphina been doing? “I am Seraphina Maxwell’s husband! Who else would I be? Let me in now!” The guard threw his head back and guffawed. He looked at me like I was a genuine idiot. “I know Ms. Maxwell’s husband when I see him. He’s inside celebrating his birthday right now! You should check your facts before trying to pull this kind of stunt.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. “Ms. Maxwell’s husband is Rex Sullivan. He wears nothing but designer brands, and he tips us security guys with hundred-dollar bills and premium Cuban cigars.” “You look like you shop at a thrift store. You think you’re Mr. Sullivan?” He picked up his stun baton, gesturing me away. I felt the buzzing of electricity even before the baton was close. Rex Sullivan. The name hit me like a physical blow. I remembered him clearly: a notorious high school bully who, years ago, had been arrested and jailed after pushing a classmate to a suicide attempt. How was he Seraphina’s husband? And how had he moved into my private estate? When the electric current was dangerously close, I reacted. I kicked the guard’s feet out from under him, snatching the baton as he fell. “You should’ve kept your hands off me!” I forced the security team to back up, the stolen baton held high, and burst through the gate toward the penthouse tower. “Noah, tell Deputy Director Shaw thank you again! That Wellington University acceptance letter is yours! And be sure to thank Principal Harrington—he’s the head of Wellington. If you ever need anything, go straight to him!” I heard Seraphina’s bright, ringing voice before I even reached the main floor. When I got inside, she was standing next to Rex Sullivan, her arm linked tightly through his. Next to them stood a tall, grinning teenager—Noah—who was shaking hands with a man holding a cocktail. My appearance sucked all the air out of the room. The music stopped. Every single pair of eyes in the glittering ballroom turned to me. I swept my gaze across the faces: the Deputy Director of the State Board of Education, the Principal of Wellington University, the manager of The Olympus Estates… These people normally needed my father’s permission just to breathe. Now they were all gathered, enjoying Seraphina’s hospitality, apparently allied with her. And then I saw Rex again. The sight of him, dressed in expensive Italian silk, but still carrying the unmistakable menace of a thug, made my stomach clench. “Seraphina,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “What the hell is this gathering in my house?” She paled immediately and rushed to grab my arm, trying to pull me aside. “What are you doing here? I’m in the middle of groveling for forgiveness! Get out, now!” She hissed the last word. “And by the way, the money wasn’t enough. I’ve already promised his son the early admission scholarship to Wellington.” A roar started in my ears, drowning out her voice. I flashed back to their earlier conversation. Wellington was the most prestigious university in Harbor City. The scholarship—the one my son, Finn, had worked himself half to death to secure—was the top academic honor in the state. And she’d just handed it away? Before I could tear into her, the teenager spoke up, pointing at me. “Mom, who is this man? He just barged in. So rude.” Seraphina’s face shifted, her expression turning hard and fixed, a desperate resolve in her eyes. “He’s a lunatic, Rex! Get him out of here, now! If he doesn’t leave, call security to beat him out!” I stared at her, genuinely shocked. It was as if I was meeting her for the very first time. “Seraphina, what are you saying? I am your husband!” She glared at me, her eyes vicious. “Stop spreading lies! Rex is my husband! I told you to get lost! How long are you going to keep harassing us?” My entire body was shaking. I could barely stand. “Seraphina, has a donkey kicked you in the head?” The guests around us started whispering. “Is this guy for real? Can’t he see this is Ms. Maxwell’s husband’s birthday party?” Rex let out a contemptuous snort and looked down at me from his superior height. “Trash is trash. Trying to hit on my wife in front of me.” Just then, the security guard I’d kicked, along with a team of backup bodyguards, rushed in. “I apologize, Ms. Maxwell, esteemed guests! He forced his way in, but we have him now! I’ll tie him up and haul him to the police station immediately!” He waved his hand, and the bodyguards closed in. I backed up two steps, my jaw tight. I focused my fury on Seraphina. “You need to explain yourself, Seraphina. Right now. Or you and I are done.” She frowned. “Noah is from a single-parent home, and I was just trying to entertain these leaders for him. What is your problem?” She suddenly changed her tone, her voice turning into a bark. “Get out! Don’t push me to do something you’ll regret!” Rex took a step toward me, a sneer of challenge on his face. “Seraphina, The Olympus is a high-class reserve. We can’t let him just barge in and cause a scene like this. We can’t let him off easy.” He addressed his security. “What are you waiting for? Beat him! Show him what happens when you trespass! The Principal and the Director are watching—we can’t let them think we’re lax on security!” The bodyguards raised their batons and moved toward me. I narrowed my eyes at Seraphina, shouting, “Think clearly, Seraphina! Tell them to stop!” She hesitated for a brief second, lifting her hand as if to call them off. That’s when Noah tugged on her sleeve, his voice a whine. “Mommy… that man is scary. If we let him go, what if he comes to my school and hits me?” Seraphina looked down at the boy with a sickeningly tender gaze, her voice dripping with affection. “My darling, Mommy will always protect you.” She looked up at the bodyguards, her voice chillingly cold. “Forget the slaps. Break his arms and legs. Make sure he can never hurt my son again. My beloved son!” I stared at her, heart sinking with a terrible finality. I fixed her with a hard, flat gaze. “I am your husband. Try and touch a single hair on my head.” “You not only gave my son’s scholarship to this bastard, but you’re ordering men to beat me for him? I suggest you wake up, Seraphina.” Noah immediately exploded, screaming, “That’s a lie! The scholarship was mine! I don’t need your stupid son’s leftovers!” Principal Harrington watched me with a patronizing smirk. “Sir, slander is a serious offense. Noah is the City Valedictorian. His acceptance to Wellington is absolutely legitimate. Your fool of a son would be lucky to get into community college.” The surrounding guests joined in the mockery. My eyes burned as I focused on Principal Harrington. “You’re lying! My son, Finn, is the City Valedictorian!” That honor was the result of years of tireless work, a sacrifice on both our parts! The Principal looked at me with open contempt and flashed his phone screen in my face. “The Honor Roll is public. Look closely. Noah Sullivan is listed first. You’re delusional if you think otherwise. Wellington is not for every stray dog off the street.” I roared, “Shut up! My son’s name was on that list!” But even as I screamed, the screen showed Noah Sullivan at the top, with a score that matched my son’s perfectly. Finn’s name was nowhere to be found. Seraphina wouldn’t meet my eyes. Principal Harrington’s expression shifted, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He lowered his voice, the offer dripping with venom. “I can, however, give you a chance. Just get on your knees and knock your head on the floor one hundred times. I might consider having a conversation with you.” “You don’t need to keep acting hysterical. Just kneel down and—” The rage became a blinding, white-hot fire. I snatched the stun baton from the nearest bodyguard and thrust it toward the vile man’s chest. “Say one more word, and I’ll electrocute you where you stand!” Seraphina stared at me, her eyes promising a thousand cuts. “Leo Maxwell, where do you get the nerve to threaten Principal Harrington? Security! Bodyguards! Are you useless? Hold him down, now!” Suddenly, a group of men swarmed me, wrestling me to the marble floor in three violent motions. Seraphina immediately turned to the Principal, plastering a fake, appeasing smile back on her face. “Please don’t be angry, Principal. He’s completely unhinged. I’ll have him thrown out immediately.” The Principal was still shaken and furious at being shown up. His face was distorted with malice. “Ms. Maxwell, I can forgive the embarrassment, but to let a man who threatens