Category: English

1 My best friend, Ben, finally stopped laughing long enough to send me the picture of the man my wife was leaving me for. The reason for his half-hour-long laughing fit wasn’t just the affair itself. It was because her new man wasn’t some decorated four-star general, nor was he a billionaire CEO with a summer home in the Hamptons. He was a motor pool driver, nearly forty, who was my inferior in every conceivable way—education, background, and appearance. At first, I thought it had to be a sick April Fool’s joke. But when I confronted Eleanor with the photo, she calmly produced a set of divorce papers. “I failed you in the first half of my life, Ethan,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion. “I can’t fail Liam in the second.” Her next words were a clean, brutal slice: “You can have the assets. I’m choosing him.” My own expression remained flat. I pulled out my phone, opened the calculator app, and did a quick tally of our properties, stock portfolio, and luxury cars. Then, I signed the papers with a steady hand. “I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.” … Exactly twenty-eight minutes had passed from the moment Eleanor confessed her affair to the moment I handed her the signed divorce agreement. According to our terms, the military base housing assigned to us and my related base privileges would remain under my control. She would pay me a one-time settlement of three million dollars in compensation and child support. From that day forward, our son and I would have no further contact with her. When I handed her the papers, Eleanor was in the middle of a video conference, a strategic briefing of some kind. The two silver stars on each of her shoulders gleamed under the lamplight as she glanced up, her eyes catching the words “Divorce Agreement.” She held up a hand, pausing the meeting. “One moment,” she told the screen, before turning her gaze to me. She gave a curt nod, a silent acknowledgment, and I left her study. To speed things along, I packed all of her personal belongings myself. Five large suitcases in total. I was meticulous, not wanting to miss a thing. I even cleared out the storage room, carefully packing away the medals and commendations from her years at West Point. The last thing I saw was the wedding photo hanging on the wall. In it, Eleanor stood tall and proud in her dress uniform, while I, in a crisp white suit, held her tightly in a sun-dappled birch forest. Back then, her arms were always wrapped around me, her voice a warm whisper in my ear. “I’ll love you forever, Ethan.” “Marrying you was the luckiest day of my life.” We met at West Point. She was a freshly commissioned officer, and I, despite having my own share of admirers, fell for her instantly. She was independent, honorable, and beautiful—everything I wasn’t, everything I admired. We married right after graduation, and I watched as she climbed the ranks, from a junior officer all the way to Major General. To support her meteoric rise, I put my own ambitions on hold, becoming the perfect military spouse. I managed our home, our life, and took care of her with unwavering devotion. As her rank increased, so did the frequency of her field exercises and deployments. I filled my days with grocery runs and gym sessions, maintaining my physique while she was away. But she never neglected us. No matter how exhausted she was, she’d come home and help our son with his homework, take walks with me, and use her influence to smooth over the petty politics of base housing. To everyone else, we were the model military couple. I don’t know when it started, but her “weekend exercises” began to stretch, sometimes bleeding into entire weeks where she was completely off the grid. Ben had even joked about it. “Man, you better keep an eye on her. Things can change.” I’d brushed it off, but a seed of doubt had been planted. I’d dropped off documents for her at the base a few times. Everything seemed normal. Her staff officers were always buried in work, and that man—Liam Carter—was always there in the background, driving his truck between departments, delivering supplies, occasionally lending a hand. He was a man approaching forty, not handsome by any means. He wore his uniform well, his hair cut in a sharp military buzz, and he spoke with a friendly, Midwestern sort of charm. He’d even poured me a cup of tea once, polite and unassuming. Over the years, I had braced myself for this possibility. I’d pictured her leaving me for a general’s son, a handsome young captain, or even a dashing war correspondent. The one person I never considered was the truck driver from the motor pool. I’d heard he had been married once before, to another soldier. This was his first job after the divorce, and he was known for his work ethic. He volunteered for extra shifts, was friendly to everyone, and his colleagues liked him. Some of them even asked him to pick up groceries for them on his runs. I remember telling Eleanor about it once, saying he seemed like a hardworking guy and that she should look out for him. Her response was always cool, detached. “The military doesn’t run on favors, Ethan. I’ve already told my staff to stop asking him for personal errands.” At the time, I thought she was just being a stern, by-the-book General. Looking back, I realize she was probably just upset that Liam had to run errands for others after a long day of work. The reason she chose today to confess was simple. I had made her a bowl of warm soup, a ritual for whenever she returned late from an exercise. She stared at the bowl, her brow furrowed slightly, then gently pushed it away. After a long silence, she looked up at me, her eyes clouded with weariness, and asked if we could get a divorce. She admitted it had been going on for three months. She’d been using the breaks between her field exercises to meet him. My heart felt like it had been pierced by a thousand tiny needles, but I forced myself to maintain my composure. I asked who it was. When she said the name “Liam Carter,” I was sure I was hearing things. A wave of numbness washed over me, a strange, aching paralysis that spread through my limbs. 2 By the time Eleanor finished her meeting and came out of the study, I had finished my workout, ironed my uniform for the next day, and was sitting on the balcony, reading a book. As if nothing had happened. She went to the bedroom to change and, out of habit, called out from the walk-in closet when she found it empty. “Ethan, where are my Class A’s?” I didn’t turn around. “Packed. Wear yesterday’s uniform if you don’t mind. You’ll be throwing it out soon enough anyway.” A long, heavy silence was her only reply. When she emerged, she finally saw the five suitcases stacked neatly by the front door. She came and sat beside me, her finger tapping the divorce agreement on the table. “The settlement… I’ll transfer two million now. The rest will be in installments—” I cut her off. “No. I want it all at once.” I paused, then added, “I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to have any lingering ties to me.” A flicker of confusion crossed her face. “He’s my son too, Ethan. I have a right to be part of his life.” “I know I’m in the wrong,” she continued, her voice gaining a defensive edge. “I’m willing to compensate you, but don’t you dare use our son as a bargaining chip.” I set down my book and looked her straight in the eye. “You’re the one who had the affair. The settlement and child support are what I’m owed. Considering your income, keeping the house is hardly greedy of me. As for our son, I’m the one who’s been there for him his entire life. He’s a sensitive boy who needs attention. How much of yourself can you honestly give him while you’re in the throes of a new romance? Being a parent is about more than just money. It takes time and patience.” She was speechless, cornered by the truth. Finally, she managed, “Regardless, I won’t let three million dollars sever my relationship with my son.” I picked up the agreement. “The three million is for the settlement and his upbringing. If you want to provide anything extra, you can transfer it directly to his trust fund. I’ll have a separate account set up for him.” A cold, bitter laugh escaped her lips. “I never knew you were so obsessed with money, Ethan. It’s all you talk about.” “And what about love?” I shot back, my voice dangerously quiet. “What good did that do me?” She had nothing left to say. Her face was a grim mask as she snatched a pen and signed the papers. She then informed me we had an appointment at the base’s Legal Assistance Office tomorrow to file the official application. With that, she called for her aide to come collect her things. I finished arranging a vase of flowers and went to bed. When I woke the next morning, she was already gone. Our son, Leo, came running out of his room and jumped into my arms, chattering excitedly about a dream he’d had about visiting the Air and Space Museum. As I listened, I gently tested the waters. “Mommy has a really important training exercise coming up. She might be away for a little while.” Usually, this news would be met with tears and protests. But this time, he just grabbed his tablet to video call her. “Mommy, when are you coming home?” he asked. “I’m going to be busy for a while, sweetie,” her voice came through the speaker. He just nodded, his little lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s okay. As long as I have Dad, it’s enough.” My composure shattered. My throat closed up, and I