Category: English

After joining the new company, I was targeted. Not by people, but by everything in the office. The fingerprint scanner only ever failed for me, forcing me to request a manual clock-in every single day. When I asked HR to replace it, the administrator shot back with a sarcastic, “It works for everyone else. Why are you always the problem?” The air vent above my desk blasted freezing air directly at me, leaving my hands and feet numb with cold. When I begged my boss for a different desk, he just rolled his eyes. “No one else had a problem with this spot. Why does the AC suddenly act up the moment you sit there?” One bizarre incident after another made my life at the company impossible. I’d go home and complain to my boyfriend, telling him I wanted to quit. “Are you kidding?” he’d say. “You’re making twenty-eight grand a month before taxes, with weekends and paid vacation. Where are you going to find another job that good?” I thought about it, and he was right. So I decided to stick it out. And then, the elevator malfunctioned, and I plunged thirty-three floors to my death. As I died, one question echoed in my mind: why did every single piece of equipment in that office seem to have it out for me, and only me? All the equipment was brand new. I had only just met my colleagues. I had no enemies. It made no sense for someone to be sabotaging me. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back. It was my first day at the new company. 1 “Serena Foster, welcome to the team.” “Your fingerprints are in the system now, so don’t forget to clock in and out!” The HR administrator, Janet, smiled as she handed me my ID badge. For a moment, I was lost in a daze. Memories of the endless torment from my past life flooded my mind. This was the day the nightmare began. From my very first day, everything in the office was against me, and only me. The fingerprint scanner would flash an error every time I touched it, forcing me to constantly bother my colleagues for a manual sign-in. When I finally worked up the nerve to ask HR for a new machine, they just sneered at me. “It works for everyone else. Why do you have to be so difficult?” The air vent above my desk became a personal tormentor, blasting me with frigid air in the dead of winter until my fingers and toes were perpetually frozen. When I pleaded with my boss to move, he just scoffed. “No one else ever complained about this desk. Why is it only a problem now that you’re here?” The constant stream of bizarre problems made my work life a living hell. My boss thought I was a whiny hypochondriac, and my colleagues thought I was a drama queen. My only outlet was my boyfriend, Mark. But when I told him I wanted to quit, he just dismissed my fears. “That’s ridiculous. It’s not like the office is haunted. You’re just stressed out and overthinking things. Besides,” he’d always add, “you’re making twenty-eight grand a month before taxes, with weekends and paid vacation. You’re not going to find a better deal than that!” So I gritted my teeth and decided to tough it out. The very next day, the elevator cable snapped, and I plummeted thirty-three floors to my death. I died with my eyes wide open, the question of why screaming in my silent throat. But now, I was back. And this time, I was going to find out what the hell was going on. Shaking off the memory, I handed the ID badge back to Janet. “Janet, my fingerprints are a little faint. Could you do me a favor and scan all ten of my fingers? Just in case, so I don’t have to bother you if one of them doesn’t work.” Janet blinked, surprised, but then she smiled and took the badge, reopening the enrollment system. I took a deep breath and pressed my right index finger firmly onto the screen, ensuring it covered the entire sensor. A soft beep confirmed a successful scan. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. I carefully scanned all ten fingers, adjusting the pressure and angle for a perfect read each time. This time, I thought, it has to work. Janet chuckled. “You’re the first person to ever scan all ten fingers. But don’t you worry, Serena. This equipment is top-of-the-line, imported. It never makes mistakes.” I managed a weak smile, thanked her, and walked straight to the time clock by the entrance. I wiped my hands on my pants, then placed my index finger on the scanner. [FINGERPRINT NOT RECOGNIZED. PLEASE TRY AGAIN.] A chill ran down my spine. The hairs on my arms stood on end. “How is this still happening?” I refused to give up. I tried every single finger. [FINGERPRINT NOT RECOGNIZED. PLEASE TRY AGAIN.] [FINGERPRINT NOT RECOGNIZED. PLEASE TRY AGAIN.] Ten fingers. Ten failures. The same cold, robotic voice of rejection. I stared at the machine, the glaring red error message on the screen like a malevolent eye staring back at me, the synthesized voice a mocking laugh. My fists clenched. It was a cocktail of frustration and fear. Everything had worked perfectly in HR just moments ago. How could it fail now? Was I doomed to repeat the same nightmare? As I stood there, frozen, colleagues began to gather, some of them kindly asking if I needed help. An idea began to form in my mind. “I’m Serena, the new hire,” I said, my voice deliberately timid. “I’m so sorry to bother you all, but my fingerprint won’t scan.” A young man stepped forward. “Here, let me try mine.” He placed his finger on the scanner, and it beeped with immediate success. They all assumed I was just holding my finger at the wrong angle and encouraged me to try again. I nodded and, in front of everyone, tried all ten of my fingers again. Still, nothing but errors. “I just had Janet in HR scan all ten of my fingers,” I said, raising my voice just enough for everyone to hear. “But it’s still not working. Do you think this machine might be broken?” In my past life, I had always tried to deal with these problems quietly, which only made everyone think I was making things up. This time, I would have witnesses. Just then, Janet came over to see what the commotion was about. I demonstrated the problem for her one more time. She frowned at the error message. “It must be faulty. I’ll put in a request for a replacement. Don’t worry about clocking in for now.” I thought that a new machine would surely solve the problem. With the time clock issue temporarily resolved, I went to my desk. The moment I sat down, a familiar chill prickled the back of my neck. I snapped my head up to look at the air vent. A blast of cold air hit me, and I sneezed three times in a row. My deskmate, Wendy, turned around, just like she had in my past life. “You should wear a sweater, honey,” she said kindly. “It might be warm in the office, but you can still catch a chill on your commute.” “Wendy,” I said, my teeth chattering, “does the AC feel a little cold to you?” She held her hand up to the vent above her own desk. “No, it’s warm. Same as always. It’s central air, so all the vents should be the same.” I immediately stood up. “Wendy, could you do me a huge favor? Just for a minute, could you sit in my chair and see what you feel?” Wendy looked confused but agreed. Last time, I had just reached over to feel the air at her desk and confirmed it was warm. This time, I needed her to feel the arctic blast for herself. It was the only way I could justify requesting a new desk. But her next words hit me like a ton of bricks. “It’s fine, Serena. It’s warm.” “What? That’s impossible! It was freezing a second ago!” I shot my hand up to feel the air. It was warm. I was stunned. Refusing to believe it, I sat back down in my own chair. Instantly, the familiar cold returned, making me flinch. Wendy looked at me with concern. “Serena, are you okay? Maybe you’re just not sleeping well, a little run down?” I didn’t believe it. I went to other colleagues’ desks, comparing the vents. All of them were blowing warm air. But the moment I sat down at my own desk, it turned cold. The sheer strangeness of it made my skin crawl. I stared up at the vent in despair. “Why is it only cold for me?” I shouted. “This is insane!” My strange behavior drew stares. I could hear the whispers. “She looks so young, but she’s acting like a total psycho.” “This is an office, not a mental institution. How did she even get hired?” “She’s just trying to cause trouble. First the time clock, now the AC. She’s disrupting the whole office.” The commotion eventually reached my boss. He strode over, his brow furrowed. “Serena Foster, what is going on? It’s your first day and you’re already causing a scene instead of working?” “Sir,” I pleaded, pointing at the vent, “it’s blowing cold air on my desk. Only on my desk, only when I’m sitting here. I swear.” My boss walked over and held his hand under the vent. He frowned. “There’s no cold air. It’s perfectly warm. No one else has ever had a problem with this desk. What is wrong with you? If you cause any more trouble, don’t bother coming in tomorrow.” Defeated, I had no choice but to endure the freezing draft all morning, shivering uncontrollably at my desk.

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The year I was most desperate with hunger, I latched onto the tattooed guy downstairs. Whenever my stomach growled, I’d throw things down to his patio to lure him up. He’d storm up, knife in hand, kicking my door and cursing. Through the iron gate, I’d clutch his pant leg, tears in my eyes: “Brother, I’m hungry.” Later, I survived by charming him into feeding me. But just when I finally had food and warmth, he said he wanted to die. The thought of going hungry again made me panic. I cried and begged him: “Brother, can you wait until I grow up before you die?” Chapter 1 My dad was a delinquent with bleached hair; my mom was a party girl. They were just kids themselves when they had me. The first time I remember meeting them was at my grandma’s funeral. I was crying so hard I almost passed out. My so-called father, cigarette dangling from his lips, frowned at six-year-old me: “Is this damn kid really mine? Why does she look like she was picked out of a dumpster?” Mom blew smoke rings while scrolling on her phone. “Genetic mutation, obviously. With my looks, how else could I birth such a piglet?” They covered their noses in disgust, standing ten feet away. Neither wanted to take me home. They agreed to leave me in Grandma’s old apartment. When they dragged me to the door, I struggled with everything I had. Seeing me throw a tantrum, they whipped out a belt, tied me up, and beat me. When my face swelled up, I finally stopped crying. Satisfied, they clapped their hands and laughed at me: “Haha, look at her, she looks just like Peppa Pig!” They ransacked Grandma’s house, leaving only a box of nearly expired instant noodles. And a box of crackers half-eaten by mice. I watched helplessly as they locked the heavy iron gate and left, chatting and laughing. I squatted in the dark room, feeling like my whole world had gone black. I lived alone in despair and fear for half a month. Even after I finished all the food, they didn’t come back. I was so hungry I gnawed off a corner of the wooden table. Still, no one came. It was an old apartment complex, mostly empty. No one heard my cries. I couldn’t open the gate, and I couldn’t reach the balcony. In my desperation, I remembered the tattooed guy downstairs. He looked fierce, but I hoped he wouldn’t just watch me die. Crying, I started throwing things down to his patio. Hoping he’d have mercy and come save me. I threw trash for three days straight before someone finally banged on my door. Faint with hunger, I used all my strength to pull open the heavy wooden inner door. But outside the iron security gate, Jax looked terrifying. He slammed his hand on the gate, revealing an arm full of tattoos. The smell of alcohol hit me hard. His eyes were cold as frost, filled with a ruthless determination, like a trapped beast ready to attack. He shouted into the room: “Are you sick?! Why do you keep throwing shit into my yard?!” Not seeing me on the floor, he yelled again: “Where are you? Get out here!” Weakly, I reached out a dirty little hand and grabbed his pant leg. Jax jumped a mile. He cursed: “Are you a ghost?! Let go of me!” He looked down and finally saw my filthy hand. His next words came out an octave lower: “Kid?” “Cough, don’t think being a kid lets you be a jerk!” “Who taught you to throw stuff downstairs?” “Call your parents out here!” Watching Jax’s mouth move, I wasn’t angry or scared. My brain was filled with thoughts of food. Even his face started looking like a giant roast chicken. I wanted to take a bite. Where would I get parents? After Grandma died, I became a stray with parents who birthed but didn’t raise me, about to starve to death. Forgetting to cry, I summoned all my strength to call him: “Brother, I’m hungry.” He froze for a few seconds, then crouched down. Finally, he saw my face and met my eyes. I didn’t know how scary I looked. I only knew Jax stared at me for a few seconds, his pupils dilating. Then he bolted like an arrow. It was over. He wouldn’t save me. In that moment, despair turned everything black. I thought I was going to starve to death! Chapter 2 When Jax came back up, I was leaning against the wall, too weak to speak. He kicked the iron gate and yelled: “Hey kid! Here!” He shoved a box of takeout and a bottle of milk through the bars. He warned me: “Eat this and stop throwing stuff, you hear?” I couldn’t answer. I grabbed the food and lay on the floor, wolfing it down like a starving puppy. When I looked up again, Jax was gone. I wiped my mouth, thinking innocently. Even though he’s fierce, he’s a good person. Grandma told me to find a good man to marry when I grow up. I thought. I swear. When I grow up, I’m going to marry him. … The next day, hungry again, I threw stuff downstairs. This time, Jax came up fast. He had crackers in his left hand and a fruit knife in his right. Banging on the gate, he shoved the crackers through, gritting his teeth: “Didn’t I warn you not to throw stuff?!” Then he shouted inside: “Where are the adults? Can’t you control your kid?!” “Throw one more thing and I won’t be polite!” Hearing no response, he crouched down to watch me stuff crackers into my mouth. “If you don’t want to die, don’t make so much noise that others can’t die in peace, okay?!” he hissed. I didn’t understand what he meant. Didn’t know who wanted to die. Through the gate, I looked up and saw the menacing tattoos on his arm. Strange, looking at those tattoos didn’t scare me. instead, I felt wronged. Tears fell pat-pat. Twitching my mouth, I answered him: “No adults. I’m a stray with parents who don’t want me.” “I didn’t want to throw stuff and bother you, but I’m hungry…” He clearly froze. Through the iron gate, he was silent for a long time. After a while, he kicked the gate hard, click, lit a cigarette. He leaned against the wall without speaking, smoking one after another. From inside, I could only see him crushing cigarette butts with his foot. After a pile of butts accumulated, he grabbed his own hair with both hands, pulling out a handful. He stared coldly at me through the crack, a flicker of anger in his eyes: “Don’t call yourself a stray!” I stayed silent, confused. Grandma died. I was a stray nobody wanted. … On the third day, before I could throw anything, Jax came up. This time, no food. He brought a sledgehammer. Clang clang. He smashed the lock open and called me: “Kid, come with me.” So I carefully followed him downstairs. It was the first time I saw Jax clearly. He was tall, thin, handsome, and aloof. But his beautiful eyes were cold and distant, unfocused, filled with a chilling aura. As if… he couldn’t see the light anymore. Chapter 3 This was an old, run-down neighborhood. Everyone was moving out; rarely did anyone move in. The day Jax moved in, a crowd followed him, pulling at him desperately. But the boy was stubborn. No one could move him. Those people stood there cursing