Category: English

Back in my “purest” era, I kept the school’s brooding, poverty-stricken heartthrob on a retainer for ten bucks a week. I paid him his wages like a stingy accountant. Holding hands: Two dollars. A hug: Three dollars. A kiss: Five dollars. Until one day, just as I was graciously slapping a handful of quarters into his palm, a translucent chat window floated across my vision like a Twitch stream gone rogue: [User_69: LMAO poor girl doesn’t know the Male Lead is scamming her. His family could literally buy a private jet.] [Simp_Detector: Honestly? She’s not losing out. She’s cannon fodder, sure, but she got a taste of the goods. If I transmigrated in, I’d take a bite before the Heroine shows up too.] [Mommy_Issues: Go home, girl. It hurts to watch. You have fifteen bucks in your pocket and you’re giving him ten?] [Plot_Twist: Once the Heroine transfers in, he won’t need this girl as a human shield anymore. Cut your losses, sis.] [Burger_King: For real, that money won’t even buy him a breakfast burrito…] The next second, I stared at the man’s cold, sculpted profile and gulped. Hard. Cut my losses? If he’s that rich… Getting a free meal out of this shouldn’t be a problem, right? 01 My hand, still clutching the quarters, tightened into a fist. I hung my head. Luke Sterling, wearing his usual expression of detached indifference, paused. He looked down at me. “What’s wrong, Jo?” I squeezed the coins so hard they hurt. I swallowed, my brain scrambling for a way to open a line of credit. Suddenly, Luke pushed his hand against my fist, gently shoving it back toward me. “Are you broke again?” “I told you,” he sighed, “if you don’t have the money, don’t…” I looked up, eyes wide and pathetic, cutting him off. “But if I don’t pay, I can’t touch you.” “Besides,” I puffed out my chest, “I’m your Sugar Mommy. I can afford this much!” I stiffly extended my hand again. This move is called “retreating to advance.” Clearly, this sheltered rich boy knew nothing about the sinister nature of humanity. He sighed. “Forget it. Put it on my tab.” Suppressing a maniacal grin, I threw myself onto him. “Now satisfy me, babe.” Luke’s pale ears turned beet red instantly. He was always like this—never initiating, never refusing. His eyes closed, lashes trembling slightly. His moist, thin lips pressed into a line, like he was enduring some great torture. But God help me, I loved this “I sell my art, not my body” martyr act. It gave me the thrill of a corrupt aristocrat tossing gold bars at a fallen noble. Even if I was technically freeloading. After a particularly enthusiastic make-out session, my brain short-circuited, and I blurted out: “Just yield to me already.” 02 I realized my mistake immediately. I met Luke’s gaze awkwardly. The corners of his eyes were flushed red. He stared at me intensely. “Jo, you…” “I-I was just kidding! I know you have standards.” “Besides, I haven’t saved up enough money for that yet. Just talking trash, don’t take it to heart.” My attempt at damage control didn’t seem to cheer him up. His eyes darkened, but he didn’t say anything. I didn’t care about his mood. I cared about his abs. My hand slipped under his shirt, sliding down until I hit those distinct, scorching ridges of muscle. Luke bit his lip and let out a soft gasp. My heart hammered against my ribs. My head spun. He was a masterpiece. Even his breathing sounded expensive. Suddenly, Luke asked, “Do you like me that much… do you just want to touch me?” I replied without hesitation. “I like it.” Who doesn’t like groping a hot guy? The simple answer made the corners of Luke’s mouth twitch upward. Since this was my last free trial, I went all out. When we finished, I walked him back to his “shabby” rental apartment, feeling thoroughly satisfied. Maybe because I looked too happy about scoring a freebie, Luke didn’t go inside immediately. He stood in the doorway, staring at me. Or rather, staring at the coins in my hand. “You kissed me five times, hugged me for thirty minutes, and touched my abs three times. That’s a total of $85.” “Remember to pay me next time.” My heart cramped. I shoved him toward the door, spewing nonsense. “I know, babe!” “Times are tough, but next time. Definitely next time.” “You know what they say—behind every successful woman is a man she owes money to. You’re the best!” I fled before he could do the math. Back in my room, I shoved the quarters back into my Hello Kitty piggy bank. Are you kidding me? School starts in a week. The Heroine is dropping soon. Mr. Moneybags will forget about that $85 in no time. If he’s actually rich, he wouldn’t be this petty… right? Meanwhile, the chat floating in the air was going nuts: [Sherlock_Homie: Wait, I remember Jo has at least $85 in her stash. Why is she crying poor?] [Zen_Master: Wait… look at that smirk. I get it now. She’s trying to dine and dash!] [Girl_Boss: Trying to scam the Male Lead? She’s got guts. Respect.] [Plot_Armor: Honestly, with the Heroine showing up soon, she might actually get away with this heist…] [NPC_Energy: She might not be the smartest NPC, but she is definitely the horniest.] I huffed at the comments. So tasteless. Look in my eyes! What is life if not for lust? 03 In the week following my decision to ghost my “sugar baby,” I channeled my grief into working three part-time jobs. My savings grew. My lust for Luke faded. But weirdly, he kept messaging me. It was forced conversation. Before, unless I explicitly ordered a cuddle session, he would reply with single punctuation marks. Today, I was busy shaking boba tea. His text popped up. [Luke: What are you doing?] Boring. I didn’t want to reply. But I remembered his face. I typed fast: [Shaking boba.] He replied: [?] Clearly, the Young Master was going through withdrawal. I have a script for men like this. [I’m working hard to earn money so I can touch you again, babe.] [Wait for me. Once I’m rich, I’m coming for you!] He typed for a solid three minutes. Finally, a single word: [Mn.] I nodded. Good. He’s normal again. But I had doubts about the chat’s spoilers. Shouldn’t he be meeting the Heroine by now? Why does he have the energy to pester me? I hope he doesn’t remember the $85. That night, after my shift, I witnessed a classic “Hero Saves Beauty” scene on the street corner. Starring Luke Sterling. A girl in a white dress, looking like a fragile flower, was clutching the hem of his shirt, tears shimmering in her eyes. I couldn’t help but whisper, “Wow.” This is the flavor! This is the plot! That has to be the Heroine. 04 Hearing my “Wow,” Luke looked up and saw me. I shrank back. Then I turned and ran. I ran faster than the stray dog that hangs out by the dumpsters when the butcher drops a bone. I couldn’t ruin his meet-cute with the Heroine. If he held a grudge, he might ask for the money back. As I sprinted home, the chat lit up again: [Romance_Reader: That scene was supposed to be romantic, but Jo turned it into a sitcom. It’s a talent, really.] [Fast_And_Furious: LMAO she bolted. Leaving the main couple confused in the wind.] [Sonic: Look at her go. She’s blurring.] [Career_Advice: With that speed, she should do DoorDash. More money than boba.] I nodded in agreement. They made a good point. My next job was decided—DoorDash. But some of the comments started arguing. [Drama_Queen: Did anyone see Luke’s face looking at her back? He looked heartbroken. I ship it.] [Canon_Police: Upstairs, are you okay? Jo is broke, stingy, and horny. How is she better than our sweet, soft Heroine? The Male Lead is just toying with her.] [Multishipper: I ship everything. Leave me alone.] [Warning_Sign: I can’t stop you, but if this girl keeps blocking the plot, the Narrative is going to punish her.] The chat started filling with insults directed at me. Whatever. My stepdad’s verbal abuse had maxed out my resistance stats years ago. I’ve survived Twitter cancelations with zero followers. Insults go in one ear and out the other. But one thing stuck. The Narrative is going to punish her.

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My family’s gas line exploded. Just as I was about to rush into the inferno to save my sister, weird text started scrolling across the smoky sky: [Classic “Pick Me” heroine move. To get rid of her sister, she risked it all and turned on the gas herself to start the fire!] [Her sacrifice will pay off though. In her past life, her sister saved her but ended up with 80% burns and an amputation. This time, the fire is bigger. The sister is toast.] [Can’t be helped. There’s only so much inheritance to go around. The sister is the heroine’s only rival! Like she said, survival of the fittest.] [When the parents ask questions, all she has to say is “Sis was playing with fire,” and she’s off the hook.] [Calculating, ruthless, and cruel. Truly worthy of being the future heiress. So satisfying!] Really? I took two steps back, looked at my sister whose legs were pinned under the debris, and grinned. “Sis, in this life, let’s see who runs faster.” 1 A deafening explosion ripped through the air. The emptiness of death was instantly replaced by roaring flames. My sister’s voice made the nightmare all too familiar. “Help! Sister, help me! The gas exploded, the door fell on me! I’m trapped!” So, I really was reborn. Before I could even process it, dense bullet comments flashed before my eyes: [Personally started the fire… survival of the fittest… sister was playing with fire…] My mind went blank. Just because we were the “Real vs. Fake” daughters, Chloe wanted me dead? In my past life, I charged into the fire without hesitation and dragged her out. I wasn’t fast enough. I ended up with burns over 80% of my body. I spent the rest of my miserable life bedridden, eating, drinking, and shitting in the same spot, stripped of all dignity. Even as I died of depression and pain, I comforted myself thinking I traded my life for hers. It was laughable. It was all her plot. My rage was interrupted by Chloe’s pathetic plea. “Sister, save me!” Save her? I turned to run, but not before looking back with an innocent smile. “Sis, the fire is huge. How can I save you?” “When disaster strikes, it’s every woman for herself!” Her eyes changed instantly. The malicious glint vanished, replaced by big, crocodile tears. “Sister, did you forget? After you came back, our brother targeted you constantly. I was the one who helped you!” “I gave you everything you wanted. I always spoke up for you in front of Mom and Dad.” “Fine, sister, run. It’s my fault for taking your place and stealing your life. Consider this my atonement!” If this were the old me, my heart would have melted. Even though every time she “spoke up” for me, Mom and Dad hated me more, and my brother wanted to kick me out faster. I used to be so grateful to Chloe. I thought she tried her best, and I was just unlovable. Now I know. It was all part of her game. I laughed coldly. “Sis, your ‘kindness’ truly weighs a ton.” “Don’t worry. After you die, I’ll use the money Mom and Dad give me to buy you a massive plot in the cemetery!” “Sigh, what can I do? I’m the biological daughter. I have to stay alive. Who else will inherit the family fortune? An outsider?” The fire was raging. I didn’t have time to chat. I turned and ran. Suddenly, a noise behind me. I looked back. She had easily pushed the heavy door off her legs. Gritting her teeth, face cold as ice, she sprinted toward me. The heat was cooking me alive. I could smell my hair singing. I ran for my life. Suddenly, a hand clamped onto my arm. I was yanked backward. “Sister, since you don’t appreciate my kindness, don’t blame me!” “What’s wrong with being an orphan? Why did you have to come back and make me the fake daughter?!” “It’s you or me. Only when you’re dead will everything truly be mine!” She smiled, a venomous, triumphant grin, eager to watch me fall into the sea of fire. But I was ready. I grabbed a burning plastic vase and smashed it into her face. “Ahhh!” She screamed, squeezing her eyes shut in pain. I kicked her in the stomach and bolted. At that moment, maybe God decided to intervene. A beam collapsed with a crash, blocking her only exit. Her face was a bloody mess. Her eyes opened in pure terror. She tried to crawl, but the heat forced her to roll on the ground. “Sister! Please, sister, save me!” “No! I don’t want to die here!” I smiled brightly, dusting off my slightly singed hands. “Sis, you were right. It’s you or me. You have to die so I can have Mom and Dad’s love all to myself.” “Don’t worry, the fire department is on the way. If you’re lucky, they might find a whole corpse!” Amidst her screams and curses, I walked away lightly. 2 Just like in my past life, the fire was put out in twenty minutes. My parents and brother, who arrived late, followed the ambulance. Two hours later, we were in the hospital room, staring at the charcoal-like figure on the bed. The doctor looked grim. “The patient’s condition is critical. 90% of her body is burned. Her eyes are severely damaged.” “Luckily, she was wearing fire-resistant clothing, or it would be worse…” “We are doing our best to keep her alive, but you need to prepare yourselves. Paralysis, blindness… very likely.” “And with current medical technology, we can’t perform skin grafts on this scale. Her skin may never recover…” “Unless she’s transferred to the Sterling private hospital. That’s her only hope…” I sighed inwardly. She didn’t die? I guess evil really does live longer. A jarring voice broke my thoughts. My brother, eyes red, screamed at the doctor. “Impossible! My sister is lucky! She can’t be hurt like this! Is this some scam to get more money?” “I order you to cure her! Or I’ll smash this hospital to pieces!” My brother, Lucas, had been spoiled rotten. He had no filter. When the doctor ignored him, he turned his rage on me. “How did the gas explode? The house was fine!” “Zoey, you’ve always been jealous of Chloe! Did you cause this accident?!” “You already stole the marriage arrangement with the Shen family from her! Are you not satisfied?! Why did you hurt my sister?!” I was used to his outbursts. I lowered my eyes and pinched myself hard. Tears welled up instantly. “Mom, Dad, it’s all my fault. I was born unlucky. That’s why I was switched at birth and had to beg for food in the orphanage.” “If… if only I was stronger, healthier… maybe I could have saved my sister…” I wiped my tears, “accidentally” revealing the burns on my palms. Sure enough, my parents ate it up. Their cold, accusatory glares instantly warmed. “Alright, alright. No one wanted this to happen.” “Chloe’s accident has nothing to do with Zoey. It’s just bad luck.” They sighed, looking heartbroken. But not thirty minutes later, Dad sent someone to assess the property damage. Learning the house was burned to a crisp, their faces darkened. Worse than when they were looking at their dying daughter. Soon, they got restless. Mom and Dad left one by one. Lucas stayed a bit longer. But after a call from his frat bros about a street race, he left too. I stayed by the door. I needed the quiet to parse the floating text. [The heroine is so pitiful. Not a patch of good skin left… Even if she kills the rival, the Shen family won’t want her anymore…] [If she wants to compete, she needs a stronger backer.] [In Ocean City, besides the Shen family, there’s only the Sterlings.] [But would the Sterlings even look at her? Besides, you think the Sterlings are simply…] The Sterlings? Combined with what the doctor said… I suddenly thought, for someone as vain as Chloe, the Sterling family would be a perfect destination. 3 Nourished by our plastic family love, Chloe finally woke up three days later. “Mom, Dad, what’s wrong with my eyes?” “It hurts… everything hurts…” “Sister, you lit the gas on purpose! I was one step away from escaping, why did you push me back into the fire…” “I know I took a lot from you. But I was willing to give it all back! Why did you have to plan this fire and try to kill me?” I had to admire her. Just woke up, in excruciating pain, and still gaslighting like a pro. Luckily, I was prepared. Seeing the suspicion in my parents’ eyes, I spoke before my furious brother could. “Sister, what are you saying? How could I plan a fire?” “Mom, Dad, look. She said she wasn’t feeling well and asked me to come home to take care of her. She was the one home all day. How could I light the house on fire from outside?” I cried harder, mimicking her tone. “Sister, I know you hate that I came back and took some of Mom and Dad’s love… but I didn’t mean to. I’ll go back to the orphanage! I won’t be an eyesore anymore.” I pulled out screenshots of the texts Chloe sent me. They were fake, of course. But her phone was ashes. Dead men tell no tales. Sure enough, my parents looked at Chloe with doubt. Chloe shook with rage, her ruined face twisting into a monster’s mask. I didn’t give her a chance to defend herself. I wailed louder. “Mom, Dad, I get it! Sister thinks I’m not good enough for the Shen family marriage! She wants to stomp me down…” “I’ll go tell the Shen family right now. I’ll let Sister marry him.” “Young Master Shen is kind. If he knows she’s hurt, he’ll take good care of her.” I subtly reminded them of my value. Reminded them that I was the one marrying into the Shen family. I was the one who could elevate our family status. My parents snapped out of it. “Alright, I believe neither Chloe nor Zoey would start a fire. There must be a misunderstanding.” “Chloe, don’t worry. Once you recover, we’ll contact the Sterlings for help. We’ll make you beautiful again.” I nodded eagerly. “Yes, Sister, just rest.” “Actually, I don’t even like Young Master Shen that much. And I have a way to contact the Sterlings. Did you know? The Sterlings are royalty in the capital. They moved to Ocean City last month… Their only son was my classmate. He used to chase me…” “I think marrying into the Sterling family is a great option. They can help fix your skin.” “I’ll give Young Master Shen to you, Sister.” “Don’t worry, he won’t reject you.” I flashed a photo on my phone of me and Julian Sterling, the heir. Chloe stared at Julian’s face, her eyes dark and unreadable. I leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Sis, what goes around comes around. Just like a few days ago. Whoever lights the fire gets burned.” “Is Julian Sterling as stupid as Young Master Shen? Will he fall for your act?” “Don’t end up like your last life. Married into the Shen family only to rot alone while your husband keeps a harem outside.” 4 I was referring to her “glory” in her past life. Her face turned a shade darker. Through gritted teeth, she hissed, “We’ll see.” She wasn’t surprised when I mentioned rebirth. She knew. I left with my parents. Since the house was toast, we moved into a new villa. As soon as we got home, my parents pounced. “Zoey, is it true? You and Julian Sterling were classmates? He chased you?” Seeing the greed in their eyes, I held back my nausea and nodded. “Of course. Didn’t you see the photo?” “We were hugging. Isn’t that obvious?” “If we weren’t worried about school, we might have been together already.” It was a lie. Just a photoshopped pic from an award ceremony. Julian was famous in school, paparazzi followed him everywhere. Rumors were easy to manufacture. I found the photo online. It didn’t matter. These two looked at me like I was a walking ATM. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” “The Shens are nice, but they’re nothing compared to the Sterlings! Julian is the sole heir! No scandals! Marrying him is hitting the jackpot!” I put on a touched smile. “Mom, Dad, you really think so? You gave me life, so I’ll listen to you.” “But… it’s been years. We haven’t talked much. I don’t know if he still likes me.” “And even if he does… our family can’t afford a dowry fitting for the Sterlings.” Mom waved her hand dismissively. “That’s easy. If you marry Julian, we’ll bankrupt the family to get your dowry ready!” They calculated fast. Whatever they spent, they’d earn back tenfold once I was Mrs. Sterling. I smiled. “Thanks, Mom and Dad.” I sent the recording of this conversation to Chloe. With a text: [Sis, if I really marry into the Sterling family, you’ll have nothing left.] Chloe was competitive. She wouldn’t sit still. The bullet comments confirmed it: [Heroine, don’t be stupid! It’s a trap!] [The Sterling family is a dragon’s den! You’ll be eaten alive!] [That idiot brother is helping her contact the Sterlings? He’s sending his sister to her death!] Good. Wait, not entirely good. Our family was small potatoes compared to the Sterlings. Could Lucas even reach Julian? Looks like I have to step in.