couldn’t speak. Making an excuse about breakfast, I fled to the kitchen, fighting back tears. Agreeing to the divorce was painful, but the guilt of not being able to give my son a complete family was what truly gutted me. Even though I knew I wasn’t the one who broke it. After dropping Leo off at school, I met Eleanor at the legal office. We filed the paperwork. Thirty days. In thirty days, we’d have the final decree, and it would all be over. 3 I had just gotten back to the house when a message popped up from a young clerk in Eleanor’s unit named Sam. He was a cheerful, outgoing kid, the kind everyone liked. He asked if I was busy. When I said I wasn’t, he launched right in. Are you and the General getting a divorce? I didn’t deny it. Is it because of Liam Carter? I didn’t answer. I figured Eleanor must have told people. Seeing my silence, Sam sent a string of crying emojis. Dude, I knew it! It’s because of that guy! No wonder you haven’t been bringing us your famous brownies lately! I miss them so much! Back when Eleanor and I were happy, I used to bake for her unit almost weekly as a thank you for their hard work. Some of the younger soldiers would joke they’d never leave the army just so they could keep eating my pastries. It’s okay, I typed back. I’m thinking of opening a flower shop. When I do, you can come by and I’ll give you a free bouquet. Sam cheered up instantly, demanding the address. I told him I’d send it later. He was fine with that, but then the complaints started again. You have no idea what a jerk Liam has become. Right after you stopped coming around, he got promoted from driver to head of the motor pool. His whole attitude changed. He used to smile at everyone. Now he just nitpicks and finds fault with everything. He’s not even trying to hide how smug he is. And get this—he bought the same brand of watch and jacket as you. It’s so obvious. What does the General even see in him? He finished by saying if he didn’t love the uniform so much, he’d request a transfer just to get away from the guy. I was at my front door by then. I sent him a few comforting words, and he finally, reluctantly, ended the conversation. At this point, I found I didn’t have the energy to dissect Liam’s motives anymore. It was a stark contrast to the moment Eleanor confessed, when a frantic, desperate need to understand his appeal had consumed me. I pushed open the door and was surprised to see Eleanor’s boots in the entryway. She was on the floor with Leo, helping him build a complex model airplane. “Dad!” Leo shouted, his face lighting up. “Come on, let’s race and see who can finish their side first!” In the past, Eleanor would have scooped him up, spun him around until he giggled, and then pulled me into a hug. The house would have been filled with laughter. Now, she just cleared her throat and patted Leo’s head. “Daddy’s had a long day, sweetie. He’s tired. Maybe next time, okay?” “Okay,” Leo mumbled. “Mommy, when will you be done with your exercises?” Eleanor paused, then said softly, “As soon as I can,” before shooing him off to get ready for bed. After a long day working on plans for the flower shop, I had no energy to play games with her. “Lock up on your way out,” I said, heading for my room. “I promised Leo I’d stay and sleep here tonight,” she said quietly. I didn’t argue. I had just closed my bedroom door when I heard her phone ring in the living room. Her voice was low as she answered, repeating a few reassurances. Then, her tone sharpened with barely concealed irritation. “I told you, I’m just staying with Leo! What are you so worried about? We’ve already signed the agreement! How many times do I have to explain that we’re sleeping in separate rooms?” A moment later, I heard the sharp click of the call ending. Then, a soft knock on my door. “Ethan,” she said from the other side. “Something urgent came up at the base. I have to go back. I’ll… I’ll try to come see Leo again tomorrow.” I didn’t open the door. “Okay,” I said, just loud enough for her to hear. She wasn’t even out of the driveway when my phone buzzed with a notification: an eighty-thousand-dollar deposit into Leo’s trust fund. The memo simply read: Buy Leo some new clothes. I didn’t reply. I turned back to my laptop, pulling up the business plan for the shop. But just as I did, a new message notification appeared on my screen. It was from a number I didn’t recognize. 4 There were no words. Just a single, smiling emoji. I couldn’t even remember adding this person. I scrolled through the chat history and saw that our only previous interaction was two years ago, when they’d added me as a contact. As I was trying to place them, another message came through. 【You must be feeling pretty smug, huh?】 It hit me like a physical blow. This had to be Liam Carter. But Liam had only been transferred to this base six months ago. How could he have had my number for two years? Had this account been silently watching me, observing my life, for nearly two years? A cold dread washed over me. I replied with a single question mark. The response was immediate, typed with furious speed. 【I don’t care what tricks you’re using to keep her. I can make her come back to me in a second.】 It was him. There was no doubt. So Eleanor had known him two years ago? Maybe even longer. Then, he sent a picture. I clicked on it, and my world tilted on its axis. It was Eleanor, asleep in a bed that wasn’t ours, a man’s arm draped possessively over her waist. In the bottom right corner of the photo was a date stamp: May 20, 2023. I stared at the image, my stomach churning. A wave of bitter nausea rose in my throat, and I lurched toward the trash can, dry heaving. May 20, 2023. That was the day my mother was in the hospital for a biopsy. Eleanor had been on a grueling field exercise for the entire month. She had compressed her schedule, pushed her unit to the limit, just so she could get back in time to be with me. She’d spent hours on the phone, her voice a soothing balm against my anxiety, telling me not to be scared. I couldn’t sleep, so she stayed on a voice call with me all night, a constant presence in the darkness. She arrived back at dawn on the 20th, exhausted but resolute, and sat with me outside the operating room, holding my hand. And on that same day, in the midst of all that, she had found time to be with him. How could she have come home and looked me in the eye? When I didn’t respond, Liam grew bolder. He sent a flurry of photos, each one meticulously dated. Our wedding anniversary. Leo’s birthday. Each time, she had been with him first, before rushing back to play the part of the loving wife and mother. The disgust was so profound it eclipsed the pain. I had thought this was a recent thing, that she had simply grown tired of our quiet, stable life in the last few months, a mid-life crisis pushing her toward a new “true love.” But it wasn’t new. It was rotten to the core, and had been for years. I went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. Returning to my desk, I saved every single photo, creating a file for the evidence. I knew why he was sending them now. He was getting impatient. The full three-million-dollar settlement hadn’t been paid yet. Over the past two weeks, Eleanor had transferred 1.2 million, but the remaining 1.8 was, in her words, “going to take some time.” The house was already in my name, a detail clearly stipulated in our agreement. There was no dispute there. If I were to blow this up now, it would jeopardize her career, and an enraged Eleanor would be far less likely to pay me the rest. I could lose everything. Leo could lose his father. Eleanor had probably expected me to break down, to beg, to fight. But my pride, my need for dignity, wouldn’t allow me to cause a scene at her command. Liam, however, hadn’t counted on my quiet compliance. My refusal to engage, to even confront her, had thrown him off. He knew that in this game, the first one to lose their cool, loses. But something didn’t add up. If Liam had been able to stay hidden in the shadows for so long, playing the part of the harmless, hardworking driver, why the sudden desperation? In just a few more weeks, our divorce would be final. Why would he risk everything now, just because she came home to spend one night with her son? I checked the time. It wasn’t too late. I called Sam. He was out having a late dinner with some colleagues, and he told me, with a conspiratorial whisper, that they were all gossiping about Eleanor and Liam. By pooling their information, they’d pieced together a few new details. Apparently, at a joint-forces mixer last week, Eleanor had had too much to drink and was personally escorted home by a handsome Colonel from a neighboring unit. That same Colonel had since asked her out a few times. Combined with the fact that I hadn’t been around for weeks, the rumor mill was churning: Major General Vance was about to be single again. Suddenly, a host of ambitious young officers were making their interest known. And that’s when Liam Carter started to lose his nerve. “Ethan, you’re such a good guy, I can’t stand keeping this from you,” Sam said, his voice earnest. “Don’t be sad. I mean, yeah, the General is amazing, but she’s also a cheater. You’ll find someone so much better! No, wait, screw women! You’re going to have an amazing career, your flower shop is going to be a huge success, and then you’ll find someone better, haha.” His clumsy attempt to cheer me up actually worked. A small smile touched my lips. “Thanks, Sam. I’ll do my best.”