him, throwing rotten eggs, screaming the ugliest, most vicious words in the world. Jax just stood there, a faint, cold sneer on his lips. It was the middle of summer, but that smile made you feel like it was deep winter. I didn’t understand what they were yelling, but Grandma was still alive then. She said: “Another poor child like you. Misery loves company.” I understood that part. So when I was starving, I thought this brother named Jax would save me. Because Grandma said we were in the same boat. Sure enough, he saved me and brought me to his home. I thought Jax’s home would be messy and broken like mine. But it wasn’t messy. It barely had anything in it. So empty it didn’t look like anyone lived there. Curious, I looked around, nervously twisting the hem of my shirt. “What’s your name?” he asked. “Annie.” “Where are the adults?” I lowered my head, silent. But seeing he wasn’t angry, I relaxed. After a long time, he pointed at a table full of food and drink: “Annie, I’m treating you. Eat and drink your fill, then do me a favor, okay?” I looked up and nodded vigorously. The smell of food scrambled my thoughts. I didn’t care what favor he needed. After stuffing myself, I let down all my guards. How was this brother aloof? He was warm enough to fill my stomach! I wiped my mouth and grinned: “Brother, you’re a good person. I’ll marry you when I grow up!” Hearing this, he suddenly choked. He turned away and coughed for a long time, his face and neck turning red. Ten minutes later, he calmed down and turned back. Putting a finger to his lips, he shushed me, saying word by word coldly: “I. Am. Not. A. Good. Person!” He was like a robot, emotionless, expressionless. I didn’t argue, but secretly challenged him in my heart. I think you’re good, so I’m gonna marry you! After I burped a few times, he handed me his phone blankly. He said: “Know how to make a call?” “Yes.” I nodded. Grandma taught me. I was skilled. I had called 911 for Grandma many times. Jax took me to the bathroom, pointed at the bathtub, and said: “Later, I’ll lie in there. The water will turn red, and I’ll slowly fall asleep.” “When I’m completely asleep and stop moving, call 911 for the police. Understand?” “Yes.” I blinked and nodded firmly. Of course I understood. Grandma taught me many times before she left. She taught me how to call while telling me not to cry. So the day Grandma fell asleep, I was very good. I watched Grandma stop moving, her face turning from red to white to grey. I dialed the number skillfully, recited the address I memorized. Didn’t cry, didn’t fuss, just waited quietly by Grandma’s side. Until people took Grandma away. Seeing me answer obediently, Jax added: “Don’t be scared. When the police come, they’ll take you to a place where you can eat your fill every day.” I said okay, but secretly called him a liar. Grandma said the same thing. And? I almost starved to death! Hmph! While I was sulking, Jax started running the water. He stared blankly as the tub filled. After a while, he forced a smile and said: “I really am a bad person.” When he got into the tub, I moved a stool to sit by the door. He ordered me to turn around and not look. My body turned, but my eyes couldn’t help peeking back. I saw him make a cut, revealing a smile of relief. I saw the bright red in the tub bloom like a flower. Catching me peeking, he asked: “Aren’t you scared?” I wasn’t scared. I had seen Grandma die. Back then, I didn’t know what death meant. Until Grandma was covered with a white sheet and taken away, and people held me back from seeing her, I realized. Death means never seeing them again. I asked him: “Brother, are you going to die?” He paused: “Kid, do you know what dying is?” “I know,” I said. “Grandma was like you, then she died…” “Then people carried her away!” I lowered my head, not describing the rest. I wasn’t scared, but I was afraid saying it would scare him. I asked again: “You have food every day, why do you want to die?” “I’m going to marry you when I grow up, why do you have to die?” “I don’t care, this time I won’t let anyone carry you away!” I felt that as long as he wasn’t carried away, he would wake up eventually! As I said this, his lips started turning white. The water in the tub got redder. He had no strength to chat anymore, just gave a weak laugh: “Dead is dead, of course I’ll be carried away…” “Turn around, don’t look…” It hit me then. If he gets carried away, who will feed me? Thinking of starving again, I started crying. I walked over and grabbed his hand, trying to hold his bleeding arm high. Watching the blood flow down my arm, I cried louder. “Brother, can you wait until I grow up before you die?” Chapter 4 My tears fell pat-pat onto his pale face. He struggled to open his eyes halfway, his voice weak and broken as he squeezed out two sentences. He said: “Why the fuck… didn’t you call… earlier?” “Tell them… ambulance… can… you?” Yes, I can! I called ambulances for Grandma all the time. I was better at that than calling the police! With trembling fingers, I dialed 911, reported the address. Secretly praising my own smarts. The ambulance came fast. I skillfully grabbed his phone and got in the vehicle. In the ambulance, the medic asked me what happened. I tilted my head and thought for a few seconds: “Guess he died halfway and changed his mind.” Probably realized he was useful again, I thought. Looking at him motionless on the stretcher, I cursed him for being an idiot. With a full belly every day, still wanting to die. Big idiot! During resuscitation, the doctor needed family. I used his thumb to unlock his phone and dialed the number that called him most often. My calm familiarity stunned the doctors and nurses. They praised me for being amazing. I hopped onto a chair, swinging my legs, silent. What they thought was amazing was actually exchanged for countless resuscitations with Grandma. The first time, I cried my lungs out, lost. Later, I knew the process better than the new nurse. While Jax was being saved, a crowd arrived. Their first sentence was always: “Is he dead?” “Need a signature to stop resuscitation? I’ll sign!” They pestered the nurse, claiming to be Jax’s relatives, all willing to sign to stop treatment. The nurse rolled her eyes. “He’s not dead yet!” Learning I called the ambulance, they came to harass me. “Where did this little bastard come from? Who told you to call an ambulance!” “Meddling little brat!” “I’m telling you, if he doesn’t die, you’re in trouble!” Me: “…” Dizzy from their shoving, arm hurting, I regretted making that call. I stayed silent, just glaring at them. They huddled together cursing, insulting Jax’s whole family. From their words, I pieced it together. They were Jax’s uncle, aunt, and other relatives. All hoping Jax would die so they could split his inheritance. I understood instantly. Everyone wants Jax dead. Only I want him alive. Luckily, Jax was saved. The crowd was disappointed, slapping their thighs: “How did he not die?!” But entering the ward, they changed faces, surrounding Jax with fake concern. Jax hid under the covers, ignoring them. They talked about their hardships, how they were broke. Everyone trying to get money from Jax. No one cared if he was in pain or hungry. In that moment, I felt he was pitiful and stupid. I squeezed through the crowd, spreading my small arms by Jax’s bed. “You’re all bad people! Go away!” “Brother, they wanted you dead just now! They said if you die, the money is theirs!” Instantly, silence. Jax pulled down the covers, looking lifeless, eyes full of impatience and disgust. I said: “Big idiot, they want you dead, so you shouldn’t die!” The crowd reacted and started pulling me. “Where did this little liar come from, talking nonsense!” If they didn’t pull me, fine. But pulling me? I threw a tantrum, wailing loudly: “Help! Child abuse! They’re hitting a kid!” My wailing got them kicked out directly. Leaving, each glared at me, muttering “little bastard.” Only Jax laughed. He smiled miserably, face pale as a sheet, eyes dull. Looking so pitiful! I took his arm, wrapped in layers of gauze with blood seeping through, and asked: “Does it hurt?” I thought it would hurt a lot, but he rasped: “Hurts my ass.” Me: “…” He let me hold his hand, lifting his chin and blinking hard. When I peeked, a tear still leaked from the corner of his eye. I wiped it away, smiled, and scolded him like an adult: “Hmph, still tough talking.” “Okay, okay, stop crying.” “And don’t die.” “Live! Live well! Die after you give me all the money!” I said through gritted teeth. The next moment, a helpless laugh escaped his lips. Good, his furrowed brow relaxed. He poked my forehead: “Kid, young but full of schemes!”

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While I was giving birth, my husband’s stepsister barged into the delivery room, snapping photos of me without consent. “Ew,” she grimaced, covering her mouth. “You look absolutely hideous giving birth, Sarah. I bet my brother is going to be traumatized.” Humiliated and furious, I screamed at her to get out. My younger brother, defending me, snatched her phone and deleted the invasive photos. She immediately threw a tantrum outside the ward. “I worked hard to take those! What right do you have to delete them?” My husband’s face went dark. He punched my brother to the ground. “Kneel and apologize to Bella, or I’ll make you regret it!” On a day that should have been about welcoming new life, my in-laws surrounded my brother and beat him. “She was taking photos of my sister!” my brother shouted back, refusing to yield. “I only deleted those specific ones!” My husband scoffed. “Bullying a young girl and you think you’re right? Anyone who messes with my sister pays the price.” He grabbed a chair, ready to break my brother’s hand. Ignoring my pain, I rushed out, face pale, and slapped my husband across the face. “Mark, I want a divorce!” Chapter 1 The slap forced Mark’s face to the side. A red handprint bloomed on his cheek instantly. He looked at me, eyes filled with shock and disappointment. Before I could speak, Bella rushed forward and slapped me back. “Sarah! Don’t be ungrateful!” Weak from childbirth, I lost my balance and crashed to the floor. The stitches from my C-section tore open. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead as the pain blinded me. Crimson blood began to spread, staining my white hospital gown. “Sarah!” My brother, Leo, screamed. He was already beaten and bruised, but he tried to crawl towards me. My father-in-law and the others dragged him back like a dead dog. Bella stood over me, looking down with a sneer, her voice dripping with venom. “Sarah, how could you?” “This is your husband! You hit him for your brother? Did you ever even love him?” She raised her voice on purpose, making sure all the relatives gathered around heard every word. The murmurs of agreement started immediately. “Exactly. She married into our family, why is she siding with outsiders?” “Her brother is out of line, and as the older sister, she’s just making it worse. Disgraceful.” Mark glanced at me coldly, then wrapped his arm around Bella to comfort her. Just then, a nurse brought the baby out. I struggled to lift my head and saw Bella snatch the baby from the nurse. She held my newborn son, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “Choose,” Bella said. “Your precious son, or your brother. If you choose the baby, Leo loses both hands. If you choose your brother, from today on, this baby has nothing to do with you. I’ll raise him as my own.” “Choose, Sarah!” My newborn child had become a bargaining chip. No one stopped her. Some of the relatives even looked like they were enjoying the show. Leo, barely conscious from the pain, yelled, “Sarah! Ignore me! Choose the baby! Choose the baby!” Mark looked at me, covered in blood, with zero compassion in his eyes. “Sarah, stop making a scene. Bella just wants justice. Pick one, and we’ll let this go. Otherwise, you know the consequences.” My breath caught in my throat. On one side, the child I carried for nine months. On the other, my only family left in this world. Both were pieces of my heart. I couldn’t choose. The baby seemed to sense the hostility. He suddenly let out a loud wail. The cry pierced my heart like a needle. “Sis…” Leo whispered desperately. My body shook violently, and I coughed up a mouthful of blood. The crowd stepped back in disgust, covering their noses. Bella smirked. “No time to hesitate! Three seconds! One, two—” I reached out, wanting to touch my baby, wanting to comfort my brother. But my gaze landed on Mark. The man I had loved for five years, been married to for three. Now, he watched me drown in despair, helping an outsider force my hand. Darkness swamped me. My lips trembled, trying to form an answer, but before I could speak, everything went black. Chapter 2 “Leo!” I woke up screaming, struggling to sit up. A pair of strong hands pinned my shoulders down. I looked up into Mark’s deep eyes. He was sitting by my bed, looking tired. “Mark, where’s Leo?” I grabbed his wrist, my voice shaking uncontrollably. “What did you do to him? Tell me!” Mark frowned, prying my hands off. His tone was calm. “You were unconscious for a day. You didn’t choose, so I chose for you.” “If Bella hadn’t been kind enough to beg for mercy, Leo would have lost both hands.” “What?!” I stared at him in disbelief, screaming in rage. “Mark, you animal!” I tried to get out of bed, desperate to find my brother, but he held me down firmly. “You just had surgery, you can’t move! Sarah, it’s done. Making a scene won’t change anything. Worry about your own health.” “Let me go!” I roared like a trapped beast. “That’s my brother! My only family! What right did you have to choose for me? What right did you have to hurt him? Mark, I’m going to kill you!” The ward door was kicked open with a bang. Bella walked in carrying a thermos. She walked straight to the window and poured the steaming chicken soup out. “Ungrateful wretch! Who do you think you are, drinking soup from the Sterling family?” She turned, her face full of disgust. “Sarah, your parents died early, so no one taught you gratitude, right? My brother gave you everything, and you dare blame him for disciplining your trashy brother?” “We should have crippled him completely so he couldn’t cause more trouble.” Bella pulled out her phone and threw it onto my bed. The screen lit up, playing a video of Leo being beaten. Bodyguards swung wooden bats at his arms. The sound of bones cracking was sickeningly clear even through the phone speakers. Leo curled up on the ground, wailing in agony, calling out for me hoarsely. I shuddered, hatred flooding my veins. I summoned every ounce of strength and shoved Mark away. He stumbled back, hitting the wall, caught off guard. I didn’t look back. I ran out of the room like a madwoman, desperate to find my brother. As I burst out of the hospital entrance, my feet rooted to the spot. My blood froze. At the bottom of the hospital steps, Leo was curled on the concrete. His left arm hung uselessly, blood soaking his sleeve. His face was ghostly pale, brows knit in pain. He was muttering, “Sis… my hand…” I stumbled down the stairs, voice breaking. “Leo! I’m here! I’ll get you help!” Clutching my painful abdomen with one hand, I used the other to hook under Leo’s armpit, trying to lift him. Supporting each other, we limped step by step toward the hospital entrance. Just as I used my last bit of strength to push the doors open, Bella and the bodyguards blocked the way. She smirked cruelly. “Sarah, want to save your brother?” “Simple. Kowtow ten times. Loud ones. Until I’m satisfied.” “In your dreams!” Leo jerked his head up, screaming through a hoarse throat. “Sis, let’s go! Don’t beg her! She’s not worth it!” “We’ll go to another hospital. Someone will help us! Let’s go, Sis!” Bella looked down at us, her voice dripping with arrogance. “Let me tell you, with one word from the