Category: English

My neighbor stole the vegetables I grew on my balcony for 93 days straight. She became a top-tier influencer with millions of followers just by stealing my produce. Until she swiped the last bag and ate it live on stream with a smile. Moments later, she started seeing dancing elves, and the clip went viral. She brought the building manager and reporters to my door, tearfully accusing me of poisoning her. I simply handed over three things: my PhD diploma, project documents, and an empty flowerpot with a warning label. “I research hallucinogenic mushrooms for treating depression. She didn’t eat poison; she ate my research grant.” 1 I opened my phone. Chloe’s livestream viewer count was jumping like crazy. 2.98 million, 2.99 million… boom, 3 million. She picked up the “White Feather Matsutake,” showing it off to the camera. “Look, besties! These are wild matsutake mushrooms my neighbor grew. You can’t find this quality in stores.” The chat exploded with comments like “So jealous,” “I want some,” and “Chloe is so lucky.” She stuffed the whole mushroom into her mouth, closing her eyes dramatically. “Oh my god, the flavor is insane. It melts in your mouth, silky like cream.” Three million fans were spamming gifts on the other side of the screen. I stared at my phone, silently counting down. Three minutes. Chloe suddenly stopped chewing. Her eyes started to wander. She blinked, seemingly trying to focus on something. Two minutes. She started giggling, a sharp, piercing sound. One minute. “Whoa! Do you see them?” She suddenly stood up, pointing at thin air and shouting. “So many colorful butterflies in little suits! They’re dancing the salsa!” The livestream chat went wild. “?????” “Is the streamer high?” “What’s happening?” Chloe was fully immersed in her hallucination, waving her arms and chasing the invisible “butterflies.” She fell to the floor, still giggling. “Don’t run, little butterflies! I want to dance with you!” I turned off the stream and walked to the balcony. The flowerpot labeled “Neuroactive Research Sample – Do Not Touch” was empty. I smiled. Ninety-three days. She finally stole the one thing she shouldn’t have. Five minutes later, #InfluencerLivestreamPoisoning hit #1 on Trending. I refreshed Twitter, watching the situation escalate. Chloe’s studio reacted fast, issuing a statement immediately: “Chloe was maliciously poisoned by her neighbor. She has been rushed to the ER for a stomach pump and is in critical condition.” They attached a photo of her lying in a hospital bed, pale, hooked up to an IV, looking pitiful. I almost laughed out loud. Critical condition? Hallucinogenic mushrooms aren’t fatal; at most, she’d see a Technicolor world for a few hours. Then I got doxxed. Name, address, workplace—all posted online by her fans. My phone started vibrating like crazy. “Murderer!” “Psycho who poisoned an influencer!” “Go to hell!” Vicious texts poured in one after another. I looked at the insults calmly. A crowd started gathering downstairs. I peeked through the curtains. At least fifty people were holding banners, shouting “Justice for Chloe” and “Punish the killer.” Someone spray-painted a big red “DIE” on my door. The building manager brought security up to knock. “Ms. Su, come out and explain yourself.” I didn’t open the door. Chloe’s studio released a second statement, even more vicious this time. “The neighbor, jealous of Chloe’s success, deliberately poisoned the food for revenge. This person is twisted and possibly sociopathic. Please be careful.” They included my ID photo, edited to look black and white like a memorial portrait. Netizens went berserk. “Scum like this should be sliced into pieces!” “We have the address, let’s get her!” “Straight to the crematorium!” The cursing outside grew louder. Someone started banging on the door. Soon, reporters arrived too. “Ms. Su, do you have any response to the poisoning allegations?” “Do you admit to poisoning Chloe?” “What was your motive?” I looked through the peephole at the crowd outside and thought: It’s time to teach you all a lesson. 2 Hours later, the building manager, Mark, blocked my door with a group of reporters and fans. He even called a locksmith. “Ms. Su! Come out!” Mark’s voice came through the door. “Give Ms. Chloe an explanation!” I pressed my ear to the door, listening to the noise outside. Through the peephole, I saw Chloe hiding at the back of the crowd, her face still pale and sickly. I walked to the intercom and pressed the talk button. “Chloe.” The hallway went silent instantly. “Stealing research samples—do you know the consequences?” Mark reacted first, his voice pitching up an octave. “Stop slandering her! Open the door!” Then came Chloe’s crying, rain on a pear blossom. “I just saw her veggies growing so well… I thought it was a waste, I just wanted to borrow a little to taste… Who knew she would poison them…” Borrow? I almost laughed. Ninety-three days, every morning at 6:10 AM sharp—that’s borrowing? “Borrowing requires the owner’s permission. And besides, those weren’t vegetables.” The crowd outside erupted in murmurs. “What does that mean?” “If not vegetables, then what?” “Is she trying to make excuses?” Chloe cried louder. “They were clearly mushrooms growing in pots! They looked like matsutake. I thought she couldn’t finish them alone…” “Matsutake?” I finally couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Are you sure those were matsutake?” The reporters caught the key point. Someone shouted, “Then what were they?” Silence fell outside. Everyone was waiting for my answer. I went back to my room and took three things from my drawer. My PhD diploma, the project documents, and that empty flowerpot with the warning label. I returned to the door and opened it. A dozen microphones were shoved in my face. Chloe stood at the back of the crowd. I held up my diploma. “MIT, PhD in Biological Engineering.” Then the project file. “National Science Foundation grant, research on hallucinogenic mushrooms for depression treatment.” Finally, the empty pot. The label was clearly visible: “Neuroactive Research Sample – Do Not Touch.” “What? Hallucinogenic mushrooms?” “This is a research project?” “So Chloe ate a lab sample?” I looked at Chloe, hiding behind the crowd. “She didn’t eat poison. She ate my research funding.” The scene exploded. Reporters swarmed Chloe, mics and cameras pointing at her. “Ms. Chloe, did you know these were research samples?” “Why did you steal someone else’s experimental materials?” “How much did you steal over these ninety-three days?” Chloe’s face went from green to white, her lips trembling, unable to speak. Mark was dumbfounded too. The onlookers looked at each other. The fans who were just defending their idol didn’t know what to say. “No… it’s not like that…” Chloe finally spoke. “I didn’t know they were lab samples. I thought… I thought they were just normal mushrooms…” “Normal mushrooms?” I sneered. “Normal mushrooms with warning labels?” She opened her mouth but nothing came out. “Ms. Chloe, how do you explain this?” “Do you know the legal consequences of stealing research samples?” “Your studio just issued a statement demanding accountability for poisoning. How do you respond now?” Chloe panicked completely, tears streaming down her face. “I… I really didn’t know… I just thought they looked edible…” Her die-hard fans still bought her story. “Who grows poisonous mushrooms at home? Don’t let this woman fool you!” Mark jumped in to help. “Exactly! You are endangering community safety!” I was speechless at these fans. I slammed the door shut. 3 That night, the property management cut my water and power. Mark announced in the HOA group chat that “temporary measures” were taken against my unit to “ensure the safety of other residents.” I looked at my phone screen in the dark. The group chat was full of agreement. “Well done!” “Good job cutting it!” “Get that scum out of our complex!” Chloe’s team moved fast. A second wave of PR hit. They edited a blurry video of my balcony, implying I was “long-term cultivating unidentified toxic plants.” The caption was even better: “For Chloe’s safety, we must let everyone know the truth.” Public opinion exploded again. The whole internet was condemning me. My name and “Poisoning Doctor” were trending. The comments were terrifyingly vicious. “This trash deserves to be tortured!” “So what if she’s a PhD? Educated criminals are scarier!” “Suggest immediate execution!” They even found my affiliated institutions and called to report me one by one. “How can MIT have such a professor?” “Fire her! Give society an explanation!” Mark sent a voice message in the group: “Don’t worry, everyone. Management will not tolerate such dangerous individuals.” Neighbors replied: “Manager Mark did the right thing!” “People like this shouldn’t live here!” “My daughter walks past her door every day. Thinking about it scares me!” My finger hovered over my phone screen. Before the battery died, I made one call. “Professor Chen, Sample Group B-7 stolen. Experimental data may be compromised.” “What did you say?” “I’ll contact the relevant departments immediately.” Thirty minutes later, sirens approached. Not one car, but a whole convoy. It wasn’t local patrol; it was the major crimes unit. The leader looked stern. They dispersed the reporters and fans lingering near my home and went straight for Mark. Mark tried to complain, pointing at my unit. “Officers, you’re just in time! That poisoner lives there!” “Who authorized you to cut power to a military-cooperation project zone?” Mark’s knees buckled, his voice cracking. “What military project?” “A joint research base between MIT and the National Defense University. You dare cut the power?” Mark’s face went instantly white. Chloe, hiding at the back, looked even worse than Mark. The police knocked on my door, polite. “Dr. Su, we’re here to understand the situation and restore security systems.” I opened the door and handed them a photocopy with a red stamp. The title was bold: Confidentiality Agreement for “Neural Regeneration Inducer” Special Research. Chloe saw the title and looked distraught. Mark collapsed on the ground. “Military project?” A reporter whispered. “Neural regeneration? What level of research is this?” “National Defense University… this is military?” Chloe tried to back away but was blocked by police. “Ms. Chloe, please cooperate with the investigation.” “I… I don’t know anything…” Her voice shook violently. “Ninety-three days of stealing military project samples, and you say you don’t know?” 4 My living room became a temporary interrogation room. I handed over all the evidence I had prepared for three months—93 days of surveillance footage. Close-ups of every flowerpot on the balcony. Not a single one missing. Each pot had bilingual warning labels: “TOXIC,” “NEUROACTIVE SUBSTANCE,” “EXPERIMENTAL SAMPLE.” When Chloe was summoned, she was still playing the victim, tears on her face. “Officer, I’m innocent. I didn’t know anything.” She pointed at me. “She framed me!” The police expressionlessly turned on the projector. In the video, Chloe, wearing a mask and hat, tip-toed to my balcony. She looked around, made sure no one was there, then carefully peeled off the warning label on the pot. After peeling it, she put the pot in her bag. The whole process took thirteen minutes. Chloe’s crying stopped abruptly. Her lips trembled, unable to speak. “Ms. Chloe, you call this a mistake?” the officer asked sternly. She slumped in the chair, unable to pretend anymore. Mark was questioned separately. Before he could complain, the officer cut him off. “For sabotaging security facilities of a critical research site, come with us.” Mark went limp. “No… I didn’t know it was a military project!” “Didn’t know?” The officer sneered. “Then why did you dare to cut the power randomly?” Mark was taken away. I looked at Chloe’s pale face, feeling nothing. At noon, the National Academy of Sciences official account released a statement. The title was a slap in the face: Solemn Statement Regarding the Theft of “Neural Regeneration Inducer” Project Samples. It stated clearly that Dr. Su is a core member responsible for cultivating and extracting neuroactive substances. The project involves national secrets; any theft or misuse will face legal consequences. Professor Chen accepted an interview with CCTV, tone heavy. “What was stolen weren’t mushrooms, but the hope of countless depression patients. These samples are worth tens of millions and represent a major breakthrough in our country’s neurology field.” The trending topics exploded: #InfluencerStealsStateSecrets hit #1. The netizens who cursed me went crazy, frantically deleting comments. “OMG, I cursed out a national scientist?” “Crap, I said she should die. Will the FBI knock on my door?” “Chloe is done for, right? Stealing state secrets!” Chloe’s millions of followers dropped to less than a million overnight. Her studio issued a statement trying to distance themselves, but netizens weren’t buying it. “Scared now? Where were you before?” “Stealing state secrets is justified now?” “Go to jail!” My phone blew up again. This time, not insults, but interview requests. “Dr. Su, please accept our exclusive interview!” “This is the Daily News, we want details.” “CCTV wants to clear your name!” I muted my phone and sat on the balcony looking down. Chloe’s team was running around like headless chickens downstairs. Her agent cried to the cameras: “Chloe really didn’t know it was a state secret! She’s just a normal girl!” Netizens commented ruthlessly: “Normal girl stealing state secrets?” “Ignorance is not a defense!” “Go to jail already!”