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I’m what you’d call a “try-hard.” While everyone else gets cats or dogs, I got a snake just to prove I’m different. Some people question my life choices. “I can cuddle my cat anytime I want. Can you say the same about your snake?” I leaned down and planted a big, fat kiss right on my snake’s head. Mwah! “Not only can I cuddle him, I can kiss him too.” “My dog is super friendly; you can pet him all you want, and he won’t bite.” I ran my hands all over my snake’s body, even playfully tying him into a loose knot. “Mine’s a softie. Easier to handle than a dog.” [Girl, stop playing! Can’t you see the male lead has already fainted from happiness?] [Usually, he only dares to sneak a kiss when she’s asleep. How is he supposed to handle this kind of affection?] [He’s already passed out twice today. She gives him a little sugar, and he’s like: “She’s got moves.”] 1 I’ve been a try-hard since I was a kid. To show how unique I was, while other kids played in the mud, I sat on the sidelines reading books and doing homework. A little girl with a butterfly bow in her hair blinked at me and ran over, extending a warm invitation. “Fiona, come play with us! It’s so much fun.” I lifted my chin arrogantly. “No thanks. I think reading is more fun.” The little munchkins all gasped in unison, their round eyes widening. One kid dropped his jaw in awe. “She’s amazing. She loves studying so much.” I secretly puffed out my chest. From that moment on, I fell in love with the feeling of being different. In middle school, my classmates were immature and bullied a transfer student from a poor rural family. To show how different I was, I swooped in like an anime protagonist. Not only did I chase away the bullies, but I also became his best friend. In high school, everyone started taking things seriously, burning the midnight oil to improve their grades. But me? I sat comfortably at the top of the class, leaving right when the bell rang. I was all about that effortless vibe. My desk mate, sporting dark circles under her eyes, was green with envy. “Fiona, how do you get grades like yours?” I looked up at the sky, feigning distress. “Maybe it’s just talent. I don’t really study.” I successfully elicited a gasp of envy from her. By college, a pet craze swept through campus. Cats and dogs were everywhere. To show how different I was, I decided to get something unique. 2 But what to get was the problem. After a lap around the pet store yielded nothing, I walked down the street, feeling defeated. I spotted a bench and sat down to rest. My gaze wandered to a nearby bush. A creepy-crawly sensation spread over my body, and my legs turned to jelly. There was a snake in the grass, sunbathing. I stood up shakily, ready to bolt. I moved carefully, terrified of disturbing Mr. Snake’s sunbathing session. Two steps later, it hit me. Cats, dogs, hamsters—too common. What if I kept a snake? And not just any pet store snake. A wild one. The moment the thought crossed my mind, I couldn’t move. I turned back, pulled out my phone, and used an app to identify it. The result: Rat Snake. Non-venomous. The little black snake was still blissfully soaking up the sun, looking incredibly relaxed. He had no idea danger was approaching. In a flash, I pinched him by his “seventh inch”—the spot behind the head where you’re supposed to grab a snake. The little black snake finally reacted, thrashing wildly. Startled, I almost let go. He whipped his head around, ready to bite, but then froze. We stared at each other. The snake tilted his head. He retracted his fangs, flicked his tongue, and licked my hand. I swear I saw a hint of ingratiation in his actions. Was he also captivated by my unique aura? I didn’t dare move. If the enemy doesn’t move, I won’t move. The snake seemed to calm down. He hung there obediently, widening his eyes as if trying to look cute. I tentatively patted his head. “From today on, you’re not a stray snake anymore.” He nudged my palm. Why did the little black snake look shy? I must be seeing things. Snakes can’t be shy. 3 Since he was wild caught, I decided to quarantine him for a few days. I didn’t have a cage, so I found a cardboard box and lined it with a small blanket. The snake was well-behaved the whole time, letting me place him in the box. His tail tip brushed against my wrist occasionally. Afraid he might escape and scare the neighbors, I put the box in my bedroom and blocked any gaps. Now he couldn’t get out. Exhausted from the day, I washed up and fell asleep. I slept deeply but felt something heavy pressing on my chest, like I was being strangled. Morning came. I opened my eyes and found the culprit weighing me down. The little snake was curled up in a ball, sleeping soundly on my chest. I pinched his head and tossed him aside. He woke up, slapping the bed with his tail in protest, and slithered back onto me. I tossed him again. He crawled back. After a few rounds, realizing he had no intention of attacking, I let him be. School was starting in a few days, and I definitely wanted to take him out for a walk. Before that, I decided to train him. I would turn him into a snake more obedient than a dog and cuter than a cat. If I took him out and he misbehaved or bit someone, I’d be a laughingstock. 4 “First things first.” I looked sternly at the snake. He coiled himself into a mosquito coil shape, sitting up straight. “I need to give you a name. Something low-key but meaningful, fitting my status.” “Your name is—Inky.” The little guy, head held high, slumped down. A look of speechlessness seemed to cross his dark face. The audacity! Questioning me? I went through the entire dictionary to pick that name! I coughed loudly to remind him of his attitude. “Next, learning how to be a good pet. For example…” “Inky, sit.” The snake straightened his head, pointing his tail at himself as if asking, Who? Me? I looked at his long body. Asking him to sit might be a bit tough. So I changed the command. “Inky, shake hands.” He slithered forward and placed the tip of his tail in my palm. I gave it a squeeze. Smooth. Nice texture. “Good boy! That’s my Inky.” The moment I squeezed his tail, he flopped over, his whole body going limp. Confused, I poked him. “Inky, what’s wrong?” He remained limp, lying powerless on the floor. Worried, I picked him up. “Snakey, are you okay?” His body temperature was low, so I instinctively pressed him against my chest to warm him up. He came to, took one look, and thud—fainted cold. I quickly put him in my bag and rushed to the vet. The vet examined him while I waited outside. When he came out, I surrounded him anxiously. “Doctor, what’s wrong with my snake? Why did he suddenly faint?” The vet put down his instruments, sat back in his chair, and said concisely: “Overstimulation.” I thought hard. Nothing stimulating had happened. It must be the new environment. And I was too eager to train him. Sumimasen, Inky.