Sterling family, no hospital in this city will dare to admit you.” I looked at Mark, standing behind her. He watched silently, allowing Bella to torment us. I let out a tragic laugh, tears brimming but refusing to fall. “Mark, do you remember the promise you made when you proposed?” Chapter 3 My voice trembled but every word was clear. “You said you would treat Leo like your own brother.” “Is this how you treat him?” Mark stiffened as if hit by a hammer. The indifference on his face cracked, replaced by a flicker of panic. Noticing this, Bella hooked her arm through his, soothing him. “Mark, how can she say that? You’ve been so good to Leo. He was the one who was disrespectful to me. He did something wrong, he should be punished!” “Don’t let her gaslight you!” Mark stepped forward, his tall figure casting a shadow over me. His eyes were full of disappointment and disgust. “Sarah, I thought you were sensible. I didn’t expect you to be so blind to right and wrong!” “You don’t have to kneel. Just abandon him. There will still be a place for you in the Sterling family.” “You should know what’s more important: your child or your brother.” I scoffed and ripped the wedding ring off my finger. I threw it hard. It clattered to the ground at Mark’s feet, just like his broken promises. My voice was ice cold. “Mark, we’re done!” I gritted my teeth, supported my brother, and walked away without looking back. We went to three major hospitals. All of them stopped us at the door. I knew Bella had made the calls. She wanted to corner us. By nightfall, I finally found a small clinic. I grabbed the old doctor’s arm, begging. “Doctor, please look at my brother’s arm. We’ll pay whatever you want.” The doctor frowned as he cut open Leo’s sleeve. The arm was severely swollen and bruised. A gentle touch made Leo almost pass out from pain. The doctor sighed gravely. “The injury is too severe. I can only do basic first aid. You need to get him to a major hospital immediately. If the broken bone compresses the blood vessels for too long, he might need an amputation.” Hearing this, my legs gave out, and I collapsed. “Sis!” Leo tried to get up, his face twisting in pain. He reached out to me with his good hand. “Sis, don’t worry. I still have one hand.” “As long as you don’t mind having a cripple for a brother.” The despair in his eyes broke me. “Leo, don’t worry. I won’t let you lose your arm.” Suddenly, the clinic door was kicked open with a bang. Bella stood there, looking down at us. “Sarah, I thought you’d find somewhere decent. You’re hiding in this dump?” She looked at Leo maliciously. “Leo, blame your sister. If she had just knelt, you wouldn’t be losing an arm.” The old doctor frowned. “Miss, there’s a patient here. Watch your mouth.” “Watch it?” Bella laughed and threw a stack of cash onto the table. “Old man, this covers your rent for six months. Kick them out now. Otherwise, I won’t just close you down, I’ll make sure you can’t survive in this city.” A bodyguard stepped forward, glaring at the doctor. The doctor hesitated for a long time, then sighed, putting down his instruments. “Miss… I’m sorry…” The word “amputation” echoed in my ears. I scrambled up, dropped to my knees, and started banging my head on the floor towards Bella. Blood trickled down my forehead, but I kept going. “Bella, I beg you. Let my brother see a doctor. Don’t let him lose his arm. I’ll do anything. I’ll be your slave!” Bella crossed her arms, a cruel smile on her lips. “Begging me? Sarah, did you hit your head too hard? When did I say I’d let him see a doctor if you knelt?” That sentence was the last straw. It destroyed the final shred of hope I had. I grabbed a scalpel from the tray and lunged, pressing it against her throat. “Bella, take my brother to the best hospital now! Find the best orthopedic surgeon! Or you die with him.” Bella shrieked, trembling. “Sarah, are you crazy?!” “Mark! Mark, save me!” Mark rushed in recklessly. His eyes went red with rage. “Sarah! Have you lost your mind?! How dare you hurt Bella!” Without waiting for an explanation, he kicked me hard in the stomach. I flew back and hit the floor, feeling like every bone in my body shattered. “Mark, open your eyes! She’s stopping my brother from getting treatment! She’s trying to kill us!” “She’s the one in the wrong, and you keep enabling her!” I clutched my stomach, looking up at him with accusation. But Mark didn’t care. He was busy checking Bella for injuries. When he looked at me, his eyes held nothing but cold hatred. “I won’t forgive anyone who hurts Bella.” He barked an order to the bodyguards. “Break her brother’s other arm! Show her what a living hell feels like!” In that moment of crisis, I shakily pulled out my phone. My fingers fumbled across the screen. When the call connected, I used my last bit of strength to scream. “Is this… is this Grandpa Quinn from Ark Biotech?” My voice was broken, sobbing. “I’m the daughter of David and Linda Su. My brother is being beaten to death… they’re going to break his arms… please, save us…” Chapter 4 Mark snatched the phone impatiently. “Calling for help? Let’s see who dares to interfere with my business!” But the next second, an authoritative voice boomed from the phone. “I don’t care who you are. Get your dirty hands off her immediately! If you touch her again, you’ll pay for it!” Bella scoffed, unbothered. “Sarah, you think a phone call can save you? Let me tell you, even if God himself came down today, he couldn’t save you!” She grabbed the phone and smashed it to pieces. Mark gave a cold order. The bodyguard raised the steel pipe again. I pressed the scalpel against my own neck. “Mark! If you hurt my brother again, I’ll die right here! I’ll make you live the rest of your life with my blood on your hands!” “Sarah, are you threatening me?” I didn’t speak, just stared at him, eyes bulging with hatred. Mark, frightened by the look in my eyes, took a step back. While we were locked in a standoff, Bella snatched the steel pipe. “Sarah, you can threaten my brother, but you can’t threaten me.” “You dared to touch me? Today I’ll break your brother’s arms and legs. I’ll make sure he’s a cripple for life.” She advanced step by step, a triumphant smile on her face. Regret welled up inside me. When I dated Mark, Bella bullied me relentlessly because she thought I stole her brother. I thought true love could conquer all. Instead, I ruined myself and hurt my brother. Just then, a roar came from outside. An old man in a Mao suit pushed the door open, his sharp gaze sweeping the room. When he saw me and my injured brother, he shouted sternly: “Who did this?” Bella was startled by Mr. Quinn’s imposing presence. After looking him over, she sneered. “Acting tough?” “Where did you dig up this poor relative, Sarah? Get out!” Seeing Mr. Quinn didn’t react, she got bolder, lifting her chin arrogantly. “Let me tell you, this is Sterling territory. If you don’t know what’s good for you, don’t blame us for what happens next!” Mr. Quinn smiled faintly. “Oh? Is that so?” As soon as he spoke, rapid footsteps echoed from the alley. A squad of well-trained men in black suits rushed in. The leader walked straight to Mr. Quinn and bowed respectfully. “Sir, everything is ready.” Mr. Quinn nodded slightly, looking at me and my brother with kindness. “Don’t be afraid, children. With me here, no one can touch you.” The leader signaled his men. Two medics rushed forward with a stretcher, carefully securing my brother. Another man helped me up. “Miss Su, don’t worry. We will do everything to save your brother.” I nodded weakly, a glimmer of hope in my eyes. Mark and Bella turned pale, frozen in place. Seeing their cowardly faces, I felt a deep sadness. I had wasted my best years on such people, and caused my brother such pain. Just as we were about to board the helicopter, Mark’s hoarse voice called out. “Stop!” He stumbled over to block us. “Who do you think you are? What right do you have to take them? Leo made a mistake and deserves punishment. This is our family matter, not the business of some random old man!”

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After a massive landslide, our college trekking club was trapped in a cave for seven days. I finally cracked the code on a survival cache we found that contained a satellite phone. Everyone cheered. Chase, our trip leader and my boyfriend, immediately snatched the case and handed it to Tiffany, the group’s resident “It Girl” and self-proclaimed heiress. “This is a great photo op. Let’s let Tiff do the honors. She needs the clout for her influencer profile.” Tiffany, looking flustered, punched in the wrong code. Twice. The system locked out after three tries. In my past life, seeing that there was only one attempt left, I snatched the box back and punched in the correct sequence to save us. After we were rescued, instead of thanking me, the whole group accused me of stealing Tiffany’s thunder. They claimed she had solved it and I just jumped in at the last second. Later, Tiffany stole my credit card information to buy everyone expensive gifts and threw a party at my family’s villa, claiming it was hers. When I confronted her with the bank statements, she cried, “Harper is just jealous because my family has money and hers doesn’t.” Chase sneered at me, “You think anyone cares about your pennies? Stop trying to make yourself look important.” During the argument, they shoved me into the river. The whole group watched coldly as I drowned. When I opened my eyes, I was back in the cave. Back to the moment Tiffany was punching in the code. This time, I stood back and watched her fail. Chapter 1 “Tiff, babe, the code is cracked. Go ahead and input it!” Chase stood beaming as I finished scratching the mathematical sequence into the dirt floor with a twig. I had solved the riddle locking the survival case we found in the debris. The moment the solution clicked, I looked up at Chase, a smile forming. But before I could speak, he grabbed the case, completely ignoring my two days of mental gymnastics, and shoved it into Tiffany’s hands. Tiffany smirked at me, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Chase, Harper found this case. She solved the math. If I take the credit, won’t she be mad?” Her tone dripped with fake apology, but her eyes were mocking me. Chase scoffed. “Her? She wouldn’t dare get mad. She’d be happy to hand over her entire food stash if I asked her to.” Hearing that, Tiffany smiled, satisfied. My heart turned cold. I didn’t argue. I just watched silently as Tiffany’s manicured fingers clumsily punched in the wrong numbers. Twice. The group started getting restless. “Come on, Tiff!” She was shaking. In my last life, panic set in. I knew if the case locked, we were doomed. So I grabbed it, saved everyone, and got branded a glory-hog. Not this time. Beep. Beep. The red light flashed. Tiffany, living up to expectations, entered the wrong code for the third time. Click. The mechanism seized. The case was permanently locked. The satellite phone was bricked. The cave erupted. “Tiffany! Are you blind? Two and nine aren’t even close to each other!” “Are you kidding me? We’ve been stuck here for a week! That was our ticket out!” “Nobody asked you to solve it! You just had to type four digits! Did you do that on purpose?” Tiffany dropped the case like it was hot coal and looked at Chase with tear-filled eyes. “Chase… I didn’t mean to. It’s just… Harper took so long to solve it, and I’m so hungry and dizzy… and it’s dark…” Then, she turned her watery gaze on me. “Maybe Harper’s math was wrong! Maybe she gave me the wrong code!” Chapter 2 Hilarious. I spent forty-eight hours verifying that sequence. Now that she screwed up, she wants to pin it on me? In her dreams. Without me, they wouldn’t have even found the box. “I solved the puzzle. I didn’t tell you to type it in,” I said, my voice flat. “And considering you typed three different combinations, none of which matched my solution, how exactly is my math the problem?” I let out a cold laugh. I wasn’t playing the doormat anymore. Tiffany’s face went pale. Being called out wasn’t part of her script. Chase frowned, but the rest of the classmates were fuming. “Well, if Harper wasn’t so slow, Tiff wouldn’t have been so stressed!” “Yeah, blame Harper. She’s so desperate for attention.” “Exactly. Tiffany is top of the class. Harper is just a try-hard.” It was absurd. Tiffany’s “top of the class” status was entirely because Chase, using his position as a T.A., doctored her grades. When the real work started, Tiffany conveniently “fainted.” “I’m sorry, everyone,” Tiffany sobbed, bowing to the group. “It’s my fault. Don’t blame Harper. She didn’t mean to be difficult.” Chase immediately pulled her up, glaring at me. “Babe, this isn’t on you. It’s Harper’s fault.” Seeing him defend her, the group directed their rage at me. Chase comforted Tiffany, whispering sweet nothings while casting me as the villain. I walked to a corner and sat down, clutching my necklace. Inside the pendant was a GPS tracker my brother had custom-made for me. I was kidnapped once as a kid, so my family was paranoid. Before this trip, I told my brother: If I’m not back in seven days, come find me. Suddenly, a hand yanked me up. It was Chase. He looked furious. “Harper, give your food to Tiffany. She’s looking pale.” He said it like it was an order. Before the trip, I told everyone to pack emergency rations and water. Tiffany mocked me. “We’re going glamping, Harper. I’m not carrying a heavy bag. We can catch rabbits or something.” Her bag was full of makeup and ring lights. Chase had packed snacks, but he’d given them all to her days ago. I slapped his hand away. “She needs to eat? What about me? Do I photosynthesize?” “I’m your girlfriend, Chase. Yet you prioritize her every single time. Do you think that’s normal?” Chase froze. I had never talked back to him before. I used to be the “cool girl,” the one who accommodated everything. He gritted his teeth, poking my forehead. “Why are you so selfish? People are starving, and you’re hoarding? If anything happens to Tiff, are you taking responsibility?” Me? Responsible? “Chase,” I said calmly. “Let’s break up.” Chapter 3 Chase looked at me with pure disdain. “Break up? You’re using that to threaten me?” “Fine. Hand over the food in your bag, and I’ll agree to the breakup.” I almost laughed. I was worthless to him. “I carried this food up the mountain. Why should I give it to you?” Chase felt entitled to my labor. Just like in school, when I did the group projects and he put Tiffany’s name on the credits. “You wanted to break up, right? Consider the food your breakup fee. You’re getting off easy.” Even though I hated him now, hearing him say that still stung. “No,” I said. “Get away from me.” “Chase!” Tiffany wailed from the ground. “I think I’m gonna faint…” Chase lunged, ripped my backpack off my shoulders, and dumped the contents. He grabbed the last few energy bars and threw them to Tiffany. She caught them with surprising agility for someone about to faint. She shot me a smug look. I grabbed my empty bag off the dirt. Tiffany tore open a wrapper and bit down. Immediately, she spat it out. “Ew! This tastes like cardboard! Even a dog wouldn’t eat this.” These were high-calorie survival rations. Not gourmet cookies. Chase patted her back, glaring at me. “Harper, did you do this on purpose? Bringing trash food to poison her?” I snapped. I walked over, grabbed the half-chewed bar from the dirt, and shoved it toward Tiffany’s face. “Did I force you to eat it? You stole it!” Tiffany gagged, rinsing her mouth with the last of Chase’s water. “Harper, you’re a psycho!” Chase yelled, raising his hand to slap me. I dodged effortlessly. They cursed at me for ten minutes. I tuned them out. Suddenly, a beam of sunlight pierced the darkness. The storm outside had cleared. Chase grabbed Tiffany’s hand. “Tiff, look! Light! Let’s go find a way out. I have