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It was my seventeenth birthday, and I was staring at the flickering candles on my cake, about to make a wish. Rhys Ellington, out of nowhere, spoke. “Can you just give the scholarship money to Anya? You’ve already taken everything you can from my family by living here—do you really have to be greedy for that tiny bit of cash, too?” Rhys had always been selectively mute. Since childhood, this was the first time he had ever spoken to me—and he was doing it for the transfer student. I didn’t dare say a word. I simply conceded. After all, I was just the poor, live-in ward who had secretly accepted ten million dollars from his father. As soon as high school graduation was over, I was leaving for college abroad. As for the prize money and the boy. I decided not to be greedy anymore. 1 Rhys Ellington was an anomaly. The Ellington family had thrown every imaginable resource and a torrent of money at his condition, but nothing could make him speak. Until one day, when the Ellingtons were at a local children’s home for a charity event, they happened upon me. I was fighting tooth and nail with a group of much taller kids over a single cream-filled sandwich. Rhys saw the spectacle, pointed a hand at me, and uttered two halting words: “Help… her.” Those two simple syllables brought the Ellingtons an overwhelming, joyous relief. They finalized the paperwork immediately. Just like that, I became Rhys’s designated “companion.” Back then, he was thin and small, and still didn’t talk. A group of older, meaner kids at school decided his silence was an act and picked a day to beat the truth out of him. I was living on borrowed time and borrowed money. I had to prove my worth. So, I didn’t flinch. Faced with thugs who were much larger than me, I felt like I was staring at a field of gold, or maybe a walking merit badge. I snatched a shovel from a school board member who was tending his prized rose bushes and chased them off. I was reported and had to stand outside the Principal’s office, but I’d still smile goofily and perform a quick headstand outside Rhys’s window. He was mortified. He would tighten his jaw and refuse to look at me. After class, he’d slide me a note—he hadn’t spoken a word to me since that day at the home. I know you’re obsessed with me. But you can’t possibly think these cheap little stunts will win me over, can you? It’s pathetic. Stop trying to make yourself into some kind of princess. Ah? He was the Young Master. I was the help. If he went down, I was going down with him. Love? Affection? I wouldn’t dare dream of it. But the Young Master didn’t care. He was convinced I was hopelessly in love with him. Which is why, when a nightmare woke him up in the dead of night, he had zero hesitation about calling and waking me up, too. I peeled myself out of bed, still half-asleep, and dragged myself to the bathroom to splash some water on my face before going to his room. The room was pitch black. I found my way to the bedside, gently covered his eyes with one hand, and reached for the lamp with the other. A few seconds later, I dropped my hand. Rhys’s dark eyes were fixed on me. His face was still pale from the bad dream, but his fingers were already tapping away furiously on his phone screen. His complaint: I just had a nightmare and couldn’t sleep. I asked you to come read to me, and it took you that long to get here. That was your ‘no-makeup’ makeup look, wasn’t it? Don’t splash water on your face next time and pretend to wash it. It’s pathetic. Just come straight here next time. I’ve never said you were ugly. There he goes again. I gave a half-hearted “Uh-huh, sure,” pulled a book from his shelf, and began reading. Halfway through the page, a gust of wind flipped the leaves. I looked up. The window was open. I got up, closed the window, and cautioned him, “Don’t leave the window open so wide at night. You’ll catch a chill and get a headache.” Turning back, I tucked the edge of the blanket back around him. He absolutely could not get sick. If he did, I wouldn’t be able to sneak into his private tutoring session tomorrow. That exclusive tutor charged a fortune—two thousand dollars an hour. As I moved, Rhys gave me that strange, unreadable look again. “What is it?” I asked. When we apply for college, I’ll permit you to apply to the same university as me. He suddenly brought up the college application process, which was only a month away. I was a little slow to process. Rhys got anxious, practically shoving the phone screen in my face: What? You don’t want to? Why would you not want to? Getting into The University with me is an honor. Don’t play hard-to-get with me! Besides, I doubt you can even get into The University! I took a deep breath and shook my head slightly. “No. Of course not.” “I was just… too excited.” Rhys looked satisfied with my answer. He let out a small, self-important huff and closed his eyes. 2 I slipped quietly out of the room, closing the door behind me, and bumped into Henderson, the butler, who had been waiting for me. “Please.” Henderson offered me a cup of tea. I took it, recognizing the expensive blend the Ellingtons reserved for important guests. Mr. Ellington was sitting opposite, rubbing his temples. The timepiece on his wrist was worth enough to buy a condo in the city’s most exclusive district. Henderson thoughtfully smoothed a newspaper across the coffee table for him. The headline was stark: ELLINGTON HEIR RISKS LIFE TO SAVE MYSTERY WOMAN A while ago, a disgruntled former employee had stormed the school and, unfortunately, taken me hostage. Rhys had stepped in, offering himself in my place. I knew Mr. Ellington, just back from an overseas business trip, had completely misunderstood. He thought Rhys was in love with me. It wasn’t true. Just today, Rhys had been planning to move me to the remedial class, the one full of rich screw-ups, purely to make room for the transfer student in the Honors section. Rhys was in love with Anya Flynn. Not me, Amelie Brooks. But just as I was about to explain, a check was pushed across the table toward me. “Aside from this small amount of cash, I will cover all expenses for your university education abroad once you graduate.” “The price is simple: complete and permanent severance from Rhys. Can you honor that?” “I do not wish to see scenes like the one from which you just emerged from my son’s room ever again.” Mr. Ellington’s gaze was heavy, silently applying pressure. “Yes, sir. Absolutely, sir.” I let the tears of supposed humiliation fall, clutched the check, and walked back to my room, my shoulders shaking dramatically.

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On a couple’s variety show, I just drew the same number as my boyfriend, only to have it snatched away by a “Little White Flower” (an innocent-acting girl). “Movie King, looks like we’re partners now~” I was about to snatch the ticket back when I saw the bullet screen (live comments) floating by: [Here it comes! Our girl is bravely chasing love and taking down the aloof Movie King. So cute~] [Why is Cynthia Song so blind? Why doesn’t she move aside and let our girl stand next to Movie King Huo?] [I really don’t want to see Cynthia Song, that green tea bitch, standing between the main couple. Can she just die already? I want to see our girl and the Movie King fall in love!] Liam Huo shoved the ticket back into my hand: “Do you not understand first come, first served?” The bullet screen exploded: [Male lead, you tsundere jerk! If you don’t team up with our girl now, you’ll be kneeling on a washboard later!] [I hate it when a green tea girlfriend stands between the main couple! Can Cynthia Song just die?] [Don’t worry everyone, soon the male lead will regret it and beg for our girl’s forgiveness!] I turned to the Little White Flower: “Security, kick her off the show.” 1 The Little White Flower was stunned. The bullet screen exploded too: [Cynthia Song is such a green tea bitch! Using her privilege just to fight our girl for the Movie King! Shameless!] [This kind of girlfriend is so annoying, doing whatever she wants just because she’s the girlfriend. Movie King Huo is suffering with her!] “I signed a contract for this show, you have no right to kick me out!” Ivy Lu stiffened her neck, and the bullet screen laughed: [This unyielding spirit is so cute. Go Ivy, take down the evil supporting actress!] So I’m the evil supporting actress. I sneered: “My right is that the director listens to me.” Seeing the director actually coming over to kick her out, Ivy Lu’s face turned pale. She actually looked at Liam Huo: “Liam…” Liam Huo paused. He didn’t seem to understand why this new Little White Flower was so clingy. So he turned his head and ignored her. [Male lead, you’ll regret this!! Later you’ll know how good our girl is!] [Our girl is so brave. If it were me, I wouldn’t even dare ask for a WeChat from my idol, but she went straight for it.] [That’s why she’s the goddess of pure love. Otherwise, how could the Movie King be moved? That green tea Cynthia Song doesn’t deserve him!] “Ms. Song…” During the break, the director approached me with an apologetic smile: “Ivy Lu offended you just now, I’ve already scolded her. “But she was squeezed in by that person, you see…” I frowned: “That person?” The director nodded. I pinched the bridge of my nose: “Watch her. If she acts up again, I don’t care if that person agrees or not, kick her out immediately!” “Understood! Understood!” The director bowed and scraped as he left. “Wait!” I called him back: “Did the air-shipped package arrive?” “It arrived! I’ll take you there now!” 2 Liam Huo and I are in a secret relationship. This couple’s variety show was intended to be a warm-up for our official announcement. Today also happened to be his birthday. Liam Huo cares a lot about his image. Three months ago, I collaborated with a brand that once dressed the Napoleon family to custom-make a European vintage-style shirt for him. But as soon as I arrived, the bullet screen blocked my view: [Ahhh, our girl dressing like this is going to kill the male lead! What man can resist this!] [Our girl is a little seductress, kiss kiss~] [Liam Huo is so lucky boohoo…] Ivy Lu was wearing an oversized shirt, sleeves so long her hands didn’t show, drooping down. But the collar was cut low, revealing half her chest. Seeing me walk over with Liam Huo, Ivy Lu looked past me directly at him and stuck out her tongue: “Oops, I seem to have opened the wrong package…” [Hahaha, our girl’s little scheme. Taking down the male lead with just a finger~] [So capable, our girl. I wish I was as brave as her. Go Ivy, defeat that green tea girlfriend Cynthia Song!] [Only the closest person can open packages. The male lead will be begging our girl to open his packages later~] [Um… wasn’t this shirt custom-made by the second female lead? I remember she stayed up late designing the pattern herself…] [So what if she ordered it? A mistress is still a mistress no matter how much she does!] The director looked at me, face pale. I didn’t speak. I stepped forward and SLAP! struck her across the face. [Holy crap, that green tea Cynthia Song dared to hit our girl!] The bullet screen exploded. Ivy Lu fell directly to the ground. [Stop it ahhh! Cynthia Song, you green tea bitch, you’ll regret this! When the male lead chases his wife back, it’ll be your death date!] Chase his wife? Heh. That depends on who he is! I sneered, raising my hand high to strike again. But a hand caught mine firmly. I turned, looking at Liam Huo, frowning: “You feel sorry for her?” He held my hand in his palm, gently rubbing the hand swollen from hitting too hard, and blew on it: “Don’t hurt yourself.” He looked down coldly: “I’ll handle this kind of woman for you.” He gave the director a look, put his arm around my waist, and took me away without looking back. The bullet screen exploded again: [I’m so mad! Even though I know the male lead will chase his wife later, seeing the early angst is so frustrating!] [Crying, Liam Huo doesn’t deserve our girl’s passionate love!!] [Don’t be angry everyone, the male lead will spoil the female lead later. Cynthia Song, the mistress, will be offline soon!] [For the future sugar, I can endure now…] I paused. I’m not someone who judges those around me based on a few words from others. But I really hate Ivy Lu. And I really hate these bullet screens. So I turned around: “Kick Ivy Lu off the show!” The bullet screen went crazy as expected: [Ahhh I can’t take it anymore! Can Cynthia Song just die now! I want to see the main couple’s sweet romance!!] [I hate the mistress the most. It’s you delaying the main couple, yet you dare to act up!] [Just waiting to see when Cynthia Song dies.] I sneered. They don’t know that I was born rebellious. They want to see me separated from Liam Huo, want to see me fall from grace. I’m determined not to let them have their way! 3 Liam Huo also posted on Weibo. It was a photo of the shirt Cynthia Song wore today, with the collar cut: [Girlfriend’s gift was cut, annoying…] Netizens were immediately confused: [Girlfriend? Wait! When did Cynthia Song and the Movie King get together!] [Great, great! No wonder the Movie King suddenly took a couple’s variety show, he’s bringing family!!] [So the paparazzi leak about Ivy Lu cutting Cynthia Song’s shirt wasn’t fake? Holy crap! Although she has more traffic than Cynthia Song, interfering in someone else’s relationship is disgusting!] I happily scrolled through the netizens’ comments. But the bullet screen in front of me was jumping with anxiety. They angrily scolded the netizens for being blind, unable to distinguish that I was the mistress. I sneered— People who only dare to hide behind screens and ship random couples always think they have the right to dictate everything. With Liam Huo leading the way, public opinion on Ivy Lu took a sharp turn for the worse. Every day, her inbox was filled with messages “greeting” her family. Netizens always have unstoppable malice towards mistresses. Ivy Lu hasn’t appeared in public for a long time. One day, the director hesitantly found me. I saw the issue at a glance: “Is it about Ivy Lu?” He nodded hurriedly: “That gentleman heard about you kicking her off the show. He came personally, saying he wants to add another hundred million investment, hoping things won’t blow up too big.” I frowned: “Why is he so annoying?” The director smiled apologetically: “He said future collaborations with you, Ms. Song, can have a 30% discount.” I was moved. After a moment of thought, I nodded: “Fine, Ivy Lu can stay. I can help with the PR.” The director’s eyes lit up. “However.” I changed the subject: “She is not allowed to participate in any variety show interactions.” “Understood! Understood!” 4 The new venue was ready. On the day of filming, I put on beautiful makeup and rushed to the set. But upon arrival, I found all the camera positions originally for me were removed. Replaced by Ivy Lu as Liam Huo’s partner. I frowned and questioned the director: “Who allowed you to switch partners last minute? Didn’t I say Ivy Lu isn’t allowed to participate in recording!” “It was me.” A familiar voice came from behind. I turned. Ivy Lu was holding Liam Huo’s arm, a triumphant smile on her lips. “Liam Huo…” I frowned. “Cynthia, I’ve decided. In this variety show, Ivy and I will be the couple team. “You… go back.” I thought I misheard. From spotting him when he was still studying at the drama academy, sponsoring him until he became the Movie King, he never dared to give me orders like this. “Why?” I was genuinely curious and incredulous. He frowned, looking at me with almost disgust: “You brought this on yourself.” A video was thrown in front of me. I finally understood what Liam Huo had experienced.