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Damian Vance, the heir to Aurelia City’s most powerful family, had a fight with his childhood sweetheart. Crying, she boarded a flight overseas. Furious and soon regretful, Damian ordered the plane to be grounded immediately. However, there was a passenger on board in critical condition. The pilot and the flight director, under immense pressure, chose to continue the flight as scheduled. When the plane landed, the young woman, Clara, ignored all warnings and wandered off alone. She was cornered and assaulted by local thugs, and when Damian finally found her, she was injured. Three days later, the pilot and the flight director were found dead in an alley. Their end was gruesome, a scene so horrific no one dared to intervene. Their bodies were left to be torn apart by stray dogs, leaving nothing behind. Five years later, I curled into Damian’s arms, my eyes red-rimmed as I watched the woman across from us, his wife, break down in utter despair. “I’m sorry, Damian, darling,” I whispered. “I just wanted to say a few words to my sister…” Damian soothed me with one hand while casting a careless glance at his wife. “Don’t make a scene, Clara. The title of Mrs. Vance will always be yours.” His voice was a silken blade. “But a man needs a little novelty now and then.” … The first time Clara Morgan completely lost control and tried to strike me was when Damian brought me to her mother’s hospital room. The moment her father saw me, he exploded. He screamed that I was a homewrecker who deserved a miserable death and, when Damian wasn’t looking, he hoisted a chair to smash over my head. “You little slut! How dare you show your face here!” Damian was faster. He intercepted the chair with a sharp crack of wood against his arm. After wrestling Clara’s father out of the room, he left me alone with her mother. Clara wasn’t there. Her mother lay on the bed, her breathing as faint as a thread. “Clara…” she rasped. “Water…” I pressed my lips together, a small, knowing smile playing on them as I walked over. “Here you are, Mrs. Morgan. Drink up.” Through the window, Damian watched my display of gentle obedience with a look of deep satisfaction. It only hardened his expression as he dealt with the struggling man in the hallway. Mrs. Morgan managed to force her eyes open. When she saw it was me, her face contorted in horror. With a surge of adrenaline, she shoved me away. I stumbled backward, unprepared, and fell to the floor. A shard of glass from a fallen vase sliced into my calf, and blood began to well up, staining my skin a brilliant crimson. “You’re so young,” she wheezed, her voice trembling with rage. “Couldn’t you learn to be a decent person? Don’t you know that home-wreckers like you are cursed by God?” “And now… now…” she gasped, “you come here to torment my family!” “Get out! Don’t let my Clara see you!” At the thought of her daughter, her eyes filled with tears. When I didn’t move, just sat there on the floor, she grew frantic and tried to get out of bed. Her breaths came in ragged, desperate gasps, like a broken accordion. Then, she collapsed onto the floor. Just at that moment, Clara walked in, carrying a bowl of soup. The scene that greeted her made her freeze. After helping her mother back into bed, she wiped the tears from her own face, walked over to me, and poured the entire bowl of hot soup over my head. “I have turned a blind eye for so long,” she hissed, her body trembling like a leaf in a storm. “Why? Why must you come here and torture my parents?” She stood there, a fragile white flower braving a hurricane, both delicate and unyielding. My voice was a choked sob, tears streaming down my face. “Sister, I was just worried you couldn’t handle taking care of your mother all alone. I wanted to help…” “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—” She ignored me. Behind her, her mother’s condition worsened, and the heart monitor began to shriek a piercing alarm. Shaking, Clara fumbled for the call button. The door flew open, but the incoming team of doctors was stopped dead in their tracks, held back by an invisible wall. Damian strode in and swept me into his arms, his face a mask of concern. “Clara,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “Apologize to Maya.” For a moment, a flash of defiance lit up Clara’s eyes. She grabbed the bouquet of flowers I had brought, tore them to shreds, and threw the ruined petals at us. “Damian, do you have any idea why my mother is in this hospital in the first place? It was you! You make me sick,” she spat. “Get out. Both of you, just get out!” The outburst drained her completely. She crumpled to the floor, a heap of helpless despair. Damian remained unnervingly calm, utterly unmoved by her breakdown. His only concern was me, his fingers gently probing my injuries. When he discovered the gash on my leg, his gaze on Clara turned to ice. “Are you done with your tantrum?” he asked coldly. “If you are, get up. Don’t you find this embarrassing?” The doctors, though they dared not enter, were getting an eyeful. I could feel their veiled, contemptuous glances on me. Clara pointed a trembling finger at the door. “Get out! Didn’t you hear me? I said get out!” Damian just smiled, a chilling, indifferent curve of his lips. “Clara, you need to think very carefully. If I leave—” He walked over to her mother, who was now convulsing on the bed, and his hand closed around the tube of her ventilator. The monitor’s alarm blared even louder, more insistent. But without Damian’s permission, no one dared to set foot inside the room. Gasps of horror echoed from the hallway, but no one moved to stop him. The look in Clara’s eyes shifted, a rapid, horrifying kaleidoscope of shock, agony, and finally, a dead, hollow numbness. Everyone watched as the woman Damian had once spoiled into Aurelia City’s most celebrated socialite, the woman who had everything, slowly, inexorably, sank to her knees. Under the desperate, pleading eyes of her parents, she knelt before me. “Miss… Maya… I’m sorry.” Her voice was a ghost of itself. “I shouldn’t have misunderstood your kindness. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I shouldn’t have thrown the soup on you.” “Please, forgive me.” She bowed her head, breaking her own spine. She had surrendered to Damian. Satisfied, his expression softened. “See, Clara? I told you. If you just behave, we can still have a good life together.” He stroked my hair. “Maya is very sweet and understanding. She heard your mother was in the hospital and insisted on coming to visit. She’s no threat to your position.” His gentle, placating words were like a series of sharp slaps across Clara’s face. But she could only keep her head down, all fight gone from her. Everything she had, everything she was, was a gift from Damian. And just like his hand on her mother’s lifeline, he could take it all away. If she didn’t bow, her mother would die. From that day on, Clara accepted her reality. She became the docile, obedient wife Damian wanted. She submitted to his every demand. She swallowed every one of my provocations, each one a slow, twisting knife in her gut. Damian was a man of particular habits. He liked to be clean. After we made love, he insisted on washing up before starting again. He had insatiable stamina, and our nights were often long. Which meant I had to shower several times a night. One evening, exhausted, I slipped in the bathroom and twisted my ankle. Damian was beside himself with worry. Then, he came up with a “perfect” solution. From then on, whenever we were together, he made Clara wait outside the bedroom door. Each time we finished, she had to come in and help me wash. I saw it countless times: her trembling hands, her red-rimmed eyes, the raw hatred simmering just beneath the surface. The woman who wanted nothing more than to tear me to pieces was forced to serve me like a maid. She learned her lesson the first time. Distraught and clumsy, she had accidentally scalded me. “Damian, darling, don’t blame her,” I had cried, my voice laced with feigned panic. “It wasn’t her fault, I was just being careless.” But the fear in my eyes as I looked at Clara betrayed my words. Damian’s fury was explosive. He knew Clara’s weakness. He didn’t punish her directly. He punished her father. That night, her father was dragged behind a car for a mile. The torture only stopped when Clara knelt and begged me, banging her head on the floor until it was bruised and bloody. It only stopped when she took a shard of glass and carved matching wounds onto her own body. She had no choice. Day by day, the light in her eyes grew dimmer, until it was almost gone. Then, one day, she met another man. Clara had been running a high fever, but I had a craving for a specific cake. She went out into the pouring rain to buy it for me, and on the way back, she collapsed. When she woke up, she was in a hospital. A man was sitting by her bedside, and it was clear he had been there all night. It wasn’t her husband, Damian. It was a stranger. When he saw she was awake, he stirred. He was holding an insulated food container, and by some