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The summer after high school graduation, my niece’s diary, “The Pain of Living Under Someone Else’s Roof,” went viral. She came to stay with me for her senior year. Thinking she might feel out of place, I occasionally asked her to help with small chores. When acceptance letters arrived, both she and my daughter got into Stanford. TV stations were practically tripping over each other to interview me, asking for my secrets to raising two geniuses. Just as I was happily sharing my parenting tips, my niece pulled out a diary. The title? The Pain of Living Under Someone Else’s Roof. My niece became an internet sensation overnight. I, on the other hand, got doxxed and flamed by an angry mob. “Auntie, my parents sent you money every month for my living expenses. Why did I have to live like a mouse in your house, tiptoeing around? You deserve everything that’s happening to you.” In the end, thanks to my niece “accidentally” revealing my location, I was pushed into a river by “justice-seeking” netizens and drowned. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my husband’s brother dropped my niece off. Heh. “The pain of living under someone else’s roof”? In this life, you’re going to learn what that phrase really means. 1 “Sis, sorry for the trouble. Since Lily is in the same grade as your Mia, taking care of one isn’t much different from taking care of two. I’ll Venmo you the living expenses every month. Thanks for looking out for her!” Looking at the WeChat message from my brother-in-law and the notification of a $100 transfer, I finally confirmed I was reborn. I couldn’t help but laugh at that $100. They really knew how to count pennies. My daughter, Mia, was starting her senior year. As a freelance writer with a flexible schedule, I rented an apartment near the school to support her. When my brother-in-law and his wife found out, they used the excuse of “working out of town” to dump their daughter, Lily, on me. They promised $100 a month for her living expenses. I knew $100 wouldn’t even cover her food, let alone the endless expenses of a teenage girl. But I watched this kid grow up. How could I say no? So, Lily moved in. Worried she might feel like an outsider, I told her that her parents sent money every month. I didn’t tell her the amount, just told her to treat this place like her own home. Whatever Mia got, Lily got too. From pens and notebooks to allowance and tutoring classes. I never shortchanged her just because she wasn’t mine. At first, when she offered to do chores, I refused. Later, thinking she might want to feel useful, I let her do small, quick tasks. In the end, both girls got into Stanford. I was proud, thinking my efforts paid off. Turns out, I was a clown the whole time. I raised an ingrate. Thinking about how I was cyberbullied to death in my last life, my heart hardened. This time, no more Mr. Nice Guy. 2 “Auntie, what did my dad say?” Lily craned her neck, trying to peek at my phone screen. In my last life, I hid the screen to protect her feelings. I didn’t want her to know her parents dumped her on me for a hundred bucks. She took that as me hiding how much money I was “pocketing” from her parents. After the fallout, Mia told me Lily used to call her parents crying about how hard her life was. Her parents would curse me out over the phone, claiming they sent plenty of money and I was just mean. But they never told her the “plenty” was actually $100. They’d tell her to suck it up, that living in someone else’s house was just like that, and it would all be over after graduation. Remembering this, I shoved the phone right in her face. “Here. Your parents want you to live here, but they only sent $100. That doesn’t even cover rent.” Yep, $100 wouldn’t cover her share of the rent. This was a prime school district. Rent was easily $3,000 a month. Her share should have been at least $1,000. She lived rent-free for three years without knowing it, and zero gratitude to show for it. I sighed dramatically. “Rent here is crazy expensive, like three grand a month. I don’t know what your parents are thinking. A hundred bucks won’t even feed you.” Being a teenager, she blushed hard. “Auntie, I… I don’t eat much.” Mia tugged at my sleeve, signaling I might be too harsh. I patted Mia’s hand and turned back to Lily. “Look, I’m your aunt. I won’t charge you rent. You eat what we eat. But don’t expect anything extra.” “I understand, Auntie.” Seeing her head hang low, I almost felt bad. But that “pitiful” act fooled me in my last life. Grades don’t equal character. Getting into a top university doesn’t change a rotten core. 3 School started, and soon came the first instance of me being a doormat in my past life. I still can’t fathom how parents can just… not pay tuition. Did they really expect someone else to raise their kid entirely? Last time, I paid Mia’s tuition online. I had no idea Lily’s wasn’t paid. Not until her homeroom teacher called me to the school. My brother-in-law had put my contact info down as the parent. I rushed over and saw Lily standing in the office, head down, looking like a criminal. My heart broke for her. It was her parents’ fault, but she was the one suffering. I paid her tuition immediately and sent her back to class. “Auntie, why didn’t Mia’s teacher call you?” Lily asked later. Looking at her sad face, I couldn’t bring myself to say, “Because I paid Mia’s tuition ages ago. Your parents just don’t care.” Not wanting her to hate her parents, I swallowed my anger and lied. “My bad, Lily. I paid Mia’s early, but your dad only sent the money yesterday. With the start of school chaos, I totally forgot.” And what did she write in her diary? My parents sent the money ages ago, but Auntie refused to pay my tuition. She waited until the teacher humiliated me in front of the whole class before reluctantly paying. This small incident became a scar that lasted all senior year. This time, when the phone rang, I let it go to voicemail once. Then it rang again. I picked up. “Hello, is this Lily’s parent?” “What’s wrong?” “We need you to come to the school regarding a small issue.” “Understood.” I knew I had to go, but I wasn’t rushing. I took my time getting ready. Then I stopped by a bakery to buy Mia’s favorite strawberry shortcake and grabbed myself a boba tea. Senior year is stressful; sweets help. In my last life, supporting two kids meant cutting corners. I rarely bought treats. But this time? I’m not spending a dime on Lily. No need to scrimp on my own kid. 4 I strolled into the teacher’s office an hour and a half later. Lily and the teacher both looked up. I placed my shopping bags on a side table and walked over. “Sorry I’m late. What’s the issue?” The teacher was clearly annoyed, despite trying to be polite. “Lily’s guardian, school has officially started, but we haven’t received her tuition. Did you forget because of work?” “Huh?” I covered my mouth in mock surprise. My gasp drew the attention of other teachers in the office. “Lily hasn’t paid tuition?” “That’s correct. This isn’t good for the school or the student.” “Oh wow, teacher, I had no idea. Her parents dropped her off at my door and dipped to another city. They gave me $100 for living expenses and that’s it. I didn’t know about the tuition. By the way, I’m not her parent, I’m her aunt. My daughter Mia is in Class 1.” This school tracked students by grades. Mia, being top 10 in the city, was naturally in Class 1. Lily was decent, in Class 5, but not top tier. In my last life, I busted my hump to get her grades up, even making Mia tutor her. She eventually made it to Class 1. Hearing I was just an aunt and my kid was in the honors class, the teacher’s tone softened instantly. “I see. Her contact info listed you, so naturally, we called.” “Okay, teacher. I’ll call her parents right now.” I pulled out my phone. Lily tugged my sleeve. “Auntie, didn’t my parents send you the money?” “What are you talking about, child? You saw the chat yesterday. They sent $100. That won’t even buy groceries, let alone tuition.” The stares from the teachers and passing students were burning holes in her. Lily turned bright red. “Can’t you just pay it for me? My parents will pay you back.” “Lily, are you crazy? Tuition is $2,000 for the year. I just paid Mia’s, plus rent and utilities. Rent alone is $6,000 a year here. I’m tapped out. I literally only have the $100 your parents sent. Should I give that to the teacher?” The teacher realized what was happening. She adjusted her glasses. “Maybe you should call her parents.” “On it.” I shook off Lily’s hand, dialed my brother-in-law, and put it on speaker. “Hey, Sis.” “Bro, did you guys forget to pay Lily’s tuition?” “Huh? Sis, isn’t Lily living with you now?” I wanted to reach through the phone and slap him. “Yeah, she’s living here. You dropped her off without a word. I didn’t ask for rent or utilities, but you sent $100 for a month. What is she supposed to eat? Air? And now you forgot tuition? I’m in the teacher’s office. Explain yourself.” He didn’t expect me to air his dirty laundry in public. “Uh, hello teacher. We’re out of town for work. We left everything to her aunt…” I cut him off. “Bro, even though she’s not mine, I care about her. But I just dropped five grand on Mia’s tuition and rent. I’m broke. If you guys don’t have it, maybe ask other relatives?” The teacher chimed in, serious. “Sir, per school policy, if tuition isn’t paid, Lily will have to study at home until it is.” “Fine, fine! I’ll send it to her aunt right now. Teacher, put Lily on.” Lily took the phone with shaking hands. “Dad…” “You useless girl! Always costing me money! You better get into a good college or you’re dead to me!” He hung up. Once the transfer hit, I paid the teacher immediately.