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Ethan watched as I transmigrated into this world, knowing my System-mandated mission was to capture his heart at any cost. The cold, arrogant man held a cigarette between his fingers, looking at me with a mix of amusement and disdain. “Since you’re here, you’re my dog now.” “As your master, I command you to donate your kidney to my sister.” Sister? Really? The System clearly labeled her as his unattainable “white moonlight”—his true love. An adopted sister with no blood relation? Whatever. Details. I’m an independent woman. Faced with unreasonable provocations from trash men? I handle it. Two slaps for the girl, eighteen dragon-subduing palms for the guy. And the System? Drag it out and beat it up too. Might as well, while I’m at it. 1 “I’m not donating my kidney.” I cut Ethan off, turning to leave, only to be hit by a System warning. [Host, I brought you to this world to conquer Ethan! You must gain his affection points bit by bit and win his love!] A point of light flickered persistently before my eyes. I frowned. “Is a man’s love some kind of holy grail? I’m supposed to give my all, not for money or power, but for a man’s fickle affection?” Am I sick? [But look, Ethan is really handsome, isn’t he?] I turned to look at Ethan. His gaze held a confident contempt. “I’m not the first transmigrator, am I?” His reaction was too calm. It was suspicious. Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Smart.” “What happened to the others?” Are they dead? Ethan didn’t answer. He took a drag from his cigarette, a playful smile on his lips. I walked up, snatched the cigarette, and pinched it out with my fingers. Ethan paused, then slowly exhaled smoke into my face. “Interesting.” “They’re all dead, right?” Only completing the mission allows a return to the original world. Since no one has won Ethan’s love, the mission remains incomplete. Yet, the previous transmigrators are gone. So… [Host—as long as you—] “Shut up!” I yelled at the System in my mind, staring at Ethan. The man seemed lost in pleasant memories, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “Some fell madly in love with me instantly, only to jump off a building when rejected. Some reluctantly became my mistresses and died of depression. Some served me with talent, only to die miserably after being wrung dry. Some did my dirty work and were silenced. Some resisted desperately but eventually submitted, dying last week after endless torture.” He looked at me mockingly. “Let’s make a bet. How long until you kneel and beg for a scrap of my affection?” He leaned in, eyes wild with excitement. “With your attitude… a day?” “Why? Do you not expect to live past tomorrow? In a rush?” I retorted. The System in my head screeched. After half an hour of fruitless persuasion, it finally turned nasty. [If you don’t repent and seriously pursue Ethan’s affection, I will have to use coercive measures.] What measures? I looked up at the glowing dot and suddenly felt a bone-deep pain. Electric shock. [Host, this is just the lowest level. If you persist…] It didn’t finish. I rushed into the bathroom, locked the door, grabbed the glowing dot, and pulled it close. Without a word, I punched it. A scream echoed in my mind. I smiled triumphantly. “So you…” Before I could say “feel pain too,” another wave of agony hit me, stronger than before. I punched the light five times without hesitation. During this, it shocked me four more times. Each time, my face twisted in pain. But no matter how much it hurt, I clenched my fist, stayed silent, and pounded the light. “You better kill me now. As long as I have a breath, I’ll beat you to death.” Three more punches. “Let’s see who dies first.” 2 My reputation as the “Queen of University of Science and Technology” wasn’t for nothing. You might have hacks, System, but I, Chu Piao, am no pushover. “Piao”—light, brave, swift, intelligent. I earned the “brave” part. After fainting three times and a four-hour standoff, the dog System finally surrendered. [I was wrong. I shouldn’t have brought you here. I’ll send you back now.] “You dare?” I held the dim, defeated System, questioning coldly. “Send me back? Then grab more innocent girls to be Ethan’s blood bags? So he can torture them and enjoy their pleas and deaths?” I paused. “Do you know how many cuts make a ‘death by a thousand cuts’?” [3,357 cuts.] The System answered reflexively. “Correct. Not one less.” I pulled a fruit knife from my pocket and waved it, pretending to stab. The System shuddered, begging weakly. [I won’t send you back. I won’t. Really, Grandma.] “Fine.” I moved the knife away slightly. “Call me Big Sis.” [Yes, Ho… Big Sis.] “Don’t reveal a word of this to Ethan.” [Rest assured, Big Sis. Systems only interface with the host. Aside from the initial handover, no one else can see or hear us.] Good. “Now, give me all the data on Ethan and his sister. Remember, I want everything.” 3 “I agree to donate my kidney to your sister.” Hands in pockets, clutching the System tightly, I stood before Ethan, feigning defeat. He smiled arrogantly, as if everything was under control. He put down his wine glass and glanced at his watch. “Five hours. You lasted the longest so far.” He clapped slowly three times, mocking me. “Kneel, woman. You’re qualified to be my dog now.” “But you’re not qualified.” I looked at him coldly. “I agreed to donate a kidney, not to lower my dignity or pawn my soul. Drop the high-and-mighty act, Ethan. You’re disgusting.” My undisguised disgust surprised him again. He swirled his wine, silent for a moment, then smiled knowingly. “Changed tactics, huh?” He stood up, his height imposing, and walked towards me until he broke my personal space. “Playing hard to get? Trying to get my attention?” He tapped my nose lightly, smiling. “I admit, your little trick worked a bit.” [Big Sis, his affection points rose! From negative to 10%! Good sign!] The System chimed in abruptly, marveling at its luck. “Noisy.” I pushed Ethan away, wiped my nose thoroughly with a wet wipe, and turned to leave. “Don’t contact me until the surgery is scheduled.” I needed time to plan. But Ethan didn’t listen. Knowing I had just transmigrated into his wife’s body and had nowhere to go but his villa, he insisted on coming back. Even though he hadn’t been back in nearly two years. Gross. Seeing him at home felt like swallowing a fly. And the fly kept buzzing around me. “Madam, Sir is cooking for you personally today!” The housekeeper ran upstairs excitedly. I sat up in bed. Is he poisoning the food? “Sir, Madam really loves you! Look, she won’t say it, but she’s peeking at you with binoculars!” The housekeeper looked like a fan shipping a couple. Me: … Eating everything leads to trouble. [Big Sis, Ethan’s affection +5. He’s secretly pleased.] The System spoke up again. Did I ask you? I shot a mental glare, and the System shut up. 4 I deliberately went downstairs half an hour late. At first, Ethan laughed at my “pride,” but five minutes later, he was extremely impatient. [Big Sis, affection -10.] [Big Sis, affection zero.] [Big Sis, affection negative.] [Big Sis, he’s gonna flip the table!] With every update, I checked the time, noting Ethan’s patience limit. Only half an hour. Tsk, shockingly short. I went down just before the table flip, sitting in the furthest chair. He was livid, silent, just eating. So I ate silently too. Bang! He kicked the table. The solid wood shook. I didn’t look up, just ate faster. Crash! Ethan smashed a bowl. I was annoyed. Who was this tantrum for? An elementary schooler denied candy? Not watching. Splash! He threw an abalone into my soup. Juice splattered onto my face. I put down my chopsticks and stood up to leave. “Hey, you—” Ethan stood up angrily to call my name, but realized he didn’t know it. He ran over to block the stairs. “What… what is your name?” Arms crossed, impatient. Like a god deigning to ask a mortal. “Crushing on me?” I asked back. “No, you…” “My contact info.” I handed him a handwritten card. In huge letters: PROFESSIONAL PIG CASTRATOR. “Are you sick?!” He tore the card up furiously. Just as he was about to explode, he seemed to remember something, forced down his anger, dragged me back to the table, and served me a bowl of soup. “Drink. I made it for you.” Something’s wrong. Very wrong. I glanced at the soup. “Too oily. Don’t like it.” “Be good. It’s good for you. Good for the kidneys. Drink it all, every drop.” So that’s it. Why the sudden cooking? For my kidney. To him, I’m just an organ container. I picked up the bowl, stood on the chair, and dumped the soup over his head. “If you love it so much, drink up. Drink up, give your kidney to your sister, and watch her satisfy her desires under you, then moan under someone else.” I tried to flip the table. Too heavy. Crash! I pulled the tablecloth off. Dishes shattered everywhere. “Go wear your green hat!” I finished cursing, ready to grab some cash and leave. But I heard Ethan laugh coldly. “You. Very good.” He looked at me coldly. With his affection points now deep in the negatives, he returned to that confident, mocking expression. “Within three days, you’ll come crying for forgiveness. No, tonight.” I grabbed my bag and left. As I slammed the door, I saw him mouth: “I’ll be waiting.”

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The day I found out I was pregnant, the woman Ronan Blackwood still worshiped—his Myth—came back to New York. I didn’t need a formal dismissal. I made an appointment at the clinic myself, scheduling the earliest slot for a termination. I was about to swallow the first pill when a tiny, panicked voice echoed in my head. [Mom, new plan! Don’t do it!] I froze, the pill suspended between my thumb and forefinger. [My dad is the pathetic Runner-Up! The heroine never ends up with him, plus he has low motility—I’m his one and only shot at a legacy! You have to keep me. Push me out, and I’ll put you on the yacht to the billionaire’s life!] I stood there for a long moment, the sheer audacity of the internal dialogue battling the reality of my predicament. Then, I turned and tossed the tablets straight into the waste bin. 1 I’ve read a truckload of spicy romance novels, so my ability to suspend disbelief is incredibly high. I didn’t question The Nugget’s pronouncements; I believed him. I ducked into my car, the excitement bubbling up. “Okay, Nugget,” I whispered, “So, should I tell… your dad I’m pregnant now?” [No! He doesn’t know he’s the Runner-Up. Right now, he’s focused on chasing The Myth. If he knows I exist, he’ll do anything to prevent my birth!] I chewed on that. “Then what about your grandmother?” Ronan Blackwood was clearly blinded by love, but Mrs. Eleanor Blackwood, the family matriarch, wouldn’t be so foolish. She would surely cherish an heir, no matter the vessel. [Not yet, Mom! Don’t tell Grandma either!] [Grandma hates gold diggers and social climbers. If she sees you as nothing more than a desperate mistress, she might hate-the-whole-situation and not even care about an unborn baby!] “So, what’s my play?” [You need to get out of Manhattan ASAP. Raise me somewhere safe, and then—when I’m big—we let them know I exist. Dad is destined to be a lifelong bachelor if The Myth won’t have him. Grandma will have no choice but to accept her only grandchild!] “But… wouldn’t that make you a bastard?” [Mom, you’re overthinking it. My dad’s such a hopeless romantic—he’ll never marry anyone but Gen Laurent. I’ll just be a non-marital child. You give him the only heir he can ever have. The Blackwood dynasty will owe you for eighteen generations!] I got it. The whole situation was suddenly, gloriously, transactional. “Understood. I’m going back to the penthouse to give your dad my two weeks’ notice.” 2 According to The Nugget, we were trapped in a plot from a best-selling novel. The heroine was Genevieve Laurent—old money, effortless charm. The hero was Leo Maxwell—Manhattan’s golden boy. Ronan Blackwood was the tragic, groveling Runner-Up. Gen had adored Ronan since childhood, following him around like a shadow. Ronan, in his youthful arrogance, couldn’t see her love, treating her only like a little sister before rejecting her clumsy declaration. Heartbroken, Gen had fled the country, only to return seven years later. In the span of their separation, Ronan had realized the terrifying truth: he loved her, desperately. So began his relentless pursuit. But Gen’s heart was too bruised, and Leo Maxwell’s puppy-dog charm and unrelenting attention proved irresistible. She chose the hero. Ronan, heartbroken but devoted, became her silent, lifelong guardian. It was the ultimate Runner-Up tragedy. If he wasn’t the father of my child, I’d probably be hitting the ‘Like’ button on his misery. I returned to the penthouse, and Ronan was already home. He was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, a plume of smoke curling around him as he contemplated the Manhattan skyline. He looked heavy—a man burdened. My usual reflex was to go hug him, but the Runner-Up label stopped me cold. I suppressed the impulse and addressed him formally. “Mr. Blackwood.” Ronan snapped out of his reverie. He walked over, stubbed out his cigarette in the crystal tray, and turned to me. His voice was as flat and cold as his gaze. “There’s something I need to discuss with you.” My heart stuttered. Here we go. The dismissal. The severance package talk. [Mom, don’t panic. Totally expected.] I took a deep breath and gave him the practiced, empty smile. “What is it?” Ronan sat down, looking up at me. “How long have we been doing this?” My stomach plummeted. He was easing into the goodbye. Though I’d always known my status—his companion, his keeper—after five years beside a man this extraordinary, it was impossible not to develop a flicker of genuine attachment. I managed a strained laugh. “Almost five years. Another month and we would have hit the anniversary.” Ronan nodded thoughtfully. “It’s been that long, then.” Too long, I thought bitterly. By the standards of men in his circle, he was practically a saint. Five years with one mistress? Most men traded us out every time the seasons changed. I should feel grateful. After a moment of charged silence, he leaned forward, his voice meaningful. “I’ve been thinking. We can’t maintain this kind of relationship forever. So, I was planning to…” The sharp trill of his phone interrupted him. Ronan looked down at the screen, and his expression softened instantly. The caller ID read: Gen Laurent. He stood and walked onto the terrace to take the call. My throat tightened. A wave of familiar, miserable sadness crashed over me. But then I thought of The Nugget and his billion-dollar legacy. My mood instantly stabilized. 3 Ronan kept his voice low, but his profile—which I’d always found devastatingly attractive—was etched with an unfamiliar, profound tenderness. Three minutes later, he came back inside. “Something’s come up. I have an emergency. We’ll pick this up when I get back.” I nodded, my face a mask of composure. “Of course.” He grabbed his bespoke coat and was gone, the elevator doors sliding shut on his hasty exit. I had braced myself for this ending, yet the speed of his departure, his urgency to rush to The Myth’s side, still hurt. The Nugget’s voice cut through my emo moment: [Mom, stop brooding. You need to get out of here before Dad realizes you’re pregnant!] [He may not be a criminal, but if he decides he doesn’t want me, he’s rich enough to have you forcibly terminated. Get out!] A jolt of pure fear shot through me. The Nugget was right. Ronan didn’t know he was a secondary character. He was too consumed by Gen Laurent. If I jeopardized that chase, I was finished. I immediately started packing my essentials, throwing expensive jewelry and documents into a duffel bag, and driving out that very night. I was heading south. Before I hit the turnpike, I sent Ronan a pre-written “breakup” text. “Mr. Blackwood, I’ve left for Charlotte. Thank you for your support over the last five years. I wish you all the best.” He didn’t reply. He probably saw no reason to. I felt a small, familiar twinge of disappointment. Not because he hadn’t begged me to stay, but because he hadn’t even had the courtesy to send a severance deposit. Though he gives me more than enough, who ever complains about extra cash? 4 I got involved with Ronan for two very simple reasons: I was terrified of being poor, and he was breathtakingly handsome. I was—in a word—greedy and shallow. I was also pragmatic. I’d always been preparing for this exit, so I hadn’t wasted his money. Three years ago, I’d bought a beautifully furnished condo in downtown Charlotte, NC. Two years ago, I had it completely set up. After calling a cleaning crew, I moved in. To sever all ties, I bought a new phone and a new number. I knew Ronan Blackwood could track me down easily if he wanted to. But he was busy fighting the hero for the heroine. He probably wouldn’t spare a second thought for his former mistress. Even though The Nugget assured me he would be healthy, I kept up with all my prenatal appointments. The day I went in for the anatomy scan, I was preparing to hand my forms to the receptionist when I saw Ronan Blackwood stride purposefully toward the Ultrasound Center. I froze, instantly spinning around, my back pressed against the wall. [Mom, what’s wrong?] The Nugget always picked up on my emotional spikes. I whispered, “I just saw your dad.” [Don’t panic! You have a mask on, and you’re wearing that awful North Carolina tourist jacket. He won’t recognize you. Just walk away, normally.] He was right. I was wearing an oversize jacket and a baseball cap, none of which Ronan had ever seen me wear. I collected myself and started to move slowly toward the escalator. I was almost there when a massive hand clamped down on my arm, yanking me back with startling force. I stumbled, bracing myself against the cool marble of the wall, my body rigid with sudden terror. Ronan’s tall frame leaned in, enveloping me in his shadow. The sheer proximity was suffocating. “What’s the rush?” “Did you really think a cheap mask would stop me from recognizing you?” His tone was mocking, and my stomach dropped. I wanted to cry. [Mom, stay calm! Do not break character!] I forced a sickly laugh. “I wasn’t rushing. I finished my check-up and was heading