Category: English

Carter Hayes pursued me for seven years. On his 99th proposal, he sank to the bottom of the tank at the city aquarium, dancing with a beluga whale in front of hundreds of cheering tourists. Deeply moved, I smiled and nodded yes. That very afternoon, he told me he was taking me to meet his parents. Instead, he drove me to a cemetery. In front of their headstones, I was pinned to the ground by countless hands, completely paralyzed. The next day, flyers plastered with naked photos of me covered the city streets. My phone blew up with thousands of vile, harassing calls. Driven to despair, I tracked Carter down. My voice choked with tears. “Why are you doing this to me?” Carter leaned in, his voice a soft, terrifying whisper against my ear. “Did you notice the date of death on my parents’ headstones?” “It’s the exact same day your father committed that hit-and-run.” He bound my hands and feet and threw me into an enclosed whale tank. “You love being with the whales so much, right? Enjoy.” Thank God the beluga I had trained slammed her body against the gate until she bled, alerting the staff who pulled me out. But I had been underwater too long. The oxygen deprivation caused severe brain damage, requiring extensive physical therapy just to function again. Months later, after discovering the horrific truth behind the accident, Carter held my trembling hand, his own hands shaking violently. “Chloe, please… will you give me one more chance?” 1 I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve faced this foam therapy ball. The moment my fingertips brushed the surface, a sharp spike of pain shot up my nerves, hammering right into my temples. “Try to grip it. That’s it, slowly apply pressure.” The physical therapist gently guided my fingers. I gritted my teeth. It was the simplest movement in the world, yet it required every ounce of energy in my body. Finally, my fingertips barely curled around the edge of the ball. Before I could even exhale, a wave of intense vertigo hit me. The ball slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a smack, rolling far away. I slumped back into the therapy chair, letting out a heavy, defeated breath. But the moment my muscles relaxed, I froze. Through the glass window of the door, I saw a familiar pair of eyes. Those eyes radiated a cold, malicious indifference—an expression I had never seen on him before the cemetery. But this… this was the real Carter Hayes. Seeing someone enter, the therapist took a step back. “Mr. Hayes. Unfortunately, we aren’t seeing much progress in today’s session.” Carter picked up the ball from the floor, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. “You can leave us. It seems she’s just not being obedient.” Seeing the look on his face, goosebumps erupted across my arms. I looked at the therapist, my eyes begging him to stay. But he was paid to do a job. He let out a quiet sigh and walked out of the room. “Chloe, why are you always so stubborn? Let me help you with your therapy.” “Here, grab the ball.” I tried to clench my fist, but I had absolutely no strength left. My hand didn’t move an inch. “Get out!” Carter looked at me, his eyes narrowing in displeasure. “Why are you being so uncooperative?” “Chloe, remember: if I can throw you into a whale tank, I can throw your hit-and-run murderer of a father in there right next to you!” My head snapped up. “Carter, don’t you dare touch my dad!” Carter’s eyes turned into dangerous slits. He lifted the ball again, dangling it right in front of my face. “Then shouldn’t you be a good girl and do your therapy?” “Fine.” I clenched my jaw and painstakingly raised my hand toward the ball. Just as my fingertips were about to brush the foam, Carter chucked the ball all the way across the room. He tilted his head, his gaze lazy and sadistic. “Chloe, go fetch the ball. Good girl.” My face burned hot red as a wave of utter humiliation crashed over me. But remembering his threat against my father, I slowly, agonizingly started to wheel my chair forward. Carter smiled with dark satisfaction. “Such a good dog.” I fought back my tears. Just a little further. Almost there. If I just get the ball, it’ll be fine. Struggling to control my damaged motor skills, I kept one hand on the wheelchair rim and reached out with the other to grab the ball from the floor. Suddenly, the wheelchair was violently yanked backward. I pitched forward, crashing clumsily onto the hard linoleum. My face slammed into the therapy ball, sending it bouncing away again. Carter let go of the wheelchair handles, his voice dripping with ice. “Chloe, you really need to be more careful.” “Look. The ball got away again.” I stared up at Carter, feeling like I was truly seeing him for the first time. Perhaps my glare triggered something in him. He stepped forward and planted his expensive leather shoe directly onto the back of my hand. “Chloe, I said… go fetch the ball.” The crushing pain radiating from my hand made me curl up instinctively. Carter looked down like he had just made a fascinating scientific discovery. “Well look at that, Chloe! Your body still reacts to pain!” With that, he ground his heel down harder. The skin on the back of my hand tore under the sole of his shoe, and I couldn’t stop myself from screaming. Carter’s face went deadpan. “Chloe, moaning like that… maybe I should just pimp you out. You’d make a fortune on the streets.” My mind violently snapped back to six months ago. The memory of the vile, filthy things the men he hired had said to me flooded my nervous system. I clutched my ears, breaking down completely. “Please… please stop, please don’t say that.” Carter scoffed, looking at me with pure contempt. “You’re only getting exactly what you deserve. If you want someone to blame, blame your father for killing my parents!” “And because he did that, I am going to inflict every ounce of that pain onto his precious daughter.” 2 I lay paralyzed on the floor, muttering uncontrollably. “That’s not what happened… it’s not…” “My dad didn’t… he didn’t hit them and run. He was framed!” Just then, Carter’s cell phone rang. “Mia,” he answered. The way his lips formed her name sent my heart plummeting straight into the abyss. “Mhm, I love you too. I’ll be home a little late.” Watching him hang up the phone with such a tender expression, memories of our past surged up, bringing a dull, throbbing ache to my chest. “Carter, please just let me go.” He suddenly grabbed my jaw, his fingers digging into my cheeks. “Let you go? Do you think becoming a pathetic cripple cancels out the fact that your father murdered my family?” “Keep dreaming!” He leaned in to kiss me. I quickly jerked my head away. “You have a new girlfriend. How can you do this to her?” He stroked my long hair, almost like he was petting a stray dog. “She doesn’t know you exist. And don’t you dare try to get her attention.” “Get better. Then, you can receive your next punishment.” When the therapist returned and saw me lying on the floor, he hurriedly rushed over to help me back into my wheelchair. Once I was settled, he spoke quietly. “Chloe, your father called. He said Pearl isn’t doing well.” “He asked if you wanted to go back and see her.” My heart dropped. Pearl was the beluga whale I had trained for years. She was the one who had bashed herself against the steel grate until she bled, alerting the staff to save me from the tank. Three years ago, Pearl had started showing signs of severe depression. She was deeply attached to me, but I could never go back to her. I couldn’t even reach out a hand to pet her without exhausting myself. After a long silence, I couldn’t ignore the knot of anxiety in my stomach. “I… I want to go see her.” “I’ll have to ask Mr. Hayes for permission,” the therapist replied. I let out a cold laugh. Why do I have to ask Carter for permission just to leave the building? During the darkest moments of my life, it was Pearl and my father who kept me alive. Back then, I had just been pulled off life support. I had to relearn how to blink. I thought my life was completely, utterly over. I lay in my hospital bed, refusing to eat or drink. It was my dad who snuck me out, dodging the nurses, and wheeled me into the aquarium after hours. Pearl swam frantically to the edge of the pool, pushing her large, bulbous head against my legs through the glass. After a while, she seemed to realize I couldn’t move. A thick, heavy tear rolled out of her massive eye. She just stayed there with me. Because she was partially out of the water for too long, her skin started to dry out and crack. The caretakers gently pushed her back into the water, but she violently thrashed her way back up to the ledge, refusing to move, just staying right by my side. After the third time they pushed her back in and she stubbornly forced herself back onto the concrete, I finally broke down and cried. “Pearl, don’t worry. I promise I’ll stay alive.” Only then did she seem to relax, sliding back into the deep water. Just like she used to do a hundred times before, she flipped her tail at me, splashing water against the glass. That was the day Carter tracked me down and dragged me away again. This time, he hid me somewhere much more secure. “You are serving a sentence for your father!” “Why do you always try to escape me?” I tried to explain, over and over again, but he never believed a word. Seeing Pearl again. Her emaciated frame made me almost afraid to recognize her. I sat hidden in the crowd, watching her perform her routine, over and over, looking utterly exhausted. It felt like someone was slicing my heart open with a scalpel. “Chloe, I didn’t think you’d actually have the guts to show up here.” The familiar voice sneered from beside me. I started trembling uncontrollably. Carter stood there with his arms crossed, looking down at me like a god judging a mortal. Beside him stood a stunningly beautiful woman. “Chloe, I can’t believe you dared to come back to the city.” “What, looking to get back into your old line of work?” “How much do you charge for a night now? I could have a few of my buddies throw some business your way.” The sheer contempt in her voice triggered a violent flashback. When Carter had his men strip my clothes off, they had used that exact same tone. “Look at yourself, Chloe. This is exactly what a murderer looks like.” “All the pretty packaging in the world can’t hide how rotten you and your father are on the inside.” “If my parents could see the daughter of their killer looking this pathetic, they’d be thrilled.” Time and time again, Carter’s words pierced straight through my heart. I didn’t answer. I just stared anxiously at Pearl in the water. Carter sneered. “Chloe, don’t tell me you’re still trying to save this stupid fish?” “You couldn’t even do it when you had a functioning body. Do you think you can do it now as a cripple?” I clenched my jaw, fighting to control my emotions. Since the severe brain trauma, extreme emotional distress could trigger seizures. “I’m going inside.” I don’t know how much time passed before the crowd erupted into cheers. A mermaid performer was being proposed to. The bright red letters on the waterproof sign were impossible to miss. [CARTER, I LOVE YOU.] Carter used his arms to form a massive heart back at her. “That’s my girlfriend, Mia.” The same woman who had just mocked me to my face. They were together. “Look how beautifully she swims. Just like a real mermaid, right?” “Oh, I almost forgot. You used to be the best trainer they had.” 3 Carter’s words hammered heavily against my chest. The heartache was so intense I briefly dissociated. Time seemed to rewind. I remembered when Carter secretly spent three months learning to free-dive, and I had no idea. A coworker eventually told me. They said he was terrified of the water and wouldn’t even get in the pool at first. Once, he even passed out from sheer panic after diving in. But he gritted his teeth and kept practicing, insisting he had to give me the perfect underwater proposal. When my coworker told me the story, her eyes were practically glowing with envy. Who could have ever imagined that the man who looked at me like I hung the moon and the man who shoved me into the abyss were the exact same person? Looking at the scene playing out before me, a storm raged in my eyes, but in the end, I just offered a quiet: “That’s nice.” “I’ve seen enough. I want to go back.” I turned to maneuver my wheelchair away, but Carter indignantly blocked my path. “Chloe, how the hell are you so at peace with yourself?!” “You deserve to be spat on by thousands! You deserve to be cursed by millions!” His eyes were bloodshot, looking like a rabid animal. Suddenly, he laughed—a wild, unhinged cackle. “Chloe, you really care about this whale, don’t you?” “Then I’m going to make you watch her die in absolute despair!” My heart seized. I panicked. “Carter, what are you doing?!” Carter looked down at me with his usual arrogant superiority. “Oh, now you’re panicking, Chloe? Where did all that calm indifference go?” “Can’t bear it? If you get down on your knees, I’ll let her go.” After a beat, he scoffed again. “Oh, I forgot. Your broken body can’t even kneel anymore.” “Chloe, what makes you think a cripple can save her?” He tapped a few buttons on his phone. The massive jumbotron above the performance pool suddenly switched from the live feed to a video of countless wild belugas swimming and leaping freely in the open ocean. Pearl was captivated by the screen. She stopped her performance entirely. I could see the raw, desperate longing for freedom in her eyes. But then, the video abruptly cut. Footage of hundreds of whales being electrocuted, hunted, and violently hauled onto slaughter ships flooded the massive screen. I screamed in absolute terror! “No! Stop!” “Carter, I’m begging you, turn it off!” As a professional trainer, I knew exactly what this would do. A highly intelligent creature trapped in a tiny, claustrophobic glass box cannot handle that kind of psychological shock and overstimulation. On the stage, Pearl began to thrash and emit agonizing, high-pitched shrieks. I stared at Carter, pleading with everything I had. But he just stared back at me with dead eyes, completely expressionless. It was as if he was punishing me for my earlier indifference. Sitting trapped in my wheelchair, there was absolutely nothing I could do. I could only cover my eyes in sheer despair. I couldn’t bear to look at Pearl. My fingertips were trembling violently. Finally, breaking down completely in the midst of the silent tremors, I screamed at Carter: “When are you going to stop this insane revenge crusade?! My father NEVER committed a hit-and-run!” “You have been completely, fundamentally wrong this entire time!” Carter froze for a split second, a vicious glint flashing in his eyes. “Chloe, you are just as disgusting as your father.” “To protect a stupid fish, you’d actually spew a lie like that?” “Your whole family is nothing but shameless liars! Murderers!” His eyes were blood-red, looking like a man refusing to hear an unacceptable truth. But… I was telling the absolute truth. He just couldn’t handle it. He refused to believe it. I slumped back into my wheelchair, the world spinning sickeningly around me. That night, I received a call from the aquarium director. “Chloe… Pearl… she killed herself.” 4 The phone slipped from my hand. Thinking of Pearl’s emaciated body, tears fell silently down my face. Maybe it’s better this way. She’s finally free. Pearl, in your next life, I hope you get to swim in the endless ocean. Never cross paths with me again, and never, ever cross paths with another human. That night, consumed by severe depression, I sat by the open window, letting the freezing wind whip against my face for a long time. Just then, the door opened. I turned around in terror, only to lock eyes with my father. He had disguised himself in a lab coat to sneak into the private care facility. “Chloe, Dad’s here.” He looked at my skeletal frame, holding my face in his hands, his voice breaking. “Dad’s taking you home.” I sobbed and nodded. We dodged the security cameras and managed to slip into his truck undetected. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I never thought that animal Carter would hide you away again!” I stayed hidden in our old family home for a long time. The walls were covered in photos of me and Pearl during our training days. After Pearl died, I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. If I hadn’t shown up, if I hadn’t gone back… Pearl wouldn’t have been triggered by the video Carter orchestrated. Carter’s revenge had worked perfectly. I lay awake night after night, drowning in guilt and self-hatred. My father just watched me, sighing heavily. There was no longer a Pearl to pull me out of the abyss of despair. In my childhood bedroom, there were still so many things tied to Carter. The small white-noise machine on my nightstand—he had scoured the entire city to find it. Just because I casually mentioned, “I always sleep so well when it rains.” The projector in the living room—he installed it himself. Just because a movie I wanted to see was pulled from theaters. When he finished setting it up, his smile was so bright. “See? Now my Chloe never has to worry about missing a movie again!” The drawers full of hand cream—he hoarded them for me whenever he traveled for work, just because I loved this specific brand. Piece by piece, these memories had turned into toxic thorns buried in my heart. Even breathing hurt. Until I received a text message. The sender was Mia. Pearl’s new trainer. The text was a photograph. I immediately recognized it as Pearl’s feeding bucket. The fresh fish had been replaced with a sludgy, rotting meat paste. Two lines of text accompanied the photo. [Your whale was pretty tough, surviving on garbage like this for three years before finally dying.] [She screamed at your picture every single day. Too bad she never got to see you before she went.] The blood in my veins turned to ice. A freezing chill seeped into my bones. My heart felt like it was going to explode with pure, unadulterated rage. How dare they! How could they treat my Pearl like that! Physical pain ripped through my chest. Unable to withstand the violent surge of emotion, my vision went completely black. In my coma, I thought I saw Pearl. She was swimming aimlessly in the tiny, cramped tank. Then she breached the surface, wailing mournfully at the photo of us taped to the concrete wall. When I opened my eyes, I was back in a hospital bed. In just one day, my father seemed to have aged a decade. Seeing me wake up, the man who had always been a pillar of strength burst into tears. “Baby, please… can you please stop torturing yourself like this?” Looking at my father’s graying hair, my nose stung. “Dad, I’m so sorry.” My father held me, his tears soaking my hospital gown. “Oh, sweetie… it’s all my fault. I failed to protect you.” How could it possibly be his fault? Just like Pearl, he had never done anything wrong. “Dad. I want to call the police.” My father gently patted my back. “Okay. Dad will make the call.” At the precinct, I handed my phone with the text message to the detective. “Officer, please, you have to investigate this thoroughly.” The young detective sitting across from me nodded solemnly. My eyes flicked to his nametag: Liam Sterling. What a nice name. Mia was quickly summoned to the precinct. When she saw me, her eyes went wide. “Chloe, how dare you call the cops?” “Don’t forget, your father is a hit-and-run murderer!”