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Troy Partridge’s department, notoriously short on women, had just accepted two new female grad students. He told me they were neck and neck in terms of skill, but their personalities were night and day. One afternoon, the quiet, reserved one, Nina Croft, worked up the courage to drop a hint. “Professor Partridge and Lexi Morgan… they spend a lot of time in his office. And the door is always locked.” Lexi. The other student. Just last weekend, I’d bumped into her and her boyfriend. She’d grinned and chirped, “Hi, Mrs. Partridge!” Later, she would come to me in tears. “Mrs. Partridge, you’re the only one who can help me…” 1 “Mrs. Partridge! Fancy seeing you here.” I’d run into them at the mall—Lexi and her boyfriend, one of Troy’s students. I offered a polite smile. The young couple was holding hands, looking every bit in love. Noticing my gaze, Lexi leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Please, Mrs. Partridge, you have to keep this a secret for me. The professor would be so mad if he found out.” My brow furrowed. “He gets involved in things like that?” She nodded, her eyes wide with a practiced sort of sorrow. The memory faded, and I looked down at the files on my desk—the profiles of Troy’s two new students. Lexi Morgan came from a wealthy family, her personality as bright and outgoing as her pedigree. Nina Croft was her opposite in every way. Her hint today was clearly a calculated move, born from self-preservation. After all, if a mentor was having an affair with a student, it would inevitably lead to favoritism, a gross injustice to those who were genuinely working their tails off. And for Nina, who had clawed her way out of a small, struggling town, the stakes were impossibly high. That’s why she’d risked telling me. But Troy… would he really do something like that? After all our years together, I couldn’t imagine it. I just couldn’t. That evening, I got a friend request on my social media. It was Lexi. Hi Mrs. Partridge, it’s Lexi! Professor Partridge is in a meeting. He asked me to tell you he won’t be home tonight. A knot formed in my stomach. Is everything okay? A massive data set from one of the major experiments was corrupted. Months of work down the drain. [Crying emoji] Troy didn’t come home for three straight days. When he finally called, I learned the full story. It was Nina’s data that had been flawed, an error she hadn’t caught in time, forcing them to scrap the entire experiment and start over. “I swear,” he sighed into the phone, “women in this field… such a headache.” His voice was more weary than angry, with an almost… indulgent edge to it. Then, a new message from Lexi popped up: Mrs. Partridge, the professor is furious. He had the student who messed up in his office for hours this afternoon, just tearing into her. Please try to cheer him up when you see him. I really don’t want to get held back a year! I wasn’t one for deep conversations with near-strangers, so I simply replied, You’re all working so hard. When Troy finally came home that night, the exhaustion was etched onto his face, though it couldn’t quite dull the sharp intellect in his eyes. He saw me and flashed his usual smile, warm and reassuring. “Trapped in that lab for three days. I’m dead on my feet.” He pulled me into his arms, letting out a long sigh. “It’s good to be home.” “I made you some restorative broth. Drink it, then get some real sleep.” He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Thank you, my love.” Just then, another message from Lexi. Mrs. Partridge, is the professor feeling any better? We’re all dreading his thunder face tomorrow. I chuckled, showing the phone to Troy. “Your student is quite the character. She’s been messaging me all day, asking about your mood.” He rolled over, his voice already thick with sleep. “She’s the loudest one in the entire lab. Just ignore her.” I typed back a quick reply. He’s fine, don’t worry. Lexi: Yay! 2 The next day, I made a call. Then I headed to the university, a box of freshly baked pastries in hand. The department’s break room was buzzing with activity. “Nina, please, for the love of God, don’t mess up again. Look at these dark circles!” “Yeah, my girlfriend is starting to think I’m ghosting her.” “I’m so sorry, everyone. It was my fault. The professor already chewed me out for it. I promise it will never happen again.” “Alright, you guys, lay off,” Lexi chimed in, defending her. “Give Nina a break. She feels terrible. Let’s just focus on getting this done together.” As she finished, she turned and her eyes lit up when she saw me. “Mrs. Partridge! You’re here! Did you bring the professor another treat?” I smiled and nodded. “Hope I’m not interrupting.” Nina mumbled a quiet “Hello, Mrs. Partridge” along with the others before slipping out of the room. A moment later, she returned, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with Troy. “Let me guess,” Troy said, taking my hand. “Pastries today?” One of the male students, mouth full, let out a dramatic groan. “Hey! I just started eating, how am I already full from all this sweetness?” “Oh, shut up and eat. Not even this much sugar can shut your mouth.” Amid the playful banter of the students, Nina stood silently to the side, not touching a thing. She seemed out of place. “Why aren’t you having any?” I asked her gently. Her eyes flickered toward Troy for a split second. “Oh, she has a sensitive stomach,” Troy answered for her, almost reflexively. “She can’t handle things that are too sweet.” I paused, taken aback. “Nina, you can’t eat sweets? Well, in that case, I’ll just have to take yours!” Lexi chirped, already reaching for the pastry. She seemed to be enjoying them immensely. A week later, the call I’d been waiting for came. “Elara, we found something…” There was a little dessert shop on the cafe strip near the university. Lexi was a frequent customer. And the trash can in Troy’s office often contained packaging from that very shop. The dates almost always lined up with Lexi’s purchases. I pictured her smiling face, the one that called me Mrs. Partridge without a hint of shame. Was she that good of an actress? To face me without a single crack in her facade? Before bed, I was scrolling through my social feed. A new post from Lexi’s boyfriend: One more year of grinding. Two diplomas, one finish line. The picture was of their intertwined hands. “I heard,” I said casually to Troy, “that you’ve been telling your students not to date?” He let out a soft laugh. “I don’t have that much time on my hands. I just advised the two women in my lab to try and focus on their studies. This field is already tougher for them, and a relationship is bound to be a distraction. I’m just looking out for them.” “A little sexist, don’t you think?” I teased. “Not at all. Women are forces of nature. Look at you, a queen in the boardroom, while I’m just stuck staring at tedious experiments and endless lines of code.” After undergrad, we’d chosen completely different paths. Troy stayed in academia, climbing the ladder from masters to PhD. I went out and started my own company. Those early days of supporting each other, while not exactly impoverished, were a defining chapter of our lives. During Troy’s toughest stretch, my company had just started to find its footing. For two years, I covered all of his living and academic expenses. Now, we were both successful in our own right, our love supposedly as strong as ever. If only Nina hadn’t planted that seed of doubt. The dean of the department fell ill, and I went to the hospital to visit him. As I rounded a corner in the hallway, I heard familiar voices. “Professor Partridge really babies Lexi and Nina, doesn’t he? Hours-long tutoring sessions, giving them second and third author credits on the last paper… How come we don’t get that kind of treatment?” “I think he favors Lexi more.” “Well, yeah. She knows how to talk, how to suck up. She’s always bringing him those fancy desserts.” “Honestly, I think the professor is pretty calculating. Nina’s from a nobody town, so when she makes a tiny mistake, he lectures her for hours. Last time, she was in his office for two solid hours. When she came out, her eyes were all red and puffy.” “It wasn’t a tiny mistake, though, was it? She messes up all the time. I was actually surprised she got second author credit.” Listening to their gossip, a thought flashed through my mind, too quick to grasp. After a brief chat with the dean, I drove straight to the university. Just as I reached the lab, Lexi came out to throw something away. “Mrs. Partridge… are you here to see the professor?” Her usual bubbly energy was gone, replaced by a disconnected, hollow look. 3 “Lexi, are you not feeling well?” I asked, concerned. She forced a weak smile and shook her head. “You might have to wait a bit. The professor and Nina are in his office, working on a report.” “Why are you here all by yourself?” She sighed heavily. “Everyone else went to the hospital to see the dean. The professor told me and Nina to stay behind and fix the corrupted data. But…” Understanding dawned on me. “He made you do it all by yourself?” Lexi bit her lip and nodded. “Nina and I are a team. The professor said her background is… difficult, and that I should look out for her. But it’s not easy for me either! Why do I always have to take the fall for her mistakes?” She quickly added, “I’m just venting, Mrs. Partridge. Please don’t tell the professor I said any of this.” Either my ability to read people had completely failed me, or she was a world-class actress. There wasn’t a flicker of deception in her eyes. “Don’t worry, I won’t. How long have they been in there?” “Over an hour.” My thoughts were a tangled mess. I changed the subject. “That little bakery on the cafe strip seems popular. Have you tried it?” At the mention of food, Lexi’s eyes brightened, some of the gloom lifting from her face. “Oh my god, yes! It’s amazing. Especially the matcha mille crepe—it’s sweet but not too rich. I’ve seen the professor buying stuff from there a lot, too.” That fleeting thought returned, crystal clear this time. “Really? He’s never mentioned it. When I brought those pastries the other day, I had no idea your classmate couldn’t eat them. I feel terrible. I’ll bring something different for you all next time.” Lexi frowned. “That’s weird. I’ve known her for ages and I never knew that. Besides, I buy her stuff from there all the time and she’s never said no.” “You mean, you often bring her treats?” “Yeah. I thought she loved them.” My heart sank. I pictured Troy and Nina walking into the break room together that day. I hadn’t noticed it then, but thinking back, they had been standing incredibly close, a natural, unthinking proximity. It wasn’t until dusk that the office door finally opened. Only Nina came out. Head down, she rushed forward and bumped right into me, letting out a startled shriek. “What’s wrong?” Troy’s voice, laced with anxiety, called out from the office. “Mrs. Partridge… it’s you. I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking.” Nina’s voice was trembling. “Elara, what are you doing here?” Troy asked. As he saw me, his hand was already reaching for Nina’s arm, steadying her. He noticed my gaze and snatched his hand back as if he’d been burned. “I won’t disturb you. Goodbye, Professor. Mrs. Partridge.” Her small frame practically fled down the hall. Suddenly, everything made a sickening kind of sense. The silence in the car was heavy. Neither of us spoke. Troy’s expression was tense, a look I recognized. It was the face he made when dealing with a difficult problem. “Are the cakes from that bakery any good?” His hands, gripping the steering wheel, relaxed slightly. “You went?” “Not yet. Just passed by. I heard one of your students is a big fan.” Troy had already regained his usual composure. The tension I’d seen moments before might as well have been a figment of my imagination. “Lexi can be a bit… overeager. She knows I have a sweet tooth, so she’s tried to bribe me more than a few times. But I’m a professional, Elara. I would never give her second author credit just for a few pastries.” “And what about Nina? I hear you’re always giving her a hard time. You’re not picking on her just because she’s quiet and doesn’t know how to suck up to her mentor, are you?” Troy laughed, a genuinely amused sound. “I’m tailoring my approach to the student. But I’ll admit, mentoring women is more trouble than it’s worth. Always on the verge of tears.” He sighed. “I’m not accepting any more female students after this. These two are enough of a headache.” “Oh?” I asked, feigning interest. “Which one is the crybaby?” “Who else? The one who makes the most noise. Probably a spoiled little princess at home. I’m not about to coddle her.” He was talking about Lexi. 4 Back home, after my shower, I urged Troy to take his. I watched as he plugged his phone in to charge, then unplugged it and took it with him into the bathroom. What a coincidence. I was scrolling through a forum online when I saw a question: For those who start with a significant disadvantage in life, is it wrong to take a shortcut? The top-voted answer read: If a shortcut presents itself to you, consider it fate. The unfairness of your starting point will be balanced out somewhere along the way. Before I met him, I never imagined that a single look could save me years of struggle… All you have to do is work hard, and destiny will favor you in the most unexpected ways. Keep fighting. I posted a reply: OP, it sounds like you have an incredible story. Would you mind sharing? Stressed-out grad student here in need of some inspiration. Waiting eagerly! Ten minutes later, she responded. Thanks for asking. I come from one of the poorest towns in the country, a true rock-bottom starting point. But I fought my way through every obstacle to get into a master’s program, and that’s where I met my guardian angel—my mentor. Because of my background, I’m naturally slower than others. Things my peers master in one try take me three or four. A student who drags everyone down like me should be despised by their mentor, but he’s different. And of course, I am different, too… I’ve been given so many opportunities for private coaching. He says that when he looks at me, he sees his younger self, and he wants to give me the chances he never had. You can call it a shortcut, but I call it proof that opportunity only comes to those who are prepared. Reading that, my earlier suspicions solidified into a cold, hard certainty that chilled me to the bone. Troy was sleeping with his student, Nina. And he was using Lexi as a smokescreen. Nina’s “warning” to me hadn’t been a warning at all. It was a vicious, calculated move—the real culprit pointing the finger at an innocent person. I had no idea how far they had gone. When Troy came out of the bathroom and tried to wrap his arms around me, a wave of physical revulsion washed over me. “What’s wrong?” His voice was husky, tinged with desire. “I don’t feel well. Let’s just go to sleep.” A few days later, a scandal erupted at Northwood University. A student had allegedly tried to seduce her mentor, an “academic siren” trying to sleep her way to the top. The mentor himself had reported her, and she was now facing a university investigation. The online posts mentioned the detail about the desserts. In a flash of insight, I understood everything. I immediately checked Lexi’s social media. Her profile was wiped clean, a blank slate. I called Troy to ask what was happening. “Elara, listen to me, and please don’t be angry. It was Lexi. She… she tried to seduce me. The shamelessness of it! I had my suspicions before, and I tried to give her chances to back off, but…” I fought the urge to call out his lies right then and there. After I hung up, I got a friend request. It was Nina. Mrs. Partridge, what I told you before was true! But the professor didn’t betray you. It was Lexi who was chasing him, relentlessly. This time she went too far, and he couldn’t protect her as a student anymore. He had to report her, even though it pained him. Is there any proof of this? The professor said so himself. Don’t you believe him? I didn’t reply. My mind was racing, trying to figure out what I could do, but it was all a chaotic blur. Outside, a storm was brewing. The doorbell rang. Soaking wet, Lexi stood on my doorstep. The moment she saw me, the tears started to fall. “Mrs. Partridge… I didn’t do it… it wasn’t me… Please believe me, help me… please, it really wasn’t me…” Her eyes were wild, her words a jumbled, desperate plea. Once I got her settled with a warm mug of tea, her hands were still trembling. “It’s okay, Lexi. Take a deep breath. Tell me exactly what happened.” Her gaze flickered with fresh terror. “Professor Partridge… and Nina… they were in his office. They were… kissing. That’s all I saw. “The professor told me that if I kept my mouth shut, I would graduate without any problems. “I promised, I really did. I was too scared to say anything. “But just a day later, Troy reported me. And the witness he brought forward… was Nina.”