home.” Ronan looked me up and down, his eyes finally landing on the requisition slip clutched in my hand. His voice was impossible to read. “Sick?” I quickly hid the paper behind my back. “Minor issues. Just a little hormonal imbalance.” “Is that right? Let me see.” He reached for the paper. Before I could figure out my next move, his assistant rushed up, face grim. “Mr. Blackwood, it’s Genevieve. Acute appendicitis. The doctor says they need to operate immediately.” Ronan’s focus fractured. He bit out, “Add my contact back,” to me, then turned and followed his assistant away, disappearing into the crowd. As soon as he was gone, I fled the hospital like a bat out of hell. On the drive home, I asked The Nugget, “What did he mean, ‘Add his contact back’? Is he coming for me?” [I don’t know, Mom. But it sounds likely.] “So, do I add him or not?” [You have to! If you don’t, he’ll start a proper investigation. Then my existence will be exposed immediately!] “Ugh. Fine.” 5 I had deleted Ronan’s number, but after five years, it was ingrained in my memory. Once home, I added his number on a secure messaging app. About an hour later, he accepted the request. Ronan Blackwood: Send me your address. I stared at the screen. “Nugget, what does this mean? He’s definitely coming here, right?” [Seems so.] “What if he discovers the pregnancy? What if he already knows? Is it too late to run again?” [Mom, don’t panic. Running won’t help. He’ll find you eventually.] “So, I’m just waiting for the guillotine?” The despair was overwhelming. “Nugget, don’t worry. I won’t let you leave this world alone.” [Mom! I told you, the waiting list for a good re-birth is a hundred years, and even then, I might not make it! We need to fight this!] “You’re right. We’ll fight.” [And look, my dad hasn’t acted on anything yet. He probably hasn’t figured out I exist. Maybe he’s just coming for a quick hookup.] “He’s shadowing his first love, the Myth. What could I possibly offer him now?” [I don’t know either! Just deal with it. When he shows up, we play it by ear.] “Fine.” Reluctantly, I typed out the address. [Mom! Quick! Hide anything suspicious. Pregnancy tests, vitamins, the giant maternity pillow!] “Right!” I scrambled, shoving anything that could give away my secret into a storage closet. Just as I sank onto the sofa to catch my breath, the doorbell rang. I jumped up, forcing a bright, awkward smile as I opened the door. “Mr. Blackwood. Long time, no see.” Ronan’s expression was unreadable, impassive. He gave a curt nod. “I have business in Charlotte for a few days. I hate the hotels here. I’m borrowing a room.” I hesitated. It was true; Ronan despised anything less than a Presidential Suite, and he was notoriously picky. But I absolutely couldn’t have him under my roof. Ronan’s eyes narrowed, his gaze intense. “Is that a problem?” [Don’t refuse! The more you push back, the more he’ll suspect something. Just say yes!] I burst into a strained laugh. “A problem? Not at all! Please, Mr. Blackwood, come in!” I stepped aside. Then I remembered: I had no men’s slippers. “I didn’t expect the honor of your visit, Mr. Blackwood. I’m missing a few necessities. Please, have a seat, and I’ll run out and grab some toiletries and slippers. I’ll be quick.” He didn’t object. “Go.” 6 When I returned with a bag of travel-size essentials, Ronan wasn’t in the living room. A wave of relief washed over me. Did he leave? Then, he emerged from the direction of my storage closet. My heart stopped dead. I was mentally calculating whether I should just drop to my knees and beg for mercy when Ronan calmly assessed the room. “The place is clean.” I managed a tight smile. “When you’re unemployed, you clean every day.” He said nothing else, simply extending his hand toward me. “Give me the bag.” “Oh, right.” I handed him the plastic bag with the slippers and toothbrush. He put on the slippers and walked into the guest bathroom, all with the unhurried ease of a man who owned the place. Seeing his intention to stay, I went to make the bed in the guest room. Truthfully, I was disgusted. He was actively chasing the heroine, yet he thought it was acceptable to crash at his former mistress’s place? That lack of boundaries was probably why he’d been relegated to the Runner-Up role. Serves him right. Ronan’s showers were always efficient. I had just smoothed the duvet when he emerged, a towel wrapped low around his waist. He leaned against the doorframe, one eyebrow raised. “I’m sleeping in the guest room?” My brain, already slow due to the pregnancy, lagged even further. I nodded instinctively. “Yes, of course!” Where else would you sleep? Ronan’s gaze darkened. His expression hadn’t changed much, but I felt the shift in the air—he was annoyed. I realized why: he still assumed he could sleep with me. The entitlement of it made me even more certain Gen was smart to pick Leo. While I scrambled for a diplomatic way to refuse him, he asked, his voice low and pointed, “Are you hiding something from me?” I unconsciously clutched my belly, then quickly released it, forcing an awkward giggle. “No, why would I?” Ronan’s face turned stormy. His sharp, intense eyes locked onto mine as he began to close the distance between us. “You know you’re a terrible liar, don’t you?” I backed away until the bed frame stopped me. He braced his hands on the wall, caging me between his arms. The powerful oppression made it hard to breathe. “Did you find a new patron already?” I looked up, stunned by the sheer gall of the accusation. 7 A man who has possessed a woman inevitably develops a ridiculous, irrational sense of ownership over her, even after the relationship has ended. Ronan was clearly being ruled by that toxic possessiveness. I was genuinely offended. I may be a materialist, but I wasn’t that easy. No unattractive men. No old men. Definitely no diseased men. The truth was, while everyone else saw me as his “kept woman,” deep down, I’d always viewed him as a spectacularly good-looking gigolo I was paying for with my time. After sleeping with a specimen like Ronan Blackwood, the average man simply couldn’t compete. I shot him a withering look. “Do you honestly think I’m that reckless?” The coldness in Ronan’s posture immediately evaporated. He pulled me into his arms, squeezing me tightly. His breathing grew heavy. “Anya, baby, I want to—” I clamped my hand over his mouth before he could finish that thought. “No!” The Nugget was asleep, but what if he woke up? If he heard his dad say anything raunchy, I’d never live it down. Ronan pulled my hand away, his cold gaze returning. “You are hiding something.” I was already low on wit, and the pregnancy hormones had made me slower. I couldn’t think of a plausible excuse. Panic made me flounder. “I’m not!” I blurted out the first idiotic thing that came to mind. “It’s… Aunt Flo is visiting!” Ronan sneered. “Is that so? Let me check.” His hand moved to the waistband of my sweatpants. I saw red. My fight-or-flight response kicked in, pure, primal terror. I reacted without thinking, swinging my arm and connecting a sharp slap across his face. The second I did it, I regretted it instantly. “I—I’m sorry.” Ronan stared at me, his face an ominous storm cloud. My fear intensified. I was about to try a pathetic attempt at flirting my way out of it when he simply turned, went into the bathroom, retrieved his clothes, and walked out of the condo, slamming the front door behind him. The heavy thud of the solid security door closing was the sound of my near-exhausted body slumping onto the sofa in relief. The crisis was averted, but a familiar emptiness settled in my chest. 8 Ronan was truly furious, and he didn’t try to contact me again. I was relieved, but the peace didn’t last long. Three days later, I received an anonymous text. Anonymous: I’ll give you five million dollars to get rid of the child. I fought down a wave of nausea and replied, pretending ignorance. Anya: What child? Anonymous: Your cheap tricks might fool Ronan, but they don’t fool me. Mrs. Blackwood despises gold-digging opportunists like you. I suggest you handle the situation immediately, or she will make you regret it. The message sent a shiver of dread down my spine. The Nugget woke up, his little voice filled with concern. [Mom, what’s going on?] Distraught, I read him the anonymous threat. The Nugget was indignant. [Mom, don’t listen to that liar! Grandma loves me! She would never hurt me!] My sluggish, pregnancy-addled brain finally connected the dots. “Nugget,” I said slowly, “Didn’t you tell me your grandmother wouldn’t allow you to exist right now?” The question silenced him. He fell into a long, terrifying silence that made the hairs on my arms stand up. I had trusted him completely, and he had been lying. Anger, disappointment, and a profound sense of cold betrayal washed over me. “Why did you lie to me?”

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My CEO wife returned from a year abroad… pregnant. “Ted, I’m sorry,” Seraphina said, hand on her belly. “At a party, Jake and I drank too much and slept together. I never thought…” Jake—the male assistant she hired before leaving. I was stunned but offered one last chance for our marriage: “Terminate the pregnancy and fire Jake. Then I’ll forget this.” “No,” she refused flatly. “It’s triplets—an abortion risks my life. Would you want that?” “As for Jake,” she added firmly, “he’s the biological father, and his skills are weak. I must keep him employed.” Just then, Jake rushed in and knelt before me. “Mr. Stone, I’ll never overstep again! Have mercy—let me and the children live!” Seraphina helped him up, scowling at me. “He’s kneeling. What more do you want?” Seeing the pity—and more—in her eyes, I knew we were done. After leaving, I called a long-unused number. “I’m done playing house husband. I’m being myself again.” A smoky laugh answered. “Finally. Welcome back, little brother. The Capital’s top playboy returns.” 1 The next day, I asked Seraphina for a divorce. She completely ignored me, checking herself into a private hospital to focus on her pregnancy. A few months later, the babies were born. I ran into her parents coming out of her hospital room. They were glowing, basking in the joy of becoming grandparents for the first time. “Ted? You’re just in time,” Seraphina’s father said. “We’ve already picked out names for the three boys. We’re calling them Jay, Ian, and Liam. What do you think?” When I didn’t answer, her mother rolled her eyes. “What, you have a problem with them taking our family name?” “Ever since you married Seraphina, she’s been the one bringing home the bacon while you stay home. You might not officially be a kept man, but you live like one. It’s only natural the children take her name.” I almost laughed. I didn’t care if the kids took her name, or Jake’s name. It made no difference to me. “It’s already been decided. Your opinion is irrelevant,” her father added. “I heard you were making a scene about a divorce a while back. You really have no idea what your place is, do you?” “You should be thanking your lucky stars that Seraphina, out of the goodness of her heart, didn’t use this as an excuse to kick you to the curb. Who do you think you are, bringing up divorce? Now get in there and apologize to her.” A muscle in my jaw twitched. It was true what they said: the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I ignored them and pushed open the door. The sight that greeted me was Seraphina and Jake, their heads bent close together, cooing over the three newborns in their bassinets. They were laughing softly, saying how the babies had Seraphina’s eyes but Jake’s fair, smooth skin. The picture of domestic bliss was so perfect it made my head spin. There was a time when Seraphina and I had shared moments just like this. But now, the leading man had been replaced. When he saw me, Jake shot to his feet and gave me a slight, deferential bow. “Mr. Stone.” The second Seraphina stepped into the adjoining bathroom, however, his face transformed. He looked up, a smirk playing on his lips. “So, Ted,” he whispered, his voice dripping with venom. “How does it feel? Playing daddy to another man’s kids? Wearing that big green hat for the world to see?” He leaned closer. “Is it everything you dreamed of?” I stared at him, my face a blank mask. “If Seraphina saw the pathetic, sniveling worm you really are, you think she wouldn’t puke on the spot? Slap you a few times and tell you to pack your bags and get the hell out?” My lack of reaction seemed to infuriate him. He snatched a cup of steaming water from the bedside table. “Let’s just see who she’s going to slap, and who she’s going to tell to get the hell out!” Before I could react, he flung the boiling water directly at one of the infants. I was stunned. Even the most vicious animal protects its young. This… this pretty boy was pure poison. 2 “Waaah!” The baby’s heart-wrenching scream brought Seraphina rushing out of the bathroom, still pulling up her pants. “What happened to my baby?” Thud. Jake dropped to his knees again, tears and snot streaming down his face. “Mr. Stone, I know you’re hurting, but you can take it out on me! The baby is innocent!” he wailed. “He was just born! His skin is so delicate, how could it possibly withstand boiling water?” “What?!” Seraphina’s face contorted with rage. She stormed over and slapped me, hard, across the face. “Ted, you’ve gone too far!” she screamed. “Even if you can’t stand the sight of them, you don’t have to be so monstrous!” “Whatever happened between us, the children are innocent!” I spat out a mouthful of blood. “And you’re so sure it was me who threw the water?” “Of course it was!” she shot back. “Jake is their father! If it wasn’t you, was it him?” “Hah…” I let out a cold, bitter laugh. “Jake. You say his name with such affection. In that case, I should just step aside and let you two be a happy family.” “Don’t you dare talk to me like that. I don’t have time for your sarcasm,” she snapped. “You better pray that baby is okay, or I will never be finished with you!” She scooped up the screaming infant and rushed out, murmuring soothing words. I clutched the briefcase in my hand. It was clear the divorce papers inside weren’t getting signed today. I dragged my exhausted body and shattered heart home. I’d just sat down when voices boomed from upstairs. “Is that Ted? Finally! Bring my foot bath up, will you?” “And my midnight snack needs to be made! The usual, the lotus seed soup. No sugar.” I sat there, frozen, as memories from the past few years flooded back. For me, it had been love at first sight with Seraphina. I was so smitten I left my home, gave up everything, for her. I was so smitten I changed my very nature for her, transforming from a wild playboy into a devoted partner, saying goodbye to a life of decadent parties and endless indulgence. I became a house husband, dedicating my days to serving her and her parents. And what did I get in return? A crown of thorns and three children that weren’t mine. The irony was crushing. Ring… My phone’s ringing pulled me back to the present. It was Seraphina. But when I answered, it wasn’t her voice I heard. It was Jake’s. “Alright, Ms. Vance, just lie back and I’ll massage your lower back. It’s crucial to take care of your back during the postpartum period, you know. It affects whether you’ll get your figure back.” “And you absolutely can’t get angry. It’s bad for your health.” “Here, let me just give your chest a little rub to help you relax…” “Ms. Vance, is the pressure okay?” A soft moan. “Mmm… yes. That’s perfect. It feels so good.” “Could you massage my feet later? They’re still swollen from the pregnancy.” “Of course, Ms. Vance.” “You know, you can call me Ms. Vance in public, but when we’re alone… it feels so formal. Just call me… Seraphina.” 