me go free? That’s not good form.” “Order your men to strip him naked, and make him crawl around the perimeter of the building, barking like a dog. Until I say stop.” He paused, his smile sickening. “Otherwise, Noah’s enrollment may become… complicated.” Seraphina wavered for a split second, then her voice came out like a shard of ice. “What are you waiting for? Strip Leo bare! All of it!” The bodyguards immediately went to work. Within seconds, I was down to my underwear. Principal Harrington lifted his foot and pressed it down hard on my fingers, grinding them into the floor. He leaned in, his eyes narrowed. “I understand you’re upset. Just comply, and we can discuss the scholarship…” Ignoring the searing pain, I screamed at Seraphina. “Seraphina! I am your husband! Tell them to stop, right now! Or—” My vision tunneled. A sharp, paralyzing jolt went through my chest. My face went chalk white. My heart condition. My heart was giving out. “Let go of me!” I wrenched myself free from the bodyguards and scrambled toward the pile of my clothes, searching for my heart medication. I fumbled to twist the cap off the bottle. I needed the pills. Right now. If I didn’t take them, I could die. But Noah, seeing his opportunity, grabbed his own chest. His eyes wide, his face a mask of pain. “Mommy, my chest! It hurts so much!” Rex instantly understood the play. He looked at Seraphina, his voice anxious. “Sera, Noah’s heart condition! I forgot his medication…” Seraphina glanced at Noah, then at my shaking, sweat-soaked body. She hesitated. I couldn’t delay any longer. I finally twisted the cap and started to pour the pills into my mouth. That’s when Seraphina made her choice. Her voice was harsh and decisive. “Snatch the medicine! My son, Noah, needs those pills more!” I clutched the bottle to my chest, crawling backward. “Don’t come near me! If you try to take them, I’ll crush them all! No one gets them!” I guarded the pills, my eyes darting nervously between the approaching security guards. Seraphina’s voice suddenly softened, a desperate plea. “Leo, don’t do anything stupid! I was just kidding! Your safety is the most important thing—” I believed her. I relaxed my guard for one fatal second. A wine bottle exploded over my head. The world went dark and fuzzy. Seraphina had struck me with brutal force. I slumped to the floor, dazed, but the bodyguards pounced, seizing control of my arms and legs. The pills were wrenched from my tight grasp. “Give them back…” I gasped, struggling to calm my breathing and steady the runaway heart rhythm. Seraphina didn’t even look at me. “Noah is a child! He needs them more! You’re an adult—you can take a little pain! You won’t die if you wait a bit!” The light went out of my eyes. The cold settled in my soul. Rex looked at me, his eyes full of triumph. While Seraphina was fussing over Noah, he squatted down in front of me, grabbing a fistful of my hair and forcing me to look up at his cruel face. “A heart attack won’t kill you right away. It’s just going to hurt for a while.” He smirked. “You haven’t even barked for us yet. We can’t let you die now.” I lunged, my teeth closing hard on his forearm until I tasted blood. “You damned animal! You’re asking for it!” Rex struggled, prying my jaws apart. He looked at the teeth marks, blood oozing through his shirt, and his face turned monstrous. “Tear his mouth open! I want to see if he dares to bite again!” I clamped my lips shut, refusing to give them the chance. Enraged, Rex grabbed a pitcher of hot water and poured the contents directly onto my bare skin. Blistering heat. Excruciating pain. I screamed, thrashing, the bodyguards barely able to hold me down. Seeing me about to break free, Rex seized the guard’s stun baton, flicked the switch, and jammed the pulsating tip toward my chest. My heart seized up again. If he electrocuted me now, I would die. I lay on the floor like a landed fish, screaming. Just as the baton was about to make contact, the ballroom doors burst open, and a squad of large, uniformed men flooded the room. “Hold your fire! We are The Maxwell Group security detail! We’re here to protect the Owner!” Rex froze, then smiled in relief. “Sera, you called them? Perfect! Have them assist us immediately! I want to tear this bastard’s mouth open and break his arms and legs!” Seraphina looked flustered, but she quickly recovered and gave the order. “Don’t just stand there! Help my husband! Hold that trash down and get revenge for him!” The new security detail hesitated, taking a step toward me. I lifted my head, my eyes locking onto the leader. “Captain Miller, do you dare touch a single finger on me?” Captain Miller stopped dead in his tracks, his face registering total shock. “Young Master Leo, who did this to you? Who dared?”

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My first day of college, my dad dropped me off at the dorms in his Lamborghini. When my new roommate found out my dad was the CEO of Sterling Corp, her whole demeanor changed. “CEO Sterling is so busy, yet he drove you personally? Where’s your mom?” “Just as I thought, a home without a woman is chaos… Give me two days to learn the ropes, and I’ll take great care of both you and your father!” I thought she was just being weird and brushed it off with a “Good luck with that.” But she actually started staying up all night watching videos on “How to Be a Billionaire’s Wife.” “Why are you wearing a mini skirt? That’s not very ladylike!” She even started introducing herself as my “stepmom” to everyone! “See her bag? Her dad and I picked it out for her.” “But, well, he bought me a huge diamond ring too. I guess he spoils me a little more.” Until the university’s centennial gala, where she showed up in a ballgown and sat straight in the seat reserved for “Mrs. Sterling.” 1 My first day of college, my dad personally drove me to the dorms in his sports car. As soon as we walked in, we bumped into my roommate, Tiffany. She asked excitedly: “Did you guys see that sports car downstairs? I looked it up, it’s worth like six million dollars!” I walked over to my bed leisurely and turned to ask my dad: “Dad, didn’t you say you bought it for six hundred thousand?” Dad smiled awkwardly and didn’t reply. Just then, his bodyguard walked in. “Mr. Sterling, the board meeting is starting soon.” Tiffany’s eyes lit up instantly. She rushed over to me. “Your dad is CEO Sterling? He’s so handsome! How did he have time to drop you off? Where’s your mom?” Before I could answer, she pulled out her phone and ran up to my dad. “Hi, I’m Tiffany! You can add me on WeChat. If Chloe needs anything, you can just ask me!” Dad froze. Although he looked reluctant, he didn’t want to embarrass a young girl. He added her WeChat. “Chloe, I’m heading back to the office. Let me know if you need anything.” Before I could answer, Tiffany jumped in again. “Okay! I’ll let you know if Chloe needs anything. Don’t worry about work.” “Remember to eat, don’t go hungry, okay?” She giggled shyly and waved. Dad coughed awkwardly and left immediately. While unpacking, I thought to myself: Are college students this abstract nowadays? The next second, Tiffany knocked my suitcase over. “As a junior, where’s my greeting gift?” I stared at her in shock, unsure if she was serious or joking. Seeing I didn’t move, she suddenly slapped my arm, hands on her hips, glaring at me. “Is that how you look at your elders? No manners at all!” “I’ll have to discipline you properly for your father! Or don’t even think about entering the family home!” She was serious. I stood up and shoved her to the ground, yelling: “They let psychos into college now? Go get treated!” Hearing the commotion, people from other dorms gathered around. Tiffany sat on the floor, sobbing. “I know you don’t like me! But I’m trying so hard to be a good stepmom…” The crowd gasped, eyes wide with shock. I was furious, looking at her in disbelief. “My dad doesn’t even know you! Are you delusional from wanting to marry rich?” Tiffany stood up, showed her phone screen to everyone. “See for yourselves! Does he know me or not!” “She just thinks I stole her father’s love, that’s why she targets me!” People started nodding, looking at me with disdain. Confused, I snatched her phone. She had changed my dad’s contact name to: [Hubby] 2 I laughed out of pure anger, about to retort. The RA suddenly appeared to disperse the crowd. “What’s the noise? Keep it down or I’ll write you all up!” The crowd scattered. I sighed and went back into the