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My brother hated me for ten years. The last time we fought, I left town alone and was caught in an unexpected earthquake. Just as a hotel chandelier was about to crush me, my brother suddenly appeared, shielding me with his body. “Sunny, run! Don’t look back!” The chandelier crashed down, snapping his spine. Yet, he smiled at me, a look of profound relief on his face. “Mom and Dad’s last wish—that I take care of you—I finally fulfilled it.” “If there’s a next life, I hope you stay far away from our family.” I was held back, forced to watch as my brother was completely buried under the rubble. That night, having lost the last person related to me, I jumped into the river without hesitation. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I was found. I saw my brother waiting outside the police station. I walked toward him, brushed past him, and called out to a boy behind him: “Brother.” … “You don’t remember anything at all?” The female officer looked at me, pen in hand, determined not to miss a detail. “Try to think. Like your last name, where you lived, or who was in your family?” “You were seven or eight when you were kidnapped. You should have some memories.” I lowered my eyes, speaking slowly. “I was constantly beaten there. Once, I was hit on the head and passed out. When I woke up, I couldn’t remember much.” The officer’s eyes filled with sympathy. She put down her pen. “It’s okay. If you remember anything later, you can call us anytime.” I walked out of the station, heading toward the temporary shelter they arranged for me. Then, I saw a familiar figure rushing over. My brother? My heart clenched. In the last life, the police contacted the Green family, and Zack Green reluctantly came to pick me up. Why was he here already? Zack saw me, his eyes lighting up. He rushed over in three quick steps. I was about to speak, but he beat me to it. “I’m warning you, don’t try to claim any relation. The Green family already has a daughter.” I understood instantly. Zack had been reborn, too. No wonder… He was afraid I would go back and claim my identity, so he rushed here to stop me. My heart ached, but I looked up, feigning confusion. “Who are you? What are you talking about, the Green family?” Zack looked at me with suspicion. “What trick are you pulling now?” I pointed to my head and said matter-of-factly, “I really don’t know you. I hurt my head before, and I can’t remember much.” Hearing about my injury, a flicker of guilt crossed Zack’s eyes, but it vanished instantly. “I don’t care if you’re faking or not. Just know this: the Green family is not the place for you.” He paused, then continued. “Even though we’re strangers, I’ll give you some money and find you an apartment until you turn eighteen. Just don’t run your mouth to the police or bother my family.” I shook my head. “Thank you, but I don’t need it.” Ignoring his stunned look, I got into the car the police arranged for me. I thought about Zack’s final moments, smiling as he said he could finally reunite with Mom, Dad, and his sister. My heart was heavy and bitter. He saved my life at the cost of his own. But in his heart, his sister was someone else… If their family of four was happy without me, then let them remain happy in this life, too. Chapter 2 At the shelter, I lay in bed, unable to sleep. Staring at the dark night sky, memories flooded in. In the last life, the police rescued me from the mountains that same year. I cried, giving them Mom and Dad’s names and address, thinking I was finally going home. But when I was brought back, there was a stranger—a different girl—in my house. Mom and Dad awkwardly explained that they adopted her because they were so heartbroken after I was kidnapped. Her name was Amy. They looked at me with complex eyes, as if I were a stranger who had suddenly intruded. They were warm and affectionate toward Amy, treating her like their true daughter. But… they used to love me the most. I broke down, screaming hysterically. I pointed at the girl, calling her a thief who stole the home that was rightfully mine. Mom and Dad scolded me, calling me selfish. I cried until my throat was raw. “I suffered so much! Why does she get to enjoy the love that belongs to me?!” Mom and Dad stared at me in silence. There was pity in their eyes, but also hesitation. That night, the girl left a note and quietly slipped away. She said she was going back to the orphanage; she didn’t want their family to be torn apart because of her. I was nervous. But Mom and Dad didn’t scold me. They just sighed, saying they would go to the orphanage to bring her back. They stopped my brother from going with them. “You stay with your sister. She just came home. You need to take good care of her.” They never came back. Their car crashed on the way to pick up the girl. All three of them died. From then on, my brother hated me. He hated me for ten long years. The thought made my throat tighten and my eyes burn. I wiped the tears away. Now, since I can’t go back to the Green family, I have to figure out what to do next. I’m under sixteen; I need a guardian. A name suddenly surfaced in my mind. Shane Yu. A skinny boy who always protected me during the beatings. In the last life, if it hadn’t been for him, the village idiot—the son of the family who bought me as a child bride—would have ruined me. When we were locked in the pigpen, shivering, he wrapped his only shirt around me. “I’m your big brother now. I’ll protect you.” We endured countless horrible days together. But later, he was sold to a different village. When I was rescued, the police said the people in his village had been rescued before us. In the last life, I wanted to find him. But the sudden tragedy in my family kept me from going. This time, I decided to find him. The next morning, I went to the police station at dawn. “Officer, I remember where my family is.” After giving my information, I turned to leave the station. But Zack Green suddenly grabbed my wrist, rushing in. “You tricked me again! You were faking it before!” “Why do you insist on going back to the Green family? We don’t want you.” His voice trembled, suppressing massive anger. “Don’t you get it? I already have a sister. Mom and Dad love her to death. They don’t need an extra daughter.” I yanked my hand away and kept walking. Zack was so angry his eyes were red. He suddenly yelled, “You were kidnapped! Why didn’t you just stay in the mountains forever?” His hysterical outburst was identical to when he had pointed at me after our parents died, screaming, “Why didn’t you die instead of them?” I raised my hand and slapped him hard. “Slap!” The loud noise silenced him instantly. “Who do you think you’re talking to?” I stared at him, asking deliberately. “People who get kidnapped deserve to die out there, in your mind?” The slap seemed to wake Zack up. He stumbled back a step, his eyes showing regret. “I’m sorry…” The female officer finally walked over, frowning as she shielded me. “Sir, watch your language. This young lady is looking for her family. Who are you to interfere?” Zack was silent for a while. Finally, he looked at me coldly and grabbed my arm. “You want to go home? Fine. Let’s go.” But I pulled my hand free. To his astonishment, I hid behind the female officer. “I am going home, but what does that have to do with you?” Chapter 3 “My brother’s name is Shane Yu, and he lives in S Province.” I spoke every word clearly to Zack. Zack froze, then looked at me in utter disbelief. “Skylar! You’ve got some nerve!” “Where did you get a brother named Shane?!” The officer immediately pulled me behind her, protecting me. She turned to Zack. “Young lady, do you know him?” I shook my head, my voice quiet. “No. And… my name isn’t Skylar. It’s Shen.” Zack’s expression morphed into pure shock. He suddenly realized something. “You came back too, didn’t you?” I lowered my head, squeezing my skirt hem. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Skylar!” The hatred in Zack’s eyes was intense. “Do you think faking amnesia or playing dumb can erase the fact that you’re a murderer?” “You’re inventing a fake name to trick me.” He sneered. “What, you thought I’d be desperate to claim you?” “I won’t.” He stepped closer, his eyes scornful. “Fine. Your brother is Shane Yu? Go find him.” He stared at me triumphantly, convinced I would panic. “You’re a lunatic!” The officer snapped, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the police car. “Let’s go. Ignore him.” Zack panicked and chased after the car, banging on the window. “Where are you going?!” He only managed to inhale a lungful of exhaust. The car drove for a long time, finally stopping in front of a sprawling, beautiful house. I was surprised. Shane’s family must be wealthy. My confidence in moving in with him increased. We walked up and knocked. After a long wait, the door opened. The man standing there was tall and lean, with handsome features, but a sickly pale complexion. His messy hair partially covered his eyes. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing slender wrists. Seeing us, he froze. “Who are you?” “Brother, I’m your little sister!” I threw myself into his arms. His body went rigid, but he didn’t push me away immediately. “Skylar, are you crazy?” Zack suddenly rushed up the steps, yanking me away. He pointed at Shane, furious. “What are you doing? Do you know who he is? Jumping into his arms? What if he’s some creep?!” Zack looked disheveled and covered in dust, clearly having followed us the entire way. Just like in the last life, when he secretly followed me and then saved my life. I looked at him, my expression unreadable. “He’s my brother. What right do you have to insult him?” Zack laughed, the sound cold and angry. “He’s your brother? Skylar, open your eyes!” I countered, “If he’s not my brother, are you?” I stared at him, and I saw Zack open his mouth. The word “Yes” was practically on his tongue. But he stopped himself. He glared at me, finally scoffing, “You almost trapped me. I told you, I’m not your brother. You don’t deserve to be my sister.” I gave a self-mocking smile. The officer finally intervened, losing patience. “You two! Which one of you is her actual brother?!” Chapter 4 The moment I rushed into Shane’s arms, He recognized me. Seeing the pleading in my eyes, Shane sighed and turned to the officer. “I am her brother. Thank you for finding my sister for me.” Zack’s face was incredulous. “Fine. Great.” He looked at me darkly. “This wasn’t my choice. This is yours. Don’t regret it later.” He turned and walked away. Watching Zack leave, a bitter feeling surged inside me. Wasn’t this exactly what he wanted? Me staying away from the Green family? But why did he look so betrayed? After everyone left, I whispered to Shane, “I’m sorry for the trouble.” “Was that your biological brother?” Shane asked. “If you’re having family trouble,” Shane advised, “you should make up with them and go home.” I shook my head, the events of the last life flashing in my mind. I couldn’t go back. I was about to speak when my eyes caught the bottle of pills on the table that he hadn’t put away. Seeing the label, my heart sank. Looking at the man who was staring down, his expression unreadable, I grabbed Shane’s hand. “You once told me that if I didn’t have a home, you’d be my brother and take care of me forever.” My voice was shaking. “Does that promise still hold true?” Shane was silent for a very long time, so long that I thought time had stopped. Finally, he nodded. “It does.” I rushed to hug him happily. “Then from today on, you’re my real brother, and I’m your only sister.” I looked up at him. “We’re each other’s family.” “Now… Brother, I’m starving. I haven’t eaten all day.” Shane looked surprised. “Okay. I’ll go buy groceries. What do you want to eat?” “Scrambled eggs with tomatoes. Anything else is fine.” I said casually. Shane nodded and went out. I took the opportunity to sweep all the pills off the table and into a drawer. I pretended I hadn’t seen anything. But soon, a knock came at the door. “You’re back so fast?” I opened the door, only to see Zack Green standing there, his face stormy. “Why you?” Zack grabbed my hand without a word and pulled me outside. “Come with me.” I pulled my hand away. “Where are you taking me?” “Home! Skylar, stop playing games! Are you really going to stay with a random stranger?” Zack’s voice suddenly sounded tired. “Since we’re both back, let’s forget about the last life. Come home with me, be a good sister, and Mom and Dad won’t mistreat you. Just stop trying to compete with Amy…” I cut Zack off. “If I say the condition for me to come home is for Amy to leave, would you agree?” The air froze. Zack stared at me in disbelief. Then, hatred flared in his eyes. “I knew it! You’re evil by nature! Why do you have to drive Amy away?!” “I’m telling you, keep dreaming. Amy has been with Mom and Dad for years. They treat her like their own daughter!” “See?” I sneered. “I just brought up the possibility, and you reacted this strongly.” “The situation between Amy and me was unfair from the start!” My voice began to shake. “Did any of you ever consider my feelings? Did I choose to be kidnapped? Do you know how much I suffered during those years?” “Why should I just graciously accept having the love that was mine stolen by someone else?” “You were kidnapped because you were playing around!” Zack blurted out, “Who is to blame but yourself?” I looked up sharply, my eyes burning. “Are you sure I was playing around?” I walked toward him slowly. “Zack, you’ve been lying to everyone for so long. Have you started lying to yourself?” His face instantly turned white. I knew he remembered.

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1 On the anniversary of my mother’s death, I ran into Uriah Vance. We hadn’t spoken in six years. I acted like he wasn’t there, my eyes fixed on my mother’s headstone as I walked past him. He clutched a bouquet of white lilies, following a few steps behind me like a nervous shadow. After a long, heavy silence, he finally found his voice, the words carefully chosen. “Can I… can I go pay my respects to my father?” he asked, his voice strained. “He wanted to see you, before the end. But your address, your number… you’d changed everything.” I nodded once. Surprise flickered in his eyes. He’d expected a fight—a storm of furious accusations, the biting, sarcastic remarks I used to be so good at. The rest of his plea, whatever it was, died on his lips. His eyes, red-rimmed and glistening, lit up with a fragile hope. “Rina,” he whispered, “you don’t hate me anymore.” A small, empty smile touched my lips, but I said nothing. Six years, and he still didn’t get it. Hate is just the ghost of love. With no love left, there was nothing to haunt me. … Uriah’s father had been kind to me. Whatever happened between his son and me, the man was gone now. Debts die with the dead. It was only right to pay my respects. After placing the lilies on the grave, I turned to leave. A weight settled on my shoulder. I looked up into Uriah’s gentle gaze as he draped his coat over me. “It’s almost winter,” he said softly. “You’re not dressed warmly enough.” Without a word, I shrugged the coat off. I’d learned long ago how to keep myself warm; I didn’t need charity from anyone else. He stiffened, the rejection hanging in the air between us. He quickly changed the subject. “Where are you living now? It’s hard to get a cab from out here. Let me give you a ride.” “No need. I work here.” He let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “I actually thought you were over it,” he scoffed. “We talk for two minutes and you’re already back to your old games. You, of all people. You’ve always been terrified of places like this.” He was right. I used to be terrified of ghosts. But ever since they buried Mom here, that fear was gone. Now, some nights, I’d give anything to hear her ghost yell at me just one more time. To hear her scream at the fool I was, throwing my life away for a man, rotting in a cell while she died alone, without me there to hold her hand. Uriah took a few quick steps to catch up, his hand reaching for mine. Just then, his phone rang. His hand dropped, diving into his coat pocket. “Lily…” he answered, his voice softening. “Honey, I told you to wait for me! We were supposed to come here together.” The voice on the other end was crisp and professional, laced with a playful frustration. “I had to move mountains to get out of that international conference, and I booked the earliest flight back just for you.” If Uriah hadn’t used her name, I wouldn’t have recognized her. It was Lily. The same Lily who used to speak in a thick country accent, so self-conscious she’d barely say a word. The girl who clung to my arm on her first-ever flight, too afraid to ask for a bottle of water because she thought people would laugh at how she talked. Now, she sounded like a powerhouse, a woman who commanded boardrooms. It seemed Uriah had taken very good care of her. He shot a panicked glance at me, clearly terrified she’d find out I was here. He mumbled a few excuses and quickly hung up. “I’ll come find you again,” he said before he left, his words a promise or a threat. My coworker, who had been watching from a distance, came over, her eyes wide with envy. “Rina, you’re a quiet one! How do you know a famous lawyer like Uriah Vance?” “He’s the one who bought that quarter-million-dollar plot for his dad,” she gossiped. “If you know him, you won’t have to worry about sales quotas. Just wait for one of his rich relatives to kick the bucket and…” I couldn’t help a tired, hollow laugh. Only people who sell graves for a living wish for death. The late autumn wind cut through my thin sweater, chilling me to the bone. The smile froze on my face. There was a time, I remembered, when I had wished for his entire family to die. I met him when my mother’s illness was at its worst. The medical bills piled up, one after another, an insurmountable mountain of debt. I spent my nights by her bedside, holding her hand through the pain, and my days enduring her screaming fits as the agony frayed her nerves and she lashed out at the only person left. Still, she got worse. I’d hide in the dark, silent stairwells of the hospital, shoving bread into my mouth to choke back the sobs. One night, I finally broke. I screamed at the heavens, cursed my luck, my life, everything, for a solid half hour. Wiping the tears from my face with the back of my hand, I walked out, forgetting I’d left my phone behind. On my way back, I nearly collided with a man walking down the stairs, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He paused, clearing his throat. “Uh… I didn’t hear a thing.” After that, we kept running into each other. It turned out his father was in the same hospital, on the same floor. He’d watch over my mom so I could get a moment of sunshine, then spend three hours waiting for my turn in a crowded, noisy CT