3 Beep. Beep. Beep. The line went dead. I slowly lifted my head and stared at the large wedding portrait hanging on the opposite wall. In the photo, we were both beaming, the picture of a happy, loving couple. That picture was now a lie. “Ted, what are you doing just sitting there? I’m still waiting for my foot bath!” Seraphina’s mother yelled as she came downstairs. “And your father’s snack! He’s starving! Honestly, you’re becoming more useless by the day!” I turned and gave her a dead-eyed stare. “Do you not have hands and feet?” “You want a foot bath? Go boil the water yourself. You want a snack? Go make it yourself.” She was stunned. “What did you just say?” “Are you deaf, or just stupid? From this day forward, I am no longer your family’s servant. Understood?” I stood up and strode to the wall. Before her shocked eyes, I ripped my half of the wedding portrait straight down the middle. “Ah! Ted, are you insane?” I ignored her shriek and tossed the divorce papers I’d prepared onto the table. She snatched them up, her face turning shades of red and purple as she read. “Hmph. So you’re really determined to divorce Seraphina and take half her assets, is that it? I’m telling you right now, you won’t get a dime! Even if she had children with another man, you can forget about—” “Relax,” I said, cutting her off with a cold laugh. “The agreement is very clear. I don’t want a single thing that has her name on it. Frankly, her money… it’s not enough to interest me.” She stared at me, dumbfounded. It was only after I had walked out the door that she seemed to recover, spitting on the floor behind me. “Pathetic loser! All talk and no substance. Serves you right that Seraphina cheated on you!” That night, I booked the presidential suite at the city’s most luxurious five-star hotel. I pulled up a number in my contacts that I hadn’t looked at in years and, after a long hesitation, made the call. A lazy, sultry voice answered. “Well, well… if it isn’t our dedicated family man, Ted. Finally decided to grace me with a call?” I gave a bitter laugh. “Come on, sis. My life is already a dumpster fire. Don’t tease me.” Her tone shifted instantly. “I told you that woman was bad news from the start,” she snapped. “But you wouldn’t listen. You had to go and fall head over heels for her. How does it feel, finally hitting that brick wall?” “So… you know?” “Of course I know!” she raged. “You may have been estranged from the family all these years, but you’re still my brother. You’re still Mom and Dad’s son, the sole heir to the Stone Corporation. Did you really think we wouldn’t keep an eye on you?” I shook my head, another bitter laugh escaping me. “It seems the devoted husband thing really isn’t for me. I think I’ll just go back to being a playboy.” I paused, then my voice turned to ice. “And one more thing. The resources and support I’ve been secretly providing to Seraphina’s company all these years… cut it all off. Effective immediately.” “Good,” she said. “Even if you hadn’t said it, I was going to do it anyway. No one gets away with hurting my baby brother like this. And just cutting off her resources… that’s not nearly enough.” I knew my sister. I knew her methods. A pang of pity for what Seraphina was about to face rose in my chest, but I crushed it down. “Fine,” I said. “Do whatever you want.” 4 The next morning, Seraphina called. “Ted, have you had your little tantrum yet? I already explained that what happened with Jake was an accident. And I’ve decided you can be the father to the children. I’m not even going to press charges about you scalding the baby yesterday. What more could you possibly want?” “What do I want?” I was bone-tired, too exhausted to argue anymore. “I want a divorce. Sign the papers. We’re going to the courthouse today.” “Impossible!” she said, her refusal absolute. Then, her voice softened slightly. “We had so many beautiful memories together, have you forgotten all of them? The one I love has always been you. I’m comfortable with you. Can’t you just…” “Stop.” I couldn’t listen to another word. It was making my skin crawl. “Seraphina, I don’t know if you’re comfortable with me, but I do know that you and Jake were very, very comfortable with each other last night.” “You…” She was speechless. After a long silence, she seemed to give up on trying to manipulate me. Her voice turned cold. “Are you absolutely sure you want a divorce?” “Positive. Certain. And absolute.” “Fine,” she said, her tone now like ice. “I’ll agree. But on one condition. You have to accompany me to a banquet tonight. This event is crucial for my company. It could determine whether we go public. I can’t have any rumors of marital trouble circulating before the IPO. You might just be a house husband, but you should understand the stakes.” I was stunned. I had actually thought she was trying to save our marriage because she still had some feelings for me. I was even considering asking my sister to go easy on her. But it was all a lie. To her, our marriage was just a prop, a piece of corporate window dressing. “Ha…” I let out a hollow laugh. “Seraphina, you are a world-class hypocrite.” With her mask torn off, she dropped all pretense. “Cooperate with me,” she said coldly. “After the company goes public, we’ll get the divorce, and I’ll give you ten million dollars. That’s enough to keep you comfortable for the rest of your…” Click. I hung up. Listening to her for another second felt like poison in my ear. I sent her a text. “I’ll go to the banquet with you tonight. We get divorced at the courthouse tomorrow morning. That is my final offer. If you push it, I can’t guarantee what I’ll do.” Her reply came almost instantly. “Deal.” … That evening, I stood by her side as she made a grand entrance at the banquet, dressed to the nines. All eyes were on her, followed by a chorus of praise. “Ms. Vance, you just gave birth and you’re already back to work! You truly are an iron lady.” “And look at your figure! You look absolutely stunning. Your glow is undeniable.” “Such a loving husband, a company about to go public… you’ve truly got it all. Family, love, and a career. We’re all so envious!” Their words were like a thousand tiny knives, twisting in the still-raw wounds of my heart. But Seraphina drank it all in, a sweet smile plastered on her face as she mingled. A short while later, the guest of honor arrived: the young master of the Capital’s Titan Group, and, incidentally, the biggest investor in Seraphina’s company. As the flamboyant young man strode into the spotlight, a small smile touched my lips. Just then, the main doors of the ballroom were thrown open. Jake burst in, his face a mask of grief and fury. He looked like a wild animal, and in an instant, all attention was on him. “Ted Stone!” he roared. “You are a heartless monster!” “I told you, what happened between me and Ms. Vance was an accident! I can understand if you can’t accept it, if you want a divorce. But the children… the children are innocent!” “They’re not even a month old!” He pointed a trembling finger at me, his voice breaking. “How could you poison them? How could you be so cruel?”

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After the SATs, my childhood sweetheart confessed his love to me. Just as I was about to say yes, I received a text from my 25-year-old self. [Don’t say yes! He only wants to sleep with you; he doesn’t want a relationship!] [Look at Liam. He’s your future husband.] [His lock screen is you, the tattoo over his heart is you… even the hair tie on his wrist is the one you dropped!] I was stunned and turned to look at the school bully in the corner, whose eyes were red. He looked away awkwardly, “What are you looking at? It’s not like he’s confessing to me.” 1 After submitting our college applications, Ryan invited me to a graduation party. I stood at the door of the private room, hand on the handle, my heart pounding so fast it felt like it would burst out of my chest. Through the crack in the door. I saw him standing in the center of the crowd, holding a huge bouquet of roses, looking a little nervous. The classmates around him were laughing and cheering. “With our school heartthrob Ryan making a move, is there anything he can’t get?” “Wendy has been following you for three years anyway. You couldn’t chase her away if you tried.” “If you ask me, you just need to crook your finger and she’ll come obediently. No need to buy flowers.” “Even if it’s a weed from the roadside, as long as you give it to her, Wendy will treasure it.” My breath hitched, and my heart felt like it was gently pricked by something. Yes, I have liked Ryan for three years. He and I are neighbors and childhood friends. But I only realized my budding feelings for him in freshman year of high school. In those three years, I followed him. Watching him play basketball, bringing him water and breakfast, taking notes for him. He was gentle to me too, patiently explaining problems to me. Giving me his umbrella on rainy days, even carrying me to the nurse’s office when I had cramps. I always thought he liked me. But it turns out in others’ eyes, I’m just someone who comes obediently at the crook of a finger? I bit my lip, suppressing the bitterness in my heart. Don’t overthink it. What others think is their business. As long as Ryan has me in his heart, that’s enough. Ryan is so good, and so many girls like him. It’s already my luck that he’s willing to confess to me. I calmed myself down and was about to push the door open. My phone suddenly vibrated in my hand. I looked down instinctively, and a text from an unknown number popped up on the screen. I clicked it open. [Don’t go in.] [I am you from age 25.] I froze. Immediately after, a second message came. [Ryan made a bet with his friends to sleep with you within three days. The stakes are a pair of limited-edition sneakers.] [He doesn’t want a relationship!] [Otherwise, ask him which college he put on his application?] I stood there rigid. [He agreed with Chloe to apply to A University together.] A University? But Ryan clearly told me we would apply to C University together because he wanted to be with me always. I stared at the screen, my brain buzzing. Chloe transferred here in the second semester of sophomore year. Wealthy family, outstanding temperament. She became the focus of the whole school as soon as she arrived. She once brought water to Ryan on the basketball court. But he politely declined. I was secretly happy for a long time. But it turns out they have been in contact privately? From the private room, Ryan’s voice came with a smile. “Alright, stop teasing. When Wendy comes later, play along.” “Don’t worry, she’ll definitely say yes. I know her too well.” My heart felt like it was stabbed, painful enough to turn my face pale. So, his gentle smile, considerate actions, and even the promised future. Were all just a gamble? Or, I was just a seasoning in his bland life. My future self was afraid I wouldn’t believe it and encouraged me to go in and verify it myself. [If you don’t believe me, go in and verify it yourself.] [Some people need to see it with their own eyes to know if it’s worth it.] [I know you are the type who won’t turn back until you hit a wall, because I am you.] I pushed open the door of the private room abruptly. The noise stopped abruptly. Everyone’s eyes turned to me in unison. Ryan was slightly stunned, then smiled. 2 “Wendy, you’re here.” He walked towards me holding the roses. I took a step back. “Ryan, which college did you apply to?” I stared at his face, trying to find a trace of guilt. His smile froze on his face. A few seconds later, Ryan coughed lightly. “C University, of course. Didn’t we agree on it?” His eyes were dodging. “Do you dare to log into the portal now and show me your application?” Ryan’s face changed. The surrounding classmates looked at each other, some whispering. “What’s going on?” He forced a smile. “Wendy, what’s wrong with you? Why ask this suddenly?” “When we filled out the applications, didn’t we do it together? You know I filled in C University.” I took out my phone directly, opened the application portal, and handed it to him. “Then log in now.” Ryan’s expression collapsed completely, with a bit of anger from embarrassment. “Wendy! Are you crazy? So many people are here!” “If you want to see, I can show you later.” My heart sank to the bottom. My phone vibrated in my palm. I opened it and saw new message content. [Or, you can look at Liam. He is your future husband.] [His phone lock screen is you, the tattoo on his chest is you, even the hair tie on his wrist is the one you dropped!] I subconsciously looked at Liam in the corner. He was leaning lazily on the sofa. The black T-shirt made his skin look white as snow, and the black hair tie on his wrist was particularly conspicuous. My heart skipped a beat. Liam seemed to notice my gaze, looked up slightly, his red eyes meeting mine directly. Looking a bit aggrieved. For a moment, I was inexplicably flustered and quickly looked away. The atmosphere in the private room solidified. Ryan stood there with an ugly expression, the roses hanging by his side. “Wendy.” He tried to explain. “I can explain the application.” Me: “You changed your application.” “Because of the agreement with Chloe?” Ryan’s pupils shrank. “How did you know?” I didn’t know. If I hadn’t received that text message, I would still be foolishly fantasizing about life in college with him. Now, I just felt my heart aching and sour. The surrounding classmates looked like they wanted to gossip but didn’t know where to start. “Wendy, could it be a misunderstanding?” “We all saw how good Ryan is to you.” “Yeah, yeah! As for Chloe, Ryan has never been close to her. He confessed today knowing you don’t like Chloe, so he specifically forbade her from coming.” Was there really no contact? I asked out loud: “Do you dare to call her in front of me and prove it?” Ryan sneered. “Wendy, you’re not even my girlfriend yet. This jealous face is too ugly.” “I just lost a bet with Chloe, so I accepted the loss and applied to A University. It wasn’t entirely for her.” Another bet. He bet on me and also bet on his own future. In the corner, Liam stood up. His height advantage of 6’2″ instantly made him the focus of the audience. He walked slowly to my side, his gaze sweeping over the roses in Ryan’s hand with disdain. “That’s it?” Ryan’s face was livid. “Liam, what business is it of yours?” Liam ignored him but turned to me, meeting my eyes. 3 “Wendy, you have bad taste.” I was stunned. “Want to reconsider me?” The whole private room was instantly terrifyingly quiet. The air seemed to freeze. Someone gasped, gossiping excitedly. “Doesn’t Liam hate girls getting close the most? Last time a girl gave him a love letter, he threw it in the trash without even looking.” “I also heard his reason for rejecting the class beauty was… he doesn’t like girls!” “That’s not disliking girls, that’s disliking girls other than Wendy, right?” My mind went blank, my eyes involuntarily falling on his wrist. Liam seemed to notice my gaze, subconsciously covering the black hair tie with his other hand, but his ears turned red quietly. Ryan rushed over and grabbed my wrist. “Wendy, don’t listen to his nonsense! You should know how I treat you. Chloe said you girls like roses the most.” That must be what Chloe likes. I never liked roses, but red lilies. Once when passing a flower shop with him after school, I pointed at the red lilies inside and deliberately said. “The language of red lilies is passionate love.” It seems he forgot. If he really wanted to confess, how could he not put any heart into it? “Let go.” Liam’s voice was cold, his eyes becoming dangerous. Ryan was shaken by his aura, and the force on his hand loosened unconsciously. He took the opportunity to pull me behind him, blocking me. The private room was in chaos. “Wendy doesn’t like roses. Just because others like them, must she like them too?” Ryan suddenly threw the roses hard on the ground, raging. “Wendy! You choose him?” “Have you forgotten everything between us in the past three years?” “Who gave you an umbrella on rainy days? Who carried you to the nurse’s office when your stomach hurt? Who comforted you when you failed an exam?” Every sentence stabbed me like a knife, making me bleed. Those memories were real. But the deception now is also real. I looked at Ryan’s red eyes, took a step back, widening the distance. “I choose no one.” After speaking, I turned and walked towards the door. Ryan wanted to chase after me, but was blocked by Liam with a sidestep. After returning home, my phone kept vibrating. Ryan’s messages popped up one after another: “How could someone like Liam be serious? His family arranged for him to go abroad long ago.” “He just sees you as innocent and easy to fool.” “Are you giving up our three-year relationship so easily?” I stared at the screen, hesitated for a few seconds, and chose to block him. The world was finally quiet. The phone screen suddenly lit up, and the person claiming to be my 25-year-old self sent another message. [Why don’t you accept Liam?] I replied with a question mark. Too sudden. Especially since my feelings for Ryan haven’t been cut off yet. Message notifications sounded continuously. [In the future, if you cry, he would wish to take out his heart and give it to you.] [If you hit him, he’s afraid your hand hurts.] [He remembers all your preferences, even calculates your period more accurately than you do.] I got more annoyed the more I read, replying directly. “Since you say we will get married in the future, what’s the difference between earlier and later?” The other side was silent for a long time, so long that I thought they wouldn’t reply. Finally, a new message popped up: [Because, you owe him too much.] My heart suddenly clenched. 4 [You will get married, but a year after marriage, he was hit by a car and died to save you.] The phone slipped. I squatted down to pick it up, realizing my hands were shaking badly. The screen lit up again: [After high school graduation, you accepted Ryan’s confession. After he got you, he dumped you immediately.] [You used suicide to force him back. Later, it was Liam who pieced the broken you back together bit by bit.] [Just when you decided to treat him well, there was a car accident. You fainted three times at the funeral.] [You didn’t even realize you were pregnant. That child wasn’t saved in the end.] [When organizing his belongings, you found in his study that he started writing a diary since high school, every entry about you.] … “Isn’t Liam going abroad?” I asked. [He didn’t go. He donated a building to attend the same university as you. Ask him if you don’t believe me.] Donated a building? Sounds like Liam’s style. I opened the chat with Liam. Typing and deleting. Finally sent just one sentence. “Heard you’re going to study abroad?” The other side immediately showed “typing…”. “?” Before I could reply, Liam replied instantly. “I love my country very much, not that kind of person, absolutely won’t go abroad!” I laughed through tears. This tone was so him, arrogant and childish. At this moment, the phone vibrated again. It was from my future self. [Treat him better, or you’ll regret it.] [I don’t want you to walk my path again, because I am regretting it right now.] She said she could hardly distinguish between reality and falsehood anymore. Sometimes waking up, standing on the rooftop. If she hadn’t suddenly discovered she could contact her past self, she would have jumped long ago. Seeing no reaction from me, Liam sent messages on his own. “That kid Ryan is really not a thing!” “Not only did he bet on you with people, I even peeked at him changing clothes!” “Doesn’t even have abs, so weak!” I couldn’t help laughing out loud. “Do you have abs then?” The other side didn’t send anything for a long time. Did he go to count his abs? Sure enough, half a minute later, he sent a message. “Eight, want to count?” I bit my lip and replied. “Sure.” The next second, the phone suddenly rang with a video call ringtone. I hurriedly tidied my hair and clicked accept. On the screen. Liam’s face was ridiculously red, eyes darting around, just not daring to look directly at the camera. “Um, you, you just said…” “Liam. Let’s try it.” I interrupted him, mustering up courage. He froze there, his silly eyes landing on my face. “Huh?” “Um, you said, you said try with whom?” “Try what?” I raised my chin, teasing him on purpose. “What do you think?” The phone camera shook violently a few times, as if almost dropped. When it reappeared, his face was extremely close, excitement unconcealed in his voice. “Wendy, are you serious?” I nodded. “Hehe!” Liam laughed like a big fool. All night, he sent WeChat messages calling me girlfriend. Even after I slept, he was still sending. “Girlfriend, good night~” Early next morning, the doorbell rang.