the map!” He dug into his bag and pulled out… confetti. Tiffany bit her lip, looking up at him with puppy eyes. “Chase… I’m sorry. I tore it up to make confetti for the summit photo… I thought it would be romantic.” Chase sighed, his anger melting instantly. “It’s okay. We’re smart. We can find the way.” As they headed for the opening, I spoke up. “The soil is unstable. There could be a secondary landslide or flash flood. It’s safer to stay put.” Chapter 4 Chase stopped and turned around. “Harper, you love hiking, right? You go scout the path.” I wasn’t going to be their cannon fodder. “No. If you want to go, go yourself.” Chase sneered. “I knew you were a coward. You don’t have half the courage Tiffany has.” They rolled their eyes at me and left. I shouted after them, “Seriously, watch out for the mud!” They ignored me. Twenty minutes later, a drone buzzed into the cave. I saw the logo on the side. I smiled. It was my brother’s tech company. The group waved frantically at the drone. It ignored them, hovered in front of me, nodded its camera, and zipped away. “We’re saved!” “I knew Chase and Tiffany would find help!” “Yeah, Harper almost ruined it by telling them to stay.” Suddenly, the sky darkened. Rain poured down in sheets. A while later, two mud-covered figures stumbled back into the cave. They were limping, bleeding from gashes on their legs. “Does anyone have antibiotics?” Chase screamed. “We fell! It’s deep!” I touched the pocket of my jacket. I had a first-aid kit with a single dose of broad-spectrum antibiotics and a tetanus shot. When I told them to pack first-aid kits, they laughed at me for being paranoid. The classmates shook their heads. Chase limped over to me. “Harper. You hoard everything. You must have medicine. Give it to me, and I might consider taking you back.” I laughed. “I only have one dose. Who gets it?” Tiffany lunged, snatching the kit from my hand. She injected herself immediately. “Chase, you know I have a weak constitution! You’re strong, you can handle it!” Chase stared at her, betrayed. He tried to grab the empty syringe. I watched them turn on each other. So much for true love. An hour later, the rain stopped. The sound of rotors filled the air. A sleek, private helicopter landed on the flat rock outside the cave. Chapter 5 A tall man in a tactical jacket stepped out. “Oh my god! That’s Asher Xu! The pop star!” “It’s Tiffany’s brother! I knew she was legit!” “Tiffany, you saved us! Your brother came personally!” The classmates were practically kneeling before Tiffany. Tiffany stood there, frozen. Chase, seeing a luxury chopper, forgot his pain. He rushed forward to shake Asher’s hand with his muddy paws. Asher recoiled, his face showing visible disgust. “Asher, bro! I’m Tiffany’s best friend. I’m the leader here. Take us back first, yeah?” Asher looked confused. I hadn’t told anyone at school that Asher was my brother. I wanted a normal life. The classmates pushed Tiffany forward. “Go on, Tiff! It’s your brother!” Tiffany lowered her head, voice trembling. “Brother… you came for me? I know you’re busy…” Asher’s expression went from confused to icy. I couldn’t help but chuckle. Asher spotted me in the back. He pushed through the crowd and pulled me into a hug. The group gasped. A few months ago, Asher posted a photo of us hiking with the caption: Hiking with Sis. Tiffany posted a photo of the same mountain with the caption: Hiking with Brother <3. Everyone assumed she was the sister. She never corrected them. "Asher... don't you recognize your own sister?" someone asked. "Is Harper paying you to act like this?" "I'm unfollowing you. Abandoning your sister for a peasant?" Chase stepped up. "Harper is my girlfriend. If she gets on, I get on. I need to supervise her." Asher looked at the crowd like they were bugs. "You people are delusional. I don't know who 'Tiffany' is." "Harper is my biological sister. I'm here for her." "As for the rest of you... Search and Rescue is an hour out. Wait here." He pulled me onto the chopper. We lifted off, leaving them in the mud.

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I was just about to confess my feelings to my online crush in person when floating text suddenly appeared in front of my eyes. It looked like a live stream chat. [This side chick needs to give it a rest. The Male Lead is avoiding her like the plague. He’s mortified he spent all that time chatting with the wrong girl.] [It’s totally the side chick’s fault for using a profile pic that looks just like the Female Lead’s. No wonder Xavier got confused.] [Ugh, thinking about how the Male Lead poured his heart out to her after losing that game makes me sick. All those deep convos were meant for our girl, not this extra.] [Tell me about it. Xavier is disgusted, and our baby girl, the Female Lead, is bummed out too. She just added him yesterday!] [This side chick is toxic.] I stood there, frozen, staring at the floating words, when Xavier walked right into my line of sight. He’d just finished a basketball game. When he saw me, his eyes darted away. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. I sidestepped him and shoved my love letter into his roommate’s hands instead. Online crush? Please. I have, like, five of them. Those “goodnight” voice memos? I send those out on a mass broadcast list. 1 Seeing the floating comments really threw me for a loop. Standing outside the basketball court, watching the text scroll by, I started to piece things together. According to these comments, I’m just a cannon fodder side character in some cheesy college romance novel. And my online crush, Xavier, is the Male Lead. I looked down at the pink envelope in my hand and it clicked. No wonder his replies had been slow and dry lately. He sounded annoyed in every text. Turns out, he thought I was the Female Lead, Lily, this whole time. That’s why he added me, why he flirted with me, why he caught feelings over our “good morning” and “goodnight” texts. Now that he knows the truth, he’s avoiding me like I have a contagious disease. He probably thinks I’m the villain blocking his true love. A cheer erupted from the court. I looked up. Xavier was walking toward me. He was wearing a blue jersey, white headband, looking like every college girl’s dream. He took a water bottle from a teammate and took a swig, sweat glistening. He was the Main Character, alright. He literally sparkled. He looked up, saw me, and froze. Then he stiffly looked away and started talking to his teammate, pretending I didn’t exist. I sighed. The comments were right. [If I were the side chick, I’d run away. Why embarrass yourself?] [Exactly. The Male Lead and Female Lead are destined. Why is she trying to butt in? So desperate.] [Look, he won’t even look at her.] Xavier really wasn’t looking at me. He was glued to his phone, smiling at a text. Probably from the “real” Female Lead, Lily. As he was about to walk past me, I reached out and lightly grabbed his wrist. He looked shocked. I smiled. “You’re Xavier, right?” The comments went wild. Everyone was roasting me. I ignored them and stared straight at him. “Is Kai your roommate?” “Do you know where he is?” Xavier blinked. “Why are you looking for Kai?” I waved the letter in my hand. “I have something for him.” 2 Xavier didn’t speak, but his nosy teammate leaned in. “Kai? You’re looking for Kai? He’s at the tennis courts next door.” “Thanks,” I said, letting go of Xavier’s wrist. I turned and marched toward the tennis courts, letter in hand. Behind me, the whispers started. They weren’t exactly whispering. I could hear every word. “Holy crap, she likes Kai? That dude is creepy.” “Yeah, Kai gives off serial killer vibes. Why would a girl like him?” “He’s pretty, though. Different from Xavier. Kai is beautiful. Some girls are into that dark, mysterious look.” “Hey, Xavier, why are you so quiet?” “Xavier? Where are you going? Aren’t we getting food?” Rapid footsteps approached from behind. Xavier blocked my path. “Xavier? Something else?” I asked. He frowned at me, then at the letter. He seemed to realize what he was doing and awkwardly scratched his head. “It’s just… my roommate has a weird temper. You don’t know him. If you just walk up to him, he might get mad. How about I give it to him for you?” The comments exploded. [What is this? Is the side chick playing hard to get?] [Scared me for a second. I thought the Male Lead actually liked this plain girl. Turns out he’s just being nice.] [To be fair, when Xavier lost that game, her comfort really helped him. I’d have caught feelings too if I were him.] I paused, reading the text. They were talking about a basketball game last fall. It was important to Xavier, but he choked in the final quarter. They lost. His teammates tried to comfort him, but he could feel their disappointment. He hid away from everyone. I sent him tons of messages, but he ignored them all. Finally, I recorded a voice memo of me singing a song, deliberately off-key. He finally replied: “Stop singing. You’re killing me.” His voice was tired but held a hint of a smile. I stayed up all night texting him until he felt better. [She stole the Female Lead’s plotline! Xavier can’t like her. He’s Lily-sexual only.] [Exactly. He fell for Lily at first sight. He only added the side chick by mistake.] Right. That makes sense. I shook my head at Xavier. “No thanks. I know Kai pretty well.” Xavier froze. “How?” I leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, “Actually, I’ve known him online for three years. We just haven’t met in person.” I acted shy. “We’re graduating soon, so I thought I’d confess offline. Give myself a shot.” [What? Did the side chick mistake Kai for someone too?] [Good. Let her chase the creepy villain. Stay away from our Xavier.] [But Xavier looks kinda upset…] Xavier stood there, frowning, looking like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. I looked past him and smiled. “There he is! Xavier, talk later!” “Wait! Could you be mistaken?” Xavier blurted out. I stopped. “Mistaken about what?” He gritted his teeth. “You said you haven’t met. How are you sure that’s the guy you’ve been talking to?” I laughed. “If it’s not him, could it be you?” Xavier denied it instantly. “Not me.” I stared at him for a second. He couldn’t even meet my eyes. “So, Xavier, don’t worry about it,” I said, dodging past him and running toward the crowd leaving the tennis courts. Xavier raised his hand to stop me, but let it drop. 3 Kai stood out. He was 6’2″, walking at the back of the group. His hair was long, tied back in a messy bun. His bangs were damp with sweat. He raked a hand through them, revealing sharp, stunning features. But his eyes were cold. “Don’t come near me” cold. Nobody walked with him except during practice. I weaved through the sweaty giants and stopped right in front of him. He almost ran into me. He looked down, surprised. “What do you want?” I shoved the letter into his hand. “Just wanted to confess.” Kai looked at the crumpled pink envelope in his palm, then back at me. … I wasn’t technically lying to Xavier. I did know Kai. Or at least, I thought I did. I have a problem. I have too much empathy. I want to give every sad boy a home. So, Xavier wasn’t my only pen pal. Xavier needed the most validation. He whined about losing games and begged me to sing him to sleep. Kai was the opposite. He was an ice block. I’d send ten messages, and he’d reply to one. But I didn’t care. He was hot. I looked him in the eye. “Hi, I’m Jane from the Statistics department. Kai, you don’t have to accept my confession, but let’s at least meet properly.” Kai ignored me, shouldered his racket bag, and walked away. I didn’t mind. I happily headed to the cafeteria. On the way, my phone pinged. It was one of my other chat buddies, “SaltySnack.” [Jane, didn’t your therapist say you should get a boyfriend to help with your excessive emotional attachment? How’s that going?] I typed back: [Had a target, but I decided to switch.] [What about you? You said you added your crush. How’s that going?] SaltySnack replied: [Meh. Now that we’re talking, I don’t feel like chatting with him. It’s not as fun as talking to you.] Suddenly, the floating text in the air went crazy. [Wait, why are the Side Chick and the Female Lead friends?!] [Is Xavier just another fish in Jane’s pond?] [Lily, baby, what are you doing! Xavier is waiting for your text, why are you talking to the side chick?!] [Jane, turn around! The creepy guy is following you!] [This plot is a mess.] I texted SaltySnack back while watching the comments. So the comments were useful after all. SaltySnack is Lily, the Female Lead. And Kai is following me! I whipped around. Kai froze. He was ten meters away. He didn’t seem embarrassed at all. He walked past me expressionlessly, like nothing happened. That level of chill… he’s not normal. I marveled at him and went to get food. That night, I was exhausted. I said goodnight to all my chat buddies. When I got to Xavier’s chat, I paused. Oh, right. He’s off the list. Just as I was about to exit, the “Typing…” indicator appeared at the top of the screen. It flashed for a while, but nothing came through. I was too tired to care. I turned off my phone and slept. 4 I was serious about finding a boyfriend. The next day, I went to find Kai right after class. I was too early; the courts were empty. I wandered around for a bit. When I came back, people were arguing. “Coach, the ball machine was broken when I got here. It looks intentional!” “Who left last yesterday?” “Kai. He came back after dinner and stayed until closing.” “Check the cameras?” “Cameras are broken. Haven’t been fixed yet.” Kai walked up in the middle of this. Everyone stared at him. The coach frowned. “Kai, did you break the machine?” Kai looked at him. “No.” His indifference annoyed the coach. “Just admit it if you did it. It’s not a huge deal.” The students whispered. “Definitely him.” “He won’t admit it because he doesn’t want to pay.” “What a jerk.” The comments were suspicious of him too. [He’s not the MC for a reason. Dude has moral issues.] [Look at his eyes. Scary.] Kai’s expression darkened. He looked at someone in the crowd, paused, then pulled out his phone. He played a video for the coach. It showed an empty court. In the corner, a figure was violently kicking the ball machine. The scene flashed by, then the camera flipped to a girl’s face. “Hey Kai! You’re not here yet? I’ve been waiting forever…” My voice. My face. Everyone turned to look at me standing in the back. Even my thick skin burned a little. “Haha… sorry. Just a random vlog.” But my video cleared Kai’s name. The coach walked over. “Student, did you see who broke the equipment?” I pointed at a guy in the crowd. “Him.” I hadn’t remembered until Kai played the video. “It was him.” The guy exploded. “Not me!” “It was you. You were kicking it and yelling about how unfair it was that Kai got picked for the Beijing tournament. You said he bribed the coach.” The coach glared at the guy. “You said what?” “I didn’t!” “Oh?” I bluffed, reaching for my phone. “I have more videos. Let me check.” The guy panicked. He turned and ran. Guilty. The coach waved his hand. “Alright, break it up. Practice time!” “Coach,” I said, smiling. “Did you forget something?” “What?” I pointed at Kai, who was quietly organizing his rackets. “You didn’t apologize to him.” “You accused him in front of everyone. Don’t you owe him an apology?” Kai stopped moving. He looked up. The coach spat, “Where did this brat come from? Get lost! Don’t interrupt practice!” “Everyone out! Out!” He stormed off. I wiped the spit off my face. Kai smirked. Just a tiny bit. I saw it. “You laughing at me?” His face went blank. “No.” “Whatever. I helped you today. You owe me a drink.” Kai looked at me, then nodded. “Okay.” [Wait, do I ship them?] [This is weird. Why are they making eyes at each other?] [I haven’t even seen the MC and FMC meet yet, and these two are going on dates?]