twist of fate, it held her favorite dish: shrimp congee. As she ate, tears began to silently stream down her face. They didn’t speak much. She only learned his name was Liam Blackwood. It was a name she would never forget. From that day forward, it was as if the gears of fate had started to turn, pulling them both onto the same path. Whether she was at her weakest, her most broken, or feeling a glimmer of hope after her mother’s condition improved slightly, she would find him there, a quiet, constant presence in her life. He shared her pain and her joy, and in doing so, became the pillar that held up her crumbling world. One day, she gathered the courage to ask him the question that had been burning in her heart. “Do you have feelings for me?” Liam had always been reserved, almost shy, around her. But this time, he didn’t hide it. He simply nodded. In that moment, Clara felt as though a ray of light had finally pierced the suffocating darkness of her life. Her heart pounded in her chest. But then, her eyes fell on the date on her phone. Tomorrow was her wedding anniversary with Damian. Somehow, inexplicably, she didn’t answer Liam. She went home, clinging to one last, desperate shred of hope. The sounds of my panting moans drifted from the master bedroom. She closed her eyes in disgust. When she opened them again, she saw two plane tickets on the table. They were for the island where she and Damian had spent their honeymoon. The place they had promised to return to every year on their anniversary. “He remembered…” she whispered. Her heart, which she thought was dead, fluttered for him once more. She remembered Damian’s words, that he still loved her, that his affair with me was just a passing fancy. Maybe, if she could just endure a little longer, everything would go back to the way it was. That night, for the first time in a long time, Clara slept soundly. The next morning, she dressed herself in Damian’s favorite style, her heart full of nervous anticipation. But when she went downstairs, the house was empty. The tickets were gone. Just then, a new post appeared on my Instagram feed. [He was hesitant about this island at first when I suggested it, but what my baby wants, my baby gets! We’re off!] [The price was a whole night of ‘punishment’ from Damian though hehehe…] The picture was of me, nestled in Damian’s arms, holding up the two plane tickets and making a peace sign. Clara felt like the biggest fool in the world. A wave of nausea washed over her, and she ran to the bathroom, vomiting until there was nothing left. But she didn’t have time to be heartbroken. Her phone rang. It was the hospital. “Miss Morgan? Your mother just went into cardiac arrest!” On the plane, I was leaning against Damian, watching the clouds drift by, when I overheard a heated argument from the cockpit. “Are you insane? Ground the plane now!” “Just shut up! Have you forgotten what happened last time?” “But there’s a world-renowned surgeon on this flight…” “There’s no patient in critical condition on this flight! The order came from his wife! You might not value your life, but I value mine!” A moment later, the plane began to veer sharply off course. The sudden change in direction sent us straight into a flock of birds. Blood and feathers exploded against the window in front of my eyes. I screamed and fainted in Damian’s arms. When I woke up, Damian’s voice, thick with rage, was ringing in my ears, intertwined with Clara’s hysterical sobs and pleas. “Damian, I’m begging you! Please, let my mother down!” “No! Please, no!” I was in a spacious, comfortable van. When I opened the window, I had a clear view of the scene unfolding on the ocean. It was a vision from hell. Clara’s parents were being dangled from a helicopter, spinning endlessly over the water. Below them, the dark shapes of sharks circled. Men on the helicopter were tossing chum and bloody animal parts into the sea. Some of it landed on Clara’s parents, some of it was snapped up by the sharks. Some of the sharks leaped high out of the water, their jaws snapping just inches from her parents’ feet. Clara’s face was utterly devoid of color. She had lost count of how many times she had kowtowed to Damian. But he just stroked her head, his voice deceptively gentle. “Clara, you’ve been a very bad girl. I spoiled you too much.” “Your mother wasn’t that sick. When I went to see her, she was energetically cursing Maya with you. She was faking it. I don’t believe you couldn’t see that. So why use that as an excuse to ground my plane? Do you have any idea how long Maya was unconscious from the shock?” “This,” he said, gesturing to the horrific scene, “is just an equal punishment. When you do something wrong, you have to be punished.” “Don’t worry,” he added with a chilling smile. “They’re all animal experts. They know what they’re doing. Nothing will go wrong.” Clara could only shake her head, her words choked with tears. “We didn’t lie to you… we didn’t…” But Damian no longer believed her. She couldn’t fathom how the man who had once grounded a plane for her, who had flown into a rage over a tiny scratch, could now torture her like this for another woman. Suddenly, two of the sharks went into a frenzy. They leaped from the water, their jaws clamping down on her parents’ legs. Her parents’ mouths were gagged, but their eyes were wide with unimaginable agony. The men in the helicopter, fearing the sharks would drag them down, frantically cut the ropes. “NO—” By the time Clara’s mind registered what was happening, her parents had been dragged under the waves. The dark water churned, and then, a massive bloom of crimson spread across the surface. Clara’s scream was a sound that could have shattered the sky. Even Damian seemed stunned for a moment. In that instant, Clara found a surge of superhuman strength. She broke free from the men holding her and ran to the edge of the deck. Against the light, she was a broken silhouette. “Damian,” she whispered, her voice a hollow echo. “If this is what you wanted.” Then, right before his eyes, she leaped from the deck, into the blood-red water where her parents had vanished. It was only then that Damian seemed to snap out of his trance. His heart felt like it had been hit by a sledgehammer. “NO—” he roared, his voice cracking. “CLARA—”

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The awards ceremony ended, and so did we. I broke up with Liam Walker, Crestwood PD’s golden boy. “All this because I gave the commendation for the serial killer case to Lily?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips. “Yes.” “Fine,” he said, the smirk never wavering. “Just don’t come crying back to me.” From the academy to the city precinct, we had been partners for a decade. Everyone said we were a perfect match. He was convinced that without him, I was nothing. So he ignored me, again and again. Betrayed me, again and again. He chose a junior colleague over me and stole the honor that should have been mine. But the commendation was just an excuse. The truth was, my transfer orders had come in yesterday. I was leaving Crestwood for Veridian City, a world away from him. This time, I was truly done with him. From now on, our paths would never cross again. 1. “I’m the one who ended it. I won’t have any regrets.” “Do you even remember how many times you’ve said that?” He leaned back in his chair, the picture of nonchalance. “Was it the 97th time? 98th? Or 99th?” He was right. I’d lost count of how many times I’d used breaking up as a threat. But even so, he and Lily Evans never stopped their little dance. A colleague nearby chuckled. “Come on, Claire, what’s the drama? You can’t live without Liam.” I ignored them all, silently packing the belongings on my desk. “Claire, stop the theatrics. You’re not going to quit your job over this, are you?” When I didn’t respond, he strode over, grabbing my arm so hard I stumbled. Just then, Lily’s cheerful voice cut through the tension. “Liam, my parents want to take a trip down south. You have so much experience, could you help them plan an itinerary?” The old me would have exploded right then and there, calling him out for his lack of boundaries and her for her shameless advances. But what was the point? Nearly a hundred arguments had only pushed them closer together. Seeing that neither of us was paying her any attention, the smile finally fell from Lily’s face. Her eyes reddened, and she began to sob. “Liam… Claire… please don’t fight because of me.” She wiped at her tears, her voice choked. “This commendation… I begged him for it. My family… we’re going through a hard time, and I really needed the bonus and the honor. He only gave it to me because he felt sorry for me. Claire, please don’t blame him. It’s all my fault.” It was a masterful performance, painting her as a pitiful victim of circumstance. If I pressed the issue now, I would look like a bully. Liam, his heartstrings thoroughly tugged, handed her a tissue. Watching his tender gesture, the eight years of frustration and hurt I had suppressed erupted all at once. “Do you two really take me for a fool? Liam, the night you didn’t come home, it was Lily