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The night before my wedding, I found Brooks and a stranger in my bed. Proud as he was, that was the first time I’d ever seen him weep. His voice shook as he explained, claiming he was blackout drunk, that he’d mistaken her for me, and that it would never happen again. The young woman, her face flushed, confessed that she’d secretly loved Brooks for years and deliberately bribed a hotel clerk for his room key. She fell to her knees and swore she would disappear from our lives forever. For the next eight years, we were the picture of a perfect couple, envied by everyone we knew. Then, on Brooks’s thirtieth birthday, I specifically took time off work and endured an eleven-hour international flight to give him a surprise. Stopping at a corner store for a bottle of water, I overheard a woman talking on the phone beside me. “You’re so clingy. It’s only been an hour, and you’ve practically blown up my phone.” “Just wait. This girl is going to wear you out tonight.” A jolt of something—curiosity, perhaps—made me glance over. I froze. The woman was the same girl from eight years ago. 1 Years had passed, and she clearly didn’t recognize me as she walked over to the checkout. I couldn’t hear what the person on the other end was saying, but she pouted playfully into the phone. “No, I’m not cold. I’m wearing plenty. You can check later if you don’t believe me.” “You can reach right inside, slide your hand down my waist, and keep going until you hit…” On an impulse I couldn’t explain, I pulled out my phone and texted Brooks. [Brooks, are you off work yet?] No reply. The woman reached out and took two boxes from the shelf for ‘Intimate Products.’ Same brand, same flavor, same size—the one Brooks and I always used. Her voice was sickly sweet. “It’s your birthday, so it’s your call how many times we go.” I glanced down at my phone. Still nothing. After paying, I followed the woman outside. “Stop rushing me,” she whined. “I see your car.” The London rain was hitting my face, cold as ice. I tightened my coat around me and hit the call button with a trembling hand. A cold, automated female voice replied: “The number you have dialed is temporarily unavailable.” I understood instantly. He had his phone on ‘Do Not Disturb.’ This year, he’d told me his overseas branch was so busy that he couldn’t take calls once he stepped into the office. It wasn’t the first time I couldn’t reach him. A sleek Bentley was parked a short distance away at the corner. “Brooks!” The woman hurried forward and opened the passenger door. I turned my head slightly to look. One look was all it took to nail me to the spot. The window was half-down, and the man in the driver’s seat looked composed and expensive. She twisted her body and leaned in to plant a light kiss on the corner of his mouth. He smiled, a familiar, fond look of resignation. “Always the baby,” he murmured. The streetlights were dim, but I saw his face clearly. The owner of that face had been by my side for my entire thirty years. At three, we held hands walking into kindergarten. He’d sneak the candy the teacher gave him into my palm. “I’ll protect you. Don’t cry.” At sixteen, he copied a movie scene and hid a drawing of me inside a textbook. When I found it, his ears turned bright red. “I just like you. So what?” At nineteen, during our first kiss, he was so thrilled he bought out the entire restaurant’s tab. “I want to shout it out—I’m the happiest guy in the world.” At twenty-two, when I accepted his proposal, he swore in front of both our families that he would only ever love me. Everything came to a screeching halt the night before our wedding. When I opened that hotel room door, he and a stranger were naked and tangled together. The day was a blur of chaos. Everyone said he was drunk and had made a mistake. They said I, his childhood sweetheart, should give him a second chance. Even the girl knelt and begged for forgiveness. She took all the blame, saying she bought the room key, only to fulfill her foolish secret crush fantasy. Brooks, who had always been so proud and dominant, cried until his eyes were red that day. Seeing my silent tears, he picked up a fruit knife and aimed it at his own heart. “Stella, I know I’ve failed you. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll cut myself open and show you—there is truly only you in my heart!” Tears blurred his face. His voice kept shaking. “Please don’t leave me, my love. I’m begging you. You know I’ve loved you for so long.” “If you reject me, I’ll die. I truly will die…” After that, I sealed the memory away. Sharing life for so many years, I thought we were inseparable, destined to go from being children’s playmates to growing old together. But in this second. Our thirty years. It finally all came crashing down. 2 Dazed, I returned to the apartment. My mother texted me: [So, how did Brooks react when you told him you were pregnant? He must be thrilled!] I took a deep breath, swallowed the bitterness in my throat, and replied with a forced calm: [Not yet. I just got to his apartment. Haven’t told him.] The apartment door opened, and Brooks walked in, having returned after dropping Quinn off. Our eyes met. His flickered with unnaturalness for a second, then quickly settled into a calm facade. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I would have picked you up from the airport.” My expression was flat. “I wanted to surprise you.” He smiled, walking over to gently ruffle my hair. “I hate how much I missed you.” “The flight must have been exhausting. All this trouble just to adjust your time zone for a birthday.” Before Brooks could say anything more, his phone buzzed. He looked down to reply, his eyes softening with that familiar tenderness and patience. Then he looked up apologetically. “I’m so sorry, but I have a client meeting tonight. My poor girl will have to be lonely.” Before I could speak, he went to the closet and pulled out a garment. I understood immediately. He came back to retrieve the intimate item the woman had forgotten. I had used a week of my vacation time, missing a huge client meeting, to arrange and decorate this temporary overseas apartment for him, bit by bit. But now, the unique vase I’d spent an afternoon hunting for and personally carried over from the States was gone. Even the photo of us stuck to the refrigerator had vanished. A sharp, wet chill seeped into my heart through my rain-drenched clothes. I abruptly stood up, dragging my suitcase toward the door. Brooks followed. “Are you upset?” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder from behind. “The apartment hasn’t been cleaned. I’ll book you a five-star hotel nearby.” “I promise, I’ll spend the whole day with you tomorrow. Deal?” He tilted his head, intending to kiss me, just as he always did. A strange, unfamiliar scent of citrus and spice wafted into my nostrils. It was her perfume. I turned my face away, but Brooks didn’t seem to notice and rushed out the door. By the elevator, a rough-looking guy whistled at me, his eyes leering. “How much, beautiful? He doesn’t want you, I’ll take his sloppy seconds.” He grabbed my arm. “He has a girlfriend. I’ve seen her. They’re neighbors here. He dotes on her, carrying her from the garage all the way up. She always looks so happy. What makes you so desperate?” He reached out and pinched my waist, trying to lean in for a kiss. Reflexively, I brought my heel down hard on his foot. As he yelped in pain, I pulled my suitcase and fled through the fire exit. I didn’t dare stop to check the scrape on my knee after tumbling down the stairs; I just ran straight for the airport. Sitting aimlessly in the boarding hall, I was consumed by one question. Why did Brooks cheat again? In the first two years of our marriage, I was constantly plagued by nightmares. In the dream, Brooks was naked, wrapped around a strange girl. I’d wake up in tears. He would hold me, soothing me over and over. “It’s all my fault. I hurt my poor baby wife.” He changed the passwords on all his devices to my birthday, and introduced me at every public event as his wife. He gave me a detailed rundown of his day—who he saw, what he did. If he had to travel and stay out of town, he would keep a video call open all night, listening to my breathing until he fell asleep. We were both painstakingly trying to repair the broken trust. Where did it all go wrong? Vaguely recalling the woman’s name, Quinn, I opened a social media app to search. It took me less than a minute to find her among the many accounts with the same name. The reason was her profile picture: it was taken in Brooks’s office back home. 3 The hanging abstract painting behind her was one I’d personally commissioned from a renowned artist. I had pleaded with the artist, even standing outside their studio in high heels for an entire afternoon, just because Brooks had once mentioned he liked their style. Quinn was a moderately famous travel blogger with a decent following. I scrolled down. The posts related to Brooks started three years ago. Quinn and a man holding hands, the background our high school track field. [Finally dating my high school dream guy!] It was the same spot where Brooks and I had first held hands at sixteen. The night wind was cool, and his palm was slick with nervous sweat. “When we’re old and gray, we’ll come back here together.” The middle of August two years ago—our wedding anniversary. Brooks said he had an urgent business matter and couldn’t be there. But in her feed, he was sitting with Quinn, eating street food. Last New Year’s Eve, I was hospitalized with a high fever from the flu. Brooks appeared in Quinn’s video, intensely focused as he disinfected a small scrape on her finger. My hand holding the phone was shaking. Brooks’s face wasn’t visible in any of the photos. But the familiar cuff of his expensive jacket and the texture of his palm made it impossible to keep lying to myself. Quinn’s latest post refreshed on the screen. The image showed a lacy maid outfit, so revealing it made my stomach churn. [Bought it but forgot to bring it. Glad someone remembered! Tonight’s reward is all his.] So that was it. That was what Brooks had returned to the apartment to fetch. The fans in the comments were joking. [Your hubby has good taste! Sis, you spoil him!] Quinn replied: [Can’t help it. I asked him today when he fell for me.] [He said it was eight years ago, the first day I was brave enough to tell him I liked him. He said my eyes were frighteningly bright, and he never forgot it.] [Just thinking that he’s been thinking about me all these years melts my heart.] I pressed my lips together so tightly they hurt. But the tears were disobedient, streaming silently down my face. Quinn posted a video next. The camera focused on a large bed covered in rose petals. A woman’s voice giggled. “My followers want me to ask you, now that you’re thirty, do you have any new plans for our relationship?” A man’s low laugh replied. “Plans?” “I do want a baby. Will you have one for me, baby?” The camera shook, and the sound of clothes intensely rubbing together filled the silence. My fingers were numb; I misdialed several times before I finally called Brooks. The phone rang three times, then finally connected. My voice trembling, I asked, “Brooks, am I still in your future plans?” He was silent for a few seconds, then said casually, “Of course, you are. Why wouldn’t you be?” “Oh, by the way, my parents mentioned you had a surprise for me. They’ve asked me about it several times. What is it?” I heard Quinn’s low, urgent voice in the background. “Husband, if you don’t pay attention, I’m going to punish you.” If I hadn’t seen them, I would have been foolish enough to believe she was a subordinate. My eyes swept over the shredded pregnancy test report I’d tossed in the waste bin. I spoke softly. “It’s gone.” The surprise was gone. The past love, the future we’d planned. All gone. Brooks’s patience wore thin, a hint of anger creeping into his voice. “Why are you throwing a fit?!” “I’ve turned down over ten international partnerships for you, all because you’re constantly suspicious!” “I’m with a client tonight for our future. Can you just give me a break?” Tears fell again, and I managed a slight, bitter laugh. “You’re right, Brooks.” “I’m just throwing a fit.” “When you get back home, we’re getting a divorce.” 4 Brooks was the one who hung up first. He scoffed. “Fine. Be dramatic.” The dial tone cut out, hitting my heart like a drumbeat. I didn’t sleep a second during the twelve-hour flight back. It wasn’t until I lay on the operating table, and the anesthetic poured into my veins, that I found any release from the relentless pain. When I found out I was pregnant, I was truly overjoyed. I thought this would be the new beginning for Brooks and me. Just a few months more, and the baby would have been here. Happiness was within reach. But now, everything was lost. After resting for a day, I received a message from Brooks. [I’m back. Family dinner tonight. Don’t you dare give my parents the silent treatment.] [Stella, you’re not a teenager anymore. Your tantrums need a limit.] I replied that I would attend. By the time I composed myself and arrived at the Brooks family’s estate, both families were already there. Brooks sat down next to me. He looked at my averted face, his tone laced with exasperation. “Are you still mad?” He pulled out a necklace and pressed it into my hand. “It was my fault. Is that enough?” “Take this as my apology. Smile for me, huh?” My palm was icy cold. Just yesterday, before I went into the operating room, Quinn had posted a new update. The messy bed was covered in gifts. She unwrapped them one by one: a limited-edition crocodile skin bag, custom-made luxury perfume, a diamond bracelet… She wrinkled her nose at this very gold chain. “The style is so dated. I don’t want it.” The person filming laughed indulgently. “I’m the one having a birthday, you’re getting the gift, and you still complain? I’ll just throw it away, then.” I loosened my grip, letting the necklace fall to the floor. Brooks frowned. “What more do you want from me? Take it or leave it.” Brooks’s mother smiled kindly, trying to ease the tension. “I heard you specifically flew to London for Brooks’s birthday, and he couldn’t even be with you because of work. He was wrong about that.” My mother stepped in, attempting to smooth things over. “You, young lady, are about to be a mother. You can’t be so temperamental; it’s bad for your health.” “A… mother?” Brooks was stunned, turning to look at me in disbelief. “Stella, you’re pregnant?!” He shot up from his seat, his lips twitching into an uncontrollable smile. “I’m going to be a father, right?!” The coldness in his eyes melted away, replaced by unconcealed excitement. I didn’t look away, taking in every flicker of emotion on his face. But was this real, or was it another performance? I couldn’t tell. And I didn’t care anymore. Both sets of parents burst into laughter. “Look at this fool.” I spoke softly. “No.” “I had an abortion.” The atmosphere froze. The excitement on Brooks’s face solidified and then cracked. His eyes darted around in panic for a few seconds, then he managed a forced smile. “Stella, don’t joke like that.” I didn’t answer, pulling the pre-prepared divorce papers from my purse. Then I let a faint smile touch my lips. “Brooks, I saw Quinn.” “If we don’t divorce, do you expect her to be your mistress forever?”

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Winter break was coming up, and my parents booked us a luxury cruise. When my roommate, Chloe, found out, she immediately called my mom, crying hysterically. “Godmother, did you forget you have another daughter?” After my mom politely turned her down, she threw a massive tantrum in our dorm. “How can parents be so biased?! We are both their daughters, why do they treat me so differently?!” I was stunned. She had just crashed at my house for a few weekends, and now she genuinely believed she was my parents’ biological child. 1 “Emma, you’re just going to go on vacation with Mom and Dad and leave me home alone?!” Her question left me completely bewildered. “Aren’t you going back to your own home for winter break? Don’t tell me you were planning to stay at my house?” Chloe’s family lived out of state, so she usually stayed in the dorms on weekends. Worried she’d be lonely, I started inviting her over to my house to hang out. The very first time she walked in, she gasped involuntarily, “Emma, I’ve never been in a house this big and comfortable before! Can I just live here forever?” Just being polite, I casually replied, “Sure.” From that day on, Chloe insisted on coming home with me every single weekend. Knowing she was my roommate, my mom always prepared delicious meals whenever she visited. She seemed well-behaved at first. She would offer to mop the floors and wipe the tables. My dad, being the polite host, would always stop her. “Chloe, you don’t need to do any of this. Go watch TV with Emma.” “It’s fine, Uncle! I do this all the time at home.” “Look at Chloe, such a thoughtful girl. If only you were my daughter too, I’d be so lucky to have two sweet girls.” I never expected that a polite, throwaway joke would be taken as gospel by Chloe. “Why don’t I officially become your goddaughter? Then Emma and I will be real sisters! My birthday is before hers, so I’ll be the older sister.” “Godfather, Godmother, I promise to take good care of you both when you’re older, just like Emma!” My mom looked at her awkwardly. “It’s the thought that counts, sweetie, but our family isn’t really into the whole ‘godparent’ thing.” Chloe acted like she hadn’t heard a word, continuing to call them “Godmother” and “Godfather” with every breath. My mom tried to correct her, but my dad whispered, “Just let her call us whatever she wants. Don’t embarrass the poor girl.” Fast forward to winter break. I thought my parents and I were finally going to enjoy some quality family time. I couldn’t believe she was still planning to come to my house! Chloe looked at me with pitiful, wide eyes. “Emma, I couldn’t get a train ticket home, so I have to go to your house for the break.” “I’m your older sister, you wouldn’t kick me out, would you?” I was already annoyed. “Chloe, I don’t care if you call me your sister. But my family of three is going on a trip this winter break. No one will be home.” “Besides, the holidays are coming up. Are your parents really okay with you not going home?” “In my heart, this is my only real home. It doesn’t matter if I go back to that other place. Since you three are going on a trip, I guess I’ll just have to stay at the house by myself.” I seriously doubted my own ears. “Wait, did I hear that right? You want to stay in my house by yourself for the entire winter break?” 2 “Yeah, is there a problem with that?” “Of course there is!” I rejected her flat out. “Sorry, but we aren’t comfortable leaving our house to you while we’re gone. You need to figure out a way to get a ticket and go back to your own home.” Chloe didn’t say anything else, so I assumed she had accepted it. But on the day the dorms closed, when my parents drove up to pick me up, Chloe dragged her suitcase out and followed me right to the car. My family of three stared at her in shock. She stood there, looking awkwardly at her shoes. “Godfather, Godmother, can I come home with you?” “I know you’re going on a trip, you don’t have to worry about me! I’ll be a good girl and stay home by myself!” “I can watch the house and clean it for you!” “My parents only gave me enough money for a cheap coach ticket, and they’re all sold out. I couldn’t get one, so I can’t go home.” “Everyone is leaving for the break, even the RAs are gone. I’m too scared to stay in the dorms by myself.” She started crying as she spoke. My dad is a softie. He sighed and unlocked the car doors. “Get in.” Chloe’s face instantly lit up. She threw her suitcase in the trunk and hopped in. I was incredibly unhappy. I felt like she was completely overstepping her boundaries. But considering we still had three and a half years of college left as roommates, I bit my tongue and didn’t blow up. When we got home, Chloe dropped her bags and immediately ran into the kitchen to start washing vegetables. “Godfather, Godmother, you guys must be exhausted! I’ll cook dinner tonight.” She always acted so “thoughtful,” actively taking on chores and offering to massage my parents’ shoulders. My dad always used it as an opportunity to compare us. “Look at Chloe! If you were even half as considerate as her, we’d be thrilled!” But the reality was, every time Chloe offered to do chores, my parents never actually let her do them. She was a guest, after all. How could we make a guest do housework? Sure enough, as soon as Chloe put the vegetables in the sink, my mom gently pushed her out of the kitchen. “Go watch TV. Emma can help me wash the vegetables.” I rolled up my sleeves and walked into the kitchen. “Mom, Chloe has offered to cook for us so many times, but I’ve still never tasted her food.” “Let her show off her skills today. You go relax, Mom.” I pushed my mom out of the kitchen and turned to Chloe. “What are you standing around for? Start cooking.” Chloe reluctantly put on an apron. She actually managed to whip up four dishes, and they were all things my parents loved. Now my parents liked her even more. “Chloe, I can’t believe you’re such a good cook at eighteen! Our Emma can barely wash vegetables, let alone make rice.” “If you like it, Godmother, I can cook for you every day from now on.” She shot me a smug look. “Emma, you should really learn from Chloe. When we’re not home, you just order takeout all the time. It’s so unhealthy.” “It’s okay, Godfather! I can cook for Emma from now on.” “Oh, right! Are you guys leaving for your trip tomorrow? I’m so jealous of Emma, getting to go on vacation every break. The furthest I’ve ever traveled is from my house to school.” My dad felt bad for her. He looked at my mom. “Why don’t we bring Chloe with us?” 3 Before my mom could even answer, Chloe’s eyes filled with excited tears. “Thank you, Godfather! Can I really go?” She looked at my mom with eyes full of desperate expectation. My mom opened her mouth, hesitated, and finally said, “Let me call the travel agency and see if they have any spots left.” A few minutes later, my mom came back. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. The agency said the tour is completely booked, they absolutely can’t add another person. Next time, okay? Next time we have the chance, we’ll all go together.” A flash of intense resentment crossed Chloe’s eyes, but she had no choice but to nod and agree. After dinner, Chloe followed me into my bedroom. Her voice suddenly turned dark and accusing. “You should have told me you guys were going on a trip earlier! If you had told me sooner, Mom and Dad could have booked a ticket for me too.” I ignored her completely, grabbed my pajamas, and went into the bathroom to shower. When I stepped out of the bathroom, my foot slipped violently, and I crashed hard onto the floor just outside the door. I clutched my leg, breaking into a cold sweat from the pain. “Who moved the non-slip mat from the door?!” “And why is there body wash all over the floor?! No wonder it’s so slippery!” My mom rushed over to help me up, glaring at Chloe. “Did you move the mat? And spill body wash everywhere?” Chloe looked incredibly guilty. “Oh no! I accidentally spilled some body wash earlier, so I took the mat to wash it.” “I was just about to clean up the floor when Emma came out! I swear I didn’t do it on purpose!” She put on her best ‘about to cry’ face. “Emma, are you okay? I’m so, so sorry.” My dad was supporting my weight. “We need to get her to the ER. Our girl took a really bad fall.” The whole family rushed me to the emergency room. After a series of X-rays, we were relieved to find no broken bones. But my ankle and knee were swollen like balloons. I couldn’t walk without someone supporting me on both sides. Chloe looked deeply concerned. “Emma is hurt so badly, she definitely can’t go on the trip tomorrow. This is all my fault. Is the tour money just going to be wasted?” “Godmother, can you get a refund? What if you can’t? That’s so much money, it would be such a waste if someone didn’t go.” Since I couldn’t go, she wanted to take my spot. Chloe’s hinting couldn’t have been more obvious, but my parents completely ignored it. “Then none of us will go. We’ll stay home and take care of Emma.” Chloe looked annoyed for a second, but quickly masked it. “Godfather, Godmother, please go enjoy your trip! I’ll stay here and take care of Emma.” I chimed in, “Yeah, Mom, Dad, you guys go have fun! Chloe and I will be fine hanging out here.” After much persuasion, my parents finally decided to go on the trip. Leaving just me and Chloe alone in the house. “You purposely made me slip yesterday.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. “Oh please, I really didn’t do it on purpose. Why do you always assume the worst of me? Even Godfather and Godmother didn’t blame me, why are you still holding onto it?” She opened the fridge and, without asking, pulled out the expensive imported durian and cherries and started eating them. “Hurry up and order some takeout, I’m starving. And order a lot, okay? I invited some friends over. There are five of them, and they can eat a lot, so don’t be cheap, it’ll make me look bad.” “You invited your friends to my house?!” “Yeah, this is my house too! Why can’t I invite my friends over to play?” I was about to explode. 4 “Excuse me?! If you’re going to invite your friends over, the least you could do is ask me first! This is my house, you are just my roommate. Do you seriously think you own this place?!” Chloe jumped up from the sofa. “Why wouldn’t this be my house?! I’m their goddaughter, this is my home!” “Godfather and Godmother literally told me to treat this place like my own home! They love me! You’re the only one treating me like an outsider!” “Chloe, do you really not understand the concept of being polite?!” “Whatever, I’m done talking about this. My friends will be here any minute, and I don’t want to fight with you. If you don’t want to be here, you can leave.” “This is my house, why the hell should I leave?!” Just then, there was a knock at the door. Chloe practically skipped over to open it. “Omg, you guys are finally here! I was just about to order takeout, what are you craving?” “I want steak!” “I want sushi!” Five girls walked in. Some were from other departments at our college, and a few looked like older girls she met working off-campus part-time jobs. Chloe walked right over, snatched my phone off the table, opened a food delivery app, and started picking out a restaurant. “Chloe, that’s my phone!” “I know! Oh, come on, my sweet little sister, your big sister’s friends are here! You have to be a good host and treat them to a nice meal.” I held out my hand. “You host your own friends! Give me my phone back!” “It’s not going to cost that much, stop being so stingy.” I could barely walk, there was no way I could physically wrestle the phone away from her. Chloe tapped on my phone for a few minutes, finalized the order, and tossed the phone back onto my lap. “Thanks, sis!” I picked it up and checked the receipt. Good lord, she had just spent nearly $600. “How did you know my payment password?! And spending my money without my permission is literal theft!” “You’re being so dramatic! We’re family, what’s wrong with spending a little of your money? Besides, when I became their goddaughter, Godfather and Godmother didn’t give me a traditional red envelope with money. Just consider this you giving it to me on their behalf.” “Did my parents ever agree to you being their goddaughter?! You just started calling them that on your own! My mom has corrected you so many times!” Chloe acted like she couldn’t hear me, enthusiastically serving her friends drinks and snacks. “If you guys want anything else, just tell me! Don’t be shy, make yourselves at home!” She emptied out my entire stash of imported snacks, premium drinks, and expensive fruit to serve these random people. And they didn’t hold back, lounging on the sofas, eating my food, and playing on my PS5. The noise of their shouting and laughing made my head pound. I had no choice but to retreat to my bedroom, planning to confront Chloe and kick her out the second her friends left. But night fell, and Chloe’s friends showed absolutely no signs of leaving. I couldn’t take it anymore. I limped out to the living room and asked her, “Look at the time. When are your friends leaving?” They had completely trashed my house. Fruit peels, wrappers, and crumpled tissues were scattered everywhere. My blood pressure was skyrocketing. “They aren’t leaving! They’re spending the night here.” “Hurry up and find some extra blankets and pillows. Since you’re hurt, I won’t make you sleep on the floor. My friends can just sleep on the floor in the living room.” So, I should be grateful I wasn’t forced to sleep on the floor in my own house, while being forced to host a bunch of strangers and supply them with free food and drinks? I was just about to lose my mind when Chloe suddenly grabbed my heavy winter coat and threw it over my shoulders. “Do me a favor and go down to the convenience store to buy some soy sauce.” “It’s the middle of the night! Why do you need soy sauce?!” Without another word, Chloe physically shoved me out the front door. With a heavy SLAM, I was locked out. I had an electronic keypad lock. I punched in my passcode, ready to march back in and throw them all out. But the light flashed red. She had engaged the manual deadbolt from the inside! My passcode couldn’t open it! I started pounding on the door. “Chloe! Open the door!” I pounded as hard as I could, but no one came. I called her phone, but she ignored it. Furious, I pulled up the live feed from the security camera in my living room on my phone. I saw Chloe and her friends laughing hysterically. “Chloe, you’re a savage! You really just kicked your ‘sister’ out of her own house! Now this massive penthouse is all ours!” Chloe looked incredibly smug. “What ‘sister’? She’s just a stepping stone. Someday, her parents’ money and this house will all belong to me!” “Are you really that confident? Her parents aren’t stupid, why would they give everything to an outsider? Aren’t you afraid she’s going to tell on you?” “Let her complain! I’ll just say I couldn’t hear her knocking, give a fake apology, and it’ll all blow over.” “You guys don’t even know, I intentionally made Emma slip and fall so she couldn’t go on their vacation, and they didn’t even blame me.” “But didn’t you say her mom is still pretty suspicious of you?” “As long as her dad likes me, that’s all that matters. Worst case scenario, I’ll just get myself a new godmother.” The group erupted in raucous laughter. My lungs felt like they were going to explode. She wanted to steal my inheritance AND replace my mom?! Who the hell did she think she was?! Once I calmed down enough to think straight, I immediately dialed 911. “Hello, police? I’d like to report a home invasion!”

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Ethan Vance threw the checkbook at my face, demanding I kneel and apologize to Mia Harper for the ninth time. “A hundred grand per bow.” Calculating the remaining balance for my mother’s medical bills in my head, I kept my face completely blank and slammed my forehead against the floor ten times. The moment my fingers closed around the check, the System’s voice pinged in my ear. “Congratulations, Host. You have accumulated the required funds. Would you like to initiate extraction from this world?” Feeling a wave of absolute liberation, I slumped onto the floor. Seeing me on the ground, Ethan sneered and tossed a sheer black lace dress at me. “Not enough?” “Then dance for us, darling. A striptease. Fifty grand a minute.” The moment he finished speaking, Mia, leaning against his shoulder, let out a tearful giggle. The circle of trust-fund brats around them started jeering and throwing cash at me. “Look at her, Manhattan’s biggest gold digger, Chloe Adams, selling her dignity again! Since Ethan’s paying out, I’ll book the first ten minutes!” Watching the green bills flutter down around me, I let out a bleak laugh and took a step back. Then, right before Ethan’s suddenly panicked eyes, I turned and threw myself off the yacht, plunging straight into the icy waters of the Hudson River. This time, the gold digger Chloe doesn’t want your money anymore. 1 When I opened my eyes, Ethan immediately leaned over, closely inspecting me. “You’re awake? Does anything hurt? Should I call the doctor?” At the same time, the System’s voice grumbled in my ear. “Host, you are way too impulsive!” “I just asked if you wanted to initiate extraction, I didn’t say we could leave immediately! Detaching your consciousness from this body takes seven days.” Fine. Seven days it is. Just enough time to say goodbye to the people in this world who actually matter. Ethan reached out and grabbed my hand. A second later, I yanked it away. Dead silence filled the hospital room. “Jumping into the river just like that? Your stunts are getting dramatic,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I won’t hold it against you this time. Take the card.” “Mia was terrified by your little stunt last night. She’s in the hospital too. I need to go stay with her.” A sleek, black Centurion card gleamed against the stark white hospital sheets. I offered a weak, exhausted smile. Of course. Even when I nearly died right in front of him, he still thought this was all just a negotiation tactic for more money. When I first arrived in this world on a mission, my goal was to earn three million dollars to pay for my mother’s life-saving surgery back in my original reality. I actually hit that goal right before I married Ethan. I told the System to pay the hospital and planned to stay here, living out the rest of my life quietly by Ethan’s side. But on our wedding night, the System apologetically informed me that the exchange rate between the two dimensions had plummeted to ten-to-one. I needed to raise thirty million, or my mother would die immediately. The very next morning, Ethan saw paparazzi photos of me hawking my own jewelry on the news. His face turned to ice. “Ethan, I can explain…” “Save it. Since I married you, whatever kind of person you are, I’ll accept it.” He said it so casually, acting like he didn’t care at all. I foolishly let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t until he started bringing women home that I understood what his “acceptance” actually looked like. From the guest bedroom, the sounds of a couple going at it echoed down the hall. “Ethan, you’re so bad… aren’t you afraid your wife will get mad?” Ethan’s voice was utterly dismissive. “Mad? She’s exactly the same kind of woman you are. What right does she have to be mad?” “Actually, she’s much worse than you. After all, she scammed her way into the title of Mrs. Vance.” I spent that entire night leaning against the wall in the hallway, crying until I had no tears left. From that day on, the name Chloe Vance became infamous in New York’s elite circles. The rumor was that every time Ethan brought a woman home, he paid his wife a million dollars. If I laid out the condoms for them, that was a five-hundred-thousand-dollar bonus. If I personally held an umbrella and walked his mistresses to their Ubers in the rain, another three hundred thousand. Every single time, I shamelessly took the money. And every single time, Ethan’s disgust for me deepened. But I still held onto a tiny shred of hope. I thought, if he just knew the truth, maybe he’d believe me. Until Mia Harper showed up. She was an Ivy League graduate, a self-proclaimed idealist. The young girl despised the way Ethan threw money at his problems, and mocked me for being a useless, parasitic gold digger. Yesterday on the yacht, after she “accidentally” stepped on and tore my couture gown, she pulled a thick stack of ten-dollar bills out of her beat-up tote bag and told me to count it. When I refused to count her petty cash, she clenched her fists, her eyes welling up with stubborn tears. “Mrs. Vance, what is this supposed to mean? Are you looking down on me?” “I’m not like you. I might not have money, but at least I have a spine.” Ethan looked at her with pure, undisguised admiration. To coax a smile out of her, he physically forced me to my knees on the yacht’s deck and ordered me to bow. “Chloe, don’t you love money more than anything?” “Keep bowing until Mia laughs. If she’s happy, I don’t care how much it costs.” My gaze drifted back to the black card on the bed. My face was completely devoid of emotion as I tossed it back at his chest. “Keep it.” 2 Ethan’s face darkened instantly. “Only women who are actually loved by their husbands get to throw tantrums.” “Do you really think you have the right to give me attitude?” I gripped the blanket tightly, forcing out a smile that felt worse than sobbing. He always knew exactly where to twist the knife. He was right. I had no right. But what use does a dying person have for money? The hospital TV suddenly flashed to last night’s local news. “Billionaire’s Wife Takes a Midnight Swim: Highly Educated Mistress Plays the Ultimate Power Move.” Ethan’s brow furrowed, and he whipped out his phone. I, however, found the tabloids’ dramatic headlines genuinely amusing. I let out a bitter chuckle looking at the paparazzi shot of me plunging into the water. Seeing my reaction, Ethan raised an eyebrow. “I should have known. Just another one of your tricks.” “You put on this whole ‘jumping into the river’ spectacle just so you could tip off the press and slander Mia, didn’t you?” “Chloe, risking your own life just to secure a slightly bigger payout… you really are the lowest of the low.” He spun on his heel and stormed out of the hospital room. But I realized something surprising. My heart didn’t ache the way it usually did. For my last seven days, I refused to waste any more tears on this drama. I texted Maya, asking her to meet me at the little coffee shop where Ethan and I had our very first date. I figured, since everything started here, it was only fitting that everything ended here too. Maya grabbed my hands across the table, her eyes red. “Chloe, how did you get this thin after only six months of marriage? Look, let’s just go back to the West Coast. Leave the Vance family and all this toxic garbage behind.” I shook my head and laid everything out for her—the System, the money, the imminent departure. She sat in stunned silence for several minutes, but ultimately, she chose to believe me. But a second later, Maya’s eyes flared with pure, unadulterated rage. I followed her gaze. Right across the street, a trendy new artisan coffee shop was having its grand opening. The owner was Mia Harper. Ethan was standing right beside her, looking at her with an incredibly soft, indulgent expression. I should have been used to it. Last week it was a boutique clothing store. The week before that, a luxury pet spa. Whatever the girl wanted, Ethan personally bankrolled it. But why did they have to open this one right across the street from here… “That little homewrecker goes around telling everyone you’re a gold digger, while she’s literally having her life funded by your husband?! Oh, hell no. I’m going over there!” I scrambled to catch up with Maya. But I was too late. Ethan saw her coming and shoved her backward hard. “Chloe! Put your rabid dog on a leash!” Hearing that, my grip on Maya’s hand tightened. Before I could even process what I was doing, I slapped Ethan Vance hard across the face. The world went dead silent. The only thing I felt was the stinging heat in my palm. “You’re a parasite living off Ethan’s money! What gives you the right to hit people?!” Mia pointed her finger right in my face, screaming. Her shrieking drew a massive crowd of onlookers. Ethan radiated dark, violent fury. Maya immediately stepped in front of me, shielding me. “Do you have any idea your wife suffers from severe anxiety and depression?! And it’s all thanks to you and your little side piece! You practically drowned her yesterday, and now you want to hit her?!” I tugged at Maya’s sleeve, just wanting to escape. As I turned, a strong hand clamped down on my arm. “Chloe… is what she said true?” Ethan’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his voice sounding strangely tight. Mia suddenly let out a bubbly laugh, stepping around Maya as if they were old friends. “Wow, what a coincidence, Chloe! I’m getting my master’s in psychology. Why don’t I give you a free evaluation?” Maya shoved her shoulder. “Who knows what kind of garbage you’d make up? Back off.” Ethan’s gaze shifted to Mia, his tone instantly turning protective and fond. “Mia is a graduate student at Columbia. She earned her place through hard work and intellect. You can trust her professional opinion.” It was laughable. Why on earth would I trust his mistress? Mia tilted her head, putting on a perfectly rehearsed look of concern. “The thing is, the most obvious symptom of clinical depression is a total loss of the will to live.” “But Chloe’s survival instincts are incredibly strong. Especially her instinct to acquire wealth. That totally contradicts the diagnosis…” Ethan raised an eyebrow and let out a scoff. “Hah. She could lose everything in the world as long as she doesn’t lose a dollar. Depression? Hilarious.” “Chloe, you’re pretty clever, getting your friend to put on this little theatrical performance. I almost fell for it.” “Playing the tragic, misunderstood victim in the hospital, and now this? Tsk. You’re really working overtime to keep my attention.” My expression remained completely flat. Maya looked like she was going to pass out from pure rage. Ethan pulled Mia into his side, looking us up and down with mocking pity. “You and your friend should take some notes from Mia. Have your own ambitions and careers. Stop spending every waking hour scheming for a payout. Women need to value their self-respect.” He guided the girl into his waiting Maybach and sped off. Maya stood on the sidewalk, screaming curses into the exhaust fumes. I sighed. “Come on, let it go. I’m leaving anyway. What’s the point of arguing with them?” Maya burst into tears and threw her arms around me. “I swear to God, Chloe, after you leave, that bastard is going to regret this for the rest of his life!” 3 I had no idea if Ethan would regret it. I only knew that he didn’t come home that night either. To bury the negative press surrounding Mia’s little club incident, he organized a massive, high-profile charity street race, donating all the proceeds in Mia’s name. But for some reason, while he was behind the wheel, my completely unbothered, indifferent face kept flashing in his mind. Chloe has been acting so strange these past few days… In that split second of distraction, his sports car slammed into a concrete barrier. He survived without major injuries, but photos of him instinctively shielding Mia during the crash went viral on Twitter and Instagram. The next morning, he wired me three million dollars. We had an established rule: every time he was caught by the paparazzi with another woman, I got a three-million-dollar “inconvenience fee.” I used to desperately need that money, and he seemed to enjoy the transactional humiliation of our arrangement. I closed out of the news app, my thoughts drifting back to a long time ago. This was only the second time Ethan had ever street raced. The first time was for me. Back then, a rival syndicate of the Vance family had kidnapped me and dragged me up to a cabin in the Catskills. The Vance family had already arranged for professional fixers to deliver the ransom, but Ethan refused to wait. He insisted on going himself. The kidnappers had barricaded the mountain roads. Their real target was always Ethan. That night, he drove like a madman, ramming his car through the barricades. By the time we made it back to the Vance estate, he was battered and bleeding, looking like he’d been through a warzone. But I, sitting in the passenger seat, didn’t have a single scratch on me. I sat by his bedside, taking care of him for seven days and seven nights. When Ethan finally woke up, the very first thing he did was look for me. He pulled me tightly into his arms, his voice hoarse. “Thank God my Chloe is safe. If they had touched you, I would have killed every last one of them.” “If anything ever happened to you, I promise I wouldn’t survive it.” My heart had trembled, melting into absolute devotion. It was in that moment I decided I was going to stay by his side for the rest of my life. Now, years later, I stared at the three-million-dollar wire transfer notification on my phone… and hit “Decline.” A second later, my phone started buzzing violently. I just powered it off and went to sleep. Five days left. The second thing I needed to do was say goodbye to Lily. She was the very first girl I sponsored when I moved to New York. Last month, she finally got her acceptance letter to NYU. The moment I walked through the doors of the youth center, I ran right into Ethan. He was holding Mia’s hand, presenting an oversized novelty check from the street race to this exact facility. Wow. What a coincidence. A gentle breeze ruffled Mia’s hair. She looked like an angel as she offered words of encouragement to the kids. “I’m here to help you today, but what I really hope is that you learn from my example. You have to rely on yourself to find your value in this world.” The kids gathered around her, cheering and clapping. Ethan watched her, his eyes overflowing with adoration. But my eyes were fixed on what she was holding in her hand—the black Centurion card Ethan had tried to give me two days ago. Lily’s eyes were red. “Chloe, why are you suddenly leaving?” “Back before you even married into the Vance family, you worked three jobs just to pay for my schooling. I haven’t even had a chance to pay you back yet…” I reached out to ruffle Lily’s hair, but before I could comfort her, a voice cut in. “Ethan, look! Isn’t that your gold-digger wife? Ugh, she’s stalking us again!” Ethan scowled and marched over to me, grabbing my arm and dragging me into a corner. He lowered his voice, his tone sharp. “Go home. Are you seriously throwing a jealous fit here?!” “Today is a big day for Mia. Do not cause a scene!” Lily was startled but quickly ran over to defend me. “Chloe is my sponsor! Excuse me, sir, but you need to show some respect!” Ethan froze. “Since when have you been sponsoring kids? Why didn’t I know about this?” I answered flatly, “I started before we were married. I don’t need to report every detail of my life to you.” Ethan’s face turned a darker shade of anger. “You’re certainly generous when it comes to strangers.” After a long pause, a look of realization dawned on his face, and he eyed me with suspicion. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve always been greedy. You want the glamorous title of a billionaire’s wife, but you also want the saintly philanthropist image to go with it.” “Did you bribe my secretary for my itinerary today, or did you just guess I’d be here from the news? Chloe, your little schemes are endless.” Mia marched over, puffing out her cheeks in self-righteous anger. “Exactly, Mrs. Vance! True charity shouldn’t be done for fame!” “Running all the way over here just to show off to Ethan… you’re only making him look down on you even more!” They were living in their own delusional reality. I had completely lost the desire to explain myself. “Sure. Whatever you guys say.” I checked my phone. It was getting late. Ethan grabbed Mia’s hand and roughly shoved past me. “Let’s see how long she can keep this act up.” Watching them walk away, Lily looked incredibly confused. “Chloe, is that really your husband? Why would he say those things? Doesn’t he know you’re leaving?” My expression was calm. “Lily, as you grow up, I hope you develop the ability to see through the surface of things. Don’t be fooled by appearances, and always protect your own heart.” … Ethan didn’t come home for the next three days. My departure date was rapidly approaching. During those days, the only contact I had with him were the wire transfer notifications. As usual, I rejected every single one. In the early hours of my second-to-last day, my bedroom door was violently shoved open. A man reeking of scotch pinned me to the mattress and crushed his mouth against mine. Smack! “Ethan Vance, what the hell is wrong with you?!” 4 He forcefully gripped my jaw, his eyes terrifyingly bloodshot. “You won’t take my money, and now you won’t even let me kiss you, huh?” “Chloe, aren’t you obsessed with money? What kind of game are you playing now? Or did you find yourself a new sugar daddy?” I shoved him away with all my strength, pulling a pillow against my chest to protect myself. “Why do you suddenly care what I do?” “You have your pure, morally superior little mistress. If you’re horny, go find her. Don’t come in here looking for a fight.” Those words seemed to snap Ethan back to reality. He stopped struggling and stared intensely at my face, as if trying to decipher some hidden meaning. But the cold, detached look in my eyes only seemed to agitate him further. Something had fundamentally shifted. I fully expected him to storm out and head to Mia’s apartment. But the next morning, I found him asleep on the living room sofa. He looked strangely peaceful. My phone rang, breaking the silence. I looked away and walked back to my room to answer it. “What’s wrong, Maya?” “Chloe, I’m moving back to LA. That little bitch Mia used Ethan’s name to threaten my boss. I got fired…” A heavy weight crashed down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. No matter how much I endured, my toxic marriage was still dragging my friends down with me. Maya tried her best to keep her voice light. “It’s fine, honestly! I was thinking about moving back anyway. With you leaving, there’s no point in me staying in this city…” After hanging up, I frantically opened my jewelry box and started emptying it. Thank God. I still had a few pieces of solid gold jewelry I hadn’t pawned yet. Gold prices were high right now; the cash from these would be enough to cover Maya’s living expenses for a few years. I found a pawn shop in Brooklyn, far away from the Upper East Side. But the second I walked through the door, I knew I had walked into a trap. Mia’s voice drifted from behind me. “Ethan, you’re just too naive. You actually believed this woman suddenly stopped caring about money.” “See? A dog always goes back to its vomit. She’s here pawning the jewelry you bought her.” Her eyes gleamed like a hawk locked onto its prey. I slowly clenched my fists, my entire body shaking. This young girl, who constantly preached about her “moral purity,” had gotten Maya fired, stalked me to a pawn shop, and orchestrated this entire confrontation! I tried, weakly, to explain. “Ethan didn’t buy these. I saved up for them myself. And if you hadn’t ruined my friend’s life, I wouldn’t have to pawn them…” Crash! The jewelry box was violently smacked out of my hands by an ice-cold Ethan. The gold chains and rings scattered across the dirty tile floor with a loud clatter. Swallowing every ounce of my pride, I dropped to my knees and desperately started gathering them up. I couldn’t lose a single piece. Every ring was Maya’s rent money. I already owed my friend too much. I couldn’t let her suffer anymore. Ethan planted his expensive leather shoe down on one of the gold rings, staring down at me with absolute disgust. “Chloe, you are truly repulsive.” “When you stopped taking my wire transfers, I actually thought you had changed. Playing hard to get to my face, while sneaking around pawning my gifts behind my back. If Mia hadn’t warned me, I might have actually felt sorry for you.” I didn’t even look up. I just carefully handed the gold I had gathered to the pawnshop owner. “It’s all 24-karat. Can you weigh it? I only want cash.” “Anyone who buys her gold is declaring war on the Vance family!” The owner’s hand froze awkwardly in mid-air. I looked up at Ethan in absolute disbelief. “Don’t cross the line! I bought these with my own money!” Ethan leaned down, gripping my chin, his eyes completely devoid of warmth. “Chloe, do people like you even have ‘personal property’? What do you have that wasn’t paid for by me?” I let out a harsh, bitter laugh. Tears spilled over my lashes, completely out of my control. “If you don’t trust me, why are we still doing this dance? We can just get a divorce.” Divorce meant nothing to me now. But maybe I just wanted to hear his answer. Just how deeply did he hate me? Ethan’s pupils contracted sharply, and his grip on my jaw loosened. Mia panicked. “Ethan, are you actually going to believe a woman who has done nothing but lie to you?” “If you believe her, then I’ll leave! Let’s just pretend I framed her today!” Ethan grabbed the girl’s arm as she turned to run, pulling her close and resting his nose against her temple. He coaxed her gently. “Don’t be silly. How could a sweet, innocent girl like you ever frame anyone?” When he looked back at me, his eyes had turned back to ice. “Notify every jeweler and pawn shop in the tri-state area. No one is to do business with Chloe Adams.” After they left, I clutched the jewelry to my chest and walked for a very, very long time. I walked until my legs were completely numb, finally arriving outside Maya’s apartment building. I handed her the gold and told her she’d have to find a way to pawn it herself. Maya accepted it through her tears. The final, heaviest stone in my heart was finally lifted. Tonight, after midnight, I would finally be free.

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My eighteenth birthday. Ivy, my twin sister, received company shares, a luxury car, a villa… Me? I received a DNA test result slip proving I wasn’t their biological daughter. Victoria, my mother, smiled—a chilling, distant smile. “Eliza, since you aren’t our flesh and blood, it’s only fair that you repay us for the seventeen years of expenses we incurred raising you.” Richard, my father, scoffed. “Effective today, you’ll be the household maid. We’ll credit you five hundred dollars a month toward your debt. No room and board.” I didn’t question how this was possible when Ivy and I were twins, practically molded from the same clay. How could I not be their daughter? Instead, I nodded calmly. Because just last night, I’d stood outside the study door and heard it all. Ivy, her voice sticky-sweet, whined to them, “Mom, Dad, my birthday wish is to be your only daughter, to have all your attention just for me. Can we just make Eliza the maid for a year? Please?” Dad’s face was brimming with doting affection. “Yes, darling. Anything for you.” Mom chuckled in agreement. “This year, Daddy and I belong only to our precious Ivy-bug.” After everyone had left, I looked at the remnants of the cake on the table, stuck a lone candle into the frosting, and made my own silent wish: I would leave the Vincents. Not for a year. But for good. For a lifetime. 1 “Oh, my God, Sister!” Ivy Vincent covered her mouth in an exaggerated gasp. “No wonder you’re so plain! You don’t look like Dad or Mom! Turns out, you really are a fake!” Her voice was loud and performative, as if she’d completely forgotten the two of us were identical twins, almost spitting images of each other. “Correction,” she added, her eyes glinting. “You’re not my sister at all. You’re just some stray mutt who wandered in off the street.” Victoria’s expression remained aloof and cold. “Eliza, now that the truth is out—you are not a Vincent. This birthday party was prepared solely for our beloved Ivy. You no longer have a right to be here.” I lifted my gaze to meet Ivy’s triumphant smirk. She wore a custom-made princess gown and a diamond tiara that cost more than a down payment on a small house. I glanced down at my own outfit: a faded, washed-out shirt and jeans, the cuffs frayed from overuse. A bitter laugh caught in my throat. Right. I hadn’t had any real rights since I was a child. What was there left to lose now? Richard raised his voice, loud enough for the gathering crowd. “Starting today, you’ll move to the staff quarters. Out of respect for the time we shared, you can work as a maid here until you find your biological parents. We’ll pay you five hundred dollars a month toward the seventeen years of living expenses you owe us. No food, no lodging.” A wave of murmuring swept through the onlookers. I felt like a pathetic clown under their mocking, scrutinizing gazes. I bent over and picked up my backpack. Ivy darted forward, grabbing the strap and yanking hard. The worn zipper, held together with a simple safety pin, instantly gave way, and the contents spilled across the polished hardwood floor. Ivy shrieked. “Aha! I knew it! You’ve been stealing from us!” Among the scattered textbooks, a single, pink sanitary pad lay exposed. Mom’s face briefly tightened with discomfort. “Ivy, that’s enough. It’s just a pad.” Ivy immediately dug in her heels. “No, Mom! I’m the only Vincent daughter now. What is she? She’s a parasite who’s been living off us for years and now she’s stealing! I say she doesn’t deserve anything!” Seeing her anger, Victoria quickly softened her tone, cooing, “Okay, okay, honey. Don’t get upset. You’re absolutely right. You are Mom’s only heart and soul, and you can do whatever you want.” Satisfied, Ivy deliberately stepped onto the pad, grinding her heel into it, twisting and turning. “There,” she declared. “Now I don’t want it. You can have it.” I stared at the pink cotton, now marred by a dirty shoe print. My throat felt thick and heavy, like it was stuffed with wet cotton. 2 In the end, I only picked up the books. Once the party was over, Auntie May, the housekeeper, led me into a cramped utility closet. The space, no bigger than five square meters, held only a plank bed stacked with junk and a single, rusted iron window. Auntie May stood at the doorway, her lips parting as if to speak. “Miss… Eliza. The master and madam, they remember the good things about you. Once they come to their senses, you’ll be Miss Vincent again…” She trailed off as two cockroaches scurried out from a dark corner and zipped away. I pretended not to notice the awkwardness on her face. “Thank you. I understand.” Auntie May shook her head and left, muttering quietly to herself. “They look so alike. How can she not be… sigh.” I sat on the hard plank bed, staring blankly out at the pitch-black night beyond the window. It’s okay. Just one more year, and then I can leave forever. That night, my lower abdomen ached terribly. With no sanitary pads, I could only make do with toilet paper. Coming out of the bathroom, I overheard my parents’ hushed conversation. “Honey, do you think Eliza will resent us for treating her this way? She is our biological daughter, after all.” Dad let out a cold snort. “It’s her own fault for constantly bullying Ivy. As the older sister, she never knew how to yield. This suffering is for her own good.” “Once Ivy tires of this game, a year from now, we’ll just say the DNA test was wrong. When she gets her title back, she’ll be overjoyed, she won’t even think about this.” My fingertips went ice-cold. It was so utterly ridiculous. How could they possibly believe that after trampling me into the dirt, I would wait obediently for their return? The next day, I went out to buy pads. At checkout, I was told my card was declined due to insufficient funds. But I was certain I had two hundred dollars saved up. Back at the house, I pushed the door open. The three of them were laughing merrily at the dining table. A gift bag rested on the surface. Victoria was stroking a silk scarf in her hands. “My Ivy is such a thoughtful angel. Giving Mommy a gift! I’m so happy!” Richard was turning a plastic water bottle in his hand, grinning ear to ear. “Daddy loves his too. You’re my precious girl.” Ivy pouted, leaning on Mom’s shoulder. “But they only cost two hundred dollars combined. You’re not mad that I was cheap, are you?” Mom immediately shook her head. “Of course not! Anything my baby buys me, even for two dollars, is Mom’s treasure.” Dad didn’t miss a chance to belittle me. “Exactly. Unlike your sister, who only knew how to spend the family’s money and never once bought us a gift. She’s an ingrate. She can’t even compare to my Ivy…” They abruptly stopped talking when they noticed I had returned. Ivy tilted her head to look at me, a malicious smile twisting her lips. Those two hundred dollars… They were my savings from two months of my allowance. All my money. A freezing sensation swept over me, and something in my mind violently erupted. Before I knew what I was doing, I had grabbed Ivy and raised my hand to strike. But before the slap could land, Richard kicked me away. My spine slammed against the sharp corner of the coffee table. The pain was so intense I nearly blacked out. Ivy clutched her arm, showing off a small, red mark. She began to wail as if the sky had fallen. “Mommy! Daddy! It hurts so bad! Is my arm broken?” Mom shouted frantically, “Call an ambulance!” Dad quickly interjected, “Forget the ambulance, there’s no time! I’ll drive Ivy to the ER myself.” Ivy pointed at me, sprawled on the floor. “I don’t want to go by car! That bastard injured me, so she has to carry me all the way to the hospital!” 3 The nearest hospital was twenty kilometers from the villa. Victoria’s eyes were ice-cold as she looked at me. “You’re a fatherless, motherless stray that we fed and clothed for over a decade. How dare you lay a hand on my daughter? You’ll do exactly what Ivy says.” Seeing me struggle to get up, Dad grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet. “Stop the pathetic act. You just bumped yourself gently. Now hurry and carry Ivy to the hospital! If you delay my daughter’s treatment, I swear I’ll throw you out of the Vincent house for good.” I believed him. But I couldn’t leave yet. I hoisted Ivy onto my back and began the long, staggering walk to the hospital. Dad drove slowly behind me, the car barely moving faster than my pace. He constantly yelled, “Eliza, hold her steady! If you drop my precious girl, I’ll flay you alive!” Mom complained with a frown. “Walk faster! Are you starved? Don’t you dare delay my baby’s recovery.” Ivy, clinging to my back, laughed smugly. “See? No one in this house loves you! You’re a stray dog no one wants.” That kind of cruelty used to cut me deep. Now, perhaps from an accumulation of too much pain, I was numb. Unresponsive. Seeing my lack of reaction, Ivy fell silent. But as we neared the hospital, the safety pin she’d concealed in her pocket was suddenly driven hard into my back. I gasped, stumbled, and collapsed to the asphalt. My parents immediately stopped the car, rushing to scoop Ivy off me and race toward the hospital entrance. Mom paused, looking back at my ashen face. She said with sharp impatience, “You’re at the hospital now. Go find a doctor yourself. We don’t have time for you.” I never made it inside the hospital. I had no money. Too exhausted to walk back, I sat on the hospital steps until nightfall, then slowly made my way back to the villa. They were already home. Standing in the living room were a nervous, slovenly-looking middle-aged man and woman. “Perfect timing,” Richard announced, pointing to the couple. “These are your biological parents. You’ll be leaving with them now.” The air was deadly silent. Victoria came over and took my hand, but her eyes wouldn’t meet mine. “Eliza, we shared a relationship as mother and daughter for a time, and I am truly saddened. But since your real parents have been found, there’s no reason for you to stay with the Vincents.” I had thought I was beyond crying. Yet, tears streamed down my face. These were the parents I had cherished for over a decade. They wouldn’t even allow me to stay in the house, not even in a corner. My tears made Mom look away, guilt creeping into her expression. She reached out to wipe my face, but Ivy grabbed her arm. “Congratulations, Sister,” Ivy chimed in. “You’re finally not a fatherless, motherless stray anymore.” The middle-aged woman, introduced as my birth mother, Brenda Reyes, grabbed my hand. Her filthy, black fingernails dug into my skin as she wailed dramatically. “My daughter! Mommy has finally found you! Come home with me now!” The man, Vicente Ramos, claiming to be my birth father, started dragging me toward the door. “Yes, yes, hurry home. You’ve inconvenienced the Vincents and the Madam for too many years. Don’t be a leech.” “Wait,” Ivy said, her eyes twinkling as she spoke. “Sister, finding your real parents is a huge deal. Shouldn’t you kneel and perform the kowtow to acknowledge them? Or are you too ashamed of how poor they are?” I froze and turned back to my parents. “Do you think I should kowtow to them?” 4 They both instinctively avoided my gaze. Ivy kept urging me. “Hurry up and kneel. We’re all watching.” I smiled. Something inside me, in that moment, completely shattered. I knelt down, but I faced my parents and knocked my head hard against the floor. “The parent-child relationship ends here. From this day forward, I have no ties to the Vincent family.” Mom and Dad exchanged a look, a flicker of unease passing between them. I stood up and left with my ‘birth parents.’ Victoria chased after me, her voice thin and desperate. “It’s not settled! Not until… not until you pay back all the money we spent on you over the years!” I stopped but didn’t turn around. I simply replied, “Fine.” They thought they had spent a fortune on me. But they had forgotten the reality. The daughter who was showered with love and money was Ivy. Me? I had a monthly allowance of only three hundred dollars. Which Ivy, with her monthly thirty-thousand-dollar allowance, still found ways to exploit. If I refused, she would go home and cry, claiming I ganged up with classmates to isolate and bully her at school. I was locked in my room countless times without food. Once, on a stormy night, because Ivy cried that I was driving her to the brink, I was left outside to soak in the rain. I developed a 104-degree fever, and no one checked on me. It had always been like this. Ivy’s word decided my guilt, my happiness, my daily life, and my dignity. My explanations, my tears, my grievances—they were worthless in that house. Just like me. I was cheap. That night, I was taken to my ‘birth parents’ squalid slum apartment. Since there was no extra room or bedding, I was forced to curl up on the floor of the sole bathroom for the night. The window, crudely patched with newspaper, let in a relentless draft. The next day, I woke up with a pounding fever. In a daze, I heard the woman’s anxious phone call. “Mr. Vincent, Mrs. Vincent, the young… the girl has a fever. It’s a hundred and four degrees.” “Then what are you waiting for? Take her to the hospital!” The phone was on speaker, and Ivy’s voice came through clearly. “Mommy, Daddy, Sister just left last night and now she has a fever? What a coincidence! It’s a trick, a pathetic attempt to test you. If you believe her, you’ll be the fools.” After a long silence, Richard’s cold voice returned. “Ignore her. She said she has no relationship with us anymore. Let that ingrate learn a lesson.” Victoria’s voice was full of irritation. “She’s your daughter now. Stop calling us. We’re busy planning our globe-trotting trip with our precious Ivy. Goodbye.” No one came for me. I was abandoned in the forgotten rental. I fought through the haze to force the front door open. As I crawled out onto the stairwell, I finally gave up and passed out. When I finally woke up, there was only a nurse beside the bed. “You’re awake, little girl. Your temperature was 107.6. If a kind passerby hadn’t brought you here, another ten minutes and you would have been in real danger.” “Now, please contact a family member to come and pay the bill.” I was silent for a long moment, then spoke in a faint voice. “I have no money, and no family.” The nurse looked stunned. I stared at the IV drip in my arm and licked my dry lips. “But… I have blood.” When the new school year began, I was a senior. I started running errands for classmates—getting meals, delivering packages. A dollar per trip. I could save about twenty dollars a day. 5 I had just picked up a meal when I ran into Ivy in the hallway outside the cafeteria. She merely crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. Her entourage of hangers-on instantly grabbed my meal tray and smashed it. Food mixed with muddy water spilled everywhere. “Oh, Sister, you look so pathetic. Let me buy you lunch.” They forced my head down, trying to make me eat the food they’d trampled on. Ms. Chen, my homeroom teacher, happened to pass by and angrily chased them off. She helped me up and wiped my face. She had heard rumors about the birthday party and knew I was struggling financially. Without asking for details, she offered me a tutoring job—weekend afternoons only—with the strict condition that it wouldn’t impact my grades. I thanked her repeatedly. But I never imagined that because of her single act of kindness, Ms. Chen would be reported and fired for allegedly taking bribes from a student’s parents. And I, meanwhile, was plastered on the school bulletin board. A photo of a student’s parent dropping me off for tutoring was captioned with the accusation that I was being kept by an older man. My ‘birth mother,’ Brenda Reyes, rushed to the school and slapped me twice without a word. She viciously grabbed my hair, pinching and twisting. “You little tramp! How old are you? You’re already flashing yourself for men! You might be shameless, but I’m not!” My head whipped to the side. In my peripheral vision, I saw my parents standing with the school administrators, looking at me with undisguised contempt. Behind them, Ivy’s face was split with a triumphant grin. My hair fell forward, hiding my line of sight and the tears I couldn’t stop. I lowered my head and said flatly, “I’m sorry. I know I was wrong.” That night, just after I’d showered, a large hand yanked me violently into the room. My ‘birth father,’ Vicente Ramos, stood shirtless, his eyes bloodshot, lunging at me. “If you’re going to give it away to some man outside, you might as well give it to me.” The utility knife I had hidden in my sleeve slashed across his face. He recoiled two steps, panting like a starved beast. “I’m still a student. Get out, unless you want to spend the rest of your life in prison!” Living in the slums, I hadn’t been without preparation. Vicente spat, wiped the blood from his cheek, and bared his yellowed teeth in a grin. “You wait, you little bitch. Your real parents sold you to me. I’ll get what I’m owed eventually.” The door slammed shut. I slid weakly to the floor, trembling violently. Tears gushed out. I bit down hard on the back of my hand to stifle my sobs. My phone chimed. A message popped up in the family group chat. Victoria: “Eliza Vincent, you’re self-degrading at such a young age. After being a mother to someone as dirty and self-shaming as you for over a decade, the thought of it makes me sick.” The next second, Richard removed me from the group. Victoria stared at the remaining three people in the chat, a sense of inexplicable dread washing over her. “Honey, are we being too harsh? Didn’t we check? She was just tutoring.” Richard huffed. “If she hadn’t forced Ivy to eat the food off the ground, Ivy wouldn’t have cried until her eyes were swollen. Removing her from the group was the only thing Ivy asked for. It’s letting her off easy.” After a moment, he softened his tone. “It’s only a year. I’ve already transferred enough money to Vicente Ramos. Eliza won’t be suffering. When the time is up, we’ll bring her right back.” A year later. On the day of mine and Ivy’s birthday. My parents left the house early. Richard drove fast. “Do you have the correct DNA test results?” Victoria nodded rapidly. “Yes, I do. We haven’t seen Eliza in a year. When she comes back, we have to make it up to her.” 6 Richard smiled. “Of course. I’ve already finalized the company shares. Ivy is too frivolous for responsibility, but Eliza, after this ordeal, will have matured and won’t bully her sister anymore. I’ll announce her as the heir at the party.” The two rushed out of the car, navigating the dirty, cluttered alleyways straight to Vicente Ramos’s door. They knocked repeatedly, but no one answered. Finally, an older woman from next door poked her head out. “Stop knocking. Vicente Ramos was locked up a year ago. Tried to rape the girl he brought back.”

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Just because the guy my college roommate had a crush on gave me a love letter, she spread rumors that I was a high-end escort and had gotten three abortions. The entire school believed it. Some pointed fingers, some isolated me, and others even blocked me at the classroom door, asking how much I charged for a night. I silently endured the humiliation and verbal abuse for four years. Twenty years later, I sat as the lead interviewer for a top-secret government agency. The candidate who had scored highest on the written exam walked in for her interview. I opened her background check file. When I saw the name listed under “Mother,” I smiled. Closing the file, I said flatly: “You are disqualified.” 1 My name is Sarah Miller, and I was the only person from my small farming town to ever go to college. The day the acceptance letter arrived, the whole town threw a celebration for me that lasted all day. At the banquet, my dad, who couldn’t hold his liquor well, drank until his face was beet red. With bleary eyes, he kept slurring, “My family… we finally have a college student.” “My girl really did me proud!” My dad had worked himself to the bone his entire life, head bowed to the earth. That was the first time I ever saw him hold his head high, his eyes shining with pride. On enrollment day, my dad sold the only valuable thing we owned—our pig—to scrape together my tuition. My mom went around to all the neighbors, borrowing a few dollars here and there, until she had five hundred dollars. She pressed it into my hand. With red eyes, she told me: “Study hard at school, get along with your classmates, and become an educated, successful person.” “Don’t end up like me and your dad, suffering your whole life because you don’t have an education.” Looking at my mom’s calloused hands and my dad’s graying hair, I nodded firmly. I silently swore to myself that I would work as hard as I could to give my parents a better life. And so, lugging heavy duffel bags, I took a 24-hour Greyhound train and stepped onto the university campus. The school was grand. The majestic gates and towering buildings made my head spin. Following the school’s assignment, I dragged my bags to my dorm room. My three roommates had arrived early. The three girls, who had been laughing and chatting, froze the moment I walked in. Three pairs of eyes simultaneously looked me up and down. They were wearing cute, trendy skirts, while I was wearing my washed-out, faded high school uniform. My shoes even had patches on them. Their stares made my cheeks burn. After double-checking that I hadn’t walked into the wrong room, I muttered: “Hi, I’m your new roommate, Sarah Miller.” That was the first time I met Chloe Vance. She glanced at me and scoffed: “What a country bumpkin.” 2 That one phrase, “country bumpkin,” made me want to sink into the floor. What felt even more helpless was that I couldn’t argue with her. I later learned that Chloe and the other two were all locals from wealthy families. Especially Chloe. She wore a different outfit every day and always smelled like expensive perfume. She looked down on me. And because she did, the other two roommates joined in to ostracize me. They put a bottle of rubbing alcohol by the door and demanded I sanitize myself from head to toe every time I came in. They explicitly forbade me from using the dorm bathroom. I wasn’t even allowed to hang my washed clothes on the balcony with theirs. In their eyes, I was basically walking garbage. Even looking at me made them feel dirty. To avoid being a nuisance, I complied with all their rules. I also tried to avoid running into them as much as possible. I would go to the library before dawn to claim a seat and wouldn’t return until right before lights out. Just when I thought I could quietly get through college like this… Liam Davis’s love letter dealt me a fatal blow. When Chloe found out that Liam, the guy she had a massive crush on, liked me, she was consumed by hatred. She warned me: “Sarah, I’ll make sure you know what happens when you try to steal my man!” I don’t know how she did it. But overnight, the way everyone looked at me changed. Everywhere I went, people pointed and whispered: “Look, that’s her. The escort. Heard she’s had three abortions.” “She looks so innocent, who knew she was such a slut?” “I noticed she never even buys meat at the dining hall. Her family must be dirt poor for her to stoop that low.” “Even if you’re poor, you can’t just throw away your dignity like that. It’s embarrassing.” In the classroom, someone taped the words “Whore’s Seat” to my desk. In the library, people would spray the chair I just vacated with alcohol multiple times, then put down paper towels before sitting. Even the cafeteria ladies looked at me with disgust, intentionally shaking the ladle to only give me watery broth when serving my food. Guys would block the classroom door and ask me how much I charged for a night. Even Liam Davis specifically sought me out to demand his love letter back, looking at me with pure revulsion as he said: “You’re disgusting.” 3 I tried to explain to everyone, but no one believed me. Because Chloe came from a rich family and was in the student council, she was very popular on campus. Her words carried much more weight than mine. I couldn’t fight her. After agonizing over it, I spent all my remaining living expenses to buy a lipstick she frequently used and sought her out, practically begging: “Chloe, this lipstick is for you.” “Could you please explain to everyone that those rumors aren’t true?” “I never did any of those things.” Chloe glanced dismissively at the lipstick I held out to her and scoffed: “I can’t control what comes out of other people’s mouths, can I?” “A piece of trash thinks she can bribe me?” I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and pleaded with her again: “Chloe, I’m begging you. I really have nothing going on with Liam, and I promise I’ll never interact with him again. Just please, stop spreading those rumors.” “I just want to study in peace.” I knew she was the one spreading the rumors; she definitely had a way to stop them. I threw away my dignity, just hoping she would let me off the hook. But she looked down at me from her high horse and said coldly: “Sarah, a bumpkin like you who doesn’t know her place belongs rotting in the mud for the rest of her life!” Not only did Chloe refuse to help me clear the rumors, but she also fueled the fire. People started saying that I had tried to bribe Chloe to lie and cover up my escort business. The relentless rumors severely impacted my life and studies. Desperate to study in peace, I went to my academic advisor, begging her to give me justice. But after hearing the whole story, she sighed helplessly: “Sarah, I’ve heard quite a bit about these rumors myself.” “But where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” “You need to reflect on yourself. Have you been acting inappropriately, or done something to cause a misunderstanding?” “Otherwise, why would everyone be saying these things about you?” The advisor’s words were like a sharp blade plunging deep into my heart. They completely crushed the last sliver of hope I had. That was the moment I realized. There was no such thing as fairness in this world. Because I was poor, my words had no credibility. Because I was poor, I deserved to be nailed to the pillar of shame. Because I was poor, even the teacher who was supposed to uphold justice defaulted to victim-blaming. 4 The hostility from my classmates, the apathy from my teachers. It made me lose all hope in the university. I didn’t understand. I just wanted to get an education. Why was it so hard? Why was I subjected to these baseless accusations? Why was everyone targeting me? Why did I have to live like a rat crossing the street, pointed at and cursed wherever I went? I was so tired. I didn’t want to live another day in this sunless hell. I thought about it for an entire night. Finally, I decided to drop out. But just as I packed my bags and prepared to leave campus, my mom called: “Sarah, your uncle’s son works at a restaurant near your school. He came back to town and told everyone what’s going on with you.” “It’s all over town now. Everyone is saying you’re doing shameful things out there for money.” Realizing the rumors had reached our small town, I panicked: “Mom, I didn’t do those things. My classmates made it all up.” My mom sighed. “Of course I believe you’re not that kind of girl.” “Sarah, your dad and I are just worried sick about you.” “You must be suffering so much at school, right?” “How about your dad and I come to the school? We don’t care if we lose face. We’ll get on our knees and beg your classmates to stop targeting you.” “You worked so hard to get into college! You can’t just throw away this chance to change your destiny!” Hearing my mom’s words, my nose stung, and tears immediately started streaming down my face. She was right. I had worked so hard to get here. How could I give up so easily? I had sworn to myself that I would study hard and give my parents a better life! In that moment, I almost hated myself. How could I be so fragile? How could I let one rumor from Chloe make me forget where I came from? The rumors were terrifying, yes, but my parents were still back home, waiting for me to make something of myself! I wiped my tears and spoke solemnly to my mom: “Mom, I’m fine. You and Dad just take care of yourselves back home. I’ll handle things at school.” After hanging up, my mindset underwent a seismic shift. My current situation was difficult, but I couldn’t give up. I carried the weight of my parents’ expectations, the culmination of their lifelong sacrifices. I absolutely had to give them a better life. I could not fall. The only reason I was being bullied and suppressed by everyone was because I was poor and weak, right? If that was the case, why couldn’t I find a way to become strong? Education was my only chance to change my destiny. I couldn’t give it up. Armed with this conviction, I ignored everything else and threw myself into my studies, burying myself in textbooks. I knew that only absolute power could prevent me from being trampled underfoot and slaughtered at will. For four whole years. I endured all the accusations, mockery, and verbal abuse. I survived night after night of burning the midnight oil. In the end, I graduated at the absolute top of my class. And that brings us to today. I sat in the lead interviewer’s seat for a top-secret government agency. There were four interviewers in total, but I possessed the ultimate veto power. Today was the final round of interviews. The door opened, and a young woman walked in slowly. “Hello, everyone. My name is Mia Davis.” The candidates’ files had already been distributed to the interviewers. Hearing the name Mia, the other interviewers gasped in admiration: “Are you the prodigy who got early admission to Harvard at fourteen, Mia?” “I heard you also got the highest score on the written exam?” Mia nodded politely and formally began her interview. Throughout the process, no matter how difficult the questions were, she answered them flawlessly. Her demeanor was poised and professional, practically perfect. The other interviewers were incredibly impressed. Before the interview even ended, they were already extending olive branches, fighting to recruit her to their respective teams. But I just stared at the name listed under “Mother” in her background file, completely stunned. I never expected that Chloe Vance—the woman who bullied me for four years and subjected me to endless humiliation—could raise such an exceptional daughter. 5 Mia truly was exceptional. To have such incredible talent and ability at such a young age… even in a top-secret agency filled with brilliant minds, she was a rarity. I was genuinely curious. Given Chloe’s character, how did she manage to raise someone as outstanding as Mia? In disbelief, I flipped to the next page and saw the name listed under “Father”: Liam Davis. The very spark that ignited my nightmare of bullying. Even now, I remembered the boy in the crisp white shirt, the slight flush on his ears, and the hopeful look in his eyes when he handed me that love letter. And I remembered the look of pure disgust when he snatched it back, saying, “You’re disgusting.” After that day, Liam never sought me out again. Whenever we passed each other, he would instinctively frown and give me a wide berth. As if he were terrified of catching something filthy. It seemed Chloe had ultimately gotten her wish and ended up with Liam. And they had produced such an exceptional daughter. Noticing that I had been flipping through Mia’s file in silence for a while, the other interviewers exchanged knowing smiles: “It looks like Director Miller is determined to get Mia. She’s reading the file so carefully.” “Of course. Director Miller has always had a sharp eye. If someone isn’t top-tier talent, she wouldn’t even look twice.” “Mia, you’re in luck. Director Miller definitely wants you on her team.” “With Director Miller as your mentor, your future is absolutely limitless.” Hearing the interviewers’ comments, Mia beamed with a confident, victorious smile: “The reason I wanted to join this agency was because I deeply admire Director Miller.” “I want to work under Director Miller.” The other interviewers chuckled and teased: “Ah, my team really needs a brilliant young mind to lead the charge. I really wanted Mia for my group.” “Me too! Seeing such an outstanding junior, I’m totally jealous.” “Director Miller, it seems the feeling is mutual between you and Mia. We might as well congratulate you now.” “You really found a gem this time.” All eyes turned to me, everyone utterly convinced that I would gladly accept this seemingly perfect young prodigy. Mia also looked at me with eager anticipation, waiting for me to nod and welcome her aboard. But I slowly closed the file, looked up, and met Mia’s gaze with calm eyes. I said flatly: “You are disqualified.” 6 My verdict left everyone stunned. Mia’s confident smile instantly froze, replaced by sheer disbelief. The interviewers exchanged bewildered looks, as if they had just heard something absurd, shock evident on their faces. A second later, they assumed I was joking and laughed: “Director Miller, stop joking around. How could you possibly reject a candidate as excellent as Mia?” “Yeah, did you get too excited and say the wrong thing?” “Don’t scare the poor girl.” I looked at them and said seriously: “I didn’t misspeak.” “She is disqualified.” “After a comprehensive evaluation, I have determined she cannot join the agency.” Mia stared at me, her face pale, and asked in confusion: “Why?” “Is it because I’m not good enough?” I shook my head: “You are very good.” “You are the most outstanding candidate I’ve seen in all my years here.” Mia asked again: “Was there a problem with my performance?” I answered truthfully again: “Your performance was excellent, absolutely flawless.” Hearing this, the interviewers were even more baffled: “Then why?” “Director Miller, you can’t just waste talent like this.” “Yeah, if you don’t want her on your team, we’d be more than happy to take her.” “Exactly! Mia’s abilities are obvious to everyone. How can we reject someone this talented?” “Losing talent like this would be a massive loss for the agency.” Their voices grew noticeably more agitated. Every face displayed a clear hunger for her talent. But unfortunately, I was the lead interviewer today. I held the absolute veto power. If I said Mia couldn’t join, then no matter how brilliant she was, she would have no place in this agency. Seeing my unwavering resolve, a trace of bewildered anger appeared on Mia’s face: “Director Miller, if there were no issues with my performance in any area, then what is your reason for rejecting me?” The other interviewers chimed in, finding it hard to accept: “She’s right, Director Miller. Mia’s personal skills and psychological evaluations were top-notch, and her professional abilities are outstanding. If you’re going to reject someone this good, you have to give a reason.” “Even if you have veto power, you need to explain it to everyone.” “This concerns the agency’s future talent pool. It’s not a game.” Everyone stared at me intently, waiting for the reason. Meeting their gazes, I looked at Mia and said calmly: “For that answer, you should go home and ask your mother.” At that, Mia’s confident posture clearly trembled. A second later, her voice shook: “I don’t understand.” “Director Miller, what does this have to do with my mother?” “This is my interview. You should be evaluating my personal abilities and character.” Her voice rose higher and higher, taking on an almost interrogative tone. The atmosphere in the conference room became incredibly tense. I didn’t answer her immediately. Instead, I stood up, walked to the door, opened it, and spoke clearly, enunciating every word: “Some answers are better delivered by her personally.” “Mia, your interview is over.” “Please leave.”