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My name is Kira Ransome, the real heiress who was swapped at birth. It was the third day after the Greenes found me that Alistair, the man I was supposed to call Dad, dropped the bomb: the Greene family business was bankrupt. What he didn’t know was that my vision was suddenly filled with flashing, scrolling text—a live feed of internet commentary, like a horrifying stock ticker of my life. “The heroine is about to be played by this whole family!” “Poor thing. The Greenes adore the fake heiress, so they’re faking bankruptcy to pressure the heroine into working herself ragged!” “Kira is such a fool, killing herself to earn money, only to discover she was tricked. Her husband even had a baby with the fake heiress!” “She ends up dead, falling from a high-rise. A textbook tragedy/angst novel.” “Honestly, she deserves it. If she hadn’t been so desperate for their family love, she never would have let them con her into such a miserable death, while the fake heiress gets the perfect life!” I watched the lines of text float past, then turned to look at the man standing opposite me, Mr. Alistair Greene. “Since the Greene family is bankrupt,” I said, my voice unnervingly calm, “I guess I’ll be leaving.” The commentary had already told me everything. They weren’t bankrupt; this was a setup. If they wanted to play games, they could do it without me. 1 My announcement froze all three of them in place. Alistair and Celeste (the woman who was supposed to be my mother) looked horrified. Even Piper Greene—the fake daughter who’d lived my charmed life—was staring me down. “Kira Ransome, what is that supposed to mean?” she snapped. “Your family is in crisis, and you’re walking away? How can you look Dad and Mom in the face?” I actually laughed. For years, it was her who had enjoyed the privilege of this life, dining on steak and caviar in my place. I was the one who had suffered, scraped by, and done without. I had received precisely zero of the Greene family’s benefits. And yet, she was asking how I could look them in the face? “The heroine is truly pathetic! They only brought her back for appearance’s sake because she looks so much like Celeste and was recognized by an outsider!” “Even after bringing her home, they never treated her right. They faked bankruptcy to turn her into a workhorse, making her constantly take on their problems until she was ready to drop from exhaustion.” “When the truth came out, they still threw her off a balcony to her death!” “And they have the nerve to ask her if she’s ‘loyal’ to the family? Gross!” The screen flashed, and the sheer audacity of my predicted fate sent a cold shock through me. Dying, falling from a building—it was a brutal ending. Knowing the script, I had no choice but to change the ending. I looked directly at Piper. “You’re the one who enjoyed the Greene family’s status. In the eyes of the world, you are the Greene heiress. What does that have to do with me, the girl who grew up an orphan?” My counter-question stunned all three of them into silence. “Kira, how can you talk like that?” Celeste rushed forward, grabbing my hand, her eyes glistening. “I know you resent Piper for taking your life, but it wasn’t her fault!” She squeezed my hand tighter, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “We can’t change what happened years ago. We know you suffered, but your father and I still love you! How can you abandon the Greenes the moment we hit a roadblock?” I looked at Celeste, whose face was a perfect mask of tearful sincerity, and felt nothing but ice. The commentary had already informed me: The Greenes had known the truth about the switch for a long time and had investigated everything. But they had spent years raising Piper and saw her as their true daughter. Bringing me back was merely a calculated move to turn me into their cheap labor, their family slave. Watching the three of them act out this pathetic drama, my heart turned to stone. “Kira Ransome, regardless of what you say, we are still your parents,” Alistair declared, his voice hard, trying to use his authority. I didn’t argue. I just smiled, a thin, meaningless smile. “Mr. Greene, your daughter is Piper Greene. I am not. Since the Greene empire is over, I’m done here.” I turned, ready to walk out the door. If they wanted to scam me, I certainly wasn’t going to stick around to be the mark. “Kira Ransome, I always knew you were nothing but a gold-digger! You only came back for the money!” Piper pointed a finger at me, shouting. “Do you have no sense of family at all?” I faced her. “You were the one who enjoyed the comforts of this family. I didn’t receive a dime or a single benefit from the Greenes. Why on earth would I sacrifice myself for you people?” My question left all three of them speechless again. “Kira, how can you be so heartless?” Celeste wailed, pulling at my arm. “We finally found you, and now that you’re back, you should help the family!” I looked at Celeste, speechless myself. The entitlement was dizzying. Seeing my clear refusal, Alistair’s face darkened with open rage. He stared at me with undisguised contempt. “Kira Ransome, we knew you were this kind of person!” He spat the words out. “I’ll tell you the truth: the Greene family isn’t bankrupt. We were only testing you! I can’t believe this is how you reacted to hearing the news!” He paused, clearly waiting for me to break, to beg for forgiveness and my place in the family. I remained completely unmoved. “Since the Greene family isn’t bankrupt, I have no reason to stay. Mr. Greene, I’ll be going now.” Knowing the true nature of their intentions, there was no need for pleasantries. As I walked away, Alistair scoffed, his face a mask of cold fury. “Kira Ransome, mark my words: from this day forward, you are not my daughter! Don’t you dare claim to be a Greene ever again!” “Don’t worry, Mr. Greene,” I said, turning back briefly to meet his eye. “I promise I will never, in this lifetime, claim to have any association with you.” With that, I turned and walked out. I had already given up on the Greene family. There was nothing left to salvage. Behind me, Piper was already comforting them. “Mom, Dad, don’t worry! Kira may not claim you, but I do! I’ll always be your true daughter!” “Oh, Piper, you are the child Mom loves the most!” Celeste sobbed, pulling Piper into a hug. Alistair, meanwhile, was focused on me, still gathering the last of my meager possessions. “You ungrateful girl! How could I have given birth to such a viper!” I ignored him. None of them were good people. The commentary kept rolling. “LOL, the script is changing! I told you the heroine should do this! The Greenes deserve everything they get!” “Exactly! Kira is great, unlike Piper, that total wreck who bleeds the family dry and loses money everywhere she goes!” “After Kira dies, Piper actually kicks the old couple out, and they freeze to death under a bridge!” I realized, watching the frantic chatter, that the Greenes were heading for a dire, self-inflicted fate. So be it. Let them mess up their own lives. After leaving the Greenes, I initially worried about supporting myself, but the live commentary kept offering advice, essentially a blueprint for success. They detailed exactly how to make money. Within months, following the tips on the feed, I had amassed a respectable amount of capital. “The plot is going totally off the rails! The heroine isn’t just intercepting the Greenes’ resources; she’s thriving!” “Haven’t you noticed? She does whatever we suggest! This is the story I want to read!” “As long as Kira doesn’t crawl back to the Greenes, I’m sticking around!” One day, while working late at my new office, the feed suddenly flared up again. “The male lead has arrived!” I paused, raising an eyebrow. The male lead? Who was that? “Watch out, he’s a total scumbag. He gets with Kira on the surface, but he’s secretly sleeping with the fake heiress, who’s pregnant with his baby. Yet he still plans to marry Kira!” “This kind of trash man better not ruin the heroine!” “Is the angst train about to depart?” As the commentary flew, my phone rang. Seeing the name on the screen, I immediately understood who they meant by “the male lead.” Noah Blackwood. My first love. We’d been high school sweethearts, promising each other a future. But after graduation, Noah had gone overseas for college, and we’d completely lost touch. I never expected him to call me now. “Kira Ransome, I’m back. I need to see you.” I glanced at the live feed. “The heroine has no idea the fake heiress knew Noah was Kira’s idealized first love, her ‘White Moonlight,’ and spent his time abroad running into him on purpose!” “Noah and the fake heiress are already hot and heavy, and he’s helping her scheme to hurt Kira!” “The fake heiress is carrying Noah’s baby!” The information clicked into place. I knew everything I needed to know. “Noah Blackwood,” I said, feigning curiosity. “Why are you calling me?” The last remnants of my high school fantasy vanished instantly. I was not going to be tangled up with him. “Kira Ransome, I came back specifically for you!” His voice was playfully earnest. “Come pick me up at the airport, okay?” I shook my head. “No, Noah. I have work to do. I won’t be able to meet you.” Before he could argue, I hung up. I had zero interest in him now. “Aha! The heroine is deviating from the script!” “That’s right! Who said that guy was the male lead? We don’t need that kind of tragedy!” The screen buzzed, and I went back to my work. But Noah was persistent. “Kira Ransome, I miss you so much. I know I was wrong to leave, but I just need to see you.” His voice on the phone sounded desperate. “Fine. Let’s meet once.” I thought about it for a moment. I needed to see what they were planning. I met Noah at a downtown bistro. He was already seated. When he saw me, he stood up and walked straight toward me. He looked exactly as I remembered: sunny, handsome, and charming. If I hadn’t known what I knew, his looks alone would have made me weak. The live feed was currently a mess of angry comments about Noah’s various flaws. I sat down opposite him. “You wanted to see me?” “Kira Ransome, I missed you,” Noah said, staring intensely. “I only came back because I couldn’t forget you.” “DO NOT BELIEVE HIM, HEROINE! The scumbag was just hooking up with the fake heiress right before this meeting!” I smiled, a genuine smile of amusement. “Noah, we haven’t been anything to each other for a long time. If that’s all you wanted, I’ll be going now.” “Kira Ransome, don’t you love me anymore?” He reached across the table and anxiously grabbed my wrist. “You promised you’d love me forever! When I left, you said you’d wait for me, no matter how long!” I immediately yanked my hand away. “Noah, you know the truth about you and Piper, don’t you?” His face instantly drained of color. He clearly hadn’t expected me to know anything about his connection to Piper. He looked utterly panicked. “Kira Ransome, what are you talking about? There’s nothing going on between me and Piper!” he stammered, flustered. I didn’t bother listening to his lies. I got up and left. I had barely stepped out of the restaurant when I saw Piper Greene waiting near the entrance. She glared at me, cold and furious. “Kira Ransome, you ungrateful viper, Mom and Dad demand to see you!” I walked right past her, not even acknowledging the command. I knew they weren’t giving up, especially after seeing how quickly and successfully I’d launched my own company these last few months. They wanted me back to work for the Greene family. But I was never going back. Moreover, Alistair and Celeste were completely oblivious to the fact that, thanks to Piper’s mismanagement, the Greene company was teetering on the edge of financial disaster, requiring only a final push to collapse. It wasn’t my problem. Watching me leave, Piper’s face was twisted with fury. She suddenly lunged forward and grabbed my arm. “Kira Ransome, you backstabbing snake! They are your real parents!” “You’re wrong,” I said, giving her a cold, dismissive look. “They are your real parents. They have nothing to do with me.” “Don’t come looking for me again.” I finished, pulling my arm free and turning to walk away. “Kira Ransome, how can you be this way? Mom has cried buckets over you!” she pleaded desperately. Just then, Noah Blackwood rushed out of the restaurant and joined the fray. “Kira Ransome, how can you refuse your own parents?” he demanded, trying to block my path. “Kira, you need to listen to me and go back home!” I spared a glance for the two of them, said nothing, and kept walking. I hadn’t even made it back to my office before my assistant rushed in. “Boss, someone is slandering you online!” I opened the website. A video was playing: Alistair and Celeste, sitting in front of a camera, tearfully accusing me, their own flesh-and-blood daughter, of abandoning them. I watched their pathetic performance and actually smiled. Alistair and Celeste spoke endlessly about how difficult their lives had been and how I, their biological daughter, refused to acknowledge them. The live commentary was overwhelming, all of it denouncing me as an unfilial daughter.