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I kicked the bucket on my eightieth birthday. Outside the door, my kids were wailing like the world was ending. But my consciousness was fading fast. With my last breath, I looked at the woman who had been by my side for decades, her hair now snow-white. I forced a weak smile and asked, “Sarah, tell me the truth. After all these years… did you ever actually love me?” Seeing the hesitation in her eyes, I got my answer. I whispered, “If I could do it all over again, I definitely wouldn’t love you.” I didn’t expect the universe to call my bluff. When I opened my eyes, I was back in my prime. But before I could even process the joy of being young again, Sarah—who was supposed to be getting engaged to someone else—appeared right in front of me. Seeing the look of pure terror on my face, she flashed a massive grin and grabbed me by the collar. “Hugh Sterling, why did you die so fast? I haven’t answered your question yet.” 1 I opened my eyes, staring blankly at the familiar ceiling of my childhood bedroom. The stiffness of old age was gone, replaced by a vibrant, youthful energy. I realized this wasn’t a dream. I had been reborn. I was twenty-four again. A rush of euphoria hit my brain, but I forced myself to calm down. In this life, I would stay the hell away from Sarah Vance. In my past life, Sarah was the only daughter of the Vance dynasty, the “It Girl” of our social circle, known for her brilliance. But this brilliant woman fell for a punk from the wrong side of the tracks. She was smart; she hid the relationship for a long time. But in high society, secrets don’t stay secret. When her parents found out, they were furious. They immediately planned a strategic marriage alliance to kill her little romance. Sarah didn’t want to do it, but back then, she didn’t have the power to defy her parents. So, she targeted me. The Sterlings and the Vances were old money friends. Sarah and I grew up together. She told me, “Hugh, pretend to date me. If we’re ‘together,’ my parents won’t force me to marry a stranger.” What she didn’t know was that I had been in love with her for years. I was ecstatic. I used my family’s influence to turn her fake proposal into a real engagement. I thought if we got married, she would eventually fall for me. Decades of a frigid marriage proved me wrong. No matter what I did, she never gave me a genuine smile. It got to the point where, on my deathbed, I had to ask if she ever loved me for even a second. This time, I’m letting go. Checking the date, I realized Sarah’s secret romance hadn’t been exposed yet. I immediately dropped my “rich playboy” persona and threw myself into work. My friends were shocked. “Hugh, did you hit your head? Why are you suddenly grinding at the family company? Did the Sterlings go broke?” I just smiled. “I found a killer business opportunity. I’m taking the Sterling Group international. Watch me.” They laughed it off, but I didn’t care. I had decades of future knowledge in my head. Taking the family business to new heights would be a breeze. But first, I needed to prove my worth to my parents. Just then, the news broke. Sarah’s relationship with the punk was discovered. My parents summoned me home. In my past life, this was when our families discussed the arranged marriage, and when Sarah pulled me aside to ask for the fake dating favor. This time, the answer is no. 2 Walking into the living room, seeing Sarah sitting there… even with a lifetime of memories, I faltered. She was in her prime—young, beautiful, radiating that elegant, icy aura that I used to worship. In my last life, that face hooked me instantly. I said yes without hesitation. But her beauty only stunned me for a second this time. I knew she didn’t love me. She didn’t belong to me. So, no matter what she asked, I wasn’t going to play the hero. My dad saw me and waved me over, feigning annoyance. “I told you to hurry up! Always late. You act like a child!” He raised a hand to smack me playfully, but I dodged with an agility I hadn’t possessed in forty years. Hilarious. I lived to be eighty. My dad right now is only in his forties. I’m not the scared kid I used to be. I laughed. “Dad, you’re a grown man. Watch your image in front of guests.” Everyone froze. In their minds, I was still the immature heir. After a beat, Dad laughed and slapped my back hard. “You brat! Making fun of your old man now?” He turned to the Vances. “My son and I are close. He treats you like family, that’s why he’s not putting on airs.” The awkward tension in the room dissipated. But Sarah… she was staring at me blankly. There was none of the anxiety or panic she had in the last timeline. It was weird. I sat next to her and put on a polite, distant smile. “I came in a rush, didn’t bring a gift. You don’t mind, right?” In the last life, I heard she was in trouble and brought a mountain of gifts to impress her. She didn’t even look at them. Even after we married, I showered her with expensive jewelry and surprises. She never smiled. That’s when I learned: if she doesn’t love you, nothing you do matters. I expected her to ignore me. Instead, she smiled—a genuine, bright smile. “It’s okay, Hugh. I’m just happy to see you.” I froze. In my entire previous life, right up until I flatlined, Sarah Vance never smiled at me like that. Does she get off on being treated coldly? I didn’t dwell on it. Soon, her parents would bring up the “punk” issue and the potential marriage alliance. That would be Sarah’s cue to pull me aside. I was ready to reject her. Let her run off with her bad boy. I was cutting the cord. Sure enough, halfway through dinner, the elders started hinting at marriage. Right on cue, Sarah grabbed my arm, asking me to help her find something in the other room. I looked up, expression flat. “No thanks. Ask the butler. I don’t know where anything is.” The table went silent. Everyone looked at me. Since childhood, I was Sarah’s shadow. I revolved around her. Rejecting her was unprecedented. But Sarah didn’t get mad. She reached out to grab my hand directly. I dodged, my face darkening. I didn’t know what game she was playing, but I wasn’t participating. “Personal space, Sarah,” I said sharply. “Don’t get handsy. I’m not interested in you.” My parents were mortified, apologizing profusely to the Vances, claiming I must be in a bad mood. But Sarah? She wasn’t angry. She looked… thrilled? Her smile got even brighter. She didn’t push it. We finished the meal in silence. Her parents finalized plans to marry her off to someone else. I let out a long sigh of relief. Finally. I broke the cycle. 3 I threw myself into work. I had a second chance at life; I wasn’t wasting it on romance. But on my first day at the office, I saw someone who shouldn’t be there. Sarah. She saw me and grinned. “Hugh! You’re here!” She was stunning, and her shout drew every eye in the lobby. I walked over, scowling. “Sarah, what are you doing here?” She patted a large cardboard box next to her, looking innocent. “I’m starting work here. Can’t you tell?” The room spun. Why? Why can’t I shake her off? My phone buzzed. A text from Dad. Turns out, after Sarah went home that night, she told her parents she and I were secretly in love and insisted on getting engaged to me. The parents conferred, decided we were a perfect match, and set it up without telling me. I saw black spots. The Sarah in front of me felt like a stranger. I took a breath, shaking off her hand. “If you’re working here, do your job. We don’t pay people to sit around.” Sarah was proud. She hated having her competence questioned. Humiliating her publicly should make her angry. I turned to leave. She grabbed my sleeve again. I turned back, and she stood on tiptoes, planting a kiss on my cheek. Her voice was soft, almost spoiling—a tone I hadn’t heard in eighty years. “We’re boyfriend and girlfriend, aren’t we? Hugh, you’re so mean.” The lobby went dead silent. Everyone dropped their jaws. Me included. I stared at her, trying to reconcile this woman with my memories. It was the same face, but a completely different soul. But I’m an eighty-year-old man in a twenty-something’s body. I wasn’t going to be played by a little girl. I called the lobby manager over, voice cold. “Where’s HR? How did she get in? Did she go through the process? If she didn’t pass the interview, kick her out.” The manager looked terrified. “The Chairman brought Miss Vance in personally… we can’t…” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Fine. Nepotism looks bad. Make her start from the bottom. Mailroom or something. I’m going to work.” I looked at Sarah, face stone cold. “I didn’t know about the engagement, and I didn’t agree to it. I’ll clear it up with my parents. Please have some self-respect.” I got into the elevator. Knowing Sarah, she’s arrogant. She has sand in her eyes. Me treating her like this in public? She should quit by lunch. I sat in the CEO’s office (well, the VP office for now) and started reviewing files. I needed to show my parents I could run this place so they’d hand over the reins. I had decades of future market trends in my head. I was going to turn Sterling Corp into a global empire. Time flew. Lunchtime. I stretched my aching back and headed to the cafeteria. As soon as I stepped out, I saw her. Sarah was leaning against the wall, holding a bento box. Seeing me, she lit up and ran over. “Hungry? I saw you working so hard you forgot to eat, so I brought this up.” I frowned, pushing the warm box away. “No thanks. We have a cafeteria. And you’re not allowed on this floor. Who let you up?” I glared at the secretary. Before he could stammer an excuse, Sarah laughed. “I demanded to come up. Don’t blame him. I’m your girlfriend; they didn’t dare stop me.” Rage flared up. Before I could snap, she grabbed my hand, eyes watering. “Hugh, you might not believe me, but I really like you. I want to pursue you. Just give me a chance, okay?” In my last life, if she had said this, I would have died of happiness. In this life, it just gave me chills. What the hell happened to her? People in the hallway were staring, envious. I was about to reject the bento again when she threw herself into my arms. I tried to push her away, but she whispered through gritted teeth right into my ear: “Hugh Sterling, don’t think you’re the only one who got reborn. If you give me attitude again, I’m telling your dad you’re bullying your future wife.” 4 I froze. To the onlookers, it looked like I was stunned by a beautiful woman’s embrace. But my brain was short-circuiting. Sarah was reborn too. But why? Why chase me in this life? I dragged her into my office and slammed the door. “You’re hurting me,” she complained, giving me that look. The look that used to make me cave instantly in our past life. Not this time. I took a deep breath. “Sarah, since we’re both re-doers, I’ll be straight. Let’s stay out of each other’s way. No contact.” She looked at me with puppy eyes. “We were married for decades, and you never yelled at me. Now you’re cold, and you hurt my wrist.” I faltered. Letting go of a lifetime of love isn’t easy. But I remembered dying without ever hearing her say “I love you.” I couldn’t do that again. I stepped back. “I’m not joking. I know you don’t love me. I won’t stop you from finding your true love this time. You’re brilliant; you can build the Vance empire without me. Don’t waste time on me.” It was true. In our previous life, Sarah became a business titan, the Iron Lady. People called her Mrs. Vance, not Mrs. Sterling. She was more famous than I ever was. I turned to leave. Her phone rang. Sharp. Sudden. I glanced at the screen. Jax. The punk. The love of her life. The reason my marriage was an ice age. I stopped, watching her coldly. She claimed she loved me sincerely. Let’s see what she does when her “true love” calls. She didn’t hesitate. She picked up. “Okay, I got it. Where are you? I’m coming right now.” She hung up, gave me an apologetic smile, and ran out without a word. I let out a bitter laugh. See? Past life, present life, it doesn’t matter. I’m always the second choice she discards without a second thought. I was stupid to hesitate. I drove straight to my parents’ house. I had to end this engagement. My parents were surprised to see me home so early. “Dad,” I said, cutting off his greeting. “I want to cancel the engagement with Sarah.” Dad looked confused, then angry. “Stop acting out. We already shook hands with the Vances.” In his mind, I was still the kid obsessed with her. “I don’t like her,” I said firmly. “She didn’t ask me. Just forget it. I’d rather find someone I actually love than settle.” Dad saw the exhaustion in my eyes. He hesitated. “Fine,” he sighed. “If you’re sure. I’ll talk to the Vances in a few days. Good thing we haven’t announced it publicly yet.” He looked like he wanted to ask more, but he just closed my bedroom door, letting me rest. I collapsed onto the bed. Both of us reborn. But she’s still chasing the punk while trying to keep me on the hook? I drifted into a deep sleep.