who answered your phone. She said you were in the shower.” “That black jacket you’re wearing—that’s Lily’s, isn’t it? And the white shirt she wore two days ago? That was the birthday gift I gave you. The embroidery on the cuff took me two weeks.” The office fell silent. Everyone stared at me, shocked. In their eyes, I had always been the gentle, good-tempered Claire Reed. They had never seen me this furious. “You two are disgusting,” I spat. Liam stared at me, his face a mask of disbelief. “Claire, have you lost your mind? How could you say that about Lily? How could you try to ruin a young girl’s reputation?” Seeing him leap to her defense, righteous and indignant, I suddenly found it all laughable. Without another word, I turned and walked away. All night, my phone buzzed incessantly. Notifications from Liam. Restaurant reservation successful. Hotel room confirmed. Your takeout order is on its way. Your Durex delivery has been dispatched. He was just trying to provoke me. The old me would have already called him, begging him to come back. But this time, I truly didn’t care. 2. Just as the sky began to lighten, I saw Lily’s new social media post. A photo of an elegant Western-style breakfast, captioned: “A new day starts with a beautiful breakfast.” In the corner of the photo was a man’s hand, knuckles well-defined. On his ring finger was a ring. The one I had saved up for three months to have custom-made. The only one of its kind in the world. I commented directly below the picture: “A whore and a dog, till death do you part.” Not long after I posted it, my doorbell rang. Standing at the door was a bouquet of vibrant red roses. I froze for a second, then remembered. Today was my three-year anniversary with Liam. After eight years together, he still didn’t remember that I hated red roses. That I loved lilies. An image of his smug face flashed in my mind—ordering flowers for me after a night with her. The thought was sickening. My phone lit up with a message from him: “Happy Anniversary.” How ironic. I kicked the offensive bouquet across the hallway and, without a moment’s hesitation, blocked and deleted his number. A cake delivery guy, just stepping out of the elevator, stared at the mess in shock. He was holding a mango layer cake. A shame. I was allergic to mango. “It’s yours,” I said, slamming the door shut. The “thud” was the only sound before the tears started streaming down my face. What had I been to him for these past eight years? Less than a pet dog. For him, I had given up a prestigious position with the Forensics Unit in Veridian City to stay in this small town. Looking back, the regret was overwhelming. A man like him was never worth sacrificing my future for. Blocked, Liam sent a message from an unknown number: “Don’t be angry. You’re talented enough to get a commendation on the next big case. Don’t be so petty.” He still didn’t get it. It was never about the damn commendation. It was about the betrayal. Shaking off the thoughts, I started packing. The apartment was filled with his things; mine were few and far between. Suddenly, I remembered I’d left the autopsy report for the serial killer case at the office. After some hesitation, I went back to the Crestwood PD. As I passed the squad room, I heard familiar voices. “Captain Walker, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. So she blocked you? She’ll unblock you eventually.” “This is the first time she’s ever blocked me,” he said with a wry, careless laugh. “What did you do to make our ice queen so mad?” a colleague joked. “It was just about the commendation.” “That’s it? Does our top ME really need one more commendation? It was good to give it to Lily. Poor kid’s been living in Claire’s shadow. If it wasn’t for you, she probably would’ve never gotten one in her life.” I walked straight past them. The noisy room fell instantly silent, broken only by a few awkward coughs. So, they did feel embarrassed when caught gossiping. Liam rushed over and grabbed my wrist, his brow furrowed. “Claire, what is this really about? Can’t we just talk?” But I had no time for him. Because inside the forensics lab, Lily was flipping through my autopsy report, a strange smile on her face. “Let go of me!” I yanked my arm free from Liam’s grip, stormed into the lab, and slapped Lily hard across the face. She clutched her cheek, staring at me in shock. “Are you sick? Do you just get off on stealing other people’s things?” I bent down, snatched my report off the floor, and glared at her. “Stealing my man wasn’t enough? Then you tried to get my job right after graduation, manipulated Liam into stealing my commendation, and now you’re putting your hands on my case files?” “Claire! How could you hit her!” Liam burst in, immediately pulling Lily into his arms. Burrowing into his chest, Lily started her waterworks. “I… I wasn’t trying to steal it. I just admire you so much, Claire. I wanted to see what one of your reports looked like… I didn’t mean any harm…” I knew she would play the victim whether I hit her or not. I might as well get the satisfaction. “Admire me? Lily, you have a strange way of showing it. Admiring me so much you have to take everything that’s mine.” 3. “Claire, have you made enough of a scene?” Liam’s voice was tight with anger as he held Lily even closer. “This is between us. Leave her out of it!” I strode forward. Before he could react, I swung my arm and landed another loud, stinging slap squarely across his face. His eyes blazed with fury, but I knew he wouldn’t dare hit me back here, at the precinct, in front of everyone. Just as I predicted, he clenched his jaw, forcing his anger down. “Claire Reed,” he said through gritted teeth, “you have just assaulted a colleague. I will be reporting this to Internal Affairs.” As they walked away, Lily clinging to him, I called out after them, my voice loud and clear. “Good. I’ll be reporting Captain Walker and Dr. Evans for their inappropriate relationship and for bringing disgrace to this department. Let’s see who goes down first!” Liam’s steps faltered for a moment before he hurried Lily away even faster. My colleagues from the forensics unit gathered around me, offering clumsy words of comfort. “Claire, calm down. Captain Walker is just confused right now…” “Yeah, you two have been through so much. This will all blow over in a few days.” “That Lily, honestly… don’t let her get to you.” I straightened the report in my hands. “It’s fine,” I said coolly. “I’m not upset. We’ve already broken up, anyway.” The air froze. “I don’t believe you” was written on every single face. Of course, they didn’t believe it. No one would believe that I could ever leave Liam Walker. Back at the academy, we had been the light in each other’s lives, the ones who saved each other. We were the campus’s golden couple. Everyone knew how much he doted on me—enough to pluck the stars from the sky, enough to cut ties with his own family for my sake. He’d even used his entire life’s savings right after graduation to pay off the massive gambling debts my parents had left behind. Everyone said he had saved me. But he always told them, “We saved each other. If I hadn’t met Claire, I might not have had the courage to keep living.” From the moment I pulled him back from that rooftop ledge, we became each other’s anchor. Everyone said Claire Reed was madly in love, that she couldn’t survive without Liam Walker. All of that began to curdle the day Lily, our junior, appeared. Our world of two suddenly had a third. She was always there, chirping “Liam” this and “Claire” that, her familiarity feeling both natural and intrusive. At a class reunion, someone joked that we looked like a “happy little family of three.” But I knew. She was after Liam. From the first moment that fragile-looking junior timidly called me “Claire,” I knew our story was about to change. I first met her at the precinct entrance. It was her first day as a forensic intern, and she arrived in Liam’s car. When she got out of the passenger’s side, she was holding a half-eaten bag of spicy chips. That seat. Liam had once sworn to me, “This is Queen Claire’s throne. No one else is allowed to sit here.” The smell of artificial spice hit me, and I saw greasy fingerprints all over the limited-edition action figure on the dashboard. My brow tightened, and anger flared inside me. But Liam just placated me. “She’s my professor’s niece, Claire. She’s young and doesn’t know any better. Don’t stoop to her level.” That night, we had the biggest fight of our lives. And that night, for the very first time, I said the word “breakup.” The second time I saw her was at the restaurant where Liam and I had our first date. The two of them were laughing together. Liam was rambling about how I didn’t know how to dress, how Lily was so much more vibrant. The moment he saw me, he rushed to explain. “I was just about to call you! My professor asked me to show Lily around, and she chose this place.” Lily stood up timidly. “Claire… I’m so sorry. I didn’t know this restaurant was special to you and Liam…” I looked at the food already on their table and my anger boiled over. I calmly suggested we break up again, then grabbed my stunned best friend’s arm and stormed out. Incidents like these became more and more frequent. He made too many exceptions for her. I fought back, again and again, and the only result was that they grew closer. I couldn’t bear to throw away all our years together. After every fight, all it took was for him to soften his tone, to murmur a few sweet words, and I would forgive him. I gave him a hundred chances. Until the awards ceremony, when he gave the commendation that was rightfully mine to Lily. In that moment, he used up his very last chance. 