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The first thing I did after I was reborn was scatter my best friend’s ashes. In my previous life, Seraphina had gotten pregnant out of wedlock, brutally abandoned by her boyfriend and her own family. She barely held on through the delivery, only to suffer a massive hemorrhage in the operating room. With her last breath, she begged me to take in her newborn son. Pitying her, I soft-heartedly agreed. Caring for the baby meant my studies tanked, and I was expelled from my elite university. Unable to finish my degree, I was forced to work menial jobs, enduring countless indignities and sneers, all while raising a child who wasn’t mine. Finally, the year he turned eighteen, he was spotted by a scout, starred in a movie, and instantly shot to fame—an Oscar-winning actor. At the awards ceremony, Seraphina, my “dead” best friend, walked in, arm-in-arm with my ex-boyfriend. I stumbled forward in disbelief, demanding an explanation. She simply smiled at me. “Congratulations on completing the test.” My mind blanked. My ex-boyfriend, Bryce, stepped forward, a look of cold condescension on his face. “Seraphina is a billionaire’s daughter. How were we to know you weren’t just using her for money?” “Now that you’ve diligently raised our son, you’ve earned the right to be Seraphina’s acquaintance.” “If you see our son through marriage and children of his own, then, maybe, you’ll earn the right to be Seraphina’s best friend.” My head exploded. Her friend? Was I desperate for her friendship? That was eighteen years of my life! A desperate tide of rage and betrayal rose up, choking me. I lunged at them, my eyes blazing. Suddenly, Kian, the son I’d raised, rushed off the stage and shoved me away. “Are you crazy? Who gave you the right to try and hurt my parents?” The sharp, sudden shock was too much. My heart seized in my chest, and I passed out cold. When I woke up, I was back. Back to the day Seraphina gave birth. 1 “The patient is hemorrhaging badly. Get Dr. Chen in here.” “Are you the patient’s next of kin? We’re short on Type B blood. Can you donate?” A nurse approached me. I blinked, dazed, then sharply looked up at the glowing SURGERY IN PROGRESS sign above the door. It was Seraphina’s surgery. I had been reborn. My breathing hitched. I instinctively pulled my sleeve down, covering the veins in my arm. The nurse, seeing my lack of response, nudged me urgently. “Hurry! The patient is fading fast.” I shook my head, settling the cold, hard certainty into my stomach. I said, my voice unnervingly calm, “I am not. You need to find someone else.” The nurse looked momentarily stunned, then quickly spun around and ran back into the operating room. I let out a cold, inner laugh. Last time, I’d rushed to donate without a second thought. They didn’t even run a proper check on me—they’d just drawn four hundred CCs of blood. It was clearly premeditated. Dizzy and lightheaded from the blood loss, I’d barely been able to think. When the nurse had helped me into the delivery room, and Seraphina had begged me to raise her baby, I’d blindly and miserably agreed. While I was lost in the memory, the OR light flickered off. The doctor emerged, his face grave with regret. “We did our best. The patient is still conscious. You can say your goodbyes.” I walked slowly into the room. Seraphina was there, looking exactly as she had before—pale, weak, a vision of suffering. She looked at me, a hint of accusation in her expression. “Rowan, why wouldn’t you donate blood for me? If you had helped, maybe I could have pulled through.” The nurse from earlier chimed in, her tone dripping with moral judgment. “Exactly! She considered you her best friend, and you wouldn’t even give a little blood? That’s a living life you refused to save! Don’t you feel any guilt?” Seraphina wiped a fake tear from her eye. “It’s done, I won’t blame you. My parents and my boyfriend abandoned me; I have nothing left to live for, anyway.” She looked down at the tiny bundle beside her. “But my son… he’s so small. I’m terrified for him. Rowan, you’re the only one I can trust. Please, can you raise him for me?” The nurse started sobbing softly, shooting me a look of pure condemnation. “How tragic! You contributed to her death. Are you really heartless enough to abandon her baby, too?” Watching the two of them perform this manipulative duet, I felt a deep, chilling disgust. Last time, weakened by the blood draw, I had been easily cornered and morally blackmailed. I had genuinely believed Seraphina was my friend, and the sight of her fading away had broken me. But what had that “pity” gotten me? My boyfriend had instantly accused me of cheating and fathering an illegitimate child, abandoning me without a backward glance. I couldn’t afford childcare and was forced to drop out of university, falling from a high-achieving student to someone with a high school diploma. Without a degree, I couldn’t find a decent job. It was all minimum wage, manual labor. When the child was eight, he developed a relentless high fever and ended up in the ICU. The medical bills were impossible; I was forced to take out predatory online loans. When the boy recovered, the debt collectors arrived, threatening and intimidating me. The child cried constantly, and the neighbors, tired of the noise, complained to the landlord. I was evicted, forced to wander with the boy like a beggar. For eighteen years, I worked as a diner waitress, a cleaning lady. Just when I finally found a boss who valued skill over a degree, and my work stabilized, I tried to find a stable relationship, some support. The first time I brought an almost-boyfriend home, an old neighbor cornered him the minute I was out of earshot. “Listen, handsome, you’re making a mistake! Don’t you know she’s got baggage? You’re too good for a woman with a stray kid.” He hesitated. “But Rowan told me the boy is her friend’s son.” The neighbor sneered, clucking her tongue. “You believe that? She definitely got knocked up when she was young and wild, and made up that story so she wouldn’t be stuck alone. I’m telling you, I’ve seen her type before. Go find a nice, clean girl.” He paused, then turned and left without even saying goodbye. I collapsed behind the door, quietly sobbing. Eighteen years of sneers and judgment, eighteen years of raising him alone—only to be told, at his glorious awards ceremony, that it was all a test? Did I want her friendship that badly? My youth, my future, my chance at a normal life—all destroyed. And it was all a joke. Worst of all, the son I’d sacrificed everything to raise didn’t hesitate to side with them. The familiar hatred surged, almost making me shake. I took several deep, measured breaths to steady myself. My eyes, now completely devoid of warmth, fixed on Seraphina. “I have no obligation to raise your child. If you can’t manage it, send him to foster care.” 2 Seraphina bolted upright in the bed, perfectly healthy, and pointed a finger at me. “You heartless monster! You call yourself my best friend? You won’t donate blood and you won’t raise my child? What kind of friend are you?” I eyed her coolly. “You look remarkably well, Seraphina. Perhaps the hospital was mistaken about your condition.” She realized she’d given the game away, panicked for a split second, and then collapsed back onto the bed, groaning and calling for a doctor. The scene descended into chaos, and I was shoved out of the room. A few minutes later, the cooperating nurse emerged, clutching a baby. She forcibly thrust the infant into my arms. “The patient had a sudden turn—she’s gone. The birth certificate is filed; your name is listed as the mother.” “Don’t even think about abandoning him. If you do, we have the authority to call the police.” I almost laughed out loud. High-pressure, forced sales. I was the one who should be calling the police! I brushed past her and stormed back into the OR. I wanted to see how far Seraphina would take her act. But she was nowhere to be found. How could she disappear in a matter of minutes? The nurse followed me, scolding furiously. “This is an operating room! Who let you in here? Get out now!” I cut across her rant. “Where is she?” She rolled her eyes. “She died, of course. They took her for cremation.” As if on cue, a small urn containing her “ashes” was delivered. I remembered. Last time, it had happened this way, too. I was pushed out, and shortly after, they told me she had passed away. Distraught, I wept with the baby in my arms, and moments later, they delivered the urn. No hospital has the right to cremate a body without family consent, and cremation certainly doesn’t happen that fast. But in my weakened, emotional state, I hadn’t seen the blatant scheme. This time, I wouldn’t be fooled into taking on this burden. I reached out, grabbed the urn, quickly lifted the lid, and scattered the contents directly onto the floor. A cloud of dark powder billowed out. The nurse shrieked. “What are you doing?! That’s the patient’s remains!” The surrounding crowd scattered in terror. “Oh my god! That’s bad luck! Why would she scatter ashes here? Is she crazy?” “What are the hospital security guards doing? Get her out before she causes more trouble!” “Did any get on me? If she’s passed on bad karma, I’ll sue!” The crowd erupted in angry accusations. The nurse, desperate to protect the hospital’s image, quickly addressed me. “That is deeply disrespectful to the deceased! Now, you get down on your knees and scoop up the ashes with your hands!” “You need to kneel and knock your head three times to appease the spirit’s resentment, before you taint any more innocent people!” I gave a bitter, mocking laugh. “Since when did a hospital subscribe to superstition?” “If these were real ashes, I’d apologize for my conduct. But look closely, everyone. Do those look like human remains?” 3 People peered down at the dark powder, murmurs of doubt spreading through the crowd. “That doesn’t look like bone fragments, does it?” Human remains, post-cremation, are a mix of gritty bone shards, not fine, homogenous powder, like a pile of dirt. I turned back to the nurse. “You cremated my friend without my consent, and now her remains are nowhere to be found.” “Am I right to suspect that there was a surgical error, and you’re rushing to cover up the evidence?” The nurse instantly lost her composure, shouting in panicked denial. “Nonsense! Our hospital is fully certified!” But the seed of doubt was planted, and a simple denial wouldn’t clear it up. Several family members began to exchange worried glances. “My grandmother died suddenly during a routine operation here, too. Could the hospital be involved in something sinister?” “They recommend the crematorium and the funeral home. Maybe it’s a black market scheme.” The nurse was sweating profusely. She’d never imagined I would scatter the ashes on the spot, causing such a massive public scene. She managed to stabilize the crowd, then frantically ran back into the OR. I chuckled lightly, then looked down and gently touched the baby’s soft, pink cheek. Oh, you want me to raise him? Fine. But it will cost you. A few minutes later, the nurse returned, out of breath, clutching a document. She gave me a nervous, placating smile. “It was a misunderstanding. The patient signed a waiver beforehand, stating that in the event of her death, she wanted an immediate cremation.” “That’s why we didn’t notify you. As for the ashes—a new, inexperienced nurse made a mistake. Your friend’s body is still waiting for cremation.” “We take full responsibility. We’d like to offer you twenty thousand dollars in compensation for the distress caused by our oversight. Does that sound fair?” I took the envelope, feeling the thickness of the cash inside. I glanced at the contract—the ink on the signatures was still wet. I didn’t push for more details, just took the money and left with the baby. Since Seraphina trusted me so much, willing to pay me to raise her child, I thought with a sneer, I certainly won’t disappoint her. Eighteen years flew by in a flash. I used the twenty thousand dollars as seed capital to establish a strong presence on social media. I hired countless influencers, even invested in film and television production. The money multiplied, and I spared no expense in cultivating the child. This time, I started him young, casting him as a child actor in various shows. By the time he won his Oscar, he was already America’s Sweetheart, a household name. His current fame and status far exceeded what he’d achieved in the previous timeline. I sat in the VIP section, watching my adopted son give his acceptance speech. I counted down the seconds in my head. I had raised the child so successfully; Seraphina must be desperate to claim him now. Sure enough, the moment Kian finished his speech, Seraphina and my ex-boyfriend, Bryce, sashayed down the aisle toward the stage in a blaze of high-profile confidence. Seraphina, her eyes red with false emotion, threw her arms around Kian. “Son, Mommy has finally found you!” The audience and his fans were stunned. “What is this? Is this some kind of staged family reunion?” Kian, my adopted son, looked utterly bewildered. “My mother died eighteen years ago. Who are you?” Seraphina beamed, delighted by his mention of the death. “That’s right! I suffered complications giving birth to you and entrusted you to Rowan Ashworth’s care.” “I was miraculously saved on the way to the crematorium. But when I came back to look for you, you were gone from the hospital.” Seraphina turned to where I was sitting, her voice thick with sobs. “Rowan, I am so grateful you looked after my son all these years. But I don’t understand why he’s so cold to me.” “Did you, perhaps, speak ill of me behind my back?” Her eyes welled up, a picture of wounded innocence. I laughed coldly to myself. Seraphina was still clinging to the delusion that the superstar I had invested millions in was her son. But this time, I wasn’t the idiot she needed me to be. I was here for revenge. “I certainly won’t stop you from reuniting with your son,” I said calmly. Joy instantly flashed in Seraphina’s eyes, a triumphant smirk crossing her face. Then I tilted my head, feigning confusion. “But the Oscar winner isn’t your son, Seraphina.”