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Seven decades old, and my grandmother was divorcing my grandfather. The reason? He’d killed and eaten the dog she’d raised for five years. The whole family urged her to forget it. It was just an animal, for heaven’s sake. But my grandmother, Doris, wouldn’t budge. My grandfather, Arthur, furious, slammed his hand on the table. “Fine! Divorce me then! Who’s scared?” Yet, later, he’d be leaning on his cane, a whimpering puppy cradled in his arms, practically begging Doris for forgiveness. 1 The day my Uncle Owen brought his new girlfriend home, Grandpa Arthur killed Rusty, the mutt Grandma Doris had raised for five years. The family kept it a secret from her, tossing the chopped-up bones into the stockpot and turning it into a rich, savory stew. Doris worked tirelessly in the kitchen for three hours. When she finally came out, the pot on the dining table was nearly scraped clean. Grandpa Arthur dipped his ladle, filling a bowl with the rich, bone broth. He handed it to her with a smile. “It’s cold out. Drink this to warm up.” Grandma Doris glanced at the nearly empty pot, then slowly stood and walked toward the doghouse. “Rusty always loves bone broth,” she muttered. “This soup should go to Rusty.” But when she reached the little wooden house, the dog that usually bounded out, tail wagging, wasn’t there. “Rusty? Rusty!” Doris called out a few times, but no silhouette appeared. She mumbled to herself, “Maybe he went out to play?” She poured the broth into Rusty’s bowl. As she walked back toward the house, her eyes fell on a patch of yellow fur clinging to a dark stain on the ground. She knew that shade of yellow. She knew it intimately. In a single, horrifying instant, she recognized it as Rusty’s coat. Her hands trembling, she shuffled closer, step by agonizing step. When she finally saw the blood-soaked fur scattered on the earth, a soundless scream caught in her throat. She staggered backward, almost losing her footing. Inside the dining room, the family chatted, oblivious to Doris’s silent breakdown just outside the door. She collected herself, her pace becoming a frantic, unsteady shamble as she entered the kitchen. She grabbed a butcher knife, its blade wickedly sharp, and charged into the living room. Everyone froze. They stared at Doris, bewildered, unable to comprehend the sight of their tiny, elderly matriarch wielding a deadly weapon. Owen’s girlfriend, Madison, sitting next to him and casually eating a grape, was terrified to see her future mother-in-law standing over her with a knife. “Mom! What are you doing?!” Owen shouted first. Doris’s eyes were bloodshot, scanning the room. Her voice, when it came, was a raw, strained rasp. “Where is Rusty?!” Arthur picked a piece of bone from his tooth, utterly unconcerned. “That mutt by the door? Oh, we just finished eating him!” He gestured toward the empty stew pot on the table. In front of every seat was a small mountain of bones. Rusty’s bones. The bones of the dog she had painstakingly loved and cared for for five years. Doris lost it. She brought the knife down, sinking the tip deep into the sturdy oak table. Then, with a scream, she grabbed the edge and flipped the whole thing over. 2 Plates, bowls, and silverware crashed to the hardwood floor, a thunderous sound that echoed through the sudden silence. Owen and Arthur, sitting closest to the blast zone, scrambled to their feet. When the dust settled, Arthur pointed a shaking finger right at Doris’s face. “Doris, what the hell is wrong with you?! Are you completely insane?!” Owen pulled Madison defensively behind him, his eyes filled with sheer resentment. This was the first time he’d brought his girlfriend home, and his own mother had just flipped the dinner table after they’d eaten. How was he supposed to explain this? How could he possibly earn Madison’s forgiveness? “Yes, I am insane!” Doris shrieked. “Arthur, you ate my dog without my permission!” “You monster!” Doris was a woman who’d read books, a woman who’d grown up in a respectable family before the war. Even in her most blinding fury, she could only call him a monster—a word that felt ridiculously ineffective against his monumental cruelty. Arthur clutched his chest, breathing in gasps. “It was just a damn animal! A stray mutt!” “You flipped the table for an animal!” “You are completely unreasonable!” He was right, in their eyes. Rusty was just an animal. Doris had found Rusty when he was barely the size of her palm, his right leg crushed by a car. Everyone told her the puppy wouldn’t make it, but Doris had nursed him back to life, spoonful by spoonful of rice water. He grew up with a permanent limp, but it didn’t slow him down. Every time Doris walked to the fields, Rusty was always ahead of her, clearing the path. With Rusty by her side, even simple weeding felt like a joyful endeavor. The winters in the Midwest countryside were brutal. Fearing the cold, Doris had worked hard, sawing planks to build Rusty a sturdy doghouse. She lined the bottom with old clothes, making it warm and cozy even when it snowed. She never chained him up. Doris always said, humans need freedom, and so do dogs. Rusty became the freest dog in Cedar Creek. He’d spend his days hunting squirrels in the spring, splashing in the creek in the summer, chasing stray cats in the fall, and trotting through the snow in the winter. Five years of that glorious, happy life. Five years of freedom. Exhausted, Doris finally sank onto a nearby stool. Her eyes were empty, staring at the shattered ceramic on the floor. She spoke, her voice low and broken. “Arthur. I want a divorce.” 3 The news that Doris, at seventy, wanted a divorce spread like wildfire, reaching my parents back in Chicago almost instantly. My dad had left for college and never looked back, settling in the city. When I was born, they’d promptly dropped me off with my grandmother. The country schools weren’t great, and I wasn’t a scholar, so I took a vocational course and started working right out of high school. My parents bought train tickets and rushed home that very night. They walked into a disaster. The mess was still there; if Doris didn’t clean it up, no one else would. Arthur was parked on the sofa, watching the news. Doris was locked in her room, quietly weeping. My father went to comfort Grandpa Arthur. My mother went into the room to comfort Grandma Doris. “She’s lost her mind,” Arthur scoffed. “Seventy years old, and she wants to divorce me over a damn animal! Where’s she going to go? What’s she going to do? She has no house, no money. Is she planning to be a beggar?” Doris sat on the edge of the bed, tearfully holding a photo of Rusty. I had taken the picture when I was home for Christmas. Doris was sitting on the porch swing, Rusty cradled in her arms, both of them beaming. She’d loved the photo and asked me to print copies. I printed ten. She kept the best one on her nightstand, looking at it whenever she was idle. “He was so handsome,” she’d whisper. “Rusty was the prettiest dog in the whole county.” My mother gently patted her back. “Mom, Rusty was just a dog. He’s gone. If you want one so badly, I’ll buy you a new one.” She thought of the beautiful, intelligent city dogs. A Border Collie that could herd sheep, maybe a fancy Pomeranian. Buy a new one, and Doris would stop this foolishness. Doris shook her head. “They won’t be Rusty.” Dogs are like people. You spend enough time with them, you form a bond. “I considered Rusty family,” Doris said, her voice strained. “He killed Rusty. That’s like killing my family.” “Sue Ellen,” she looked up at my mother. “I have to get this divorce.” “I can’t live with a murderer.” My mother desperately wanted to laugh. A dog? A murderer? Was she serious? But she managed to keep the scorn from her face. 4 They couldn’t persuade her. There was no reasoning with her. Arthur pointed a finger at her closed door. “She dares to divorce me? If she’s so set on it, we’ll go to the courthouse tomorrow!” Doris’s response was always the same: “I can’t live with a murderer. This marriage is over.” My parents had no choice. They cleaned up the house, stayed one night, and left. They figured two seventy-year-olds with one foot in the grave couldn’t really cause any lasting trouble. I remembered the last time Doris tried to file for divorce, five years ago. She was sick, lying in bed, unable to move. Arthur came home after a poker game to a cold, dark house and no dinner. He kicked open the bedroom door in a rage. “If you’re going to die, then die! If you’re not dead, get up and cook me a meal!” “Are you trying to starve me?” Doris had a fever of 104 degrees, her head spinning, her body aching. She couldn’t even crawl out of bed, let alone cook. Arthur was convinced she was faking it. He went to the bathroom, brought back a basin of cold water, and dumped it right over her head. Her nightgown was soaked, the comforter ruined. Doris had no choice but to bite back a cry and struggle out of bed to change her clothes and the linens. Arthur watched her, arms crossed. “See? You can get up.” “Stop putting on a show!” Doris staggered to the kitchen to start dinner, but halfway through, she collapsed. If Arthur hadn’t smelled the burning oil, he might not have found her until morning. She was taken to the hospital. The doctor tore into Arthur for a full half-hour. How could you make her cook when she was this sick? Are your legs broken? When Doris woke up, Arthur blamed her for everything. “What kind of wife gets sick and forces me to take care of her?” “You even had to faint? Why didn’t you just die then? Why make me play nurse?” “I’m not a servant!” Arthur stomped off, leaving Doris alone. If I hadn’t happened to come home for a visit, she wouldn’t have had anyone by her side. The first thing Doris did after she was discharged was demand a divorce. People say young couples become old companions. But for Doris and Arthur, even with their hair white, they had never been partners. Fifty years of marriage, and all she had was a lifetime of swallowing her pride and taking the abuse. This time, she was finished. Who had convinced her to stay five years ago? Oh, right. It was Rusty. She’d found him and brought him home. Now Rusty was gone. Doris was determined to leave. 5 Doris had my old smartphone—the one I’d given her so she could take pictures of Rusty. She’d never even turned it on. This time, she took it and walked three miles to the phone store to ask a clerk how to use it. The young woman patiently showed her the features and even charged the battery for her. That night, the phone rang in my apartment. I was raised by Doris; we were close. After I started working, I’d try to visit when I could, always bringing Rusty his favorite treats and cans of food. I was just walking home under the city lights when her call came. “Grandma?” I was surprised. She never called me. When she heard my voice, she choked up. “Liz,” she whispered. “Can you come home to see Grandma?” “Grandma misses you.” My parents hadn’t told me about the divorce, so I was completely in the dark. I figured she was just lonely, so I took a couple of days off work and drove home the next morning. Doris was sitting on the porch swing when she saw me pull up with my suitcase. Her eyes instantly filled with tears. She stood up, frail and shaky, to meet me. “Liz, you’re home.” I walked toward her, and a heavy sense of absence settled over me. Instinctively, I asked, “Where’s Rusty?” The tears in her eyes finally spilled over. Doris pulled me close and, bit by bit, poured out the whole horrific story. “They ate Rusty.” “Your grandfather and Owen… they cooked and ate him.” “My Rusty. My dog, who stayed with me for five years.” Her voice was thick with sobs, punctuated by sharp intakes of breath. She didn’t want to cry in front of her granddaughter, but she couldn’t stop. “Liz, I’m divorcing your grandfather.” She looked at me expectantly, hoping for a different response. Not the scolding I’d heard my parents give, and not the condemnation of Arthur and Owen. But I was silent. Grandpa Arthur was right. She had no money, no home to call her own. Where would she go after the divorce? Seeing my silence, Doris forced a small, broken smile. She lightly wiped her eyes. “Liz, I was just saying that. Don’t worry about it.” “What do you want for lunch?” Watching her retreat behind that mask of indifference, my heart ached so badly I felt like I could weep water. 6 I stayed up all night, researching divorce proceedings online. I was only seventeen, not even a legal adult, and the word divorce felt a million miles away. But the internet is full of good people. Before morning, I’d found two lawyers who offered pro-bono help for elders. The next day, I approached Doris. “I support your divorce, Grandma.” Her eyes immediately filled with fresh tears. “My sweet Liz. I knew you were different.” I used an online template to draft the divorce papers, printed them, and handed them to Arthur. He was sitting on the porch, smoking. When he saw the legal documents in Doris’s hand, he sneered. “Seriously? You’re really going through with this?” “Doris, two days of throwing a fit is enough! This isn’t over yet?” “Divorce me? Do you have money? Do you have a house?” “You’re going to beg on the street after I kick you out!” Arthur turned his glare on me. “And you! You’re just as bad, stirring the pot with your grandmother!” Arthur never liked me because I was a girl. He always pressured my parents to have another child, a boy. My parents made good money, but they were cheap. They figured girls don’t need a house or a car, and they bring in a dowry when they marry. So they ignored Arthur. Doris gripped the divorce papers tightly. “I told you, I want a divorce!” “If you won’t sign, I’ll file suit!” I had just taught her that word: sue. Arthur snatched the papers, scanning the dense text. He didn’t bother reading. He took the pen from Doris’s hand and scribbled his signature on the last page. Then he threw the document back in her face. “Fine! We’ll divorce tomorrow! Who backs out is a coward!” Doris flinched as the paper struck her cheek, but she immediately bent down and retrieved it, her face radiating joy. “Liz, your grandfather signed it.” “I’m going to divorce him tomorrow.” Doris was genuinely happy. Even the wrinkles around her eyes seemed to turn upward in a smile. 7 The next day, Arthur and Doris actually drove to the County Courthouse. The clerk at the Family Court frowned at the sight of the two white-haired seventy-year-olds coming in to file for separation. “You… want to divorce?” Doris’s voice was firm. “Yes, we do.” The clerk reviewed the paperwork and scheduled an appointment. “You have a thirty-day cooling-off period. Come back after that to finalize.” The news of Arthur and Doris going to the courthouse reached my parents in Chicago again. This time, even Uncle Owen rushed back. They all gathered, circling Doris, launching an attack as if she had committed a heinous crime. “Mom, you’re seventy years old. Why are you acting like a teenager?” My father started the lecture. “Divorcing? Aren’t you embarrassed?” Owen chimed in, “The last time, you flipped the table in front of Maddie. Do you know how hard I had to work to calm her down?” “She even suggested you had mental issues! Do you know that?” “It was just a dog! He was eaten, so what?” “We raise chickens and ducks to eat! Are dogs somehow better than them?” My mother’s tone was slightly softer. “Mom, stop this nonsense. You and Dad have been married for fifty years. Friction is normal.” “If you want a dog, I’ll buy you a dog.” My mother pulled out her phone to show Doris pictures of fancy city breeds. A Bichon Frise, a Maltese, a Miniature Poodle. They were washed, clipped, and groomed to look like expensive, fluffy dolls. Doris just pursed her lips, saying nothing. “Alright, I’ve decided,” my father declared, sealing the deal. “We’ll buy Mom a dog in a couple of days, and that’s the end of it!” “And Dad, you’re at fault too. Why did you have to eat Mom’s dog? Do we not have enough money to buy our own meat?” It was the first time Arthur had ever been scolded by his children. He just rolled his eyes and stayed silent.