4. The day I went to the precinct to pick up my transfer papers, I ran into Liam and Lily. It was no surprise. They were wearing matching jackets, like a couple. I remembered asking him to wear matching outfits with me, and he’d always called me childish. Now, here he was, doing it willingly. When he saw me walk past him without a glance, Liam hurried to catch up. “Do you have to be like this? Are you really going to throw away our entire future over one commendation?” Lily rushed over too, her eyes red and tearful. “Claire, please don’t blame Liam. It’s all my fault. If it weren’t for me, you two wouldn’t have…” Her words were cut short by a sudden commotion. A man with a twisted expression, looking completely unhinged, was charging toward us, brandishing a gleaming dagger. “Look out!” Liam yelled instinctively. In that instant, time seemed to crawl. His eyes darted between me and Lily. In that split second, without a shred of hesitation, he spun around and threw his body over the crying girl, shielding her completely. The dagger, fueled by a madman’s hatred, came straight for me. I wasn’t defenseless, but his choice—his instant, unthinking choice to protect her—stunned me. My reaction was half a second too slow. Darkness swarmed my vision as my colleagues surged forward and subdued the attacker. Liam, still holding the terrified Lily, looked back at me. His handsome face was a canvas of panic… and guilt. He started to move toward me, but Lily clung to him, her grip like a vise. I woke up in the hospital. “Where’s Liam?” “He took Lily home. He said she was terrified and needed someone with her.” I closed my eyes and said nothing more. A little while later, I saw Lily’s new post. He was at the mall with her. Shopping. I stared at the picture for a long, long time. The wound on my arm throbbed, but my heart was calm. I felt no ripples, no waves. So this is what it feels like for a heart to die. No tears, no drama. Not pain, not even an ache. Just… nothing. Soon, a message from him arrived. “Claire, get some rest. I have to go out of town for an assignment. Be good and wait for me to come home, okay?” He must have thought that because I’d unblocked him, I had forgiven him, just like all the other times. He was wrong. I had only unblocked him to tell him about my transfer. But now, it seemed, there was no need. I blocked him again and boarded the plane to Veridian City. 5. When Liam Walker saw he’d been blocked again, his brow furrowed in irritation. But the notice for an urgent assignment quickly pushed the thought from his mind. He told himself Claire was just throwing another tantrum. He’d go back and smooth things over, just like he always did. Beside him, Lily saw the look on his face and gently took his arm. “Liam, what’s wrong? Are you tired? Let me get you some coffee.” He allowed her to fuss over him, temporarily shelving his annoyance with Claire. It wasn’t until a regional conference that he overheard a conversation from the forensics table. “Did you hear Claire Reed put in for a transfer to Veridian City? Such a shame, she’s a brilliant ME.” “Yeah, I heard it’s already finalized. She’s already gone.” A strange sense of dread coiled in Liam’s stomach.

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The day I finally snagged the Best Actress award, The viral sensation Chloe Shen went live, crying about being bullied in college. All fingers pointed straight at me. Furious netizens swarmed my social media. Until I spoke up: “I never went to college.” Chloe quickly changed her story: “Oops, I misremembered! It was high school.” I calmly added: “I never went to high school either.” Furious Netizens: Bruh, seriously? Are you a literal elementary schooler? Chapter 1 After grinding in the industry for a decade, I finally won the Best Actress trophy. I finished my acceptance speech on stage, But when I got back to my seat, my agent didn’t look happy at all. His face was beet red. He shoved his phone at me. “You’re getting roasted.” Over the years, getting dragged online has become a weekly thing, so I barely batted an eye. I took a quick look. Just before the awards show, Chloe Shen had gone live, weeping about being bullied by a college roommate. She was crying crocodile tears on stream, and the netizens were absolutely heartbroken for her. Instantly, the entire awards show buzz was hijacked by Chloe Shen. Her name dominated the trending topics. She didn’t name the bully, but the internet detectives got to work. It didn’t take long for eagle-eyed fans to realize that based on Chloe’s hints, I was the only possible suspect. Same age, currently red hot—it had to be me. The live stream for the awards show was completely overrun by people demanding I apologize. I brushed the phone away, stating flatly, “It’s fine. Just ignore it.” Since debuting, I’ve always been pretty Zen about my career. I take any gig that pays, which earned me ridicule for being “tacky.” As for Chloe Shen, I didn’t think she was talking about me; we’ve literally never crossed paths. After the ceremony, I went straight home. I slept until morning, only to find my phone had blown up. My agent had sent 99+ messages, telling me to call him ASAP. Confused, I called him back. My agent said sternly, “Chloe Shen is claiming you bullied her. How are we going to clean this up?” I told him to hold on and checked my social media first. My DMs were so jammed it took several tries to load. People were calling me a “bully queen” and telling me to get out of Hollywood. The storm from the night before was escalating. Last night, Chloe Shen had posted an ambiguous message, Suggesting her fans shouldn’t make a big deal of it, Which only triggered the well-meaning vigilantes, who flooded my comments with even more anger. I frowned while looking at the comments. Then, my agent said, “Just issue a statement. Tell everyone you didn’t do it.” I replied with a simple “Uh-huh.” But, of course, the internet wasn’t buying it. The mockery intensified. [Everyone knows that [insert name here] won a defamation suit, but still…] [Apologize, Bully Queen.] [Skye Lin, get out of the industry.] The tide had overwhelmingly turned against me. My agent was furious. “I reached out to Chloe Shen’s team. They’re ghosting me.” We both knew the move we had to make. My agent and I both knew I never went to college. But to avoid being judged for my educational background, I’d never publicly mentioned that I hadn’t graduated. After a moment of thought, I logged into my social media account. The feeding frenzy began immediately. [Skye Lin is online.] [Bully Queen couldn’t sit still, could she?] [Remember this day—it’s the height of your career.] [Quit, quit!] Chapter 2 Among the chorus of demands for me to quit, I quickly posted one simple statement. [I sympathize with Chloe Shen’s experience of being bullied. But I never went to college.] Along with the text, I posted a screenshot of my official education records, showing I had no college enrollment history. A beat. The angry netizens suddenly had nowhere to direct their outrage. [Skye Lin says she never went to college, so who bullied Chloe Shen?] [Oop, plot twist.] [Did Chloe Shen lie?] The internet seemed to finally realize they had been played. They immediately swarmed Chloe Shen’s page, demanding an explanation. Perhaps sensing the mood shifting, Chloe immediately reappeared and started another live stream. On screen, Chloe wore a white dress, her long hair draped perfectly. She looked like a delicate, pure flower. She looked on the verge of tears at the camera. “The years I was bullied were very confusing for me, so my memories are often jumbled.” Seeing the audience was still skeptical, she continued, “I misremembered! It was high school when I was bullied.” At the same time, she posted a picture of her medical records, showing she suffered from moderate depression. Chloe cried harder. “Because I was bullied, I choked during my performing arts college audition. But the person who bullied me is now raking in awards. Does the villain really get away with it?” The trending topics exploded again, most tagged with a “Savage” marker. It was a complete circus. Chloe had attended a prestigious art college. Her team had always marketed her as a straight-A student. Now, fans and netizens thought: Chloe still scored so well while being bullied. If she hadn’t been bullied, she would have done even better, right? The cannons of public opinion swung back to me. [Skye Lin, the bully queen, ruined someone’s life and then went to Hollywood to make easy money.] [Thank