scan queue. When my mom, in a fit of rage, would tangle her hands in my hair and scream that the food was inedible, he’d quietly appear with a container of takeout from a high-end restaurant. They were small gestures to him. Insignificant. But to me, in those moments of suffocating despair, they were a lifeline. A gasp of air when I was drowning. When he found out my mom’s condition was from a workplace accident, he took it upon himself to fight for her compensation. The police dragged their feet, so he went to the construction site alone. By the time I got the call and rushed over, I barely recognized him. He was a silhouette of blood and bruises, surrounded by a dozen workers wielding steel pipes. “Get the hell out of here, you son of a bitch, or I swear to God I’ll run you over!” the foreman screamed. Uriah was trembling with fear, but he gritted his teeth and stood his ground. “Fifty thousand dollars,” he said, his voice shaking but firm. “You’re not moving a single pile of dirt until you pay.” “Fuck you!” The roar of an engine split the air. The workers scattered as a massive excavator lurched forward. A terrible, piercing scream tore from my throat as I ran, throwing myself in front of the machine. The foreman’s lips trembled. “Crazy. You’re all fucking crazy.” But it was too late. The machine’s tracks had crushed Uriah’s legs. Blood seeped into the dirt, blooming around the horrifying white of shattered bone. The veins in his neck bulged as he fought against the agony, but when he saw me, he managed a weak, broken smile. “Besides my law degree,” he gasped, “I guess I need to learn how to throw a punch. Can’t exactly get justice for my clients otherwise.” That money got my mom the imported medication she needed. Her condition started to stabilize. Uriah won a few major cases, and his career took off. We made a plan: on my birthday, we’d get our marriage license, and then we’d go to the hospital and bring my mom home. A surprise for her. Everything was finally getting better. The night before our appointment at the courthouse, Uriah was out of town, meeting with a client. Determined not to break his promise, he drove through the night to get back to me. He was drunk. He hit someone. I found him huddled in a corner of the hospital waiting room, his eyes locked on the glowing light above the operating room door. A strangled sob escaped his clenched jaw. In that moment, he looked just as hopeless as I had felt when we first met. “Uriah, it’s okay,” I whispered, my own heart hammering against my ribs. “I’m here. Just tell them… tell them I was driving.” His head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief. My mind was terrifyingly clear. I weighed the options. He was a rising star in the legal world, his future blindingly bright. My own salary didn’t even cover the taxes he paid each month. And both our parents would need expensive, long-term care. It was selfish, in a way. But it was also love. “We’ll beg the family for forgiveness,” I reasoned. “Worst-case scenario, I do six months.” He stared at me, his eyes bloodshot, his throat working for a long time before he could speak. “Rina,” he choked out, his voice thick with emotion, “if I ever betray you, may God strike me down where I stand.” Neither of us could have known. The victim died. The family refused to forgive. And six months turned into seven years. My coworker, Chloe, slammed her fist on the table, letting out a string of curses. “You did seven years for him? And in the end, he just left you?” I stood up and poured a glass of water, my voice muffled. “You said it yourself. I did the time for him. Not the other way around.” “So who was she?” Chloe pressed, her voice dripping with venom. “Some rich client? A politician’s daughter? Who did that bastard run off with?” I shook my head. It was none of those. It was a girl from a forgotten town upstate who never even finished high school. After I was incarcerated, Uriah looked more haggard with every visit. He’d say the same thing over and over again. “Just hold on, Rina. I’m doing everything I can to get your sentence reduced.” My heart ached for him. He was running himself ragged, fighting for me while also caring for my mother and his own father. So, I asked my cousin, Lily, the girl I grew up with, to come help. The three of us sat together, separated by the thick visitation glass. Lily clutched a bag of my favorite homemade cookies, her eyes swollen from crying. “Don’t you worry, Rina,” she promised. “I’ll take good care of Auntie.” Uriah was polite, but I could see the flicker of annoyance in his eyes. Later, he complained, “I can’t understand a word she says with that accent, and she doesn’t know how to use any of the appliances. Wouldn’t it be better to just hire a professional nurse?” “Just be patient with her,” I urged him. “No stranger will ever care for family the way family does.” And just like that, two people whose paths never would have crossed were bound together. By me. Lily couldn’t speak without a thick drawl. So I recorded myself, saying a phrase in our hometown accent, then repeating it in clear, unaccented English. Uriah suggested hiring a tutor, worried I was tiring myself out. He didn’t understand. I used to read stories to Lily to help her sleep. My voice was the one she’d learn from the fastest. After my mother recovered enough to care for herself, Uriah wanted to send Lily back home. But I knew what that meant. Her parents had always favored her brothers; they’d marry her off to the first man who could offer a decent bride price. I insisted we enroll her in night school and begged Uriah to find her a stable job, something that would give her a foothold in the city. Slowly, Uriah’s resistance to her softened. He started bringing me good news about her. She’d passed her GED. She’d gotten an internship at his law firm. She’d won her first small case. At first, I was thrilled for this shy, insecure girl I considered a sister. But then, a subtle wrongness began to creep in. During our one-hour visits, Uriah would spend fifty minutes talking about Lily. Then his visits became less frequent. Did something happen? No, he’s just busy. He has to be busy. I tried to soothe the anxiety clawing at my throat, but the fluorescent lights of the cell hummed twenty-four hours a day, forbidding sleep, forbidding peace. The mocking whispers of the other inmates echoed in the darkness, giving voice to the fears I didn’t dare confront. “That fool still thinks her hotshot lawyer is waiting for her.” “Seven years ain’t seven days. He’s found someone else by now. Probably has kids.” Impossible. I would pull out the pile of gifts and photos he’d brought me over the years, my voice cracking as I defended him to their sneering faces. “This is our house! See? We designed it together. Two kids’ rooms. The one with the pirate ship is for a boy, and the one with the swing is for a girl. He even picked out a retirement community for us, for when the kids are grown. He promised he’d make up for these seven years.” Any man in the world could cheat. Not my Uriah. Never him. But on the day I was released, he wasn’t there to meet me. Only my grandmother was, her hair white as snow, her back bent as she sat on the edge of a concrete planter. The grief was so heavy in her frail body that when she opened her mouth to speak, only tears came out. “Oh, Rina,” she finally sobbed. “If only you’d gotten out two days sooner. Just two days. You could have seen your mother.” “She kept calling your name,” my grandmother wept, “just wouldn’t let go. She kept saying you were leaving for college on the train tomorrow, that she needed to pack you an extra bag of roasted pecans for the trip.” My throat closed up. A strange, sharp laugh escaped my lips. Grandma was getting old. Saying crazy things in the middle of the day. Mom was at home. Uriah and Lily were taking perfect care of her. The last time we’d video-chatted, the three of them were laughing, gathered around a steaming pot of soup, talking about wedding plans. They had brochures for venues and photographers spread all over the table. They were just waiting for me to come home so we could pick a date. I ran home, my heart pounding. I smoothed my hair in the elevator’s reflection, trying to straighten the wrinkles in my cheap, prison-issue clothes. The door was slightly ajar. Through the crack, I saw them. Two naked bodies, tangled together on the sofa. “What’s the rush?” the woman purred. “You didn’t even lock the door.” The man hastily pulled on his clothes. He turned, and his eyes met mine. He gasped. In that instant, every drop of blood in my body turned to ice. I burst through the door, a feral scream ripping from my lungs, and launched myself at him. I spun and slapped Lily across the face, the sound echoing in the silent room. Uriah shoved me back, shielding her with his body. He stared at me, his expression cold. “Seven years in prison taught you nothing?” he snarled. “You get out and the first thing you do is start acting like a lunatic?” Seven years. I had survived on a single promise. When you get out, Rina, we’ll get married. To get my sentence reduced, I let the other inmates beat me without fighting back. I worked until my hands were raw, the rope of the heavy loads I carried tearing through calluses, mixing blood with the grime as I forced down moldy food. I walked out of that place and into a world that looked at me with disgust and suspicion. And this was my reward. He was defending another woman. Accusing me. Seven years taught you nothing. But then, just as I thought the pain couldn’t get any worse, as despair threatened to swallow me whole, Lily leaned in, a triumphant, cruel smile on her face, and whispered in my ear.

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1 For three years, I was the gilded canary in President of Blackwood Holdings, Finn Keery’s cage. We were inseparable, our passion a scorching, all-consuming fire. He never used protection, always holding me close afterward, whispering, “If it happens, we’ll have it. I’ll marry you, Thea.” So when I actually got pregnant, I threw myself off his yacht right in front of him. I left him with a bloated, decaying corpse to remember me by. Months later, in a city far from his empire, he was hunting for another runaway heiress. Instead, he found me, a baby in my arms, chatting with his target. “Running away with the baby is the right move,” I told her, an expert giving advice. “Don’t listen to all the promises he makes. You go home with him? You’ll regret it.” “A man’s words are just pretty lies. They’re fun to play with for a while, but you can’t ever really trust them.” … “As soon as you’re pregnant, I’ll marry you.” Finn’s hot breath tickled my ear as he spoke, his voice a low, husky promise. “Once you’re part of the Keery family, you’ll never have to worry about your parents or that fake sister of yours again.” I forced a smile, my body going rigid. Pregnancy. My biased parents. The impostor sister. Did he really have to bring all that up right now? The mood was instantly shattered. “Pregnancy is impossible,” I said, trying to keep the tremor from my voice. “It hasn’t happened in three years. I’m probably infertile.” He could never know the truth. That I’d been secretly taking birth control this whole time. “You’re young and healthy. It just means I haven’t been trying hard enough.” He flipped me onto my back, his touch reigniting the fire in my veins. I had to admit, Finn was an artist in the bedroom. Our three years together had been a whirlwind of pleasure, a testament to his skill. He was the undisputed king of our city’s elite, powerful and obscenely generous. He took care of me, lavishing me with attention and gifts. Besides his obsession with getting me pregnant, he was flawless. “I can’t be pregnant!” I glared at the old herbalist. “I’ve been taking the contraceptive tea you prescribed every single day.” Ever since that night with Finn, I’d been feeling nauseous, a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach. I’d snuck out to this small, discreet clinic, only to be told: Congratulations, you’re having a baby. Congratulations? What was there to celebrate? I could barely take care of myself. A baby was not part of the plan. Three years ago, on the eve of my college entrance exams, I was plucked from a hyper-competitive, high-pressure province and dropped into the lap of luxury in the capital. I went from being a penniless orphan from a remote village to the long-lost daughter of a wealthy family. Everyone said I’d hit the jackpot, a Cinderella story come to life. But only I knew the truth. It was a nightmare. My biological parents already had a daughter, one they had raised and adored. I was an intruder, an unwelcome disruption. To avoid upsetting their precious ‘sister,’ they didn’t even bother giving me a new name, just tacked their surname onto my old one. I went from Thea to Thea Tang. When the exam results came out, I scored three hundred points higher than her. But instead of congratulations, I was met with a storm of accusations. “You know your sister struggles with her studies! Did you score that high just to push her over the edge? Do you want her to kill herself?” My mother slapped me across the face. My father, in a fit of rage, cut off all my financial support. To appease their other daughter, they forbade me from attending university. I tried to work and save for tuition myself, but they sabotaged every job I found. Just when I’d hit rock bottom, I met Finn Keery. I became his canary; he paid for my education and my life. The plan was to save up enough money and disappear. But now, there was a baby. What could I give a child? An illegitimate status, a mother who was a kept woman, a toxic and suffocating family? A chill ran down my spine. “No,” I shook my head, “I can’t.” “Your constitution is unique,” the old herbalist said, her gaze sharp. “If you get rid of this one, you may never be able to have another.” “Don’t do something you’ll regret.” My mind was a chaotic mess all the way back to the penthouse. I tried to prepare myself to talk to Finn. He was the father, after all. He deserved to know. But as I approached his study, I heard voices. “Vivian Song from the Song Corporation seems like a good match.” Someone agreed. “Miss Song is from a good family, she’s educated, beautiful. A perfect match.” Finn chuckled, his voice lazy and detached. “A wife for a strategic alliance needs to be sensible, obedient, and presentable. She needs to be able to tolerate… outside arrangements.” My body went rigid. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You’re right, Finn. A woman like that won’t cause any embarrassing scenes later.” My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. For three years, he’d told me, again and again: “If you get pregnant, we’ll have it. I’ll marry you.” It was all a lie. A suitable family, a strategic marriage—that had been his goal all along. A bitter taste filled my mouth. Why was I so upset? I’d known from the day I agreed to this arrangement that it wouldn’t last forever. Marriages in his world were business transactions. I was never going to be his wife. But maybe, after three years, I had actually fallen for him. I stumbled back to our bedroom, the traces of our life together suffocating me. “Thea, why do you look so pale?” Finn walked in, his face etched with concern. He reached out to touch my cheek. “Are you not feeling well?” I looked up, seeing the genuine affection in his eyes, and a wave of nausea washed over me. “I’m fine. Just ate something that disagreed with me.” I subtly pulled away from his touch, stepping out of his embrace. The baby. He could never know about the baby. I had to leave. The next day, I started taking inventory. Jewelry and bags to be sold for cash. Gold bars packed separately. Finn had been a generous keeper. He’d drape me in extravagant jewels as if they were trinkets, his eyes full of adoration. Now, looking at these cold, inanimate objects, all I felt was a crushing disappointment. Had he changed, or was it all just an act from the beginning? Finn saw the piles of luxury goods on the floor and smiled. “Can’t find anything you like?” he teased, stroking my hair. “I’ll take you shopping for the new collections.” I kept my eyes down. “I was just admiring them. They’re proof that you love me, after all…” A knock on the door interrupted me. “Mr. Song is here.” Finn gave me a quick, soft kiss. “Thea, I have something important to take care of. Go out, do some shopping. Use my card.” I watched him hurry away, a bitter feeling churning in my stomach. He was playing both sides, wasn’t he? Carefully negotiating his marriage with his future in-laws while placating me with money. Just as I was about to leave, I changed my mind. I tiptoed to the study door. “A high-society marriage is about mutual benefit and maintaining a respectable image. We can’t let trivial matters like personal feelings create an ugly situation,” Finn’s voice was firm and steady. “I’m not sure about the one on the outside… is she sensible?” Mr. Song sounded hesitant. “What if there’s a child…?” “There won’t be a child,” Finn said without a moment’s hesitation. “And if there were, I wouldn’t acknowledge it. The Keery name is respected. We only have legitimate heirs. We can’t afford a scandal.” He paused, then added, “No matter how much I spoil her, she’s just a plaything. The stability of the alliance is what matters.” I wouldn’t acknowledge it. A plaything. The words were like shards of glass in my gut, tearing me apart. A shiver wracked my body. I had become his canary to escape my parents and get an education, to give myself a chance at a future. I knew it wasn’t a respectable path. But I had always told myself: he doesn’t have a girlfriend, and I don’t have a boyfriend. We were just dating, like any other couple. But to him, I was just a toy. And our child… he wouldn’t even acknowledge our child. I went back to the bedroom, replaying his words in my head like a form of self-torture. Each time, the pain and humiliation grew, and the lingering affection I had for him withered away. The agony was so intense, my body started to shake. “Thea, why are you crying?” Finn rushed in, his face a mask of concern as he wiped away my tears. “What’s wrong?” I dug my nails into my palms until they drew blood, forcing myself to calm down. “It’s nothing,” I said, forcing a smile. “I just feel guilty. You’re so good to me, and the one thing you want is a child, and I can’t even give you that.” My voice was thick with fake emotion. “Will you be disappointed in me? Will you stop loving me?” His mood instantly brightened. He pinched my nose playfully. “So afraid I’ll leave you? Then you’ll just have to work harder to please me, so I can’t bear to let you go.” Please him. He had no respect for me at all. I really was just a toy. “What if I stop loving you first?” I asked. “What if I want to leave?” He laughed, a low, dismissive sound. “Leave? Where