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As I was adjusting the flow rate on a patient’s IV drip again, I noticed she was scrolling through TikTok. The video playing on her screen showed the very IV bag currently hanging above her. The caption read: “The nurse is all dolled up. She probably has a hot date tonight.” “So I purposely turned the IV drip down to the slowest setting. Slow and steady. I’m in no rush.” “Hahaha, looks like she won’t be making that date after all.” 1 While I was hooking up her IV, the patient suddenly asked: “Hey sweetie, how old are you?” I glanced at her. She looked to be in her late thirties or early forties, with a deep tan and high cheekbones. She was wearing a red dress with lace trimming that had frayed beyond recognition. I smiled politely. “Twenty-three.” “So young,” she said, looking me up and down. “Got a boyfriend?” Working in a hospital, I deal with a lot of patients every day. Many of the older ones love to chat to pass the time. I was used to it, so I replied: “Not yet.” The patient stared at me for a moment before suddenly giggling. “Well, look at you, wearing a full face of makeup to work. You’re pretty good at it, too. All dressed up—got a hot date later?” I wear makeup to work because it makes me look and feel more awake and professional. I like how it looks. But for some reason, the tone of this patient’s voice rubbed me the wrong way. It felt subtle, but off. “No.” I didn’t want to explain further and focused on inserting the needle carefully. “You’re in for pneumonia, right? You have three bags total. When this one is empty, hit the call button and I’ll come swap it out.” I specifically warned her: “Do not mess with the flow rate dial. If you see a little blood backing up into the tube, that’s normal, don’t panic. If anything hurts, use the call button.” “Oh, okay, okay, got it. Go ahead and get back to work.” She kept that smiling face, making me wonder if I had just imagined the uncomfortable vibe she gave off. The night shift was brutal, so I quickly forgot about the exchange and went to change IV bags for other patients. After finishing my rounds, I finally had a second to breathe. I found a chair at the nurse’s station and massaged my legs, which ached from standing so long. Thinking about having tomorrow off, I couldn’t help but smile. Just as I was wondering if I should text a friend to hang out, my call bell rang. It was the woman in the red dress. “What’s wrong?” I asked, walking over. “I don’t feel good. Ugh, I feel sick.” Startled, I immediately checked her chart and the IV bag. “Are you absolutely sure you’re not allergic to penicillin?” She nodded. “I’m not allergic. I’ve had it before.” The medication was correct, and there were no allergies. Concerned, I asked: “Where exactly does it hurt? Can you describe how you feel sick?” “I just don’t feel good,” she frowned. “I don’t know how to explain it. Oh, wait, I think I’m fine now. It stopped.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Just as I turned to leave, I noticed the drip chamber. It took forever for a single drop of medication to fall. The flow rate had been dialed down to the absolute minimum. I frowned. “Did you touch the dial?” “Yeah, why? It was going too fast, it made me feel sick.” I looked down at the patient, exasperated. “There are strict protocols for IV flow rates. You cannot adjust it yourself. If you feel uncomfortable, you need to tell me.” I reached out and adjusted the dial back to the standard rate. Remembering she said she felt sick, I tweaked it to be slightly slower than standard. “I’ve slowed it down for you,” I warned her again. “Do not touch the dial. If you need something, ring the bell.” “Okay, okay. Sorry for being a bother, my bad.” 2 Her attitude seemed fine, but she was incredibly needy. Every time I sat down to catch my breath, her call bell would ring. “Hey sweetie, do you guys have any portable chargers? My phone is dead.” “No, the hospital doesn’t provide portable chargers, but there’s an outlet over there,” I offered helpfully. “If your phone is dead, I can plug it in for you.” “Nah, never mind. Thanks anyway.” Not long after, the bell rang again! I dragged myself up and walked over. “What’s wrong?” “Sweetie, this IV fluid is so cold. It’s making my whole arm freeze. It’s really uncomfortable.” I thought for a second. “I can get you a warm compress to put over your arm.” “Forget it, it’s fine. Sorry to bother you again.” “It’s no problem,” I waved it off. But the second I sat back down, she rang the bell again! Resigned to my fate, I went over. “Ma’am, what’s wrong now?” The woman had a huge grin on her face. She pointed toward the nurse’s station. “Sweetie, are you sure you don’t have a date later? I saw you smiling over there a minute ago.” I had been running around all night, and the only reason I smiled was because I remembered I had tomorrow off! Irritation flared in my chest, but I kept my voice professional. “I don’t have a date. Please only use the call button if you need medical assistance.” “Okay, okay, sorry. I was just curious.” The woman’s smile didn’t waver. “I was just thinking, a pretty girl like you, how could you not have a boyfriend?” “You must have guys lining up, right? Look at your skin, so pale, big eyes, and your makeup looks so good.” She scrutinized my face. “Your makeup is really detailed. That must take an hour or two, right? What time do you have to wake up in the morning?” I was completely annoyed. But looking at her, sitting in the hospital alone late at night with no one to keep her company… it was kind of sad. Maybe she was just lonely and wanted someone to talk to. “It doesn’t take that long. Just five or ten minutes.” I was about to politely tell her to stop ringing the bell for no reason, when I realized an hour had passed. Her first bag should have been empty by now. I looked up. The IV bag was still more than half full. It was barely dripping. She had turned the dial down again! This time, I was genuinely angry. “Didn’t I tell you not to touch the flow rate? You have three bags. At this speed, you’ll be here all night and still won’t finish. “I already slowed it down for you earlier. Stop touching it!” As I spoke, I reached up to fix the dial. My intention was to prevent her from being stuck here forever. The hospital chairs are cold and uncomfortable. It’s better to finish the treatment and go home to sleep. But to my disbelief, the woman kept that same giggly smirk. “Oh my, am I going too slow? Is it going to make you late for your date? I’m so sorry!” I was furious. I didn’t want to say another word to her. I fixed the dial and stormed back to my desk. Thankfully, she didn’t ring the bell again after that. I let out a sigh of relief, did a round of the room, and went to the back room to prep medications. Just as I finished, the Charge Nurse came in for her rounds. She walked through the IV room. “Any issues tonight?” “No,” I shook my head. “Everyone is hooked up, and I’ve double-checked all the meds. Everything is fine.” “Good.” The Charge Nurse checked my charts. “Out of all the new hires, you’re the most detail-oriented. Good job.” She turned to leave, but the call bell rang again! I looked toward the sound, and my vision practically went dark. It was the woman in the red dress again! This time, the other patients were getting annoyed. A guy trying to sleep in the chair next to her ripped his jacket off his head and snapped: “Are you ever going to stop?! How many times have you hit that bell tonight? If you need something, say it all at once! Are you trying to keep everyone awake?!” The woman shrank back a little and mumbled, “I feel sick. Am I not allowed to say I feel sick?” The Charge Nurse walked over. “What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?” She checked the IV bag. “The medication is fine—wait, why is the flow rate so slow?” “It was going too fast, it made me sick.” The woman shot me a look. “That nurse keeps turning it up. I must be making her late for her date.” “Hehehe,” she snickered. “Young people have such active nightlife, right? A pretty girl like her must have lots of guys after her. I understand she wants to get to her dates. I guess I’ll just have to deal with it going fast so I don’t keep her here.” I was so angry I saw stars. I raised my voice: “I did not turn it up! I set it to the standard rate! And I even slowed it down slightly for you earlier. If you feel sick, tell me. I do not have a date. Stop making things up!” The guy next to her chimed in: “The nurse has been over here like five times already. You said you felt sick, she slowed it down. What the hell is your problem? Why do you keep messing with her?” “Who am I messing with?!” the woman played the victim. “I feel sick, am I not allowed to complain?! “You’re only taking her side because she’s young and pretty! You trying to hit on her or something?!” The guy rolled his eyes. “You’re psychotic.” The Charge Nurse spoke sternly: “This flow rate is way too slow. You still have two bags left. If you keep it like this, you won’t finish by morning. Don’t you want to go home?” “Exactly what is hurting? Do you want me to swap out the medication?” “No, no, it’s fine,” the woman waved her hands frantically. “Maybe she just didn’t put the needle in right. I asked her, she’s only 23. She’s right out of nursing school, right?” “She’s an intern, right? Oh, you know, these young college girls don’t have any experience. It’s normal to mess up an IV. It’s fine, I’m not picky. I totally understand.” I know for a fact my IV placement was perfect! It’s a basic IV line! I practiced constantly, not to mention the hundreds of patients I’ve treated here. I have never blown a vein! I suppressed my rage. “You say the needle isn’t in right. What exactly is wrong with it?” “Oh, how should I know? I’m not a professional. It just hurts. Look, there’s blood backing up.” She pointed to the back of her hand. The IV tubing was completely clear. There wasn’t a single drop of blood. “Where?” I asked flatly. “There was some a second ago. Maybe it went away.” The woman shrank back. “Don’t get mad, sweetie. I won’t say anything next time. I just don’t know medical stuff, so I get scared. I didn’t mean anything by it.” The Charge Nurse inspected her hand closely: “The IV is perfectly placed. There’s no blood backing up. And even if there was, a little backflow is completely normal. Don’t worry about it.” “Oh,” the woman chuckled awkwardly. “I guess I saw it wrong. I feel much better now. You can adjust the dial. Everything’s fine.” The Charge Nurse adjusted the flow rate. “Our nurses are very responsible. Their shifts end at a specific time; they do not leave early. You don’t have to worry about that. If you have a real problem, tell a nurse immediately.” “Hehehe.” The woman offered a fake laugh. …… When her first bag finally emptied, I went over with a blank expression to hang the second one. The woman’s cheeks bunched up in a huge, fake smile. “Sorry about that, sweetie. It’s my first time coming to the hospital alone, I was just a little scared. Don’t take it personally.” I took a deep breath. “If you have an issue, let me know, and I will check it. I am not leaving early for a date. Even when my shift ends, another nurse will take over. There are staff here 24/7. You do not need to worry about any of that.” “Okay, okay, okay. You go back to work. So sorry! I’m totally fine now.” This kind of stuff happens all the time in hospitals. I couldn’t stay mad forever, so I quickly moved on to prep meds for the next patient. When I finally finished and walked back past the woman, her back was to me, and she was on her phone. I caught a glimpse of her screen out of the corner of my eye and froze. She was posting a TikTok. The video was a close-up of the IV bag I had just hung. The caption read: “The nurse is all dolled up. She probably has a hot date tonight. So I purposely turned the IV drip down to the slowest setting. Slow and steady. I’m in no rush. Hahaha, looks like she won’t be making that date after all.” I looked up at her IV. My ears started ringing. She had dialed the flow rate down to zero again! 3 In my time working here, I’ve seen plenty of weirdos. But I have never met someone this infuriating. Pure malicious stupidity. I didn’t want to fight with her. Arguing was pointless and could get me reported. The woman shifted, noticing me standing there. She panicked, quickly locking her phone screen and giving me a tight smile. I walked past her with a completely blank face. I had tried to keep the flow rate steady so she wouldn’t have to suffer in an uncomfortable chair all night. I never imagined there were people in the world capable of holding such bizarre, unprovoked hostility toward a total stranger. People with no real power, and apparently no intelligence, who go out of their way to make life difficult for others just because they can. She probably didn’t realize we work in shifts. I was handing over my section to my coworker in exactly thirty minutes. If her time was that worthless, she could sit here and rot all night for all I cared. …… Thirty minutes later, my coworker arrived to take over. “Crazy night, huh? Go home and get some rest. If you leave now, you can still catch a late dinner.” She smiled at me. “It’s Valentine’s Day. No big plans?” It was Valentine’s Day? I checked my phone. It really was. I had been so busy working I completely forgot about the holiday. But right now, the word “date” was giving me PTSD. I waved my hands frantically. “No, no, no. I’m out of here. Have a good shift!” The female patient watched me pack up my bag, and her expression instantly changed! “You…” she stuttered. “You’re leaving?! I’m not done yet.” “Yep. What’s wrong?” I asked, flashing a bright, customer-service smile. “We work in shifts. Didn’t you know?” “I feel sick!” she blurted out. “I don’t feel good. You have to check my IV. I think something is wrong with it. Ugh.” She squeezed her eyes shut, pretending to be in pain. I kept smiling. “I’m so sorry, my shift is over. But my coworker is right here.” “If you need anything, tell her. She’s taking the first half of the night, and another nurse will relieve her later. There’s no rush.” “Slow. And. Steady.” The woman’s face contorted into something incredibly ugly. She forced out a twisted smile. “Oh, is that so? “Wow, your job is so easy! You only work for a few hours a day?” “It’s not bad,” I beamed. “So please, please don’t worry about keeping me late. “Even if you sit here for the rest of the week, it won’t delay my schedule by a single second. Don’t worry about me. When I clock out, my time is my own. You couldn’t delay me if you tried.” The woman’s face turned black as thunder. Her hands clenched into fists on her lap. The guy sitting next to her burst out laughing. He didn’t even try to hide it as he said loudly: “What an idiot.” I couldn’t be bothered with her anymore. I turned and walked past her. Through the glass doors of the lobby, I could see her staring daggers into my back. Her face was ashen, her expression pure poison. 