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Because I didn’t rank first in the whole school on my finals, Momma locked me in the woodshed and starved me for seven days and seven nights. In the end, I starved to death. Momma just smiled, looking relieved. “Finally dead. Now I can focus on birthing my son in peace.” When I opened my eyes again, I was that newborn son. They named me Hunter. This time, I became their living nightmare. 1 My name was Penny. Nobody in my family liked me. When I was three, a traveling psychic came to our porch. Momma grabbed him, desperate to know when she’d get a boy. The psychic took one look at her, frowned, and dropped a bomb that turned everyone pale. He said, “Give it up. You’re destined to have only one child in this life.” Momma’s face went cold. “What if that child… wasn’t around anymore?” The psychic shrugged. “Just treat the kid you have right.” Momma’s face went dark. She looked at me with pure hatred. She blamed her lack of a son entirely on me. “If you died, maybe I could have a boy.” I was too little to understand. I just thought Momma looked scary, so I reached out for a hug. She slapped my hands away. When I was five, Momma took me to the city on a train. She “accidentally” left me at the station. I screamed until my throat bled. A nice lady found me, and it took two weeks for the police to get me back home. At six, Momma locked me in the house. A fire started out of nowhere. I pounded on the door until my knuckles cracked. A firefighter pulled me out just in time. Momma just scoffed, muttering about people being “nosy busybodies.” When I was seven, Momma got pregnant. She paid good money for a scan that promised it was a boy. She was ecstatic. I was happy for her, too. I knew if I had a little brother, Daddy and Nana might finally be nice to Momma. But every time Momma rubbed her belly, she remembered the psychic’s words. She couldn’t relax. She spent her days figuring out how to get rid of me. That night, she found an excuse—my grades—to deny me dinner and locked me in the woodshed. “If you ain’t number one, you don’t eat.” “Starve until you learn.” And that’s how I died. Alone in the cold, hungry for seven days. In my last moments, my mouth was dry as dust, and every organ in my body shut down. After I died, my soul lingered. I watched them burn my small body and toss the ashes onto a dirt pile like trash. Momma rubbed her belly, cooing softly, “Momma only needs you, baby boy.” “That wretched girl is gone. You’re gonna be healthy. The psychic said one kid, and now, there’s only one left.” I drifted for eight months until my soul began to fade. In my final second, I saw Momma being wheeled into surgery. Outside stood Nana, who used to call me “waste of space,” and Daddy, who never looked at me. They were laughing, chatting, waiting for the Prince. I felt a blinding light, and I didn’t want to watch anymore. I let go. Then I opened my eyes. I was a baby. Nana took me from the nurse, grinning so hard her dentures nearly slipped. “It’s a boy!” Daddy’s eyes lit up like Christmas lights. He stuffed a thick wad of cash into my swaddle. “The Miller line is safe! We’ll call him Hunter. He’s gonna be the best of us.” Momma, lying weak on the bed, squinted her eyes in joy. “Bring me my baby boy.” The second she saw my face, she flinched. “Why… why does he look exactly like Penny did when she was born?” Nana snapped, “Shut your mouth! Don’t speak that bad luck on him. All babies look the same. You’re talking crazy.” Daddy sneered. “You lost your mind in labor? He’s way better looking than that little mistake ever was.” My face was red and scrunchy, eyes barely open. Of course they wouldn’t admit the resemblance. When I was born a girl, they left the hospital immediately. They never really looked at me. Nana stomped home in a huff that day. Daddy went “out of town for work.” I snapped out of the shock of rebirth. The smiles around me were sickeningly sweet. “I’m giving my antique gold chain to my grandson.” “Daddy’s gonna give you the world, son.” “Our family finally has a legacy.” I never got an ounce of love before. Now I knew why. It was just because I was a girl. Since God gave me a second chance—and made me their precious golden boy—I was going to make sure they enjoyed every second of it. 2 Because Momma birthed a son, she got treated like a queen. Nana slaughtered the old laying hens to make soup for her and waited on her hand and foot. Daddy stopped being stingy. He doubled the grocery money. Our rundown trailer felt alive for the first time. At the one-month mark, Daddy threw a huge backyard BBQ. He stood in the middle of the crowd, holding a beer. “Thank y’all for coming to celebrate my boy. Eat up, drink up!” Momma put me in the cradle so she could eat. Her body was weak, but if she didn’t hold me, I screamed. My wails drowned out the conversation. Defeated, Momma had to hold me while she ate one-handed. She couldn’t bear to let me cry. She just had to suffer. Soon, I turned one. Daddy threw a massive bash. Folks from three towns over came. I was dressed in a little red suit, held tight in Momma’s arms. Her eyes never left me, terrified someone would snatch me away. She told everyone, “Ain’t my Hunter handsome?” Before the party started, we did the “Choosing” ceremony—a superstition to predict my future. Nana laid out five items: an action figure, a shovel, a book, a wad of cash, and a red string. Momma set me on the table. The whole crowd watched. Momma kept chanting, “Pick the book, pick the book.” I gurgled, looking around. I crawled over and grabbed the book. Momma shrieked, “I told you! My Hunter’s a genius!” Nana clapped so hard she hit the table. “He’s going to Harvard!” Everyone started blowing smoke up my parents’ asses. Right then, I kicked my leg out. I aimed for the sewing scissors sitting next to the red string and knocked them right into Nana’s thigh. If I had the strength, I would’ve stabbed her myself. “AHHH!” She screamed like a banshee. Everyone saw me do it. Momma rushed to pick me up. Daddy got mad because his mama was bleeding. He grabbed my shoulder, his voice stern. “Hunter! What the hell?” Nana, clutching her bleeding leg, yelled back, “Don’t you yell at my grandbaby!” Momma snatched me back. “He’s a baby, Earl! He don’t know any better!” I leaned into Momma’s chest, fighting the urge to laugh. See? When you’re the favorite, people make excuses for your violence. With his mom hurt, Daddy was still fuming, looking at me suspiciously. I needed to cover my tracks. I looked right at Daddy, opened my mouth, and chirped. “Dada. Dada.” The whole room went dead silent. Then, chaos. “Earl! Your boy is talking! He’s a prodigy!” “He called you Dada! Get the camera!” “Speaking at one? That’s genius level.” That one word erased all of Daddy’s anger. Nana forgot the pain in her leg. She was grinning like she’d won the lottery. Everyone praised me. Daddy got lost in the ego boost. He started pounding shots, his face turning purple. Momma took me aside to keep me away from the alcohol fumes. Her eyes were shining. She whispered, “Hunter, baby, look at me. Do you know who I am?” “Say Mama.” “Hunter, I’m your Mama.” I opened my mouth. I looked deep into her hopeful eyes. “Stupid Bitch. Stupid Bitch.” Nana, hobbling by, burst out laughing. “‘Stupid Bitch!’ That’s my boy! He knows what to call you already!” She hung the gold chain around my neck. The pendant was a dragon. “My little dragon. You’re gonna be king of this hill.” Nana hugged me. Momma looked dazed. “Stupid Bitch” was what Daddy called her every single day. She comforted herself. “He’s just repeating Earl. It means he’s smart.” “My son learns so fast.” “That’s my boy.” 3 Daddy could drink, but tonight he was gone. People say the truth comes out when you’re wasted. My Daddy’s brother—Uncle Buck—was absolutely hammered. He stumbled over to me, face bright red. He stared at me for a solid minute, then spun around and grabbed Daddy’s arm. “Earl… why the hell does your boy look exactly like your dead girl?” The room dropped ten degrees. Momma and Nana’s faces went gray. Daddy was slow to process. “Bullshit. My girl is dead. This is my son. Hunter. He’s the legacy. You don’t know crap.” But Uncle Buck kept looking. “I’m tellin’ ya. I held Penny when she was one. Identical. Earl… you just rebirthed your daughter.” Nana lost it. “You’re just jealous ‘cause your wife only spits out girls!” Uncle Buck wasn’t having it. He hated that Daddy was the favorite now. He snorted and spat a mouthful of beer right in Nana’s face. Daddy roared, “You’re just bitter because my line continues and yours ends with you!” “You ain’t man enough to make a boy!” That hit a nerve. Uncle Buck smashed his beer bottle on the floor. Glass shards flew everywhere. Momma shielded me, whispering, “Don’t be scared, Hunter. Momma’s here.” Uncle Buck whipped out his phone. He dug up an old video. “Look! I got a video from years ago. The kid looks exactly like Penny. I’m telling you, you killed that girl, and now she’s back for revenge.” “Earl, you’re cursed!” “Hahahaha!” Watching Uncle Buck laugh like a maniac… honestly? He wasn’t wrong. Nana glanced at the video. She saw the resemblance. The most damning part? We both had a mole right above our left eyebrow. But I was Hunter. I didn’t need to explain. They would do it for me. Momma said, “So what? Genetics are genetics. Hunter looks stronger than Penny ever was.” Nana said, “They came from the same womb, of course they look alike.” Daddy didn’t bother with logic. He just wanted to shut Buck up. Drunk Daddy was strong. He threw a haymaker and knocked Uncle Buck out cold. Buck ended up in the hospital. Daddy spent a few days in the county jail. Afterward, Momma scolded him. “Now Hunter can’t get a government job with you having a record.” Daddy spat on the ground. “Government jobs pay peanuts. Hunter’s gonna be a CEO.” Hah. The confidence. 4 Time flew. I was three, the center of the universe. I bullied them relentlessly, and life was good. I knocked over dinner plates? They said, “He’s got spirit! Nobody will push him around!” I punched them in the face? They said, “Look at those little muscles! So cute!” I threw cash in the trash? They said, “He treats money like dirt, that means he’s gonna be filthy rich!” Every time I acted out, they spun it into a compliment. I looked at my chubby toddler body and sighed. “Revenge is hard when you’re three feet tall.” I just needed to grow up faster. But an opportunity came early. When I was four, I noticed Nana kept trying to send me outside to play with the neighbors. Before, Nana hated the neighbor kids. She used to say, “Hunter is gonna be a boss. Don’t let those trailer trash kids rub off on him.” She thought I didn’t remember. But I remembered everything. Even the nasty things she said in my past life. Something was up. Nana dragged me to the playground and tried to rush back home. I slipped away and circled back to our house. I heard noises coming from inside. Disgusting noises. My stomach churned. I never expected Nana, at 60, to be getting busy. It was shocking, even for someone who had lived twice. I calmed myself down. This was perfect. I sprinted back to the playground, screaming at the top of my lungs. “Help! Help! Bad man in the house! Nana is screaming for help! Neighbors, come quick!” “I hear Nana crying! Help!” My screaming alerted the whole trailer park. People grabbed brooms, bats, whatever they could find, and ran to my porch. I fell to my knees, crying fake tears. “Please save my Nana!” The mob rushed into the yard. They didn’t hear screaming, but I was so convincing they kicked the door down. They stormed the bedrooms. And there was Nana, tangled in the sheets with the town loner—a guy known for never bathing. They scrambled to cover up. The neighbors froze. I seized the moment. I ran in and started hitting the man. “You bad man! You hurt my Nana! I’ll kill you!” I was small, so I “tripped” and fell on my butt, wailing in pain. The Mayor picked me up. “Shameless. With the grandbaby right there.” Just then, Daddy and Momma came running home from the fields, holding hoes. “Momma! We’re coming!” Daddy yelled. He burst into the room. He stood there, brain short-circuiting. Then he started shaking. I hugged Daddy’s leg. “Daddy! Nana was being bullied! Kill the bad man!” Daddy roared and threw the hoe at the lovers. They dodged, barely. He crouched down to hug me. “Don’t look, son. Daddy will handle it.” Nobody suspects a child of lying. Especially a child who tells the truth.

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After my mom divorced my dad—who was always “too busy” to be home—life got tough. She adopted the “calm and collected” persona. Never fought for anything, never raised her voice. The neighbors all said she was a saint. So, I became her mouthpiece. The things she “couldn’t” say, I said. The people she was “too polite” to offend, I cursed out. The neighbors all whispered that I was petty and rude, nothing like my saintly mother. Then one day, a local drunk tried to assault her. Mom was putting up a desperate fight. Without thinking, I grabbed a glass bottle and smashed it over his head, saving her. I ran to the stairwell to call for help, but Mom shoved me from behind. I tumbled down the stairs, my spine shattering against the concrete steps. Paralyzed from the neck down. It turned out her “desperate fight” was just foreplay. It turned out the drunk was her high school crush, the bad boy she never got over. They moved in together immediately. One afternoon, I woke up from a nap because the bed was shaking. I opened my eyes to see the drunk on top of me. I wanted to fight, but my body wouldn’t move. In a panic, I screamed for Mom. But then I saw her peeking through the doorway. Her eyes weren’t filled with horror, but with jealousy. Despair swallowed me whole. I bit my tongue off, but I didn’t die. So I starved myself. That finally did it. Mom shook her head, sighing with fake pity. “I told you not to be so hot-tempered. You should be calm like a chrysanthemum. Now look, you’ve lost your life.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the divorce. My parents asked me: “Who do you want to live with?” I chose Mom, of course. I have a debt to repay for her “great kindness.” 1 “Nina, who do you choose?” Mom asked, calm and confident as always. Dad looked devastated, but a glimmer of unrealistic hope still shone in his eyes. He pleaded silently. I buried the hatred deep in my eyes. “I choose… actually, let me use the bathroom first. You guys discuss the other stuff!” I pulled out my cracked phone—Mom’s hand-me-down—and texted Dad: [Dad, I want to live with you, but I’m going to choose Mom. Please don’t be sad. I’ll come back to you soon. Delete this after reading.] I flushed the toilet and walked out. Dad looked like a new man. The despair was gone, replaced by a rosy glow of vitality. I never realized how much my choice in my past life had destroyed him. Mom shot him a look of disdain and started her guilt-tripping routine: “Guess I wasted my time. Can’t wait to go meet your little mistress before the ink is even dry, huh?” 2 The “mistress” Mom referred to was Aunt Diane, Dad’s childhood friend. She had pursued him once, but Dad was already in love with Mom. Dad, being the honest idiot he was, told Mom everything. Back then, Mom just laughed it off. Proud as a peacock, she wouldn’t deign to be jealous of a “country bumpkin.” Now that she wanted a divorce, she suddenly cared about Aunt Diane, painting Dad as morally bankrupt. But in my past life, it was this “country bumpkin” who brought me food and water after I was paralyzed. Dad argued back, face red, but Mom just crossed her arms and said coolly, “See? I hit a nerve. Why else would you react so strongly?” Dad was clumsy with words. Every time he tried to defend himself—”I haven’t even spoken to her in years!”—Mom would cut him off with a breezy, “I don’t believe you. Don’t bother explaining.” “I didn’t do it!” Dad shouted again, but this time, his voice was firm. Because he knew his daughter believed him. 3 In my last life, Dad gave Mom the house and most of his savings because he was afraid I’d suffer. He left with almost nothing. Mom accepted it all calmly, as if she were doing him a favor. “He gave it willingly,” she’d say. I suspect she had been badmouthing Dad to me for years, using the “evil stepmother” trope to scare me into choosing her, all to secure his assets. The irony is, I believed her lies, chose her, and walked straight into hell. “You want to eat? Make it yourself. Girls need to be independent. Go wash the dishes!” She’d push dirty plates at me—leftovers from her delicious stir-fry while I stared at my bowl of plain white rice. When I lived with Dad, he never let me touch dish soap, saying it would ruin my hands. “Just study,” he’d say. With Mom, even adding an egg to my instant noodles was a crime. “I need that for breakfast tomorrow. Why are you so greedy?” She canceled my piano lessons immediately. “You have no talent. Why waste the teacher’s time?” 4 “Nina, hurry up. Me or your dad?” Mom stared at me intensely. I didn’t disappoint her. “I choose Mom.” Mom smiled, a victory lap in her eyes. “Jack, she made her choice. Now let’s talk assets.” I almost laughed looking at the divorce agreement she drafted. It left Dad with nothing. This was my “saintly” mother. In my past life, she used me as a weapon. This life, I’m aiming that weapon right back at her. “Mom, if Dad gives us the house, where will he live? We can go to Grandma’s, but he’ll be homeless! He just lost me, now he loses his home? That’s so sad!” Mom’s face twisted. Her “thoughtful little jacket” was suddenly letting in a draft. She stammered, trying to maintain her persona. “Well… I didn’t really want this dump, it’s just closer to your school.” I cut off her retreat. “Oh, Mom, Grandma’s house is only a few minutes further by bus. It’s fine.” Mom’s face went dark. “I… I’m doing this for you!” I smiled, showing all my teeth. “Don’t worry, Mom! I have a conscience, just like you taught me. I wouldn’t let Dad be homeless just to save five minutes on a bus ride!” Mom’s face cycled through colors like a broken traffic light. 5 With no other choice, she glared at me and changed the agreement. Dad kept the house, but he had to pay her $60,000. They both signed. The divorce cooling-off period was over, so the paperwork went through fast. They got their divorce certificates. Mom let out a huge breath. She had been terrified Dad would back out. “Transfer the $60,000 to my account,” Mom said, her “calm” facade cracking with greed. “Mom, what’s the rush? Let’s transfer the house title to Dad first.” Mom frowned but went along with it. A few days later, the title transfer was done. “Now transfer the money!” Mom’s patience was gone. “Didn’t you lend your brother $80,000?” Dad said coldly. “You keep $60,000 of that debt. Transfer the remaining $20,000 to me. Here’s my account number.” This was the script Dad and I rehearsed. Mom’s brain short-circuited. The math was simple: Assets were split. The $80,000 loan was a marital asset. Dad was owed half. Mom: ??? “Jack, what do you mean? You’re not paying me, and I owe you $10,000? You tricked me?!” Her “calm” persona shattered into a screech. Dad looked innocent. “I didn’t trick you. Just stating facts.” “You know my brother used that money for a house! He can’t pay it back now! How am I supposed to live?!” “How you live is none of my business. You knew he couldn’t pay it back, so why did you lend it?” 6 Dad was a steelworker. Hard labor, long hours, living on-site. Mom called it “never being home.” Years of sun and sweat made his skin rough and dark. Mom, pampered with skincare products paid for by him, looked young and fresh. The work was brutal, but the pay was good. Dad handed every paycheck to Mom. After expenses and mortgage, they had saved $80,000 in eight years. Then my uncle needed a house and a dowry. Grandma called, spun a sob story, and Mom—saint that she was—wired him the entire savings. When Dad found out, he nearly had a stroke. Mom just said, “Money is worldly. Helping my brother is a good deed.” Dad literally coughed blood and passed out. When he woke up in the hospital, he realized Mom wasn’t a partner. From then on, he stopped giving her his savings. Just a fixed allowance. Mom knew she messed up, but she refused to apologize. She just endured the budget cuts. Life was quiet until Mom met Steve.