room with Tiffany. Suddenly, she ran up to me, crying hysterically. “I’m sorry, Chloe! I had a bad attitude just now.” “My family was really poor growing up, and I was always bullied. The way you looked at me reminded me of those bullies…” “I lost control and hit you. If you’re still mad, hit me back!” She started slapping herself hard, leaving red marks on her face. I grabbed her hands immediately, my heart softening. Although Tiffany was definitely weird, hearing her story, it probably stemmed from growing up in a repressive environment. I didn’t want to hold a grudge. “Forget it, I’m not mad.” “But you absolutely cannot call my dad your hubby! That’s ridiculous!” Tiffany wiped her tears, sniffing. “My grandma taught me, when you go to a new place, get close to the best person so you won’t be bullied.” “I thought if I was connected to CEO Sterling, no one would dare bully me…” “I’m sorry…” I frowned. What kind of logic was that? But her situation seemed pitiful, and I didn’t know how to argue. “Still, you can’t do that… Anyway, stop crying. Pack up and rest.” Tiffany voluntarily made my bed, folded my clothes, and organized all my toiletries. Having been spoiled at home, I was actually clueless about these chores. I was grateful for her help. “Thanks. I’ll treat you to lunch tomorrow.” Tiffany smiled sweetly and pulled a bag of buns from her luggage. “My grandma made these. They’re delicious. Have one.” I was hungry after cleaning, so I took one and started eating. “Your grandma’s buns are great! She could sell these!” I thought, Tiffany isn’t a bad person, maybe just has some inferiority complex. She’ll get better in college. Suddenly, she opened her camera to take a selfie with me. “I want to send it to Grandma! My first friend in college!” “She’s pretty and loves the buns!” “Grandma will be so happy!” I played along, chewing on the bun and throwing up a peace sign. Tiffany fiddled with her phone, a happy smile on her face. “Add me on WeChat, I’ll send you the photo.” Seeing her expression, I remembered I hadn’t told Dad I was settled in. The next second, Dad messaged me. [Made a new friend so fast? Good job, daughter!] He attached a screenshot. I opened it. It was a chat between Tiffany and Dad. Tiffany sent photos of my neatly made bed, organized closet, and toiletries. And our selfie. [Chloe is doing great! Eating well and living well!] Dad replied with two thumbs-up emojis. I was thinking Tiffany was quite helpful, updating my dad for me. Then I refreshed my Moments (social media feed) and saw Tiffany’s post. [I’ll work harder to learn how to be a good stepmom! Don’t worry, Hubby! Daughter is doing well at school~] The photo was the chat screenshot with my dad. 3 I exploded instantly, confronting Tiffany with my phone. “What are you posting?! Delete it now!” Tiffany jumped, looking wronged. “I’m sorry! I just wanted to reassure Grandma!” “If you don’t like it, I’ll delete it now!” She tapped on her phone. I refreshed, and indeed, it was gone. I couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Tiffany definitely had issues. But I couldn’t put my finger on it. “Don’t post stuff like that again. This is my last warning.” I went to shower and sleep. Next morning, Tiffany was back to her gentle, attentive self. She even squeezed toothpaste onto my toothbrush. “Wake up! Class registration today!” Her sudden enthusiasm made me uncomfortable, but I couldn’t say anything. While looking for clothes, I couldn’t find my new white skirt. “Tiffany, did you see my white skirt when you folded clothes yesterday?” She paused. “Oh! That was a skirt? It was so short! I thought it was a rag and threw it away.” “You’re a girl, how can you wear mini skirts? How will you get married if men see you like that?” I realized then that not just the skirt, all my shorts were gone too! Suppressing my rage, I didn’t want to fight. I threw on a shirt and went to class. Seeing my limited edition bag, female classmates gathered around. “Chloe, your bag is gorgeous! Is it the new release?” I smiled and nodded, about to reply. Tiffany cut in, blocking me, smiling coyly like an elder. “Nice, right? Her dad and I picked it out for her in Europe!” “But he bought me a huge diamond ring too. I guess he spoils me a little more.” The girls looked at each other, too scared to reply. Now I saw it clearly. Tiffany was genuinely mental! I shouldn’t have pitied her! “My dad bought the bag, yes, but it has nothing to do with her.” “My dad doesn’t even know her. Don’t listen to her.” I explained anxiously. Tiffany blinked at everyone calmly. “The kid doesn’t want you to know my identity. Saving face, you know how it is~” “Alright, alright, Chloe, whatever you say. Let’s go to the cafeteria.” Seeing the classmates’ complicated expressions, I knew exploding now would only make me look worse. I held back my anger, deciding to settle accounts back at the dorm. In the cafeteria, Tiffany dumped all the greens from her bowl into mine. In front of everyone, she said: “Your dad said you’re a picky eater. I’ll supervise your diet from now on.” I finally snapped, flipping my tray and pointing at her, screaming: “Are you sick?! Once or twice is enough! Are you addicted to acting? Think you’re my mom?” “My dad doesn’t know you! Next time, I’m calling the police to drag you to the psych ward!” Everyone in the cafeteria stared. Tiffany was too scared to breathe. After a long while, she recovered, sobbing. “I know you don’t like me, but your dad and I are truly in love…” “Sorry, I’ll leave.” She ran out crying. Classmates started whispering. I opened my phone to call Dad, but a notification from the campus confession wall popped up. [Whose super cool sports car was downstairs at the girls’ dorm yesterday?] Attached was a photo of my dad’s Lamborghini. The top comment was Tiffany. [My hubby’s. He bought it for forty million but lied and said four million. Found his secret stash, so I punished him with no dinner!] 4 I shook with rage reading the comment. What a lunatic! Tomorrow was the centennial celebration. Dad was invited as a guest speaker. I’d make him clarify everything personally! Slap Tiffany in the face so hard she’d give up! Too angry to eat, I went back to the dorm to call Dad. Before I could dial, he video called me. “Chloe, are you fighting with a classmate?” I was confused. Did my cafeteria outburst reach him already? “How do you know?” Dad looked awkward, panning the camera. In the video, Tiffany was strutting around Dad’s office! Ordering employees around! Acting like the boss’s wife! “Tiffany? She’s sick! Dad, ignore her!” “She told everyone you’re her husband! That she’s my stepmom! The whole school knows!” “You have to clarify this at the celebration tomorrow! Or how can I stay here for four years!” I was so anxious I stuttered, wanting to reach through the screen and slap her. Dad looked shocked. “My god, what’s wrong with young people these days?” “I’ll have someone send her back. I’ll clarify everything at your school tomorrow.” After hanging up, I was restless, planning how to lecture Tiffany when she returned. Then I heard girls passing by the dorm whispering. “This is the room. Daughter and stepmom living together! Scary.” “Damn, rich families are complicated.” I rushed out. “Who said she’s my stepmom! She’s lying!” A girl shook off my hand, holding up her phone. “Your family is so hypocritical! Your dad likes young girls, but you won’t admit her status!” I looked closer. It was Tiffany’s Moments. The latest post was a selfie in Dad’s office, and a video of her ordering staff around. [Checking on hubby’s empire. Letting the staff recognize the Lady Boss!] The previous post was a creepshot of me sleeping last night. [Daughter is tired from a long day. Out like a light.] Before that, the chat with my dad! [With me here, daughter is safe at school~] She never deleted them. She just blocked me from seeing them! I ground my teeth in fury. How can such a psycho exist! I couldn’t wait for tomorrow. I was going to tear her apart the moment she walked in! Even if I got expelled! But she didn’t come back all night. Probably afraid. The next day at the celebration, all the city’s elites were there, including my dad. Dad wore a custom suit, tall and fit, looking thirty despite being forty-something. “Our seats are in the front row. I requested a family seat.” I nodded and followed him. The next second, I almost fainted. Tiffany, in a ballgown, was sitting right in the seat labeled “Mrs. Sterling,” in front of everyone.