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The fallout from my breakup with Rhys had been catastrophic. A total disaster. Seeing him again happened while I was on a video call with my current boyfriend, Dean. I never thought that kind of soap-opera, dramatic nonsense would actually happen to me. Dean’s roommates were goofing off, yelling about wanting a look at the “new girlfriend,” and the next second, someone snatched his phone. The first thing that filled the screen was a sterling silver initial pendant, one I knew intimately, one I hadn’t seen in three years. Then, a profile—a sharp, unmistakable line of a jaw. I recognized the man instantly: Rhys Montgomery, the boy who had defined my entire high school existence. 1 Sweat beaded and rolled down Rhys’s chiseled jawline, disappearing into the open collar of his basketball jersey. He stared at the screen, freezing for a solid two seconds. His pupils blew wide. “…Shit.” The next second, the phone was airborne, the screen going black before someone grabbed it. Dean’s roommate, Leo, held it up, looking annoyed. “What the hell is your problem, man?!” Rhys paused, then let out a sharp, dismissive laugh. “Your taste is still shit.” Dean, who is usually the most mellow person in the world, actually got hot. His voice was low and cold. “My girlfriend is incredible. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Yeah, man! Ellie’s beautiful. I’d say way hotter than the top girl in the Finance program. What are you looking at, Rhys?” “If I could date a girl like that, I’d eat instant ramen for three years!” “Get lost! I’d do ten!” His roommates dissolved into a laughing crowd, but Rhys didn’t say anything else. Dean took his phone back. “Sorry about that, El. He must’ve lost his game today. Bad mood.” From the background, I heard a sound of pure, grinding teeth. “I won. By twenty points!” Dean didn’t miss a beat. “Then he’s lost his mind. I’ll pick you up for dinner, El.” After we hung up, I leaned back on my bed. The midsummer sun was blinding, so I covered my eyes with my arm. Rhys. It had been three years. I couldn’t believe he was still wearing that necklace. It was so cheap. I remembered the price tag—something like forty-nine dollars at a mall kiosk. It was a couple’s set, half-off. Mine had been tossed or lost years ago. He seemed unchanged, yet completely different. Same face, but matured, the features sharpened, honed, like an aggressively cut diamond. The innate recklessness in his eyes was something he could no longer hold back. I suddenly remembered three years ago, before the SATs. Rhys had been standing on the sidewalk below my apartment, wearing a jersey then, too, his eyes red-rimmed and begging. “I’ll listen to anything you say from now on. If you don’t want me around her, I won’t ever see her again.” “We promised we’d go to the same college, El—” His voice was raw. In the darkness, I could see a glassy sheen in his eyes. “Just don’t leave me. Whatever you ask, I’ll do it. Please?” He looked so broken, almost on his knees in front of me. But I just looked at him, expressionless, and spoke in a quiet voice. “Rhys, I changed my college applications.” “I’m not going to UCLA.” 2 My relationship with Rhys Montgomery began the way all cliché teen stories do: the new girl replacing the childhood best friend. It ended when the childhood best friend came back for good. I transferred to Palisades Academy during our junior year and immediately took the top spot in the class. Back then, teachers still believed in pairing a studious girl with a struggling boy to be a good influence, so I was seated right next to Rhys. But Rhys had zero interest in academics and an intense, instant interest in me. He was always tugging on my ponytail or snatching my pen and holding it up high, leaning down with a wicked half-smile. “Ellie Stone, you’re miniature.” Once, during History, he slid a folded note across the table. I opened it to find a terrible stick-figure drawing of me. I was about to hiss a complaint when the teacher caught the note, held it up for the class to see, and sent us both into the hall to be disciplined. I was a perfect student. I’d never been humiliated like that. My eyes burning, I shoved Rhys. “Rhys Montgomery, you’re an idiot!” He knew he was in the wrong. He stayed silent for a moment, then quickly folded the note into a paper star and slid it into my hand. I looked at the crumpled star, and I couldn’t help it—I burst out laughing, my tears forgotten. Our relationship evolved quickly. I’d force him to do his homework until he understood every problem, checked his assignments, and forbade him from copying the answer key. In return, he started waiting for me outside my building every day. We walked to and from school together, stopping at the silly accessory shop near the bus stop. On a whim, I bought two initial pendants, keeping one and giving him the other. Rhys was a golden boy at school: handsome, wealthy, a star on the court. There was no counting the number of girls who had crushes on him. One day, one of them cornered me and asked if I liked Rhys. The combination of teenage pride and an undefinable surge of anger made me blurt out: “I would never like someone who has lower grades than me.” The girl’s eyes darted past me. I whipped my head around. Rhys was standing right there, behind me. I had no idea how long he’d been listening. He walked past me, his face blank. After that, Rhys stopped seeking me out. He never talked to me in class, never waited for me after school. We sat at the same table, and we didn’t exchange a single word all day. I wanted to explain, but he never gave me an opening. Until a year later. Rhys achieved a score that was nothing short of miraculous, tying for first place with me. That evening, he stopped me in the hall, his expression dead serious. “Ellie Stone, my grades are no longer below yours. Can you love me now?” All these years later, the memory is still blurred around the edges. I only remember the Blue Jacaranda trees blooming that day, the purple petals everywhere, like a sea. And his eyes—they were brighter than a star going supernova. The light seemed to cross a vast cosmic distance, landing directly in my heart. In that instant, I heard my own voice say: “Yes.” And that was it. We were together. The passion of youth is uncontrollable, a wildfire. We were inseparable. Rhys introduced me to all his friends, even got my name—Ellie—tattooed on his rib cage. When I said I was applying to UCLA, he declared he’d go there with me. His mother was ecstatic about his sudden ambition. Since my grades didn’t suffer, both our parents and teachers conveniently looked the other way. We became the only officially public couple at the Academy. I honestly believed we would go the distance. Until I realized there was a girl who mattered to him more than I did. 3 Rhys had a childhood best friend, a Qing Mei Zhu Ma, named Lyra Abbott. Years ago, Lyra’s father, who worked as Rhys’s dad’s driver, had saved Mr. Montgomery’s life during a boating accident. He didn’t make it back to the surface. Rhys’s dad was a decent, honorable man. He immediately brought Lyra and her mother into their home, promising to treat Lyra like his own daughter and take care of them forever. Lyra had grown up attached to Rhys’s hip. Even when we started dating, she didn’t back off, constantly trying to tag along with us. Rhys and I fought endlessly about it. Eventually, Lyra seemed to ease up. But a couple of days later, she reappeared, leaning heavily on Rhys. “Sorry, Ellie,” she murmured, “I know you didn’t want me to walk with you, but I twisted my ankle. Rhys insisted on taking me home.” Rhys’s attention was completely fixed on her. His brows were furrowed as he scolded her. “You hurt your foot and didn’t tell me? Were you planning to hop home on one leg, Lyra?! Get on!” I still remember that walk. Rhys carried Lyra on his back, walking several paces ahead of me. She chattered on about their childhood stories, and I couldn’t get a word in. She whimpered, “Rhys, my foot hurts so bad!” I had never heard his voice sound so gentle. “Hurts bad, huh? What can I do?” “I need a slice of that fancy German chocolate cake from the corner bakery. The most expensive one!” “Done. I’ll drop you off and then go get it for you.” “Rhys, can we go back to walking together? When I walk alone, those shady guys from the vocational school stare at me. I’m scared.” Rhys’s jaw tightened. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. Don’t you dare walk alone if I’m not with you.” Lyra smiled and turned her head to give me a quick, subtle look. “Okay.” The setting sun stretched their figures long and inseparable across the sidewalk. I fell further and further behind, but Rhys never once looked back at me. It wasn’t until he set Lyra down at her door that he finally turned around. “I have to go get Lyra’s cake, so I won’t be able to walk you all the way tonight.” “Ellie. Just go home.” I looked at him for a long time, then turned and walked away alone. 4 That incident led to a cold war between us that lasted an entire week. Initially, Rhys didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. “I’ve always seen Lyra as my sister. How could I ignore her when she was injured?” I kept my face perfectly neutral. “She could’ve called her mother. She could’ve called your driver. Why did she have to wait for you there? You see her as a sister, but does she see you as a brother? Do you honestly believe she’s not in love with you?!” Rhys’s eyes flickered away. Finally, he sighed and pulled me into a hug. “El, I only love you. I swear. I’ll talk to her and set boundaries. I’ll keep my distance. Okay?” I closed my eyes. “Okay.” Rhys did talk to Lyra. I don’t know what he said, but I watched Lyra run out of our classroom crying, and she didn’t seek him out again. I thought the drama was finally over. But one day, Rhys found me, his brow furrowed, and stammered out the words. “Lyra said this guy from another school has been harassing her. He keeps coming on too strong. She asked me to come out tonight and pretend to be her boyfriend to get him to back off.” He caught my expression and quickly added: “Just for one night. Just enough for the guy to get the hint.” “Didn’t we agree? One day, it’s a twisted ankle and you have to carry her home. The next, she’s being ‘harassed’ and you have to be her fake boyfriend. What’s next, Rhys?!” Rhys wasn’t generally known for his patience, but he was always gentle when he was trying to reassure me. “If her father hadn’t died saving my dad, Lyra would have her own protection now. I genuinely can’t abandon her. Just this once. If you don’t trust me, you can come with me, okay?” When he put it that way, I knew arguing further would lead nowhere. I had to agree. “One night. And I’m going with you.” Rhys smiled, cupped my face, and kissed me hard. “My girl is so understanding. I love you the most!” 5 That night was my first time in a bar—really, it was a grungy but upscale lounge near the college campus. Lyra was indeed surrounded by a guy who was tall and built. He wasn’t unattractive, but he had a sleazy vibe, constantly trying to hook his arm around her. Rhys stepped forward, shoved the guy’s hand away, and pulled Lyra into his side. His eyebrows were pressed low as he glared at the guy. “Keep your hands to yourself. She’s my girlfriend.” Rhys had taken mixed martial arts since he was a kid. When he gave someone the cold shoulder, his presence alone was enough to make the guy back down. Someone jumped in to smooth things over. “How about Truth or Dare? Mitch is paying tonight, guys, drink up!” Mitch Riley—that was the guy harassing Lyra. I heard his family was involved in some shady local business, collecting protection money from the area shops. He was from a vocational school, met Lyra through a mutual friend, and had been pursuing her relentlessly. This dinner was clearly his way of checking if Lyra really had a boyfriend. Rhys scoffed and tossed a black Amex Centurion Card onto the table. “Don’t worry about it. Everything tonight is on me.” Everyone’s eyes were immediately drawn to the card. One girl’s eyes lit up. “Is that the legendary Black Card? Lyra, you’re holding out on us! You have a boyfriend this hot and rich and you didn’t tell anyone?” Lyra laughed, leaning into Rhys. My fingers curled into my palm. Rhys glanced at me subconsciously, but I turned my head, refusing to meet his eyes. Mitch Riley’s face darkened. His friend’s girlfriend, probably nervous about a fight, raised a bottle. “Okay, let’s play Truth or Dare! Spin the bottle!” The first few rounds were harmless, most people choosing Truth and answering easy questions. I was finally starting to relax, thinking the night would pass without drama, when the bottle stopped directly in front of Lyra. She smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I choose Dare.” My heart sank instantly. A terrible premonition washed over me. Sure enough, the girl next to her squealed excitedly. “You have to pick a guy here and kiss him. A deep, French kiss!” Lyra’s face flushed, and her eyes immediately found Rhys. Rhys’s expression stiffened. He instinctively frowned. “I choose—” In the face of Mitch’s increasingly ugly expression, Lyra didn’t hesitate. She pointed straight at Rhys. Rhys’s face was thunderous. “Change the dare.” The girl challenged him. “You guys are boyfriend and girlfriend, right? What’s the big deal? Kiss, kiss!” Everyone started chanting. Mitch looked openly skeptical. “Are you really her boyfriend?” Lyra forced a soft smile. “Of course.” Her beautiful eyes turned pleadingly to Rhys. She reached up and placed a hand on his forearm, her red lips parting. “Rhys…” My blood ran cold. Rhys stood stiffly, letting Lyra lean in. The moment before their lips were about to connect, I lunged to my feet! He flinched, turning his head slightly. Lyra’s kiss landed on his jawline. A near-miss, a coward’s kiss. He reached out in a panic to grab me, but I violently shook his hand off. Ignoring the shocked faces of everyone at the table, I bolted for the door.

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