would you go? You have no money of your own, and your identity is linked to my systems. You think you can escape me?” He was right. He was all-powerful. I couldn’t even buy birth control from a pharmacy; I had to sneak to a back-alley herbalist just to avoid his network of spies. He leaned down, his eyes darkening. “Why are you asking these questions all of a sudden?” “I was just joking,” I cooed, snuggling into his chest. “I’ve been reading too many novels. I was just curious. I didn’t think you’d get so angry.” I looked up at him, my eyes wide and innocent. “If I actually got pregnant and ran away with your child, you’d probably go insane, wouldn’t you?” The arm around my waist tightened like a vise. His face was a thundercloud. “Some things are better left to the imagination.” His voice was dangerously low. “Thea, you can’t handle the consequences of my anger.” I swallowed hard, my heart hammering against my ribs, and forced a bright smile. It was clear. A simple escape was impossible. I had to find a way to die. My plan to run away was ruined. I looked at the piles of designer jewelry and bags, a wave of sadness washing over me. Three years of hard work, my entire canary empire… I couldn’t take any of it with me. I was an orphan, rejected by my own parents, forced to sell my body to survive, and the man I’d loved for three years was a monster. Now, my only way out was to fake my own death. And the worst part? I’d have to leave all my treasure behind. The thought filled me with a bitter, helpless despair. Just then, a light laugh echoed from the doorway. “She really is beautiful.” A woman stood there, looking me up and down. Her eyes lingered on the love bites on my neck. “No wonder he can’t let you go. You must be very good at what you do.” It only took me a second to realize who she was. Finn’s fiancée, Vivian Song. She and her friend sneered, their eyes raking over me like I was something dirty. In that moment, I felt a shame so profound I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. I finally understood: no matter how I tried to frame it, in their world, I was nothing more than a cheap whore being put in her place by the wife. “Don’t be scared,” Vivian said, her smile condescending. “I’m not here to break you up. As long as you’re obedient and don’t cause any trouble, you two can continue for as long as you like.” She stood there, waiting for my grateful thanks. A wave of humiliation rose in my throat, choking me. “I…” Seeing my defiant silence, her friend exploded. “Vivian is being generous, you ungrateful bitch! Who do you think you are? You’re just a slut who sells her body! You need to be taught a lesson!” “Nana!” Vivian pretended to scold her. “Nana has a temper,” she said, turning back to me, “but she’s right. A girl in your position can’t afford to have pride. If you’re going to be a mistress, you can’t think too highly of yourself.” She went on, lecturing me on the rules of being a kept woman. The more she spoke, the sicker I felt. I doubled over, dry-heaving. Long after they left, I was still shaking. If I didn’t leave Finn, this was just the beginning. If he found out I was pregnant, he would either force me to have an abortion or lock me away, forcing me to live under Vivian’s thumb, enduring her taunts while our child grew up in shame. Despair washed over me, a suffocating tide. The door opened, and Finn stumbled in, reeking of alcohol. “Miss me?” he slurred, wrapping his arms around me from behind. The smell of liquor made my stomach turn. I shoved him away. “Ugh!” He stared at me, then knelt, his hand gripping my chin. “Something’s been off with you lately. You’re always sick, moody, and now you’re throwing up.” He leaned closer, his boozy breath hot on my face. A wicked grin spread across his lips. “Thea, you’re not pregnant, are you?” My heart stopped. “Of course not,” I said, forcing a calm I didn’t feel. “If something that wonderful happened, you’d be the first to know. I just have an upset stomach.” He studied me for a long time, his eyes dark and unreadable. I finally broke the tension by snuggling into his arms. He laughed. “Why so clingy tonight?” “It would be nice if you were always this obedient,” he murmured, a strange note in his voice. “Be a good girl, and I’ll take you on a trip soon. My private island in France, skiing in Switzerland, the Northern Lights…” He fastened a glittering necklace around my neck. “There’s a jewelry auction in Italy. I’ll buy you a few more pieces. How does that sound?” I was wrapped in his warmth, but my heart was encased in ice. “That sounds wonderful,” I said, tilting my head up to kiss him. Wonderful, my ass. “I love jewelry. I want so much I can’t even wear it all.” But what was the point of having treasures you could never show off, that came at the cost of your dignity? I loved money, but only if I could spend it freely, with my head held high. A man’s words were just lies. He promised me the world, but once his wife moved in, I’d be hidden away, a dirty secret. I pushed the thoughts down and showered him with kisses. “I heard they have a new cruise on the river. I want to go.” Pleased with my sudden affection, he agreed instantly. “I’ll charter the whole yacht. We’ll spend a few days on the water.” This was it. My plan. If I was going to fake my death, it had to be convincing. Without a body, Finn would never stop looking. But if I left a body… where was I supposed to find a corpse? The river was perfect. The currents were strong. A body could easily be lost, torn apart. I knew how to survive in the water; I’d grown up by a river. My only worry was the baby. “But my child,” I whispered to my belly, “I have to save myself before I can be a mother to you. Please don’t blame me.” The day of the cruise, the weather was perfect. “A few friends are coming,” Finn said. “Vivian Song will be here. You should spend some time with her.” “Why should I?” I retorted. She was his fiancée, but I was still a person, not her entertainment. “I just thought, since you two will be seeing a lot of each other in the future, you should get to know each other…” I laughed, a cold, bitter sound. “I’m not worthy of her acquaintance.” This was his way of telling me to get used to my place. I saw Vivian approaching. They stood together, a picture-perfect couple. “She’s going to be a proper wife. What am I? Find someone else to entertain her.” I turned to walk away, but Finn grabbed my wrist. “What’s gotten into you? What are you talking about?” A wave of disgust washed over me. I ripped my arm away. “Leave me alone!” Finn’s face darkened. “Thea, it seems I’ve spoiled you too much. You’ve become ill-mannered and unpresentable.” The last bit of affection I had for him vanished. He saw my defiant silence and his words grew sharper. “Don’t forget your place! Don’t forget who’s keeping you alive!” My world tilted. My pride shattered. He was right. I was nothing. A charity case, a whore. I deserved their contempt. He thought I was unpresentable? Fine. I was about to die anyway. I took a deep breath. “I’ve always been ill-mannered. I’m not fit to be in Miss Song’s company.” Tears streamed down my face. He froze. It was the first time in three years I had cried in front of him. I walked to the edge of the deck. He didn’t follow. He was probably inside with Vivian. I climbed over the railing. The water churned below. “Thea!” Finn’s voice, raw with panic. “Don’t move! Just wait for me!” I turned and gave him one last, liberating smile. His expression shifted from anger to pure terror. “NO!” He sprinted toward me as I let go, falling into the dark water below. Splash!

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To ensure a painless childbirth, my roommate secretly activated a pain-transfer system tied to me. She gave birth silently, refusing an epidural, pretending not to hear my screams of agony. I bore all the pain, collapsing in the dorm, ignored. When I woke up, I was back on the day my roommate activated the system. “Jenna, be careful. Don’t get hurt. It would break my heart.” I agreed sweetly, then sneaked into the bathroom to draw a razor design on my wrist. My roommate shrieked, demanding to know what I was doing. I looked at her excitedly: “I don’t feel pain anymore! Tomorrow, I’m getting a full-back tattoo—no anesthesia!” 1 “Jenna, Jenna, I’m talking to you. Can’t you hear me?” The dorm curtain was yanked open. I shot up, instinctively touching my lower abdomen. No crippling pain. No tearing sensation. No gushing blood. Did I just travel back in time? Or was the last life just a nightmare? As I pondered this, I was shoved again. I looked up and saw my roommate, Bella, glaring at me. “What is wrong with you? I’ve called your name a dozen times.” Seeing her, my fists clenched. The culprit, standing right there, pretending to be innocent. “What do you want?” I asked coldly. She gave an awkward smile. “Can’t I call you just because? Jenna, we’re roommates. I should care about you.” I stared at her, maintaining my cold silence. She lost interest. “Fine. I want to tell you to watch yourself. Stop being so clumsy and hurting yourself, okay?” I immediately pulled the curtain shut. Once she left, I grabbed my phone. Seeing the date, tears instantly streamed down my face. I was a year back—before Bella got pregnant! I recalled what Bella had just said and felt a spike of suspicion. Was it already active? I made a sudden decision. I picked up my phone and slammed it hard onto my elbow. The expected pain didn’t come. Instead, a muffled cry came from outside the curtain. “Ouch! I dropped my phone!” Bella complained loudly. I pretended to grumble to myself, but I knew: Bella had already activated the pain-transfer system. Bella gritted out, her voice raised, “Can you please be more careful!” I yanked the curtain open. “Why do you care if I get hurt? Besides, even when I get hurt, I don’t feel pain. What do I have to worry about?” She was staring at me, a flicker of panic in her eyes. Her hand was pressed against her own arm. She clearly took the full hit of my minor injury. “What are you talking about? My pain? What does my lack of pain have to do with you?” Her attempt at denial was transparent. I found the whole system thing unbelievable, even if she confessed. I narrowed my eyes. She quickly changed the subject. “Let’s not make things awkward. I was just worried about you.” “You care about me?” I scoffed. I believed her once, and she dragged me into a living hell. 2 In the past life, Bella didn’t just say she cared. She often bought me knee pads and wrist guards, urging me to be careful. I thought she was a true friend. I constantly bought her cupcakes and lattes. If I ever felt slightly unwell, she was the first to notice. Sometimes, when I got a minor scrape, I didn’t even notice, but she’d be frantic. She was far more ruthless than she seemed now. When I got injured, she would quickly inflict the same injury on herself. Pain was transferred instantly, but the actual wound took an hour or two to transfer. If she didn’t match the injury, I might notice the difference. To keep me in the dark, she shadowed me constantly. I soon noticed her growing belly. “Bella, you’re pregnant? What happened?” I asked nervously. She acted nonchalant. “It’s the 21st century. So what if a college student is pregnant? The government encourages it! You guys can help me raise the baby after it’s born. It’ll be easy!” The other roommates avoided her, disgusted. But I stayed, thinking of our friendship, helping her with deliveries and meals. She acted grateful, but if I got hurt, she would lecture me on being careful. I started noticing strange stretch marks on my stomach. I posted a picture online, and people said they looked like pregnancy stretch marks. I didn’t even have a boyfriend! I complained to Bella, but she dismissed it: “You’re just fat. Those are growth marks.” As her belly grew, my body developed more strange symptoms—headaches, stomach pains. At the worst times, I’d hide in bed and cry, not knowing why. The other roommates thought I was crazy. Because of the drama and Bella’s pregnancy, they all transferred dorms. Only we were left. When Bella was ready to give birth, I begged her to go to the hospital. She refused: “I’m giving birth right here in the dorm! You stay and help me. When the baby is born, you’ll be the godmother.” Thinking of our friendship, I stayed. But when labor began, I realized the horrible truth. The tearing pain was so severe I passed out. The room felt like it was crushing me. I tried to scream for help, but my mouth was covered. My phone was smashed and thrown away. I finally looked at Bella, who was holding a newborn, smiling contentedly. “Call an ambulance! Help me!” I screamed, realizing the truth. She looked at me coldly. “Call the police? So they can arrest me? So they can find out we’re linked by pain transfer? Dream on, Jenna! I’ve had enough of you!” “Pain transfer?” I whispered, linking the pieces: the phantom injuries, the unexplained relief, the stretch marks, the pain… “Yes. You bear all my injuries. I can’t risk scarring myself; I need to look perfect.” I glared at her. “Then you let me suffer? Can’t you just not have the baby?” Her eyes flashed with greed. “I can’t not have the baby. If you knew who the father was, you’d want to keep it, too.” “The doctor said I can’t have an epidural; I have to endure it. I thought I would miss this chance, but then I got this System.” “Surprised?” she sneered, kicking me hard. She instantly paled. “Crap, I forgot. I take triple the pain for your injuries.” “You have to die, or you’ll get pregnant one day and hurt me again!” Triple the pain… My eyes lit up. I knew how to fight back. I tried to hurt myself, but I was too weak. “Why me? If you’re afraid of my pregnancy, just unlink us!” “Unlink? Do you know the cost? The next person’s pain is five times the rebound. Why would I do that?” I tried to speak, but only blood poured from my mouth. Bella smiled. “Perfect timing. You’re dying. You’re useless now.” “You poor girl. You took out loans for tuition. How did you get into the same university as me?” “I made you clean the dorm, and you had the nerve to frown! People from the countryside should have that work ethic ingrained!” “Now you’re going to die. It’s a holiday weekend. No one will find you. Die in peace.” She took her baby and walked away, leaving me to bleed out. I closed my eyes in hatred. And then I woke up. 3 Triple the pain. The thought of my small act causing Bella such agony sparked an idea. I recalled disturbing online posts and a bold plan formed in my mind. I jumped out of bed. Seeing my sudden movement, Bella screamed. “Jenna, be careful! Don’t get hurt! I’ll be worried about you!” She rushed over, giving me a cookie to look concerned. I took it, eating it instantly. I pretended to agree, then grabbed a box cutter and slipped into the bathroom. I mimicked the gestures of performance artists, making superficial cuts on my wrist. Just superficial cuts. The blood flowed, but it wasn’t deep. As expected, I felt no pain. According to my last life, the wounds would vanish soon. As I made the third cut, she couldn’t take it anymore. A sharp scream came from outside the bathroom door. Bella pounded frantically. “Jenna, what are you doing! Come out!” 4 I kept working on the design. Bella shrieked outside. She couldn’t take it. I heard her collapse outside the door. I made a few more cuts, just to be sure. Then I unlocked the door. I knelt by Bella. “Bella, why are you lying on the floor? You can’t sleep here.” She slowly opened her eyes, unable to move. Her lips were white. “What were you doing inside…” I played innocent. “I was just doing a little art. I hate the color red, but I’ve fallen in love with blood.” I reached for the box cutter. Bella scrambled up, grabbing my hand. “Don’t!” “Don’t worry about me. I’m calling 911 for you.” I pulled out my phone. “Don’t call! I’m fine!” she whispered. I looked at her skeptically. Bella slowly stood up. Her left arm was limp; she didn’t dare move it. Her right hand’s nails were digging into her palm. I felt a sharp pain in my own palm. Compared to the pain of childbirth, this was nothing. I helped Bella onto her bed. She regained some color and snapped: “You’re crazy! What are you doing?” I shook my head, feigning innocence, and returned to the bathroom. Bella shrieked: “Jenna! Get out here!” But I was just cleaning up the blood. I wasn’t going to scare the other two roommates. Seeing my silence, Bella finally calmed down. She had no idea that this was only the beginning. 5 The next day, Bella wore a long-sleeved top, even though it was the peak of summer. Her strange attire drew attention. “Bella, why the long sleeves?” our roommate Amy asked. Bella quickly covered her arm. “It’s for sun protection.” I put on my own cooling sleeves. As I walked out, Bella glared at me. She followed me. When I entered the elective class, she finally confronted me. “We’re not in the same class. Why are you following me?” She immediately reached for my pockets. “I need to check you don’t have anything weird. You might hurt yourself!” The classroom was full. I raised my voice. “Are you my mother? Why are you so controlling?” Everyone stared at Bella. “Isn’t that Bella? I heard she treats her roommates like servants.” “She’s so controlling! Her roommate is so unlucky!” Bella, who cares about her image, recoiled. “Jenna, you better behave! I don’t want you doing anything weird!” She rushed out. I sat down, ignoring the pitying looks. This elective class was a joke; you just signed in and could sleep or play games. I immediately contacted a professional piercer. “I want eight piercings on my ear, some on the cartilage, and a bridge piercing. I also want a septum piercing, like Indian women.” “I want them all. No anesthesia. Make it hurt.” The piercer was skeptical. “Are you messing with me?” I explained. “I’m joining the alternative culture. Piercings are cool. Everywhere.” The piercer sighed. “Fine. You’ll sign a waiver.” I screenshotted the appointment and posted it on my school-only social media. “The world kisses me with pain.” Less than a minute later, the classroom door burst open. Bella was screaming. “Jenna! What are you trying to do!” The professor glared. “What is all this noise? Are you in this class?” Bella ignored him, rushing toward me. She grabbed my phone. “Are you sick? You can’t get piercings without permission!” The other students quickly pulled out their phones to record. I played dumb. “Why do you care if I get piercings? Bella, are you okay? You try to search me, and now you try to control my body!” Bella noticed the cameras and lowered her voice. “I’m worried about scarring! You have keloid tendencies!” “I don’t know anything about that! Give me my phone back, or I’ll call the police!” Bella returned the phone and was kicked out by the professor. Five minutes later, an anonymous post about Bella’s bizarre behavior appeared on the campus wall.