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I gave my students a choice for their homework: Build a nuclear bomb. Find the teacher a tall, rich, and handsome boyfriend. Complete the physics worksheet. The next day, one student handed in a blank worksheet. I called her to my office to interrogate her: “Why didn’t you do the homework?” She dragged a handsome guy in from the hallway. “Ms. Parker, here’s the tall, rich, and handsome guy you wanted.” I nearly fainted. 1 After graduating with my teaching degree, I returned to my high school alma mater as a physics teacher. As soon as I got my teaching license, my best friend ruthlessly roasted me: “Sarah Parker, with someone like you as a teacher, I fear for the future of those students.” She was right. I’m chronically online, love memes, play video games with my students, and even led the whole class in a TikTok dance during the sports meet… So, my students never call me “Ms. Parker,” they call me “Sister Sarah,” and I’ve been unanimously voted “Most Unprofessional Physics Teacher at A-High.” Today, while slacking off in the office, I saw a trending topic—#CraziestOnlineClassAssignments. The vibe was like this: “Physics homework, choose one: Build an atomic bomb. Take a photo holding hands with Einstein or Newton. Build a perpetual motion machine. Complete pages 40-43 in the workbook.” “Math: Prove Goldbach’s conjecture or finish one worksheet.” “English: Take a photo with the President in front of the White House or translate this passage.” … Such a good meme, how could I not participate? So, when assigning homework in the class group chat, I posted an announcement: “Please choose one of the following to complete: Build a nuclear bomb. Find Ms. Parker a tall, rich, and handsome boyfriend. Complete the physics worksheet.” Here’s the thing: my parents have been relentless about me getting married lately. I was losing my mind, hence the second option. Who wouldn’t go crazy under that kind of pressure? Minutes after posting, the red dot on the chat icon turned into “99+”. “LMAO.” “Sister Sarah keeping up with the trends.” “If I win a Nobel Prize, can I get extra credit on the final?” Then, the vibe shifted. “Wait, Sister Sarah is still single?” “I heard she’s never dated anyone.” “Sister Sarah, I can introduce you to my second cousin’s neighbor’s nephew.” … My face darkened. I forcibly deleted the “never dated anyone” message and muted the chat. Why do they have to be so honest? I don’t want to hear it. 2 The next day, out of 47 students, I collected 46 worksheets. After class, the class rep and I checked the list and found the lone defaulter: Lily Lin. She’s usually a good kid. Why the sudden rebellion? I called her to the office. “Where’s the worksheet from yesterday? Let me see it.” She looked calm, pulled out a paper, and handed it to me. Tsk, cleaner than my face after a facial. What is wrong with this kid? I rubbed my temples: “Why didn’t you do the homework?” She grinned: “Ms. Parker, I did the homework.” Then she dragged a guy in a baseball cap from the hallway and pushed him in front of me. “This is my brother. Ms. Parker, here’s the tall, rich, and handsome guy you wanted.” ? The other teachers in the office put down their lesson plans and turned to watch. The handsome guy lifted his cap and smiled: “Sarah Parker, long time no see.” I stared at him for a moment. I recognized him. It was my high school crush—Lucas Lin. I paused: “Lu… Lucas?” Lucas nodded slightly. I turned back to my student: “He’s your brother?” Lily nodded too. Oh god, oh god… I played the meme too hard and it backfired. My colleagues were all watching the drama, some even covering their mouths and giggling. My reputation is ruined! I felt dizzy, the room spun, and I collapsed. 3 Dead memories suddenly attacked me. In high school, my math was atrocious. I counted on my fingers for double-digit addition. Definitions, geometry, equations—all Greek to me. But Lucas, who sat behind me, consistently scored 145+ out of 150 on math exams. Sigh, the gap between humans. Taking advantage of proximity, I turned around to ask him whenever I was stuck. He was nice too. To make sure I understood, he’d explain a problem four or five times without getting annoyed! We were close when he explained things. And he was handsome. Devastatingly handsome. Refined features, sharp jawline. Every time I turned around, I couldn’t help but sneak a peek. My heart fluttered like a trapped bird—who wouldn’t like a hot guy patiently explaining calculus? I was crushing hard. I whined to my best friend every day. Eventually, her ears calloused over, and she urged me to shoot my shot. “Go big or go home!” Let’s do it! That day, I bought nice paper and an envelope to write a confession letter. First time writing a love letter. I wanted it to be classy. I deliberated over every word. Seven days later, I squeezed out six words: “Dear Lucas Lin…” That was it. As a science student, my literary skills were tragic. So I bribed my liberal arts major best friend with five bucks to write it for me. She waved her pen, swish swish swish, and ten minutes later—slap—she slammed the paper in front of me. I picked it up. Tsk, so cheesy. Phrases like “My secret love for you is a silent wind moving the grass,” “I miss you occasionally, but often occasionally…” I got goosebumps. My face twisted in cringe. She rolled her eyes: “Take it or leave it!” I smiled like a sycophant, “I’ll take it, I’ll take it…” But the letter stayed in my hand for half a month. I couldn’t send it. Besides being a coward, there was another reason. Rumors about Lucas and the school beauty, Misty, were flying everywhere. Everyone knew. And me? No makeup, braces, face full of acne. Competing with the school beauty was like hitting a rock with an egg. My best friend rolled her eyes again and moved to snatch the letter back: “If you’re scared, don’t do it.” The provocation worked: “No, no! Let me try one more time! I can do it!” I swore, holding up three fingers. “If I don’t give it to him today, I’ll eat it!” After school, Lucas and the boys finished basketball and were walking back, laughing. I hid behind a wall, eavesdropping. The boys were gossiping about Lucas and Misty again. They got closer. I clutched the letter, palms sweating. Counting down in my head: 3, 2, 1. Just as I was about to jump out, Lucas’s voice rang out: “I’m not interested in girls.” … I stuffed the letter in my mouth and ate it with tears in my eyes. After discovering Lucas’s secret, I ignored him for the rest of senior year. I wished I could move my desk 800 meters away. Even if he talked to me, I just mumbled “Mmhmm” and brushed him off. I finally understood why he rejected every girl’s gift. The dude wasn’t interested in girls!!! 4 I looked at this familiar face, rolled my eyes back, and slumped into the chair. The room erupted into chaos. Someone pinched my philtrum, someone fanned me, someone poured water… “Ms. Parker? Sarah? Are you okay?” I looked at the concerned faces, pale and weak: “I’m fine…” Lucas must be here to discuss his sister’s grades. Definitely not to cause trouble. Must be! I drank some water, calmed down, and pulled Lucas outside: “Lucas, what are you doing here?” I clung to my last hope: “Are you here to talk about Lily’s studies?” The next second, my hope was ruthlessly shattered. “No. “I heard a certain single-since-birth physics teacher was getting desperate from family pressure and publicly recruiting a boyfriend,” he crossed his arms and smirked, “I came specifically to watch the show.” His “single-since-birth” comment stabbed my heart. I almost coughed blood. How could such cold words come from his 98.6-degree mouth!! High school? No dating for obvious reasons. College? Four years focused on my career, studying, getting certified, tutoring. No time for love. Now? Work, parental pressure, blind dates. And the blind dates were unreliable. Last month, a distant aunt introduced a “mature, steady man.” Yeah, mature. He was over 40. A neighbor introduced a “quality man.” House, car, savings. But… divorced with a kid. I have no interest in being a stepmom. Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous! I laughed dryly, expressionless. “Yeah, my parents see everyone else’s kids getting married, and I haven’t even found a boyfriend. They’re panicking. Nagging every day. It’s annoying.” Lucas paced back and forth, then stopped in front of me and said something shocking. He said he was also being pressured to marry. Why don’t we team up and act? Pretend to be a couple to appease our families. I despised him internally: This guy clearly isn’t into girls but is too afraid to come out, so he drags someone else into his lie. Harmful to others and himself. If I agree to act with him, isn’t that selling my soul? So— I need more money. “Sure,” I agreed readily. “But I need a fee for my acting services.” “For one performance—this much. Okay?” I waved two fingers, meaning 200 bucks. He nodded: “No problem.” Then he tapped on his phone. Next second, Ding— Alipay: Received 10,000 yuan (~$1,400). My balance jumped from two digits to five. !!! I gasped. I work like a donkey every day and only make that much in a month! “What’s wrong?” His eyes were innocent. “Two thousand per act. Five acts upfront. If we need more, I’ll pay more. Is there a problem?” He didn’t even flinch. Oh, right. In the office, Lily said her brother was the tall, rich, and handsome guy I needed. “No, no, no!” I beamed like a flower. “Pleasure doing business with you!” His eyes softened: “Mmh. Pleasure.” 5 WeChat Group “Happy Family”: [CloudBreaker (Dad)] patted me: Daughter, found a boyfriend yet? [BloomingRich (Mom)] (Voice Message): “Your cousin’s engagement party is next Saturday morning. Don’t forget. Aiyah, when will you bring someone home?” [Me]: I found a boyfriend. [CloudBreaker]: Are you painting us another pie (lying) again? I’ve used this line many times. My parents believed it every time, only to be ghosted. So this time, they didn’t believe it. I rubbed my brow and typed furiously: “Really found one. Bringing him home in a couple of days.” To convince them, I stole a few photos from Lucas’s Moments and sent them. After that, I tossed my phone and went to shower. When I came out, I had countless missed calls. I called back. Picked up instantly. My parents bombarded me with excitement, making my head spin. Dad fired the first salvo: “What’s he like? How old? What does he do?” Mom grabbed the phone: “How did you meet?” Dad: “How long have you known him?” Mom: “Do you think he’s the one?” … I had planned this whole charade: First, bring Lucas home, claim he’s my boyfriend, and get some peace and quiet. A few months later, tell them we broke up due to personality differences. Then use “heartbreak” as an excuse to reject blind dates. My abacus was clicking loudly. Ideally, I wouldn’t be bothered about marriage for six months to a year!