4 I had barely reached the parking garage when I got a text from another coworker. It was a TikTok link. “I just saw this on my local FYP. Is this you?!” I clicked on the link and nearly died of pure rage! The woman had posted another video, and this time, my face was clearly visible! The caption: “Being a nurse must be so nice. You just put on a ton of makeup, don’t do any real work, clock out after a few hours, and go out on dates.” “Some people are just born lucky. Wish that was me.” I had let the first video slide because it only showed the IV bag. But this one had my face front and center! She had zoomed right in on me! Worse, the video had somehow hit the local “For You” page, and the comments were flooding in. “The nurse is gorgeous! Drop her IG!” The woman replied: “She’s already taken. I’m just trying to get my IV, but she turned it up to the max because she was mad I was making her late for her hookup. Guess I’ll just chug the medicine next time.” She added a giggling emoji. Some people in the comments defended me. “Nursing is a brutal job. They work insane hours and constantly do night shifts.” She replied instantly: “So brutal! Look how perfect her makeup is. Wonder what time she woke up to do that? And she still has energy for a date tonight. So busy! Haha.” The person fired back: “If it’s so easy, why don’t you do it?” “They only hire young, pretty girls. Nobody wants an old hag like me. Don’t know why hospitals need beauty queens anyway. Just makes the male patients stare. Sigh.” Someone else chimed in: “You should report her to the hospital!” She replied with a toothy grin emoji: “Nah, she’s definitely a nepo baby. Reporting her wouldn’t do anything.” Then, she sneakily replied to her own comment with a zoomed-in screenshot of my face. My hospital ID badge, showing my full name and employee number, was clearly visible. How could someone be this vile?! I saw red. I stomped all the way back up to the infusion room. The woman was furiously typing on her phone. When she saw me march in, the fake smile immediately plastered itself back onto her face. “Sweetie! Why are you back? Did you forget something?” My hands were clenched into fists. “What gives you the right to film me?! Do you have any idea you’re violating my right to privacy?! “And I never sped up your IV! I wasn’t rushing to leave for a date! What gives you the right to spread lies about me online?!” The woman played dumb. “I didn’t post anything! You must have the wrong person.” I shoved my phone screen right into her face. “This isn’t you?! I can see your other videos right here!” Her profile was filled with videos of her wearing cheap, revealing clothes, trying to look seductive in front of what looked like a rundown trailer. Or heavily filtered lip-syncing videos. But it was undeniably her. Seeing that I had hard proof, she shrank back slightly and gave a nervous laugh. “I was just playing around! It’s just a joke! Why are you taking it so seriously? “I just thought you were pretty, so I couldn’t help but take a video! It’s not a big deal!” She even reached out and tugged on my scrubs. “Come on, look how pretty you look. Who would believe you aren’t going on a date? Your boyfriend is a lucky guy, bagging a girl like you.” She turned to the guy next to her. “Right?” The guy ignored her completely. The woman looked awkward and shut her mouth. I slapped her hand away from my scrubs and enunciated every word: “I will say this one last time. I followed every single standard medical protocol while treating you. If you think I did something wrong, you can file a formal complaint with the hospital. But you cannot slander me on the internet.” She seemed surprised that I wasn’t backing down. She quickly pulled out her phone, that sickening smile still glued to her face. “Okay, okay, don’t get mad! I was just joking! If you don’t like it, I’ll delete it!” She said that, but she made no move to actually delete the video. “Fine. You won’t delete it?” I had lost all patience. “Then I’m calling the police. Filming and posting someone without their consent is a violation of privacy. I’m done talking to you. You can talk to the cops.” “It’s not that serious,” she waved me off dismissively. “Stop trying to scare me.” A younger girl sitting across the room spoke up: “She’s not scaring you. Fabricating facts to damage someone’s reputation and spreading them online… if a post gets over 5,000 views or 500 shares, it officially qualifies as criminal defamation.” She pointed at the woman’s phone. “You could be looking at up to three years in prison. And if you get a felony record, good luck to your kids or grandkids ever trying to get a government job or security clearance.” I looked at the girl gratefully. The woman blustered, trying to look tough. “Don’t try to scare me! How do I know you’re not just making that up to trick me?! I just posted a video, how is that going to send me to jail?!” But her face betrayed her panic. The girl smirked and pulled up a picture of her Bar Association card on her phone. “Ma’am, if you’re uneducated, try reading a book. Why would I trick you? What do you even have that I would want?” She looked at me. “Hey, if you decide to sue her, call me. I’ll give you a 20% discount on my hourly rate.” The mention of a lawsuit terrified the woman. Her fake smile melted into something greasy, desperate, and absolutely repulsive. She mumbled: “I was just making a joke. Why are you taking it so seriously? Young people these days are so sensitive. You can’t even say anything anymore.” Seeing my expression remain completely stony, she forced the smile wider. “Don’t be mad, sweetie! Don’t take it personally! “Is it really worth calling the cops and lawyers over something so small? I’m just an uneducated woman from a trailer park, I don’t know any better! I just filmed you because you’re so pretty!” “I swear I didn’t mean any harm! Ask anyone back home, everyone knows I’m a good person! If you don’t like it, I’ll just delete it!” With that, she finally opened TikTok and deleted the video right in front of me. “Are we good now?” She put on a wildly exaggerated expression of victimhood. “I’m just a hick from a small town. I don’t have a fancy education like you guys. I know you all look down on me and think I’m annoying.” An older woman sitting nearby rolled her eyes dramatically. “Stop giving small-town people a bad name. Being from a small town doesn’t give you an excuse to act like a complete psychopath.” The woman glared viciously at the older lady, but the older lady wasn’t having it. She stood up and pointed a finger right in her face. “What are you looking at? You wanna keep staring at me?” The woman quickly looked down at her lap, too scared to say a word. I gave her a cold warning: “I am going to monitor your account and every other platform. If I catch you posting my face or spreading rumors about me again, we will handle this at the police station.” The woman ground her teeth but didn’t dare talk back. I didn’t want to waste another second on her and turned to leave. I could still hear her muttering behind me: “Looking like that, how could she not be going on a date. Liar…”

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It was New Year’s Eve—my thirtieth birthday, actually—and I was struck three times by my own brother, Brad Davis. He stood over me, chest puffed out, spitting the words like venom. “This is my house, Jen. You don’t get to come in here and run your mouth like some outsider.” “You toxic waste of space. Get out, or I’ll hit you again!” He seemed to forget that this apartment was the one I’d bought for our mother’s retirement. He forgot his wife, Tiffany, was still wearing the gold bracelet I’d bought for Mom just last month. And he forgot his kids, Tyler and Jake, were still clutching the generous cash gifts I’d just handed them. I felt the burning sting on my face and looked around. Tiffany’s smile was a sneer, a cold, mocking noise escaping her lips. The two boys stared at me, eyes wide with antagonism. Carol, my mother, who had called me here tonight for my birthday, stood silently in the corner, her eyes red and averted, just as they always were. And I realized, with a sudden, bone-deep weariness, that I was done. … New Year’s Eve. My birthday. Mom had called me first thing that morning. “Jen, honey, it’s your birthday. Why don’t you stop by the nice bakery on Fifth and pick up a cake? We’ll have a lovely holiday dinner and celebrate you.” Tiffany’s brassy voice immediately chimed in on speaker. “Make sure you get one of those fancy gourmet cakes, the kids love the organic whipped cream! And make it a big one!” Mom quickly agreed. “Yes, yes, Jen, you heard Tiffany. A big, expensive one. And hurry up, don’t keep your brother waiting.” Then she hung up. I stared at the call record—less than a minute—and took a moment to just breathe before grabbing my coat and heading out. When I arrived with the cake, Brad answered the door. He glanced at the box in my hands and wrinkled his nose in disgust. “That’s it? Just a cake? Coming over to someone else’s house for a holiday dinner, you’d think you’d bring something decent.” I didn’t bother arguing. It was New Year’s Eve; I’d had to pull strings and pay a premium just to get this one. Tiffany backed him up. “Seriously. If not for us, at least think of your mother and your nephews. So cheap.” I noticed the thick gold bangle on her wrist. I’d bought it for Mom’s last birthday. Now it was Tiffany’s. A few years ago, I would have been furious, demanding an explanation. Now, there was just an unnerving calm. This was hardly the first time. Mom poked her head out from the kitchen, trying to smooth things over. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Jen can make it up next time.” Tiffany shot her an impatient look. “Keep an eye on that chicken stock, will you? You ruined it last time. Pay attention.” My mother flinched, mumbled a couple of “yes, dears,” and disappeared. I watched, a cold, sharp blade of mockery twisting in my gut. At the dinner table, the cake meant for my birthday celebration was devoured by Tyler and Jake before a single candle could be lit. Mom placed a spoonful of broccoli on my plate. “Tyler and Jake start private school next year, Jen. We thought, as their favorite aunt, maybe you’d like to… pitch in?” I pushed the broccoli aside. “I gave them cash earlier. That was their holiday gift.” Tiffany shrieked. “That was a New Year’s bonus! You can’t use that as school tuition! Don’t try to redefine the terms!” I finally looked up, meeting their eyes. “So, now you want me to pay for their entire private school education, too?” The table fell silent. All three of them stopped chewing. I paused, letting the quiet settle before delivering the final line. “I don’t have it. If you need money, maybe Brad could, you know, find a job next year.” CRASH. Brad kicked his chair back, sending it slamming into the wall, and his palm connected with my cheek. The force stunned me. Tiffany continued eating, placidly picking up a piece of turkey for Tyler as if nothing had happened. My mother started to rise, then froze. Brad’s voice was grating, full of spite. “Who the hell do you think you are, coming into my house and telling me what to do?” SMACK. Another stinging blow. He paused, glaring at me, the fury in his eyes raw. Unsatisfied, he raised his hand one last time and delivered the third slap. “I’m the one who takes care of Mom! Asking you for money is a favor! You think you’re some kind of saint? Ha! You’re toxic waste. Consider those three slaps your lesson.” Tiffany chimed in with her usual condescending tone. “He’s right, Jen. We’re doing this for your own good. You’re not married, you don’t have a family. When you’re old, you’ll rely on Tyler and Jake for care. You need to contribute now so they’ll feel like honoring you later.” Their voices were a duet of smug, superior condemnation. The brutal pain spread across my face. I could see my reflection in the polished wood of the dining table: red, swollen, ugly. Like a tomato left in the sun too long. I lifted my eyes and looked at my mother. She avoided my gaze. After a long moment, she looked back, a flicker of resentment in her expression. “Jen, this is your brother’s home. Why do you always have to be so difficult? You see what you’ve done, ruining the holiday for everyone. Are you happy now?” I managed a faint, bitter smile, stood, and walked toward the front door. Behind me, Brad was still yelling, his voice laced with indignation. “Let her run! That useless bitch! If she ever shows her face in my house again, I’ll hit her harder!” I closed the door, and the ringing curses were instantly cut off. His house? I had bought this apartment for Mom’s retirement, and when they moved in, I hadn’t raised a complaint. They’d successfully squatted. But what they didn’t know was that the name on the deed, the original title to this day, was mine. The cold air hit me, harsh and biting. I wrapped my coat tighter and began the long walk back to my own apartment. It wasn’t far. Years ago, right after Brad got married, Mom had come to me, crying, saying Tiffany couldn’t stand her and didn’t want her living with them in their cramped rental. I knew Brad was essentially unemployed, living off Mom’s social security. I felt bad for her. “Why don’t you just move in with me, Mom?” I’d offered. “I’ll give you three thousand a month, and all you have to do is cook for me occasionally.” I had an extra bedroom already waiting. But Brad had refused, yelling that I was only after Mom’s pension, forbidding her to live with me. I hadn’t pushed it then, but now, after all this, I thought she might agree. Instead, she hemmed and hawed before finally shaking her head. “You’re a young woman, Jen. It wouldn’t be convenient for me to live with you. Why don’t you buy me my own place? A nice two-bedroom. Then I’ll be set for life, and my heart will be at peace.” I was stunned. Before I could respond, she started crying again. “Jen, you’ve always been the sensible one. Just help your mother one last time.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, checked my savings, and finally agreed. I found a two-bedroom condo quickly. Mom was overjoyed when she moved in, her face beaming as she called me her perfect daughter. But soon after, Tiffany got pregnant. That very day, Brad moved his entire family into the fully paid-off condo I’d bought. Mom was ecstatic, welcoming them in as if she hadn’t complained about Tiffany a few months prior. They had lived there for five years. I exhaled a cloud of frost, not feeling the bone-deep cold recede until I was safe inside my own home. I sat on my balcony without turning on the lights. In the darkness, I took out my phone and disabled the large-limit credit card linked to my account that I had given Mom. She had cried that Brad had taken over her bank accounts, leaving her penniless. I had set up the card so she could make purchases. A quick glance at the history revealed the same pattern: small, inexpensive purchases were necessities for her. The expensive ones were frivolous—gifts, electronics, or clothes, all clearly for Brad and his family. I closed my eyes. Then, I pulled the dusty condo deed from my fireproof drawer and scrolled through my contacts for the realtor who had handled the purchase five years ago. “I need you to sell this unit. Immediately. The price doesn’t matter. Get it done as fast as possible.” It was New Year’s Eve, so the reply was slow, but it came. “Whoa, Jen! Didn’t I sell you that place? Selling on the holiday? You’ve got guts.” The realtor—Mitch—joked, but he was serious about the work. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it. It’s a great property, and if you’re willing to take a slight discount, it’ll be a feeding frenzy.” I typed a brief “Thanks.” Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, a flash of light burst across the night sky. A cascade of brilliant, glittering fireworks lit up my unlit living room. I glanced at the clock. It was past midnight. A new year. I watched the show for a moment, a lightness I hadn’t felt in years filling my chest. The fireworks continued their relentless celebration, illuminating the path ahead. I smiled, went to my bedroom, and crawled into my warm, heavy duvet. In the boundless landscape of my dreams, I saw my mother again, shielding a young Brad and me behind her from my father’s swinging fist. I saw her wake up in the middle of the night to gently tuck my blanket back around me. But then, the dream shifted. I saw Brad steal my favorite candy and toys, hiding behind Mom as he smirked at me. I saw Mom burst into tears, staging a scene, all to guilt me into giving more of my lifeblood to nourish her preferred child. She would look at me, and her words were always a mixture of blame and instruction. “Jen, he’s your brother. You can’t fight with him over things.” “Jen, he’s your brother. This is what you’re supposed to do.” I woke with a jolt. The room was bright; the sun reflecting off a thick layer of snow was blinding. My phone, resting on the nightstand, was vibrating maniacally. I looked at the screen and answered. Mom’s panicked voice immediately hit my ear. “Jen! That card you gave me, it was declined! Is it out of money? You need to put more on it right now. I need to buy things for your brother.” I spoke calmly. “It’s not out of money, Mom. I just… cut you off.” That sliver of a memory, that one small piece of good from my childhood, had kept me tethered for years, justifying the expense. But those three slaps? They were the shock paddles that finally woke me up.