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Chapter 1 My roommate’s shirt was always soaked during freshman orientation, and it always smelled faintly of sweet peach. Seeing every guy on campus—even the wealthy class president—go wild for it, my roommate, Brooke, was thrilled. I recognized it immediately: it was the discharge from a rare form of skin cancer. I urged her to get medical help fast. My roommate called me jealous, but, uneasy, she secretly checked it out. The result was cancer. She had to undergo a double mastectomy to save her life. Without the “peach scent,” the rich class president, Brandon, who was obsessed with her, never looked at her again. Her entire cohort of admirers vanished. My roommate couldn’t handle the fall from grace. She blamed it all on me. “If you hadn’t been nosy, making your mom cut off my breasts, Brandon never would have dumped me!” She shoved me into a septic ditch and drowned me alive, laughing hysterically. Even my mother, the surgical expert who performed her operation, was dragged through a social media smear campaign, fired from the hospital, and died of depression. I opened my eyes, finding myself back on the exact day my roommate’s “peach scent” first became known. … “What is that smell? It’s amazing!” My roommate, Brooke Scott, walked into the dorm carrying a bag of snacks. She inhaled deeply, her eyes wide with excitement. “Is that a peach perfume? Or a new energy drink?” Then, she spotted the open yogurt bottle on Layla’s desk. “Smells delicious! Let me try some first!” Before Layla could say yes, Brooke grabbed the bottle and gulped down a huge mouthful. The next second, the expression on her face froze. She bent over, retching violently. “What the hell is this?! It tastes awful!” Layla rolled her eyes and muttered, “Some people wish they had some!” Brooke’s face went pale. “Layla! Are you trying to poison me?!” “If I die, I’m taking you with me!” She rushed to the bathroom, desperately trying to gag herself. Watching this familiar scene unfold, I confirmed that I had indeed been reborn. The suffocating sensation of drowning in the putrid water in my past life felt terrifyingly close. “Patrice! It’s all your fault, you jinx! If you hadn’t interfered, making your mom cut off my breasts, Brandon never would have left me! All those guys wouldn’t have avoided me!” “You ruined my chance at a rich life! You deserve to die!” The person who killed me was my roommate, Layla Reed. In my past life, I recognized that the liquid oozing from her chest, which all the boys on campus went crazy for, wasn’t some kind of innate body fragrance. It was the discharge from an extremely rare, aggressive form of breast cancer! I urged her to seek treatment immediately and had my mother, a surgical specialist, take care of her. She called me jealous but secretly went for a checkup. She was diagnosed with cancer and had to have a double mastectomy to survive. Once her ‘peach milk’ scent was gone, the rich class president, Brandon Hayes, who had been madly obsessed with her, immediately dumped her. All the guys who had hovered around her vanished without a trace. She blamed me for all of her failures and resentment. She stubbornly believed that I was jealous of the attention she got from Brandon and that I conspired with my mother to intentionally remove the source of her charm. But I’m back. I’ve returned to the exact moment her peach-scented secret was first discovered, triggering a dorm conflict. In my last life, seeing Brooke accidentally drink the “peach milk” and throw up violently. I rushed over to hold her, demanding that Layla take her to the hospital immediately, genuinely worried Brooke had been poisoned by an unknown substance. I never imagined my concern would plant a seed of hatred in Layla. And when the truth came out about her cancer, Brooke never spoke up for me once. She joined the keyboard warriors, kicking me while I was down. A cold laugh escaped me. I spoke up. “Brooke, what’s with the attitude? Layla didn’t do it on purpose.” “Besides, who told you to be a greedy pig and drink it without asking?” Chapter 2 Brooke froze, looking at me in disbelief. “She leaves this disgusting mess on the table and makes me drink it! And you’re defending her?!” “Patrice, are you crazy?” I smiled. “Brooke, you can’t talk like that. Layla said it was an accident. And anyway,” I paused, glancing at Layla’s chest, “this peach-scented body fragrance is something many people would kill for. It’s certainly better than some people’s sweaty stench, right?” Layla saw me take her side, and her eyes lit up. “Exactly! I didn’t mean to! Patrice is right, this smell is lovely!” “I think you’re just jealous of me, Brooke!” She rolled her eyes spitefully at Brooke. Brooke was completely enraged. She pointed at Layla and me. “You… you…” she stammered for a long time, unable to form a coherent curse. Finally, she stomped her foot and stormed out, covered in vomit. Seeing Brooke leave, Layla smirked and pulled something out from the back of her closet. My pupils narrowed. It was that light pink bra. It was lace-trimmed, with a slightly sexy design. I’d bought it online during my freshman year, looking for a bargain. I quickly found the underwire dug painfully and the straps were too thin. I tossed it to the bottom of my drawer and never touched it again. Now, it was in Layla’s hands. And there was a small, unmistakable pink stain on it! When I discovered this in my past life, I was sickened and confronted her, demanding why she stole my things. That fight became one of the reasons she later decided to kill me. This time, seeing her hold up the bra, she asked me coyly, “Patrice, I want to take a few photos wearing this bra and post them in the freshman group chat. What do you think?” I immediately put on the most genuine smile, exaggeratedly praising it. “That bra is perfect for you! The color, the design—it’s tailor-made for your style! It’s sexy but still innocent!” “It really highlights your best assets! If Brandon sees it, he’ll be completely hooked!” I knew she wanted to use this to attract more male attention. In my last life, she blamed me for ruining her dating prospects. In this life, I would ensure she got exactly what she wished for. Layla’s face flushed with excitement. “Really, Patrice? You think it looks good?” “Of course!” I nodded emphatically, decisive and convincing. At that moment, our other neutral roommate, Jen Wu, suddenly spoke up. “Patrice, why does that bra look like yours? Didn’t you say it was uncomfortable and put it away?” “Did Layla steal it?” Layla’s smile froze instantly. I quickly put on a sincere expression, covering for Layla. “Oh! That one! It does look similar, but mine was such cheap quality; I don’t know where I threw it. ” “The one Layla has looks much higher quality than mine! Besides, if Layla likes it, what’s the big deal if I give it to her? Good things should go to the person who suits them best, right?” The alarm in Layla’s eyes instantly turned into wild joy. She seized the opportunity, lifting her chin at Jen. “Exactly! Jen, what are you talking about? Patrice said it’s a gift!” “Besides, this bra has a big cup size. Patrice could never fill it out.” “If you talk nonsense again, you’ll regret it!” Layla rushed into the bathroom to try it on, desperate to prove Jen wrong. As she closed the door, I quickly started packing my things, planning to move out immediately. The peach-milk scent in the dorm was sickly sweet. It made me nauseous. If I stayed any longer, I’d definitely be implicated. I hadn’t even finished packing when Layla discovered me. Chapter 3 “Lana? What are you doing? You’re not moving out, are you?” Layla yanked open the bathroom door, half-emerging. She had indeed changed into the cheap underwear. The low-quality lace strained to contain her noticeably swollen chest. The straps were pitifully thin, digging into her flesh. The pink spots below her collarbone seemed more obvious under the light, like a small, spreading patch of mold. A barely perceptible tension was on her face. She was probably afraid her only ally was abandoning her. I stopped packing, my eyes shifting. I put on a look of professional awkwardness. “Well, I have a rare skin condition. It’s not serious, but I can’t risk passing it to you guys in a crowded dorm…” Layla instinctively stepped back. The tension on her face instantly shifted to alarm. “A skin condition?” “Yes,” I sighed, looking genuinely helpless. “But if you don’t mind, I don’t have to move out…” Layla quickly interrupted me. Though she pretended to be concerned, her tone screamed get out now. “Oh, you should definitely move out! Go back when you’re cured! A skin condition is serious! Your health comes first! We’ll wait for you!” I sneered inwardly. The truly sick one was standing there in stolen underwear, dreaming of seducing a rich boy. Before leaving with my luggage, I pretended to be gossipy, leaning in toward Layla, who was posing provocatively for a selfie. “Oh, by the way, I heard Brandon is planning something big!” Layla’s eyes lit up. “What? Tell me, tell me!” Jen also leaned in. I decided to keep them in suspense, saying slowly, “The guys in the dorm were talking. Brandon apparently ordered nine thousand roses! He’s going to propose to a girl!” “I bet the goddess is right here with us. After all, anyone who warrants that kind of spectacle has to have something particularly appealing, right?” I deliberately glanced at Layla’s swollen chest. Layla’s face turned crimson with excitement. She covered her mouth, her voice trembling. “Really?! Nine thousand roses?! Oh my God! It has to be for me!” “Patrice, you’re my good luck charm! I need to get ready now! I’m going to be the dazzling main character tonight!” She rushed to her closet, frantically searching for the perfect outfit. “Which one? This one’s too plain. This one doesn’t show off my figure enough. Ah! This sheer one! Paired with the bra Patrice gifted me, Brandon will definitely…” Watching her excited back, Jen gave a look of undisguised contempt, her fingers flying across her phone screen. The next second, my phone vibrated. “Are you serious? Brandon is proposing to her? With nine thousand roses? Who are you kidding? Her? The weirdo with that gross disease and whatever’s leaking out of her? Is Brandon blind?” I replied quietly. “Who knows? A crazy rich kid with a bizarre obsession and a weirdo with ‘peach milk’—they sound like a match made in heaven. Two of a kind. Let’s watch the show!” I was eager to see if, this time, without my interference, she could actually realize her dream and snag a rich boy. Chapter 4 The school’s main plaza was already packed by evening. Brandon Hayes, wearing a well-tailored white suit, walked toward Layla, who stood in a sea of flowers, holding a huge bouquet of red roses. Layla had definitely taken my advice. She wore a nearly transparent black lace camisole, with my low-quality lace bra underneath! I couldn’t tell if it was my imagination, but her face looked flushed, almost sickly. She was walking strangely, occasionally holding her chest, as if enduring some discomfort. The crowd roared in excitement. “Nine thousand roses! So romantic!” “Layla looks so hot tonight! Brandon is gorgeous!” Hearing the praise, Layla’s face was beaming. The pain seemed to lessen. She tilted her chin up, waiting for Brandon to approach, ready for her spotlight moment. But the obsession and eagerness on Brandon’s face froze the moment he got close to her. He smelled it. The stench emanating from Layla—a mix of sickly sweet and rotten—was nothing like the previous “peach scent.” It made sense; Layla’s condition was much worse now. And with the high temperature, how could she still smell like a mild, early-stage infection? She was actively rotting. Brandon’s facial muscles twitched. He instinctively stepped back, covering his nose. His voice held a barely concealed disgust. “What is that smell?” Layla’s smile instantly froze. She instinctively covered the increasingly dark and widespread pink stain on her chest. “I… Brandon, let me explain…” But before she could finish, something erupted from her chest. Followed by a ripping sound. The cheap, strained lace bra suddenly split open. The two bulging mounds, covered in large, dark red patches and visible subcutaneous veins, were violently exposed to everyone! Countless eyes shifted from curious envy to shock and disbelief, finally settling on a look of indescribable horror, mixed with disgust and fear! Then, under everyone’s horrified gaze, the infected areas—several extremely swollen, translucent pustules at the center of the dark red skin—began to burst sequentially! A large stream of pinkish-white fluid, mixed with clumps of pus and blood, and carrying a nauseating, potent odor of decay, violently sprayed out! The primary target was Brandon, standing closest to her! He was completely drenched, head to toe, in the scalding, foul-smelling, decaying pus! A few drops even splashed into his widely agape mouth. Brandon froze on the spot.