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Vivian joined a women’s empowerment book club. Every Tuesday night, like clockwork. I supported it. I championed it. I was the doting husband, right until today, when I found the card tucked into the pocket of her silk blouse while sorting the laundry. It was heavy stock, matte black. On the back, in elegant cursive: “The Gentleman’s Selection. Unbox your fantasy. Your exclusive concierge: Jax.” I scanned the QR code with my phone. It didn’t take me to a reading list. It launched a digital catalogue of men—oiled abs, chiseled jaws, eyes promising trouble. Every single one came with a price tag. And according to the transaction history I hacked into, my wife’s cumulative spending had already hit six figures. I stared at the screen, my face a mask of stone, and snapped a photo. I sent it to Marcus. “Vice squad. I’m sending you an address. My wife is a VIP client. Make sure to leave them a five-star review.” 1 On the other end of the line, Marcus—my partner, my brother in arms—was silent for ten seconds. “Holden, tell me you’re joking.” “Do I sound like I’m joking?” My voice was flat, a dead calm sea. “Your wife… Vivian? The literature professor? How the hell…” “Don’t ask me. I’m still trying to figure out which chapter of The Great Gatsby covers male escorts.” I flipped the black card over. The front bore the gold-embossed logo: The Athena Collective. The irony tasted like copper in my mouth. Marcus took a deep breath on the other end. “I got the address. ‘The Box.’ We’ve been trying to crack that place for months. We could never find a way in.” “You have one now,” I said. “VIP client. Six-figure spend. Is that enough probable cause?” “It’s enough. It’s more than enough.” Marcus’s voice dropped, shifting from cop to friend. “Holden, think this through. Once we kick that door in, you and Vivian… there’s no coming back from that.” I looked down at my phone. The chat logs between Vivian and this ‘Jax’ scrolled by. Intimate. Flirtatious. Transactional. Transfer after transfer. Every notification was a small, precise incision on my heart. We’d been married three years. For her, I had stepped back from the fast track, taking a transfer to a desk job in a sleepy logistics department. I bought the groceries. I cooked the meals. I treated her like royalty. She thought I had lost my edge. She thought I had settled. She didn’t know that my mediocrity was a costume, a necessary cover for a deep-cover investigation into a massive organized crime ring. She used to say she wanted a man with ambition, so I stayed up nights earning certifications I couldn’t tell her about. She wanted romance, so I curated every anniversary like a museum exhibit. She said she needed to elevate herself with this book club, and I pushed her to go. And this was how she elevated herself? “I’ve thought it through,” I said to the empty room. “Call me when you move.” I hung up, wiped the call log, and set the phone back on the counter. Moments later, the front door clicked open. Vivian breezed in, carrying the scent of expensive gin and a musk that wasn’t mine. She saw me sitting on the sofa in the dark, and her brow immediately furrowed. “Why aren’t you in bed? Waiting up like a lonely housewife, really?” Her disdain was a physical thing, sharp and cold. I looked up at her—the flawless makeup, the designer dress I knew cost more than my monthly ‘salary.’ “How was the book club?” I asked. I kept the tremor out of my voice. “It was fine. We discussed Sartre. Not that you’d understand the nuance.” She kicked off her heels, letting them lie where they fell in the foyer. “You’re a clerk, Holden. Your world is spreadsheets and grocery lists. You can’t grasp the spiritual pursuit we’re engaged in.” I looked at her. The woman I had loved for five years. “Is that right? Seems like an expensive hobby, this spiritual pursuit,” I said, testing the water. Vivian’s expression flickered, but her chin went up. “Of course it is. We hire renowned scholars. The venue, the catering—quality costs money. Unlike you, scraping by on that government paycheck. Your world is so small.” She walked over, looming over me. “Holden, let’s be honest. The gap between us is widening. I am evolving. I’m surrounded by the elite. And you? You’re stagnant.” She sighed, a theatrical, pitying sound. “Sometimes, I feel embarrassed just being seen with you.” My hands were resting on my knees. My fingernails were digging into my skin so hard I could feel the crescent moons cutting in. But my face remained blank. I just nodded. “You’re right.” “The gap is huge.” “Don’t worry,” I said softly. “Soon… you won’t have to deal with the embarrassment of seeing me at all.” Vivian paused. The sneer froze on her lips. “What does that mean? Did you finally grow a spine? You want a divorce?” She let out a dry, cold laugh. “Fine by me. If you have the guts. Split the assets, sell this house. I could use the cash for my… investments.” Her investments. Top-tier packages at the meat market. I smiled, a ghost of an expression, and didn’t take the bait. “Get some sleep. You have a class tomorrow, don’t you?” I stood up and walked into the guest room. She had moved me out of the master bedroom six months ago, claiming she needed “personal space” to reflect. In hindsight, that was probably when the “reading” started. I closed the door and leaned my back against the wood. The energy drained out of me, leaving me hollow. I pulled out my phone and opened the dossier I’d compiled from the QR code. Photos of men. Hundreds of them. The Athlete. The Poet. The CEO. Every “Concierge Service” had a price. From a few thousand to numbers that made my stomach turn. Vivian’s history was a ledger of betrayal. Over thirty thousand dollars just on this Jax character. I closed my eyes. The pulse in my temple beat against my skin like a trapped bird. The next morning, I made breakfast. Routine is a powerful anesthetic. Vivian emerged from the master suite, ghosting past me without a glance to start her skincare regimen. I placed the coffee and avocado toast in front of her. “Book club again today?” I asked, casual, skimming the news on my tablet. “Obviously. It’s the weekly intensive.” She snapped, annoyed. “It’s your mother’s birthday today. Aren’t you going to drive up to see her?” Vivian froze. She turned slowly, her eyes narrowing into slits. “Holden, what is this? Are you monitoring me?” “I’m just reminding you.” “I don’t need your reminders!” Her voice went shrill. “I already called Mom. I wired her a gift. She’s far more open-minded than you are. She knows my career comes first. She doesn’t sweat the small stuff.” Her mother’s open-mindedness. Right. The woman who was helping her spend my money. I remembered overhearing a call last week. Her mother’s voice, chirpy and shrill: “Viv, honey, that Jax seems wonderful. So much more charisma than Holden the Bore. lock that down, sweetheart!” At the time, I thought she was talking about a colleague. A rival academic. I didn’t realize she was talking about a rental. “Right. Career first,” I nodded. Vivian finished her makeup and grabbed her bag. At the door, she paused. “I have a networking dinner tonight. High stakes. I won’t be back. Scrounge something up for yourself.” She held out her hand, palm up. Expectant. “Also, I need the household allowance for the month. Cash flow is a little tight.” I looked at her hand. Perfectly manicured nails. I used to love holding that hand. Now, looking at it made bile rise in my throat. I opened my wallet, pulled out two thousand dollars, and placed the bills in her palm. “Make it last,” I said. Vivian snatched the money, a smirk touching her lips. “Understood, Penny Pincher.” She turned and left. The door slammed shut. The silence rushed back in to fill the void she left. I pulled out my phone and texted Marcus. Target is mobile. Tonight’s the night. Marcus replied instantly. Copy that. Holden… watch your six. I looked out the window. The sky was bruising purple, heavy with rain. Late that afternoon, my mother-in-law called. She didn’t say hello. She launched straight into an assault. “Holden! What is wrong with you? It’s my birthday. Vivian is busy, I get that, but where are you? I’ve sent you three texts!” “Do you have no respect for your elders?” I listened to her screech, keeping my voice level. “Mom, something came up at work. Urgent.” “Urgent? You’re a paper pusher! What could possibly be urgent? You just didn’t want to come!” She was winding herself up. “Let me tell you something. Vivian marrying you was charity! You are lucky she even looks at you. No money, no power… if you weren’t so docile, I’d have told her to leave you years ago!” I listened. I didn’t interrupt. I had heard this speech for three years. I used to believe it. I used to think I wasn’t enough. Now I realized that for some people, you are only as valuable as what they can extract from you. “Mom,” I cut in. “Vivian is at an important dinner tonight, right?” She stumbled. “Yes! Yes. For her career. For the family! Unlike you, she has drive.” “I’m not criticizing,” I said calmly. “I just wanted to tell you… I’m at that dinner too.” “You? How? Did Vivian take you?” Her voice dripped with suspicion. “She didn’t take me.” I walked to the window, watching the strobe of red and blue lights silently joining the flow of traffic below. “I brought the guests.” “What… what are you talking about? Holden, speak clearly!” “Mom, you always said I had no power. You always said Vivian was settling.” “Tonight, I’m going to show you exactly who your son-in-law is.” “And I’m going to show you exactly what kind of ‘important dinner’ your daughter is attending.” I hung up. I didn’t want to hear another word. Simultaneously, Marcus called. “Holden, we hit ‘The Box.’ It’s a ghost town. Just a front.” I wasn’t surprised. “I know. They aren’t there,” I said. “Then where?” “South side. The Sanctuary Private Club.” I gave him the coordinates. “How do you know that?” Marcus asked. “Because the owner of The Sanctuary is an old informant of mine. He just sent me the security feed. Vivian, Jax, and a whole party. Illegal gambling, solicitation, drugs. The works.” “Son of a bitch,” Marcus muttered. “We’re en route. Don’t do anything stupid. Wait for backup.” “Count on it.” I hung up and started the engine. The car roared to life, tearing into the night. The Sanctuary. Vivian. Jax. I’m coming. The Sanctuary sat halfway up the mountain, a fortress of glass and steel overlooking the city lights. Security was tight. I rolled down my window at the gate. I didn’t say a word. I just flashed my phone screen. A photo of me and the owner, arm in arm. The guard stiffened, nodded respectfully, and opened the gate. I parked in the shadows. I didn’t go in yet. I sat in the dark cabin of the car and lit a cigarette. The cherry glowed, a single red eye in the gloom. The smoke blurred my reflection in the rearview mirror. Message from Marcus: Perimeter set. Waiting for your signal. I typed back: Wait. I was waiting for a phone call. I was waiting for Vivian. In a moment of triumph like this, high on adrenaline and attention, she wouldn’t be able to resist kicking the dog. She would call to humiliate me, to contrast her glittering life with my mundane existence. Sure enough, five minutes later, the screen lit up. Vivian. I answered, put it on speaker, and hit record. “Hello?” “Holden, you loser, where are you?” Her voice was slurred, thick with expensive wine and cheap cruelty. Background noise: thumping bass, laughter. “Home,” I lied. “Hah! Home. Pathetic. Guarding the fort all alone.” She laughed, a sharp, brittle sound. “Do you know where I am? The Sanctuary. Do you know what this place is? You couldn’t afford a coaster in here with a lifetime of your salary.” “I’m surrounded by the elite, Holden. Winners. Not like you.” She paused, muffling the phone to ask someone, “You’re sure he didn’t follow me?” Then back to me. “Oh, by the way. Jax is here.” She passed the phone. A man’s voice, smooth and oily, slid through the speaker. “Hello, Mr. Ford?” Jax. “Hi, Jax here. Thanks for taking such… mediocre care of your wife. She’s mine now. Don’t worry, I’ll show her what she’s been missing.” Laughter erupted in the background. Vivian snatched the phone back. “Did you hear that, Holden? You are a complete failure.” “You can’t even satisfy your own wife. Why do you even bother?” “I’m done pretending. I want a divorce. And I don’t want to see your sad, hangdog face ever again.” “And don’t think about alimony. I’ll make sure you leave with nothing. I have friends who can make you unemployable.” There it was. The knife in the back. I crushed the cigarette into the ashtray. “Vivian,” I said. My voice was quiet. The line went silent for a beat. “Which room are you in?” She hesitated, then scoffed. “Why? You want to come catch me? You don’t have the balls. I’m in the Emperor Suite. Come and get me if you dare.” “Okay,” I said. Then, enunciating every syllable: “I’m right outside the door.” Dead silence. Three seconds later, Vivian screamed. “Holden! You stalker! You freak!” “I’m not stalking you.” I opened the car door, stepping onto the pavement. “I’m coming to arrest you.” “Arrest me? Who do you think you are!” “You’ll find out.” I hung up. Texted Marcus: GO. I walked into the lobby. The manager saw me and immediately rushed over, sweating, bowing low. “Captain Ford. We didn’t expect you personally.” I ignored him, marching to the elevator. “Emperor Suite.” The manager turned pale but didn’t argue. He swiped his master key. The elevator doors slid open. The double mahogany doors of the suite loomed ahead. I could hear the music thumping through the wood. I signaled the manager to leave. Then, I raised my leg and kicked the doors in. CRASH. The lock shattered. The doors flew open, bouncing off the walls. The room froze. The music seemed to die instantly. Dozens of scantily clad people on plush velvet sofas turned to look. In the center, Vivian and Jax were entangled. Vivian’s face went white, then furious red. “Holden! Are you insane? Get out! Get out!” She shrieked. Jax stood up. He was big—gym muscles, inflated ego. He smirked. “So this is the husband? The loser?” He cracked his knuckles, walking toward me. “I’m going to teach you a lesson for interrupting us, little man.” Three other bouncers peeled off the wall, closing in. Vivian crossed her arms, a cruel smile returning to her face. She wanted to see this. I stood still. I didn’t flinch. I watched Jax come into range. Just as he pulled his arm back to swing— “POLICE! NOBODY MOVE!” The roar was deafening. Marcus and a dozen tactical officers flooded the room, body armor heavy, assault rifles raised. “HANDS! LET ME SEE HANDS!” Panic exploded.

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My best friend started a group chat to sell fruits. Feeling sorry for her as a single mom, I often bought from her and even proactively introduced her to new customers. One day, a new intern ordered ten pounds of oranges and directly transferred $19.90 in the group chat. I was stunned and messaged her privately: “The oranges are $29 a box, you’re $10 short.” The intern sent back a confused emoji. And then she sent me screenshots of her previous purchases. “Sis, I’ve always bought them for $19.90, how could it be $29?” I was completely dumbfounded. 1 When I saw that message, I was just about to pay Linda. If it were before, I would have questioned the intern’s character before suspecting Linda of lying to me. But now, the intern not only sent chat logs but also attached payment records from the past few months. My brain exploded. My first reaction was that it was fake, but then I realized the intern had no reason to lie to me. Looking at the enthusiastic Linda in front of me, she suddenly felt like a stranger. Regardless of who was lying, I was going to get to the bottom of this today. I’m a straightforward person; it saves time and solves problems fastest. So I immediately asked: “How much were these oranges again?” Linda’s smile froze for a second, then she chided playfully: “Same old price, of course. With our relationship, are you afraid I’ll rip you off?” Her vague answer made a lump form in my throat, annoying me to no end. Especially seeing that box of ambiguous oranges on the ground, my anger surged. “How much are these oranges, $19.90 or $29?” My voice wasn’t quiet, and people at the stall looked over. Someone immediately chimed in: “Did the boss raise prices?” “It was $19.90 for ten pounds yesterday, how is it $29 today?” “That’s changing too fast.” Saying that, they turned to leave. Linda rushed to explain. “Don’t listen to her nonsense, no price hike, still $19.90 for ten pounds.” She didn’t forget to glare at me while saying it. Now I understood everything. I kicked the oranges far away. “They’re all the same oranges, why are mine $10 more expensive? Are the ones you sell me gold-plated?” I thought Linda would explain properly, but her face changed faster than flipping a book. Her mouth drooped, and tears flowed. “Zoe, how did I offend you for you to treat me like this?” “I know I’m not as rich as you. You’re a white-collar worker in a big company, and I’m just a poor stall owner. But I have a conscience too. You helped me, I know, so every fruit I give you is hand-picked. Since I started selling fruits, your family has never lacked any. If you don’t want to pay, just say so. We’ve been friends for so many years, I won’t say anything, but you can’t insult me like this!” As soon as she finished, her daughter Wendy rushed out. Wendy stood in front of me timidly: “Auntie, please pay my mom for the fruit.” In an instant, my head throbbed. Passersby were pointing at me. Clearly, I wasn’t the one lying, but I wished the ground would swallow me up. Intense shame made me want to retreat, but the next second, Wendy grabbed my thigh. “Auntie, you make so much money every day, why do you want to cheat us out of a few dozen dollars for fruit?” “My mom works really hard to save money for my school, please pay us back.” Hearing this, I gasped in shock. Aside from the chill in my heart, I felt fear. They say children don’t lie, but no one said children can lie without blinking an eye! Seeing the passersby ready to rush up and serve justice, I swallowed hard and said: “They’re the same oranges. Your mom sells them to others for $19.90 for ten pounds, why is it $29 for ten pounds for me?” Before I could finish, Wendy burst into tears. “Every time my mom gives you oranges, she also gives a lot of other fruits. All those added up are way more than $29. Every time, mom says not to let you know, saying family can take a loss.” This was too damaging. Plus, coming from a child’s mouth, I instantly became the root of all evil. Passersby who didn’t know the truth thought I was a villain taking advantage and not paying. “Looks decent, didn’t expect her to be so despicable!” “Exactly, it’s not easy for a widow and orphan running a fruit stall, and she cheats them out of their hard-earned money!” Hearing this made my liver hurt from anger. I just wanted justice and clarity, how did the dirty water end up on me? And that Linda, I spent a lot on her usually. My husband’s company holiday benefits were all bought from her, and my gifts for holidays were pre-ordered from her. And the result? I’m just a damn doormat. Thinking of being treated like a fool because of my kindness, I wanted to slap myself. I’m kind, but I’m not a pushover! 