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I scrolled past a trending thread on my feed after clocking out. The title asked: “Should you pursue someone who is already in a relationship?” One comment, in particular, caught my eye. It read: “Absolutely, you should.” “Five years ago, I moved next door to a gorgeous, high-achieving guy. He had a girlfriend at the time.” “I became friends with both of them first. Then, I played the victim, fabricating a story that his girlfriend had hurt me, making sure I looked weak and vulnerable. That immediately created a rift between them.” “They started fighting often. During their worst argument, he came to me to vent, and I kissed him. He lost all control instantly.” “That same night, his ex-girlfriend was probably still crying over not getting into her dream college.” “Now, I see my choice was definitely the right one. He’s a partner at a listed company, and we’re getting married soon. If I hadn’t been proactive back then, I wouldn’t have this life now.” Then, the tone shifted into gleeful cruelty: “As for his ex? She’s a trainwreck. She didn’t go to college. She’s probably going to rot in the gutter for the rest of her life.” A cold shock went through me, sharp and paralyzing. Because I realized, with sickening certainty, that I was the ex-girlfriend she was talking about. 1 My first instinct, upon reading that smug, detailed confession of relationship sabotage, was to close the tab. I’d lived through that betrayal; why reopen the wound? But my finger froze on the screen. The profile picture was the reason. It was a photo I knew intimately: the first picture of Sienna and Owen together, one I had taken myself on his birthday. I stayed on the comment thread for what felt like an hour. Most of the replies were tearing her apart—calling her a snake and a home-wrecker. But a chilling minority supported her. They argued she simply made the best choice. “This is how you level up. Snag a high-potential guy early and jump classes. Nothing wrong with wanting a better life.” “Even without this twist, they probably wouldn’t have lasted. I don’t think she did anything wrong.” Standing by the street curb, a sudden gust of wind caught me off-balance, and the cheap dinner I was holding slipped, rolling into a muddy puddle. I bent down and fished the ruined sandwich out, dropping it into a trash can. I was the ex-girlfriend in that comment. Owen and I broke up. I missed out on college. Then, my mother, the person who loved me most, had a terrible accident. There were times when I considered ending it all, a dark period I only started crawling out of in the last few years. It was only then, tossing the wet wrapper, that I realized it had been five years—five years since Owen and I split, and three years since I had truly, completely let him go. The old pain, the crushing humiliation, had faded, much like the scars on my wrist had healed, dissolving into the wind. 2 Back in my tiny apartment, I started tidying the mountain of chaotic sketches on my desk. Sienna was right about one thing: I hadn’t gone to college, and the opportunity to “jump classes,” as she put it, seemed to have passed me by. As I tucked the latest charcoal drawings back into the filing cabinet, my hand brushed against a thin, yellowed envelope—a letter I hadn’t touched in years. The handwriting on the front was bold and decisive: “For Eliza Only.” In his note, Owen had once written that he would give me everything he had. Yet, in the end, I felt like I had lost everything because of him. My mind was violently dragged back to the past. Owen and I were childhood sweethearts, practically raised as siblings. We lived in the same quiet neighborhood, back when his family was still whole. As his father’s business expanded, he spent less and less time at home. Owen constantly came to our house, saying our place felt like a home, while his felt like a mausoleum. When he was six, his father had an affair. His mother smashed everything in the house overnight—including her affection for Owen. During the messy divorce, his parents treated him like a hot potato, neither one wanting him. His once-warm, three-person home was reduced to an empty shell. My parents, seeing the lost, miserable boy, took him in, caring for him as if he were their own son. From then on, Owen and I were inseparable. He was the definition of exceptional: brilliant grades, movie-star good looks. I was just… average. Not beautiful, not a genius, my only notable talent being my knack for drawing. But I never felt I didn’t measure up to him. He always said that my family gave him all the warmth he had, that we were his real home. He called me the single beam of light in his darkening world. The incident happened during our freshman year of high school. We were walking home after late study hall, taking the usual shortcut through a dim alley. We ran right into Owen’s father. He reeked of cheap liquor, his eyes darting wildly. He had lost his fortune, and the woman he cheated with had left him. Now, he was back for Owen. Owen refused to go. His father lunged, trying to drag him away. I didn’t hesitate; I threw myself in front of Owen and screamed at the man until he finally staggered off. My legs were shaking so hard I could barely stand, but all I cared about was protecting Owen. That night, he held me tighter than ever, whispering that he would only ever love me. As high school progressed, Owen’s excellence attracted a steady stream of girls. He was the undisputed top student. I, meanwhile, was just an art student with mediocre grades. I started to worry that he would outgrow me. But Owen would just smile, pinching my nose. “Silly. How could I ever leave you? I owe you and your parents everything. I could never repay your kindness.” I genuinely believed we would be happy forever. Until Sienna arrived. It was a scorching summer day. I was at Owen’s house, working on homework, when the doorbell rang. Standing there was a girl with bright, sunny braids. She introduced herself as the new neighbor, her light, cheerful voice seeming to cut through the oppressive heat. An immediate sense of dread settled in my gut. Perhaps it was because she was stunningly pretty. Or perhaps it was the way her eyes lingered on Owen, a faint, undeniable spark of interest in their depths. I soon learned that my gut feeling wasn’t a mistake. It was a premonition of the slow-motion disaster that would consume the rest of my high school life. 3 The very next day, I learned that Sienna hadn’t just become Owen’s new neighbor; she had transferred to our school. We had just finished a round of exams, and the teacher was reviewing our scores. I, the average student, had somehow managed to get the highest grade in English. The moment the teacher opened her mouth to praise me, Sienna appeared at the classroom door. The whole class erupted. No one cared about my grade anymore; all eyes were fixed on Sienna. “Wow, we have a transfer student? I’ve never seen a girl this beautiful on campus!” I soon learned she would be joining our class. What I didn’t expect was her choosing me as her deskmate. “Eliza, you’re the only girl I know in this class. You’ll have to help me out.” She beamed. “I know you and Owen are close. Can you bring me along when you guys hang out?” Her smile was like the winter sun—bright, warm, and impossible to refuse. A chill ran down my spine, but I couldn’t find a reason to say no. From that day on, a third person was wedged between Owen and me. I never had many friends in class. But once Sienna arrived, the other students quickly decided that she and Owen were the obvious, destined match—even if Owen was supposed to be dating me. “The class queen and the quarterback. Why is Eliza always sticking herself in the middle?” “Who knows? Some people just try to punch above their weight.” Back then, I genuinely considered Sienna a friend. I even asked her if the students were right, if I really didn’t measure up to Owen. Sienna just laughed sweetly. “Of course not, Eliza. I mean, you’re not exactly pretty, but Owen doesn’t care about superficial things like that.” “Oh, right! Owen wants to take you to the amusement park this weekend. He was too shy to ask you himself, so he made me pass on the message. Don’t forget!” Though Owen and I had an unspoken understanding, this was our first official date. I left school early that Friday. Despite the torrential rain, I traveled to a distant mall to buy Owen a gift. I picked out a silk tie. The saleswoman asked if it was for my boyfriend, and I shyly nodded. The day of the date, I wore a light yellow sundress and let my ponytail down for the first time. Waiting outside the amusement park entrance, I kept wondering if I was overdressed. I waited until nightfall, but Owen never showed. My texts went unanswered. My excitement was replaced by dread. I started worrying that something terrible had happened to Owen. It was pitch black outside. Rushing to his house, I tripped, falling hard into the dirt. My yellow dress was ruined, covered in mud, and the gift tie flew out of my hand. I burst through his front door. My relief at seeing him alive vanished when I saw Sienna lying on Owen’s bed, looking fragile. Owen was standing next to her, preparing a mug of cold medicine. “What are you doing here? Where have you been? I couldn’t reach you all day.” His voice was angry, not relieved. “Don’t you know Sienna got drenched yesterday? She fainted with a fever this morning. If she hadn’t been my next-door neighbor, who knows how dangerous it would have been?” He didn’t apologize for standing me up; he just lashed out at me. In all the years we had known each other, he had never yelled at me like this. Sienna’s eyes welled up with tears. “Eliza, I know you had an emergency yesterday, but why did you have to take my umbrella in such a downpour?” “I didn’t have any cold medicine at home, and my parents are out of town. I kept texting you, but you blocked me! Thankfully, I came over to Owen’s house just before I passed out. I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.” She choked out a sob. “Eliza, I saw you as my best friend here. Why would you do that to me?” Owen reached out and gently wiped her tears. He cut her off, his voice soft. “It’s okay, Sienna. That’s enough.” I was frozen. In Sienna’s narrative, I was the villain. Tears sprang to my own eyes. After a long moment, I finally spoke, reaching out with the ruined tie. “I didn’t take your umbrella, I just—” But Owen didn’t even look at me. He handed the glass of medicine to Sienna. I felt like an invisible stranger. After a few minutes, I finally turned and walked out. That night marked the beginning of our first cold war. When school started, I quietly moved my seat, no longer sitting next to Sienna. But the class’s attitude toward me grew colder. Sienna had told everyone that I was targeting her because of Owen, successfully painting herself as the injured party. Everywhere I went, the whispers followed. “See? I told you she wasn’t good enough for the class heartthrob. She just had to butt in.” “The class queen is so sweet; she still tried to be friends with her. Now she’s being a snake. Who does she think she is?” Suddenly, I was the pariah, a scorned girl, even though I had done nothing wrong. Even Owen refused to meet my eyes. A girl of seventeen can only endure so much humiliation. Finally, after late study hall one night, I found Owen. He was sitting at his desk, patiently going over Sienna’s corrected exam paper. He looked surprised to see me. We walked home together. I poured out all my bottled-up anger and confusion, asking him why he was treating me this way. But when I described how Sienna had deliberately misled me about the amusement park and then framed me for stealing her umbrella, Owen frowned. He cut me off with an edge of impatience. “I don’t understand why you always have such a massive chip on your shoulder about her. She’s not the manipulative person you’re making her out to be. She’s not into petty drama.” “Since meeting Sienna, I’ve realized how fiercely jealous you are, Eliza. She’s only ever been kind to you, yet you keep slandering her. Is it because she’s prettier that you have to constantly drag her down?” His voice dropped lower, his tone accusatory. “Do you have any idea how bad her fever was that day? She was still saying it must have been her fault for saying something too harsh to you.” I was stunned into silence. After all these years, Owen wouldn’t grant me the most basic level of trust. “Eliza,” he said, and the words were sharp and clean, severing us. “After knowing you this long, I’m honestly disgusted. Are you so unremarkable that you can’t bear to see anyone else shine?”

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