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Seven months pregnant, I found a hidden compartment in Philip Hayne’s study. Inside was an expired asset transfer agreement. Twenty percent of the Hayne Corporation’s shares, valued in the billions, plus three overseas manors and a private island. All of it, gifted to my stepsister, Stella Monroe. No strings attached. When Philip and I got married, all he gave me was a prenuptial agreement. “It’s a business merger, a formality,” he’d said, his tone casual. “Just sign it.” I signed. And I walked into the Hayne family with nothing to my name. Ten years of marriage, and I still don’t even know his bank account password. “Who gave you permission to be in my study?” Philip’s voice, sharp and cold as ice, cut through the silence from the doorway. I turned to face the man I had loved for fifteen years. No tears, no hysterics. Just a quiet, steady voice. “Philip. I want a divorce.” He strode into the room, snatched the papers from my hand, and threw them to the floor, the pages scattering like fallen leaves. “This is ancient history. Is it really worth making a scene over?” He didn’t even bother to explain. He just raged, telling me to get out. And so I did. I calmly left the study, picked up my phone, and made a call to the hospital. “Hello, I’d like to schedule an appointment to terminate a pregnancy for next week.” 1 The confirmation text arrived a moment later. Staring at the appointment time on the screen, a violent cramp seized my abdomen. I leaned against the bedroom wall, sliding slowly to the floor, fighting back the tears as I messaged my lawyer. His call came instantly. “Mrs. Hayne, are you absolutely certain? You want to walk away from all marital assets, with nothing?” he pressed. “Under the law, especially during a pregnancy, you’re entitled to at least…” Marital assets? A bitter laugh escaped my lips. There were no marital assets. Philip’s stock appreciation over the years was all held in proxies. Every property he owned was notarized before our wedding. My name had never once appeared on the list of beneficiaries for his family trust. He’d told me casually, the day we got engaged, that he’d never marry a woman with her hand out. That he wouldn’t give away what he’d fought so hard to build just because of a marriage certificate. At the time, I thought he was just bitter that my father had forced his hand. I knew how hard he’d battled his half-brothers, the illegitimate ones, to inherit the Hayne Corporation. So I obediently signed my name, over and over, on a thick stack of documents, waiving my rights to everything. I thought one day he would see me, truly see me, and let go of his resentment. It wasn’t until I saw that asset transfer agreement that I realized what a fool I’d been. The items on this transfer agreement matched, one for one, the list of assets I had signed away at the notary’s office all those years ago. It wasn’t that he was unwilling to share. It was just that the wife he wanted to share it with was never me. “Mr. Davies,” I cut him off, my voice steady despite the trembling in my hand. “Please prepare the divorce papers. My only condition is that I leave with nothing.” When I hung up, my hand was still shaking. Not from hesitation. From rage. Ten years of marriage. A long, elaborate con. And I had been the willing, idiotic mark for every single day of it. The password to the hidden compartment in Philip’s study was Stella’s birthday. He was willing to give Stella everything he owned, yet the credit card he gave me had a monthly limit that never exceeded five hundred dollars. Even when I was seven months pregnant, sick and dizzy from morning sickness, he was with Stella, hosting her private art exhibition. And the cruelest joke of all? I was the one who designed their love nest. Three months ago, Philip brought me the blueprints for a villa, forcing me to work despite the crippling nausea of my pregnancy. “A friend is gifting his partner a villa,” he’d said. “I need you to design it to the highest standard, as quickly as possible.” Now I see it. The “friend” was him. And the looping, ostentatious signature on the resident line, “S.M.”, was for Stella Monroe. The divorce papers arrived that evening. Mr. Davies tried one last time. “Mrs. Hayne, at least keep the money you’ve earned yourself…” I shook my head. Philip had never contributed a single cent to our household expenses. Every penny I earned went into running our home. Looking back, I suppose in his eyes, I really was cheap. As I signed my name, the baby kicked violently, as if in protest, or perhaps, in comfort. This time, I couldn’t stop the tears. I finally broke down and cried. 2 With Mr. Davies’ help, I rented an apartment that same afternoon. I wasn’t picky about the location or the size; I just needed to get out. It was eight o’clock by the time I returned to the Hayne villa. The fatigue of pregnancy made it hard to even stand upright, but I cooked one last dinner. Four dishes and a soup, all Philip’s favorites. After ten years, I knew his tastes better than my own. No matter how it ended, I wanted to part ways gracefully. Fifteen years was a long time. But Philip didn’t come home until one in the morning. He reeked of Stella’s signature perfume, and a garish smear of lipstick stained his collar. I watched him loosen his tie and noticed, for the first time, that his ring finger was bare. I don’t know when it happened, but he had taken off his wedding ring. He glanced at the untouched, cold dinner on the table, his brow furrowing in that familiar, irritated way. There was no warmth in his eyes, only undisguised impatience. “What’s with the martyr act now? You think this will make me give in?” He tossed his jacket onto the sofa and started for the stairs without a single look in my direction. “Philip,” I called out, my voice so calm it surprised even me. “The divorce papers are on the table. Sign them.” He stopped, his foot hovering over the first step. When he turned, the sarcasm in his eyes was practically dripping. “Because of some expired, useless piece of paper? Elara, when did you become so irrational?” “Your father used the fact that he saved my life to force me to marry you. I had no choice.” “Stella’s heart is weak. I just wanted to give her a blessing, a gesture, that’s all!” A blessing? A gesture? How ridiculous. Two weightless words to dismiss all my pain and suffering. I finally understood. The chasm between us for the past decade wasn’t about anything else. It was simply that he had never loved me. Fifteen years ago, on a rainy night, he was being hunted by his half-brothers. I was the one who hid him in a storage closet for three whole days. I was the one who snuck him food and medicine, nearly getting beaten to death for it. He was the one who held my hand and whispered, “Elara, wait for me. When I take control of the Hayne family, I’ll marry you with all the honor you deserve.” And he did take control, with ruthless efficiency. But he “honored” me with nothing more than a cold, calculating prenuptial agreement. “Philip,” I said, cradling my belly as I slowly pushed myself to my feet. “So you do remember that you owe me your life.” He flinched, then let out a cold laugh. “Oh, so now we’re keeping score? Fine. Name your price. How much do you want?” Name my price. A bitter smile touched my lips. The last warm corner of my heart finally turned to ice. “That won’t be necessary, Philip. I’m truly done with this relationship.” “By nine o’clock tomorrow morning, I want to see those signed divorce papers on the living room table.” I used every ounce of my strength to keep my voice from breaking. Without waiting to see his reaction, I turned and walked upstairs. Behind me, I heard the crash of something breaking and his furious, strangled roar. “Elara Thorne! You’d better not regret this!” Regret? My only regret was opening that storage closet door fifteen years ago. 3 When I came downstairs the next morning, the living room was empty. The divorce papers had been torn to shreds, scattered like confetti across the expensive, hand-woven rug. My heart seized at the sight of the confetti, then settled back into a numb calm. This was Philip’s answer, then. He wouldn’t deign to explain, but he wouldn’t let me go either. My phone screen lit up with a new message. From Stella. She had re-added me on social media about a month ago. Her first message was: Sister, long time no see! I’m back. Philip picked me up from the airport. He hasn’t changed a bit. 🙂 Since then, my phone had become a live stream of her happiness. A photo of Philip’s back as they viewed an art exhibit. A candid shot of him putting food on her plate. A picture taken from inside his car, with a deliberate shot of her slender leg… And yesterday, she sent a voice message. In the background, I could clearly hear Philip’s impatient voice on another call. “Elara? Don’t worry about her. She’s always making a big deal out of nothing. Just focus on the art.” The latest message had arrived just ten minutes ago. It was a picture. Philip, asleep in her bed, his face peaceful in profile. The bedding was a familiar star-themed set from her bedroom. The caption read: Sister, I heard you went into Philip’s study and made him angry? Sigh, that old agreement was just something he drew up to comfort me when I was sick a long time ago. It’s not valid anymore. Please don’t misunderstand. By the way, you really do look like I used to, especially your eyes. Philip said he noticed it the very first time he saw you. Oh, and how’s the baby? Philip said he hopes the baby has my eyes. A wave of cold nausea rose in my throat. I ran to the bathroom and retched violently. The morning sickness had never been this bad. I gripped the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror—pale face, red-rimmed eyes. These eyes… he liked them because they looked like hers? A fifteen-year love affair, a ten-year marriage, all born from one man’s unrequited love for another woman. And I was just the cheap, convenient substitute. The tears finally fell, hot and heavy. With a trembling hand, I replied to Stella. You always did love picking up my leftovers. You can have them. Philip included. Message sent. A second later, my phone rang. It was Philip. I didn’t answer. I declined the call and blocked his number. The world went quiet. I clutched my tightening stomach, taking deep breaths, forcing myself to be calm. This was no time for grief. I called a moving company and began to pack my things. My clothes, my design sketches, the simple kitchenware I’d bought… Everything that was mine, everything that bore my mark, I packed into boxes. As for the expensive jewelry, the gowns, the designer bags—they were all things Philip had purchased to maintain the image of “Mrs. Hayne.” I didn’t take a single one. The wedding ring I’d taken off lay on the dresser, cold and forgotten. The movers were quick. In no time, a dozen boxes were loaded onto their truck. Before I left, I took one last look at the villa I had called home for a decade. Ornate, cold, and meticulously crafted. A beautiful cage. And I was finally being set free. The new apartment was small, but it was filled with sunlight. It took me the entire day to unpack and settle in. My body ached, a dull weight pulling at my lower abdomen, but my heart felt strangely light. That evening, I received a text from an unknown number. It was Philip. Elara, come home. Now. We can pretend none of this ever happened. Stella isn’t well. Stop harassing her. And you will have this child. The Hayne bloodline cannot be abandoned. I stared at the message, a laugh bubbling up that was half sob. Even now, all he cared about was Stella’s feelings and the Hayne bloodline. My pain, my life, my death—none of it mattered. I didn’t reply. I deleted the message and blocked the new number. 4 The day before the scheduled procedure, I went to the hospital for a final check-up. In the ultrasound room, the technician squeezed cold gel onto my belly and moved the probe gently across my skin. “The baby is very healthy,” she said, pointing to the screen. “See, there’s a little hand, and there’s a foot…” The tiny figure on the screen was wiggling. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. My voice cracked. “Doctor, if I… if I go through with the induction, will the baby feel it?” The older female doctor adjusted her glasses, her expression complicated. “At this stage, a termination is very hard on the mother’s body. And yes… the baby can feel pain.” She placed her hand gently on my stomach. “Are you sure you want to give up? He seems like a very active little one.” I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. Walking out of the examination room, I felt like I was floating. At the end of the long hospital corridor, I saw the last person I ever wanted to see. Philip. Standing there in a pristine suit, every inch the powerful CEO of the Hayne Corporation. “Come back with me,” he said, grabbing my wrist. His grip was so tight I thought the bones might snap. “Stop this nonsense.” “Nonsense?” I looked up at him. “You think this is nonsense, Philip?” “That agreement is expired and void,” he said, his voice laced with impatience. “Stella’s heart is weak, I just wanted to give her a blessing—” “So I’m just collateral damage in your epic love story?” I yanked my hand away. “Philip, do you remember our first anniversary? I had a fever of 104. You said you were too busy to come home. Later, I saw pictures on Stella’s social media of the two of you skiing in Switzerland.” “Our third anniversary. You said you had a board meeting. I saw your car in the background of one of Stella’s selfies.” “Every single one of my prenatal appointments, you said you were busy. But you had time to go to art galleries with her, buy her jewelry, celebrate every one of her birthdays.” I listed his betrayals, one by one, my voice as calm as if I were telling someone else’s story. Philip’s face finally changed. “You… you knew all along?” “I never said anything. I just kept telling myself to give you one more chance, to trust you one more time.” I smiled, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “It wasn’t until I saw that agreement that I understood what a complete and utter fool I’ve been.” He was silent. For the first time, I saw something that looked like guilt in his eyes. But it was too late. It was all far too late. “I’m going to have this baby,” I said softly. “But he will have nothing to do with you.” “From this day forward, my child and I have no connection to Philip Hayne.” With that, I turned and walked away. He didn’t follow. For the next few days, I cut off all contact with the outside world, resting in my apartment. Mr. Davies called to inform me that Philip was refusing to sign the divorce papers. “Mrs. Hayne, if you insist on a divorce, we’ll have to file a lawsuit. However, given that you’re pregnant, the court will likely push for mediation.” “Furthermore,” he added, his tone hesitant, “Mr. Hayne has made it clear that if you proceed with a lawsuit, he will use every resource at his disposal to gain full custody of the child.” I held the phone, silent for a long time. I knew he could do it. He had the money and the power. I had nothing but the baby in my womb. “Mr. Davies, how long would a contested divorce take?” “If he fights it and uses his resources, it could drag on for years.” Years? I couldn’t wait years. My child couldn’t be born into that kind of turmoil and uncertainty. I had to make Philip agree to the divorce. I had to. 5 As I was racking my brain, the doorbell rang. It was Stella, dressed in a white cashmere dress that made her look fragile and innocent. She was holding an elegant thermos. I opened the door but didn’t invite her in. “What do you want?” “Sister, I knew you’d be here.” She smiled sweetly, trying to push her way inside. “Philip was so worried about you, he asked me to check in. I brought you some bird’s nest soup. Pregnancy is hard, you need to take care of yourself.” I blocked the doorway. “Thank you, but I don’t need it. You can go.” Her smile faltered for a second before being replaced by a wounded expression. “Sister, are you still mad at me? There’s really nothing going on between Philip and me. He just looks out for me…” “Whatever is or isn’t going on between you two has nothing to do with me,” I cut her off coldly. “I’m divorcing him. Soon you can have him look out for you all you want, officially.” A flash of triumph flickered in her eyes, quickly masked by concern. “Sister, don’t be so rash! A child needs a father. Besides, Philip said he wants you to have the baby…” Her words trailed off as I snapped my head up to stare at her. “He wants me to have the baby? And then what? Give him to you to raise?” My glare seemed to startle her. She took a half-step back. “Sister, why would you think that? I just feel so sorry for the baby. If my health was better, if I could have children of my own, Philip wouldn’t have to…” She left the sentence hanging, but the unspoken words were more vicious than any blade, piercing through all my defenses. So that was it. That was why he refused to divorce me, why he was so insistent I keep this child. Because the substitute had finally become a disappointment, and his one true love was infertile. So he needed me, the woman who looked like her, to give birth to a child with her eyes, to complete their perfect little dream. A tidal wave of disgust and absurdity crashed over me. I couldn’t hold back any longer. I snatched the thermos from her hand and hurled it at her. The warm soup splattered all over her pristine dress. She shrieked and jumped back. “Get out!” I pointed at the stairs, my entire body shaking. “And you tell Philip Hayne, he wants my child? He can have him over my dead body!” Stella looked down at her ruined dress, the fragile mask finally cracking to reveal a venomous sneer. “Elara, don’t be so ungrateful! Philip wants this baby, and you are going to deliver it! Do you really think you have any choice in the matter?”

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