2 “We’ve been neighbors for so many years, don’t you all know what kind of person I am?” There wasn’t much turnover in the community. Some people had lived here from being toddlers to getting married, so many knew each other. Hearing this, Linda’s face changed. She stepped forward to say something, but I beat her to it. I deliberately pointed at the clothes on Wendy and said: “You remember I bought these clothes for you, right?” I was sure she wouldn’t dare lie because the shop owner who sold the clothes was in the crowd. Linda gritted her teeth, “So what if you bought them? Do you want to mooch my fruit for free just for some cheap clothes worth a few dozen bucks?” Now the shop owner wasn’t having it. She grabbed Wendy’s collar and said: “A few dozen bucks wouldn’t even cover the cost of my clothes!” “The workmanship and texture of these clothes start at a small thousand ($1000+), okay?” At this moment, I was extremely grateful that my daughter insisted on buying this outfit that day. Back then, Wendy looked at it eagerly too, saying things like “it gets dirty too easily, I don’t like it.” Poor kids mature early. At the same age, my daughter clamored to be a princess. And Wendy, like the old me, could only say she didn’t like it contrary to her heart. My heart ached instantly. So I gritted my teeth and bought two sets, as healing for my past self. I thought since they were practically family, I shouldn’t favor one over the other too much. Afterward, to prevent Linda from overthinking, I deliberately said they were cheap street stall goods. I didn’t expect this to become the key to overturning the case today. I mocked: “I even bought clothes worth a thousand bucks, would I care about your ten or eight bucks!” In the end, of course, I won completely, and naturally, completely tore my face with Linda. She glared at me fiercely: “I didn’t expect you to be so petty and calculative!” I laughed out of anger: “Not wanting to be taken advantage of by you is being petty?” “Then isn’t your arbitrary pricing malicious fraud?” “You!” Linda trembled with anger, gnashing her teeth when she spoke, “Zoe, let’s wait and see!” “Hmph.” I sneered, “Who’s waiting and seeing with you? Spit out all the money you cheated from me, or I’ll call the police for fraud!” Of course, she didn’t give it to me in the end. Mainly because I was in a hurry to pick up my daughter from tutoring class and didn’t have time to tangle with her. 3 When my husband came home at night, I immediately told him and our daughter that I wanted to cut ties with Linda. Originally, I thought adults’ matters shouldn’t affect children, but Wendy’s lying really shocked me. If my daughter got corrupted too, it would be a huge loss. After coaxing my daughter to sleep, I hugged my husband and cried about the injustice today. “I am angry, but I am more hurt.” “I treated Linda with all my heart, how did I get this ending?” “I don’t lack that money, but I just can’t get over it.” My husband held me in his arms and coaxed softly: “I know, I know.” “You just feel that your sincerity was betrayed and want justice for yourself. But what if you get justice? You exposed her true colors today, she will definitely earn less in the future. If you ask for the money back, what if she takes revenge on you?” “She dares!” I said angrily. “Why wouldn’t she dare?” My husband continued: “As the old saying goes, cutting off someone’s wealth is like killing their parents. Plus, the economy is bad now. What if she gets desperate and takes revenge on you or our daughter?” “No way, right?” Even though I said that, I started to have cold feet. But thinking of my sincerity feeding the dogs, I felt I couldn’t let it go. “Don’t be angry. Isn’t there a saying? The happy ones yield. Our family is so happy, why bother with someone over a few dozen bucks? Besides, spending a few hundred bucks to see someone’s true colors is better than paying a higher price later, right?” I understood the logic, but my heart just couldn’t let it go. Plus, after such a scene, living in the same community… Looking down and seeing each other every day, it was so awkward. Seeing I was still unhappy, my husband patted my back and said: “Don’t be angry, I’ll tell you some good news.” “What good news?” “I got promoted, logistics director, salary doubled. We can move to a big house then, and you won’t have to face these annoying things.” This was truly the best news I heard. I hugged my husband and kissed him twice, “Hubby, I love you so much.” Another sleepless night passed. 4 I thought life would calm down from there, but unexpectedly, a few days later, Linda came knocking on my door. Through the peephole, I didn’t even want to open the door. I just pretended no one was home, but who knew my phone would ring the next second. The piercing sound made it awkward both inside and outside the door. Linda shouted loudly, “Zoe, I know you’re home. Wendy and I came specifically to apologize to you. I also brought you newly arrived fruits. From now on, your family won’t have to pay for fruits, and I’ll deliver them to your door personally.” Her words were really ugly. Was I after these ten pounds of oranges? I thought I would never open the door even if it killed me, but the neighbors couldn’t stand Linda’s noise anymore. Helplessly, I could only open the door. “Zoe, you finally opened the door. These are newly arrived oranges, try them quickly.” Her act of being a good sister made me sick. But you don’t hit a smiling person. Plus, remembering my husband’s principle of the happy one yielding yesterday, I directly took twenty bucks from the shoe cabinet and threw it at her. “I went to the Chinese medicine doctor yesterday, and he said eating too much fruit makes the heart cold and body chill. I dare not eat your fruit anymore.” I was direct. If she had any shame, she should have scrammed immediately. Who knew she seemed not to understand human language and put on an act of doing it for my own good again. “That’s just nonsense. Eating more fruit is good for your body, don’t listen to that.” Too lazy to listen to her nonsense, I responded perfunctorily and pushed her out. As a result, Linda not only didn’t leave but started asking if I was still angry about yesterday. I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want to talk to her even more, so I tried to close the door. Who knew she started to be relentless, saying: “Our anger is our business, why don’t you let others buy my fruit?” I completely lost patience, hands on hips, questioning: “Make yourself clear, who stopped others from buying fruit from you?” Linda rolled her eyes at me, “You, of course!” She said with certainty: “Before, when people asked you about fruit in Moments and groups, you replied immediately. These past few days, not only did you not reply in time, but you even ruined my big company orders.” When Linda first started selling fruit, business was bleak. To help her get business, I pulled people everywhere to create groups, posting ads in the group every day, reserving orders. I even discussed with my husband to change his company’s fruit benefits purchase to Linda. For this, he quarreled with me countless times, but my attitude remained unchanged, just one sentence: I’m helping her. But how did she treat me? Selling to others for $19.90, selling to me for $29. I accepted how you treated me today, my bad luck for being deserving, but what right do you have to treat everyone like this? What do you take everyone’s kindness for! Seeing she didn’t speak, I grabbed her collar directly and roared: “Speak! Tell everyone what you take everyone’s kindness for!” Linda had long been annoyed by my questioning. Plus, I listed her crimes one by one, she was too lazy to even pretend. She pushed me aside directly: “Are you done yet? Did I beg you to help me? Or did I beg you to buy my fruit? Business isn’t business if it’s not black-hearted. So what if I charged you ten bucks more? Isn’t it because you have too much money and have to show off? If you didn’t take it out, would I know you have money, would I ask you for more?” “Zoe, let me tell you, don’t always act like you help me without asking for return. If you really didn’t ask for return, you would have just given me money directly. Why detour every day to buy my fruit, telling everyone you meet that I’m a single mom and it’s not easy. I think you are basically using this to show off your kindness!” Saying that, she pointed at the people in the building and cursed: “And you guys, bought twenty bucks worth of stuff and expect me to be grateful? Ptui!” “You actually think of us like this in your heart?” Even though I had predicted the ending, I was still shaking with anger. “I helped you sincerely, and you think of me like this!” Linda sneered twice, “Sincerity?” “How much is sincerity worth? I also sold you fruit sincerely, why didn’t you buy every day? Why didn’t you give money and effort like for your own family? Why didn’t you give me your house and car to live and drive?” “Sincerity, I think you sincerely came to find a sense of existence on me!” “I cooperated with you for so long, not to mention asking you for a few bucks, even if I asked for your life, what could you say? What dare you say!” Saying that, she gestured to pinch me, but I slapped her. “I have really tolerated you for a long time!” With this slap, I used all my strength. All sisterly affection was completely severed at this moment. Linda lay on the ground staring at me fiercely. “Don’t look at me with those eyes. I’m not your mom, I have no reason to tolerate you unconditionally.” “To people like you, friends and relatives are just objects to suck blood from!” “I really don’t understand, how can you trample on other people’s sincerity with peace of mind?” “Are you naturally gifted or acquired maladjustment? In my opinion, you deserve to be betrayed by everyone!” “Friends for once, I wish you failure in everything and early ascension to bliss (death)!” “By the way, remember to return the money to me before ascending. And I know what you want to say, say I’m petty and calculating, right?” I looked at her coldly, “To you, I am like this! Even a dog knows to wag its tail at me when fed. You’re good, you directly switched to biting.” Finally, witnessed by everyone, Linda transferred the extra three hundred dollars she took from me back. I also requested it be marked as orange refund, lest she play me again. After doing everything, I happily took the money to treat my husband and daughter to a big meal. Money wasn’t much, but our anger was vented. Only I didn’t expect this completely enraged Linda. She dared not do anything to me, but my daughter suffered.