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When I arrived at the penthouse club, Dominic Vance was sitting in the head seat. He looked composed, but his eyes were bloodshot. A circle of trust-fund heirs didn’t dare to breathe. When they saw me, they looked like they’d seen a savior, straightening up instantly: “Hey, Chloe.” The girl sitting next to him paled. Her eyes welled up as she whispered to him, “Dominic, I’m back. Are you still going home with her?” I walked over and picked up the bottle of Cabernet from the table. “Dominic. Home or a hospital wing. Pick one.” 01 The lounge fell so silent you could hear the rhythm of uneven breathing. Dominic flicked his eyes up to look at me. In that single movement, I felt his raw impatience. The guys around him, sensing the coming storm, backed away to a safe distance. I held the wine bottle steady, standing like a statue in front of the two of them. After a long beat, Dominic smirked. “Who called your sister-in-law?” The moment he said it, the color drained from the girl’s face. She looked like she was made of glass, ready to shatter. She clutched Dominic’s arm, her voice trembling. “Dominic… are you really going back with her?” I let out a sharp, cold laugh and pulled up a chair. I sat down, leveling my gaze with hers. “Lily Rose, while I still have a shred of patience left, you’d better vanish.” A single tear rolled down her cheek. “If you know who I am, then you must know…” I cut her off. “I know. I know you’re the ‘One Who Got Away.’ I know he still keeps your photo in his private study.” A shy blush crept onto Lily’s face. Her eyes lit up as she leaned her head gently on Dominic’s shoulder. “Dominic, I’m back. Divorce her. All these years later, being your wife is still my only dream.” “I know you’re not happy. You’ve suffered so much lately.” Dominic tried to keep his trademark poker face, but the vein throbbing in his temple betrayed the chaos inside him. He lifted his hand, reaching out to stroke Lily’s back. I sneered, breaking their little moment. “Mr. Vance, it seems you’ve lost interest in going home.” “My apologies, then.” I swung my arm high, and the wine bottle came crashing down—straight toward Lily’s head! 02 CRACK! The explosion of glass was met with screams. Lily stared, paralyzed, as Dominic shielded her in his arms. Blood, mixed with dark red wine, began to pour from his forehead. “Dominic! Oh my god, Dominic…” Lily scrambled to her feet, her hands shaking as she tried to help him sit. She grabbed a handful of napkins, pressing them desperately against the gash on his head. The paper was soaked in seconds. She turned to me, screaming like a banshee. “You’re insane! You tried to kill her! How could he ever marry a freak like you?!” Dominic caught his breath. He took a napkin, wiped the blood and wine from his eyes, and pulled Lily back. “Lily, don’t provoke her.” “Are you hurt?” Lily whimpered and held out her hand. There was a tiny half-inch scratch from a flying glass shard. Dominic stood up instantly, cradling her hand like it was made of gold. He started leading her out. “Why didn’t you say so? Come on, I’m taking you to the ER.” I looked down at my own hand. Blood was dripping from my fingertips, vanishing into the dark carpet. I had been at the office all day. I’d only had time for a few bites of a sandwich between meetings with major clients. I had barely clocked out when I saw the text and rushed here. Dominic, I’m exhausted. I’m hungry. And I’m bleeding, too. What happened to the boy who once fought off kidnappers until he was covered in bruises just to save me? How did he become this stranger? Dizziness hit me in waves. The room began to spin. I grabbed the edge of the table, collapsing into a chair. Someone shouted, “Dom! Chloe’s hurt too! She looks really bad!” Dominic’s voice echoed from down the hall. “She’s ‘The Boss.’ She can handle herself.” I watched his retreating back. Fine. It makes what I’m about to do much easier. 03 I looked up. These “Vanderbilt” types, the city’s most notorious playboys, were standing perfectly still, looking at me with genuine worry. I smiled and waved them off. “I’m hungry. Fix the table.” “On it, Chloe! Right away!” Parker, the son of the club’s owner, was the most eager. He immediately had staff clear the glass and bring out a fresh course. Watching them move reminded me of when we were kids, and they’d follow Dominic and me around like little shadows. When did I stop being “Chloe” and start being “The Wife”? Probably when I was five and got snatched by a rogue nanny. Dominic, only eight at the time, analyzed the tiny clues she left behind and found me before the police did. I still remember waking up on his thin back. He was gritting his teeth, carrying me, staggering out of that terrifying abandoned factory. That image was burned into my soul. Our parents used to joke that for the rest of his life, Chloe would always be Dominic’s “exception.” But then came Lily Rose. Unlike me—who lost her mother in that kidnapping and was raised as a shark-like heiress for the sake of the family business—Lily was soft. She didn’t demand he study financial journals or learn five languages. She just sat by him, smiling. She cooked for him. She spent hours sitting through classes she didn’t understand just to be near him. I couldn’t do that. I was raised to measure the world in profit and loss. Until Lily left. She said she couldn’t fit into his world. She moved abroad, and Dominic didn’t chase her. He wanted the Vance empire, and he wanted my family’s tech conglomerate. He wouldn’t give that up for a girl. So, when he proposed, I said yes. Dominic gave me every luxury money could buy. I enjoyed it, knowing that eventually, the Vance and Sterling empires would both be mine. I ate my dinner in silence, mentally reviewing my plan. After fifteen years of plotting, I wouldn’t allow a single mistake. “Chloe!” Parker suddenly slammed the table. “You’ve never been soft on the women around him! Why did you let her win today?” The table went quiet. I smiled. “Because she’s Lily Rose.” The “One Who Got Away” has a very specific lethality. I checked my phone. The screen was blank. No calls, no texts. I figured by now, Lily’s “life-threatening” scratch must have healed. 04 Dominic didn’t come home that night. I stayed in the living room, watching the city go from midnight to dawn. My time was coming. When the clock struck 8 AM, I was dressed in a power suit, heavy concealer hiding the dark circles under my eyes. I didn’t expect to see Lily Rose at the office. She was wearing a brand-new professional suit, sitting at the desk outside Dominic’s office. When she saw me, she stood up with a smug smile. “Good morning, Ms. Sterling.” The way her mouth curved into a triumphant arc made my skin crawl. I called the HR manager over immediately and asked what kind of “stray” they were letting into the building. Lily looked like she wanted to melt into the floor. Her face turned red, tears welling up under my interrogation. “Ms. Sterling, please,” she sobbed. “I really need this job. Don’t take this from me. You people have everything… can’t I have this?” Classic “damsel” dialogue. I looked past her shoulder at the office door. Right on cue, it opened. Dominic stood there, cold. “Chloe, you were born with a silver spoon, but that doesn’t give you the right to bully people.” “She’s my assistant, not yours.” With one sentence, he drew the line. He walked over, took Lily’s hand, and announced to the staff: “Starting today, Ms. Rose is my Chief of Staff. Her word is my word.” The “Exception,” indeed. I didn’t argue. I turned and walked into my own office. Near the end of the day, my assistant reminded me of a gala we had to attend. My biggest project of the year depended on this meeting. I did my makeup, put on my gown, and went to find Dominic. Before I could knock, the door opened. Dominic and Lily walked out, laughing. I froze. It was early autumn, and the draft from the window felt like ice on my bare shoulders. Dominic didn’t even stop. “Lily will be accompanying me tonight. Don’t bother coming, Chloe.” “Dominic, I’ve been working on this merger for six months.” His voice grew distant as they walked toward the elevator. “It’s Lily’s project now.” 05 Dominic signed the deal for her. Before the project even started, a commission check for Lily was sitting on my desk for approval. I sent it back unsigned. Even without the cash, Lily became the “it girl” of the firm overnight. Word even reached our partners. I got a call from Mr. Harrison, a long-time family friend. “Chloe, dear, Dominic just bought a villa in the Hamptons. Registered it in the name of a Lily Rose. I hear she’s already moved in.” The teacup in my hand tilted, spilling hot tea over the desk. It had been 29 days since Dominic last slept at home. The plan was falling into place. My life isn’t a romance novel; it’s a balance sheet. Parker and the boys tried to offer to “take care” of her for me, but I told them to stay out of it. Everything was under control. 06 Then came the Vance matriarch’s 80th birthday. I used my connections to get her a rare piece of calligraphy she’d wanted for years. I had it wrapped and signed it from Dominic and Chloe Vance. Regardless of the mess inside, the family facade had to hold. I dialed Dominic for the first time in a month. It rang until I thought it would go to voicemail. “Ms. Sterling,” Lily’s voice came through, dripping with faux sweetness. “Dominic told me he’s taking me to meet the family tonight. You should probably just head there on your own.” I pulled the phone away to check the number. It was Dominic’s. “Put him on.” Lily giggled. “Sorry, we just woke up. Dominic is making me brunch.” I hung up. A text came in from Parker: Plan A is a go. I had my stylist come over. If I was going to a massacre, I was going to look like a queen. At 6 PM, I walked into the Vance estate. The elders were all there, asking where Dominic was. I brushed them off, but when I saw Grandma Vance, my throat tightened. She had watched me grow up. She watched me marry into the family. She was a titan of industry herself; she knew what was happening, but she didn’t ask. That was her gift to me. Suddenly, a stir at the door. I turned. Dominic was walking in, hand-in-hand with Lily. The room went cold. They walked up to Grandma. “Grandma, this is Lily. I brought her to meet you.” Grandma didn’t even glance at her. “Security, escort this woman out.” Lily’s eyes filled with tears. “Dominic, I’m sorry. I tried, but I just don’t belong in your world. Forget me. Go back to Chloe.” She turned and ran out, sobbing. God, she’s good, I thought. Dominic panicked. He chased after her, catching her in the driveway. “Kneel!” Grandma barked. The house went silent. Dominic knelt on the marble floor. Grandma took her cane and struck him across the back. “You disgrace!” Lily came screaming back in, throwing herself over Dominic’s back. “What did we do wrong?! We just want to be together! He’s your grandson! He’s the heir! Nothing is more important than his happiness!” Grandma didn’t hesitate. The cane came down again, hitting Lily this time. Dominic shielded her, shouting, “Grandma, stop! Lily’s pregnant!” 07 All eyes turned to me. Dominic looked relieved. He stood up and walked over. “Chloe, let’s end this. I owe Lily a family.” My father, who had been silent until now, stood up. My father-in-law stepped forward to slap Dominic, but I stopped him. I walked up to Dominic and looked him in the eye. “Say it again.” “I want a divorce.” I nodded. Before anyone could react, I landed a blow across his face that echoed through the hall. “Dominic Vance, listen closely. The moment we divorce, the Sterling-Vance merger is dead. Every asset is decoupled.” My father nodded. “Chloe speaks for the Sterlings.” Dominic’s confidence shattered. “Dad, we can’t decouple! The losses would be catastrophic!” “My daughter’s happiness is worth more than your balance sheet,” my father snapped. I asked Dominic one more time. “Do you want the divorce?” He looked at his father, then at me, then at Lily. He couldn’t speak. Grandma Vance broke the silence. “I’m giving Chloe five percent of my personal shares. Whether she stays or leaves, they are hers. And I will never acknowledge that child.” Lily collapsed onto the floor. Dominic didn’t reach out to help her.

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It was midnight when my phone finally lit up. I stared at the screen, my heart doing a nervous little flutter-kick in my chest. “Dear Ms. Sharon Chan, wishing you a happy 28th birthday! Your account balance is $328.51.” It was just the bank app. I waited five more minutes, then ten, then thirty. The phone stayed silent. My boyfriend of three years, Ryan Jared, had texted earlier, claiming his flight was delayed due to a business trip, and he’d call as soon as he landed. My mom called last week: “Your brother needs $10,000 for the engagement, wire it over.” I said okay, and she hung up. My best friend, Maya Lin, posted on Instagram today: “Busy but fulfilling day!” The picture was a dozen perfect red roses. I flipped the phone face-down on the table. $328 was my total worth for the rest of the month. I’d given $300,000 for my brother’s down payment, $100,000 for his engagement, and God knows how much more over the last three years to fill various holes. Suddenly, I felt like there was nothing to celebrate on my 28th birthday. But that’s fine. I opened my laptop and pulled up a specific folder. Three years. It was time for me to collect my own debts. 01 Ryan’s flight delay was a lie. I’d known for a while. Because he hadn’t bought a plane ticket; he’d bought a train ticket. The order confirmation was pushed to my email late last night. We shared a joint rewards account. He’d forgotten to log out. The destination? A five-star hotel right here in the city. A “three-day business trip,” and the hotel was twenty miles away from our office. I didn’t confront him. I just wanted to see who he was spending his weekend with. At one in the morning, I lay in bed, wide awake. Staring at the ceiling, I drifted back through the past three years. Ryan was a senior from my college, now my co-worker. “Sharon, I’ve been watching you for a long time.” Back then, I thought he was kind, thoughtful, and ambitious. He told me, “Let’s work hard together. We’ll buy a house and get married before we turn thirty.” I believed him. My salary wasn’t high, but I saved every penny. I’d squirreled away eighty thousand over three years. I gave it all to him. He said it was for a stock market investment that tanked. He said it was for a startup that went belly-up. He said it was the down payment for a car that was stolen. I never questioned him. Because every time, he’d say, “Baby, when I make it big, I’ll pay you back tenfold.” I didn’t need tenfold. I just needed him to remember my birthday. At two in the morning, I messaged him: “Did you land?” No reply. Three in the morning: “Are you asleep?” Read, but ignored. He’d walked 12,876 steps today. A flight delay, stuck at the airport? Could you really walk twelve thousand steps in a terminal? I laughed. It was the first time I truly felt like an idiot. Five in the morning, I finally got his reply. “Just landed. So exhausted. Talk tomorrow, get some sleep.” Attached was a photo of a hotel room. The curtains were drawn tight. But I still saw it. There was a bouquet of flowers on the nightstand. Red roses. The exact same ones from Maya’s Instagram post today. 02 I didn’t lose it immediately. I hadn’t gathered all the evidence yet. At eight in the morning, I got up, washed, put on my makeup, and left for work, like a normal day. The office was forty minutes away by subway. Squashed into the morning rush hour crowd, I thought about Ryan and Maya. How did they even connect? Maya was my college roommate. That’s how she knew Ryan. When Ryan and I started dating, I was the one who introduced them. “This is my best friend, Maya. And this is my boyfriend, Ryan. Please look out for me, you two.” How naïve I was back then. I thought a best friend was a best friend, and a boyfriend was a boyfriend. I thought sincerity earned sincerity. The train was jammed. Someone stepped on my foot without apologizing. I looked down at my shoes. They were a pair I bought on clearance last year for $59. Ryan mentioned last week he wanted a pair of limited edition sneakers—$2,999. I told him, “I’ll get them when I get paid.” He sighed, “Forget it, I don’t want to burden you.” The next day, Maya posted an Instagram story. “A gift I picked out for a good buddy. Hope he likes them.” The photo was the sneaker box. I hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Now, I realized. What best friend buys my boyfriend three-thousand-dollar sneakers? I was completely and utterly played. Nine on the dot, I arrived at the office. It was Monday, time for the weekly meeting. Our director, Ted Carson, sat at the head of the table and scanned the room. “Where’s Ryan?” Leo, a colleague, piped up, “Ryan’s on a business trip.” Ted frowned. “Business trip? What business trip? I didn’t approve any.” Leo laughed awkwardly. “I… I’m not sure.” Ted’s face darkened. The meeting continued, focusing on the proposal review scheduled for next Friday. This was the company’s biggest project this year—a major corporate client, an eight-figure contract. Our team submitted three proposals. I authored one of them. But during the kick-off, Ryan had said, “Just give me the first draft, I’ll help you refine it. We’ll co-author.” I gave it to him. In the end, only his name was on it. Ted had asked me once, “Sharon, the framework for this proposal doesn’t quite match Ryan’s usual style.” I’d said, “We collaborated; he incorporated some of my ideas.” Ted just looked at me and didn’t press. That look—I understood it now. He knew. But he never stood up for me. Because Ryan was his protégé. After the meeting, I returned to my desk and opened my computer. The original file for the stolen proposal was still on my USB drive. I’d saved everything. In three years, I’d learned one thing: Before you commit, always keep a record. 03 At noon, I ordered a $15 boxed lunch. I ate while scrolling through Instagram. Maya posted a second time: “Super happy today! Surprise coming this afternoon~” The photo was her fresh manicure—bright red with tiny hearts painted on the tips. A surprise? What surprise? I looked down at my own hands. My nails were clipped short, unpolished, practical for typing. It had been a year since I last got a manicure. It was for an anniversary dinner Ryan promised. I got my nails done specially. He canceled at the last minute, claiming an emergency. I sat in the restaurant alone for two hours, ate by myself, and went home. He said, “I’ll make it up to you next time.” There was no next time. “Sharon, my office.” Ted’s voice cut through my thoughts. When I entered, he was looking at Ryan’s proposal. The one that was mine. “Sharon,” he began, “how much of this proposal did you actually contribute?” I paused. “I…” “Don’t lie to me.” He looked up. “I know your writing. Ryan’s technical skills aren’t this good.” I kept silent. He sighed. “Forget it, you must have your reasons. I’ll just ask you this: Do you have a handle on next Friday’s review?” “What do you mean?” I asked. “The client has already internally decided on another firm,” he said in a low voice. “That’s insider information. All three of our proposals, no matter how good, are likely just a formality.” My heart sank. “Then why still hold the review?” “To follow protocol,” he said. “But if our proposal is groundbreaking enough, there’s still a slim chance.” He looked at me, a meaningful expression in his eyes. “Sharon, this project is important for you.” “For me?” “You’ve been here three years, and you’re still just a coordinator. Everyone below you has been promoted, and you’re stuck.” He paused. “Do you know why?” I didn’t. I made the PPTs for others to present, I pulled the all-nighters for others’ names to be on, and my ideas were used for others to take credit. But every time there was a promotion, I was passed over. Ted said, “Because you’re too accommodating.” He pushed the proposal toward me. “You present this one yourself.” I took it. I didn’t say yes, and I didn’t say no. Because a thought had suddenly sparked in my mind: Ryan was still “away on his business trip.” I had three days. I could do a lot of damage in three days. 04 After work, I didn’t go home. I went to the five-star hotel Maya mentioned. It was in the heart of the CBD. You needed a key card to get upstairs, but I could wait in the lobby. I bought a $58 latte, sat in a secluded corner, and watched the elevator. At 7:18 PM, the elevator doors opened. Ryan walked out. He was wearing the jacket I bought him—$2,800, three months of savings. The person on his arm was Maya. She was wearing a red dress, fully made up, more beautiful than I had ever seen her. They were laughing and chatting like a couple deeply in love. I took out my phone and snapped three photos. They didn’t see me. They would never in a million years think I’d be here. They walked toward the hotel’s fine-dining restaurant, sat down, and ordered. I watched from afar. I watched Ryan pour her water, serve her food, and cut her steak. He had never done any of those things for me. I watched Maya laughingly feed him a piece of food. He opened his mouth, took it, and they exchanged a look so sickeningly sweet it made my stomach turn. I suddenly remembered something that happened three days ago. Maya asked me out to lunch and inquired, “How are things between you and Ryan?” I said, “Good.” She said, “He got a promotion, you must be happy for him, right?” I said, “Of course.” She said, “Sharon, you’re so generous. I don’t think I could be so understanding.” I didn’t get what she meant then. I got it now. She was testing me. Testing to see if I knew. Once she confirmed I was an idiot, she could confidently move in for the kill. Eight on the dot, they finished their meal. Ryan called the waiter over and said something. The waiter nodded and walked away. A moment later, the restaurant lights dimmed. A cake was wheeled out, topped with candles. The staff started singing the birthday song. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…” Maya covered her mouth, a look of surprise on her face. Ryan held her hand, saying something I couldn’t hear. But I saw Maya nod. Then Ryan took a small box out of his pocket. He opened it. A ring. Maya cried, laughing through her tears. Ryan slid the ring onto her ring finger. They hugged. They kissed. The surrounding diners applauded. I sat in my corner and watched the entire show. Today was October 15th. My birthday. Ryan was celebrating another woman’s birthday and proposing to her. Maya’s birthday was April 9th. I remembered it clearly. I sent her a gift every year. So this wasn’t her birthday at all. They had simply chosen the day of my supposed “business trip” to stage their little performance. No. They didn’t think they were staging anything. They just assumed I would never find out. I set down my coffee cup. And I laughed a quiet, sharp laugh. Fine. Very fine. 05 I didn’t storm out right then and there. That would be letting them off too easily. I wanted them to lose everything. That night, I returned to my apartment and started organizing the evidence. First, the proposal. My original draft was completed in March 2023, three months before Ryan submitted his. The revision history, the metadata, the backup emails—a complete chain of evidence. Second, the transfers. In three years, I’d wired Ryan $83,200. I had screenshots of every single transfer. The notes were explicitly clear: stock market, startup, car down payment, credit card debt. Third, the text messages. Including every time he said, “Baby, wait for me,” and every time he said, “I promise I’ll pay you back.” Fourth, my family. My parents had taken $470,000 from me in three years. $300,000 for my brother’s house down payment, $100,000 for his engagement, and the remaining $70,000 for various excuses. Every single transaction was documented. But they had never called to ask how I was doing. They had never once remembered my birthday. I finished organizing around three in the morning. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. I didn’t cry. The tears felt like they’d dried up. The next morning, I went to work as usual. Ryan hadn’t “returned” yet. Maya had also taken the day off. They were probably still celebrating their engagement at the hotel. I opened my laptop and continued revising the proposal. Ted told me to present it myself, and I would. I spent those three days working non-stop to polish that proposal until it was flawless. Around noon, my mom called. “Sharon, did you send the $10,000 for your brother’s engagement party?”

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