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I kidnapped a kitten. Despite its violent struggle, I was convinced it wanted to come home with me. That night, the Momma Cat was banging on my door: “Did I say I wasn’t raising it?!” My eyes lit up. “No problem! I’ll take both of you! Humans just want to give every stray a home!” Momma Cat slapped my hand away, offended. “I am not a stray! I am a wild cat!” “I belong to the wilderness and nature. How dare you call me a stray!” 1 “Do you know what this is? This is kidnapping!” “You don’t just grab a cute kid off the street and take them home!” “I have six kittens. I went back and counted four times, and there were only five! I’m bad at math! Are you trying to give me a stroke?” After picking up a kitten off the street, I was getting roasted by its mother until I questioned my entire existence. What hurt more was that after she finished scolding me, she took her kid and left. Before leaving, she jumped onto the coffee table and roundhouse-kicked my water cup across the room. Sob. I was once again a savage with no cat. And now, no water cup. The next day, while buying a new cup at the bodega downstairs, I saw her again. Gone was the majestic, fierce creature from last night. She was purring, rubbing against people’s legs, hooking the tip of her tail—effortlessly scampering a sausage out of the shop owner. She grabbed the sausage and bolted. I followed her quietly. She squeezed into an incredibly narrow alleyway. A normal adult couldn’t fit. But thanks to childhood malnutrition, I managed to slide in sideways. Inside a cardboard box lined with dirty rags, six kittens looked like wiggling balls of yarn, occasionally letting out tiny squeaks. Momma Cat counted them repeatedly. Only when she confirmed there were six did she relax. She dropped the sausage and licked her paws. I spoke up, startling her. “The temperature is dropping. It might snow. It’s not safe here.” “I remember you! You’re the kidnapper!” The fur on her back exploded. She lowered her body, staring me down, emitting a low, warning growl, ready to turn my face into a scratching post. To understand what she was communicating, look at the body language of a defensive cat. I stepped back, crouching down to show submission. “I was wrong before. I shouldn’t have called you a stray. I apologize.” “If you don’t want to be adopted, can we be friends? You can bring the kids to my place. Be my roommates.” My voice was low, pleading. “I’m really lonely. I want to be friends with a cat.” The cat didn’t seem to agree. But she sheathed her claws. “Cats only make friends with cats. Humans should make friends with humans,” she said. “But… it is getting cold.” My name is Morgan. Starting today, I am no longer alone. I have seven roommates. One Momma Cat, and her six kittens. 2 That night, I had a dream. I was walking alone in the snow for a long, long time. I was crying and shouting, but I didn’t know where my mom and dad were. So cold. Suddenly, it got warm… Wait! A kitten was peeing on my bed! At 3 AM, I changed the sheets. And took a shower. When I used the hair dryer, Momma Cat took the kittens and hid far away. They seemed terrified of the noise, so I turned it off and towel-dried my hair. Momma Cat suddenly said, “Human. It’s snowing.” I opened the curtains. Sure enough, gray flakes were drifting down under the streetlights like dancing moths. “It really is snowing,” I said, surprised. “How did you know?” She jumped onto the windowsill. “Snow is terrifying. Cats know when it snows just by using our whiskers.” Cats use their whiskers (vibrissae) as highly sensitive tactile sensors to detect changes in air currents and pressure, often sensing weather shifts before we do. “I also know this snow will be heavy and last a long time. It’s going to be freezing out there.” She leaned in and rubbed her furry head against me. “Thank you for taking us in.” I was flattered. I tried to reach out, but she dodged nimbly. It seemed she only loved me for a fleeting second. I closed the curtains, corralled the kittens back into their nest, and since I couldn’t sleep, I boiled some chicken breast for them and made myself some instant noodles. The kittens were teething and struggled with the meat. I wanted to shred it for them, but Momma Cat refused. “If they can’t even learn to tear meat, they can’t be wild cats.” “When the weather warms up, they’ll be big enough to go out and survive on their own.” I let it go, watching them struggle with the chicken while I ate a beef ball. “Is the human sad?” Momma Cat asked suddenly. “I can smell sadness.” I didn’t answer. She jumped onto my lap, curled into a ball, and went to sleep. Soft. Warm. 3 Just as the cat predicted, the snow was heavy and relentless. The world turned white. The news called it a once-in-a-decade blizzard. I was so glad the cats were with me. I had heat and a stockpile of food. Once we got familiar, the kittens became clingy, following me around, competing to see who could climb higher up my pant leg. Momma Cat got angry and bonked each of them on the head. “For a wild cat, getting too close to humans is bad,” she told me privately. “There are good humans and bad humans.” I asked if she regretted coming here. She shook her head, looking at the white window. “Surviving is more important than anything. For wild cats, for house cats… even for humans.” One night, I was sleeping soundly when I heard urgent meowing. I turned on the light. Momma Cat was pacing anxiously. One kitten was lethargic, lying flat, occasionally twitching and vomiting. “Human! Look what’s wrong with the little one!” I didn’t waste time. I wrapped the kitten in a thick pad and rushed to the vet. Momma Cat insisted on coming, telling the other five to stay put. I couldn’t get a taxi in the blizzard. I tucked Momma and the sick kitten into my coat and trudged through the snow to the pet clinic. It was closed. Luckily, there was a number on the door. I called, shivering. The vet sounded serious—he said it might be Parvovirus (Panleukopenia) and told me to wait; he was coming down. Feline Panleukopenia is highly contagious and fatal. Knowing the symptoms is crucial for early intervention. “It’s okay, the doctor is coming,” I whispered, comforting the trembling Momma Cat. The vet arrived quickly. He examined the kitten while Momma Cat and I sat on the side. “I’m not scared,” Momma Cat whimpered, burying her head in her paws. “A cat’s life is short and fragile. Closer to death than humans.” “It’s common not to raise a whole litter. That’s why we have so many.” “I was prepared for loss.” She was shaking as she said it. I petted her continuously. “It’s okay.” I looked up and realized the vet was staring at me. “How is the kitten?” I asked. “The cat is fine. It’s not Parvo, just mild indigestion.” The vet narrowed his eyes, staring straight at me. “I’m going to recommend a doctor for you.” “You’re a doctor, aren’t you? Can’t you cure the indigestion?” “I’m recommending a doctor for you.” He looked at me, then at the cat in my arms. “A psychiatrist.” 4 “Cats can’t speak.” “Intellectually, you realize and understand this, right?” Facing the psychiatrist, I opened my mouth but didn’t know what to say. Momma Cat was in my arms. I looked down; she looked up and meowed. Of course, I knew cats couldn’t speak. But she had spoken to me. And before someone pointed it out, I never felt it was strange. The dissonance made me anxious. The doctor pushed a cup of hot tea toward me. “Don’t be nervous. Relax.” “Do I need meds? Do I need to be hospitalized?” I whispered. “I don’t want to be hospitalized.” If I’m locked up, what happens to Momma Cat and the kids? The doctor adjusted his glasses. “Given your condition, there is a degree of cognitive distortion. I would recommend systematic treatment in a hospital.” “However, if it doesn’t affect your daily life, conservative treatment per your wishes is acceptable.” “You might just be socially deprived and lonely. I recommend changing your environment, interacting with people, and making some friends.” I nodded. Walking home, the snow started falling again. The cat stayed in my coat. After a long time, she asked, “Are you sick?” I pursed my lips. The doctor said if I ignore it, the symptoms might vanish. “Are you sick because of the cats?” I didn’t answer. She lowered her head. When I looked at her again, she just meowed. Back home, I fed them and gave medicine to the sick kitten. Momma Cat jumped onto the fridge, tail swishing, watching me. That night, I couldn’t sleep. It was too quiet. And cold. Just as dawn broke, I drifted off. Maybe I was dreaming, but I heard Momma Cat jump onto the pillow. She licked her paws and said: “A window can’t keep a wild cat in.” In my daze, it took me a while to process that sentence. I bolted upright. The window was open. The cold wind slapped my face. The room was silent. Momma Cat and the kittens were gone.

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