goodness Chloe had the guts to fight back. Even with a bad audition, she still got into a good school. The bully queen didn’t even make it to college.] I was watching the live stream. I moved my fingers and posted one more update. [I dropped out at fifteen to work and entered the industry at eighteen. I didn’t go to college, but I also didn’t go to high school.] The netizens were stunned. They started hounding Chloe Shen again, asking who exactly bullied her. Chloe once again claimed her mind was too foggy to remember, only that the person’s name had a “Sky/Skye” sound. Towards the end of the stream, she stuck out her tongue. “My bad, Skye Lin! I might have gotten the wrong person.” Her apology was completely insincere. She didn’t even apologize for the online violence I’d endured all day. She just kept claiming she had depression and would have a breakdown if pushed further. Chapter 3 Chloe Shen had always enjoyed excellent public perception. Her fans were still trying their best to defend her. [Stop harassing our Chloe, okay? She’s a victim of bullying. She’s been through enough.] [You’re the ones who attacked Skye Lin. Why are you blaming Chloe now?] The trending topics were a hot mess, like a chaotic marketplace. In the middle of it all, one topic slowly started to climb. [Skye Lin, the Grade-School Dropout.] My agent had always hidden the fact that I never finished high school because he was afraid of this. Once that label sticks, you’re mocked as illiterate. [I always thought Skye Lin was just outspoken. Turns out she’s just uneducated, so she created a ‘straight-shooter’ persona.] [Are they letting just anyone into Hollywood now? Everyone knows there’s easy money in this business, even dropouts.] [Bruh, they used to say she argues like an elementary schooler. Turns out Skye Lin is an elementary schooler.] Sure enough, the moment the controversy hit, everyone started attacking my education. I scrolled through a few comments and logged out. I watered my plants, watched a movie, and cooked myself a meal. Then, I got a call from my agent. “You’ve got a reality show offer.” My agent’s voice was tinged with worry. “At a time like this, they’re definitely trying to use you for clicks. The show might try to push the narrative.” I’ve always taken every gig, as long as it paid, so I happily accepted. But on the day of filming, I found out Chloe Shen was also a guest. Chapter 4 The drama had finally died down in the last few days, thanks to Chloe Shen’s team’s strategic silence. But us appearing on the same show immediately reignited the controversy. I hadn’t kept up with the online noise. I arrived early and dropped off my luggage. As I familiarized myself with the house, I heard movement outside the door. I went out to greet them and ran right into Chloe Shen. Chloe was with another young female idol, tall and thin, carrying two enormous suitcases. They both greeted me. Chloe’s expression was completely normal, as if she hadn’t been bothered by the drama at all. I smiled warmly and offered to help with the bags. The other idol was named Maya. Seeing her huge suitcases, I chose to help her first. However, I hadn’t taken two steps when I heard Chloe start crying for the camera. She bowed her head, saying pitifully, “I’m used to being excluded by other girls. I’ve always been isolated since I was little.” I was carrying Maya’s huge suitcase. Maya and I exchanged a blank look. Wait, who was I excluding? This was a live reality show, so our brief interaction had already been broadcast. [Is Skye Lin seriously not excluding Chloe? She only helped the other girl with her luggage, not Chloe.] [Sure enough, the bully queen is always the bully queen.] [Skye Lin even acted in a bullying scene before, right? She must be method acting.] Chloe had likely already guessed the comments’ direction. She faked embarrassment for the camera. “It’s fine! My luggage isn’t that heavy. I can carry it myself.” With that, she reached for her suitcase and staggered toward the living room. Just then, an anxious and affectionate male voice called out, “Chloe, that bag is too heavy. You can’t lift it. Let me.” The guy who walked in was Ethan Zhou, the leading man who had recently co-starred with Chloe. Their publicized fake romance had recently dominated the trending topics. Just last night, Ethan had posted on social media expressing sympathy for Chloe’s bullying ordeal and promising to protect her from now on. This sent their fandom into a frenzy. They were among the most aggressive people attacking me. Ethan took Chloe’s suitcase, comforted her intensely, and then threw some shade. “It’s okay, Chloe. I’m here. No one’s going to bully you.” [Ethan is protecting Chloe so well! Hope this can heal Chloe’s trauma.] [I can’t believe Skye Lin! Bullying someone right to their face? How brazen!] [Thank goodness for Ethan. Chloe doesn’t have to be bullied anymore.] [Mama Bear is here to defend her baby!] Maya tugged my arm, clearly upset. “Seriously, they are totally twisting this.” I patted her reassuringly. “It’s fine. Let’s go unpack first.”

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The call came out of nowhere, a voice from ten years ago. On the line, a boy’s voice, cocky and untamed, but buzzing with excitement. “Viv, ten years from now, do we have a boy or a girl?” My own voice was calm. “You’ll have a son.” He clicked his tongue, then his tone dropped into a playful whine. “My dearest Viv, you can’t love him more than you love me.” Across from me, a man in a tailored suit took a drag from his cigarette. His voice was flat. “Honey, Clara’s going into labor.” He slid a stack of papers across the polished mahogany table. “Sign them. It’s time you did some soul-searching.” I signed the divorce papers while replying to the boy on the phone. “Don’t worry. I’ll never love another woman’s son. Or her husband.” 1. The boy on the phone went silent. For a few seconds, there was nothing. Then, a raw shout exploded through the speaker. “Shit, what the hell?!” But I wasn’t listening anymore. I hung up. Then, stroke by stroke, I carefully wrote out my name: Vivian Hale. Tim Vance turned around. The years had chiseled away the wildness in his handsome features, replacing it with a cool, mature reserve. He glanced at the signature on the divorce agreement, the hand holding his cigarette freezing for a fraction of a second. After a moment, his voice, laced with sarcasm, cut through the silence. “So decisive, honey?” I put down the pen, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. “Let’s just end it. There’s no point in dragging this out anymore.” Tim’s expression flickered as he tried to gauge if I was serious. Just then, my phone began to buzz violently on the table, a relentless incoming call. He let out a short, sharp laugh, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Are you that pathetic, honey?” he sneered. “Still desperate to hear my voice from back then? This scammer, pretending to be me in high school… he must be getting a nice payday out of you, huh?” I flinched. I knew that look—that infuriating, triumphant smirk he used to provoke me. And it always worked. In the past, I’d lose it, make a scene, turn into the hysterical madwoman he seemed to expect. But why? Wasn’t this divorce what he wanted? “Yeah, you’re right,” I said, too tired to fight, too tired to even think. I pushed his hand away and calmly switched my phone off. Tim’s smile faltered, just for a moment. He stubbed out his cigarette, his voice dropping to an icy warning. “It better be. Don’t let me find out you’re pulling something, Viv. You know what I’m capable of.” I dug my nails into my palm, welcoming the sharp sting of pain before I let go. Oh, I knew exactly what he was capable of. Last week, I publicly humiliated Clara at the office, announcing to everyone that the baby in her belly was Tim’s. The very next day, I was “asked” to resign and take a leave of absence. Years of hard work, of building my career, all vanished because of one tearful tantrum from his mistress. That was Tim’s punishment. I took a deep breath and watched his retreating back as he strode out of the room. He was walking so fast. He didn’t even give me a chance to tell him. Don’t call me “honey” anymore. 2. Ten years ago, I would have never believed it. That the person who would tear my life with Tim to shreds would be Clara Ross. In high school, I was the radiant swan everyone admired. And Clara? She was the school’s resident ugly duckling. Poor, plain, and hopelessly chasing after Tim Vance with a foolish, desperate passion. Just as relentlessly as Tim was chasing after me. The difference was, I eventually said yes to Tim. Clara never even got a second glance from him. That changed a year ago. Tim took me to a corporate gala. I saw her there—Clara, draped in a stunning red dress, radiating a confidence that was completely new. I also saw Tim’s throat bob, saw the flash of raw admiration in his eyes. It was so fleeting I almost missed it. But I remembered it vividly when, months later, Clara triumphantly slapped a positive pregnancy test onto my desk. Only then did I realize who the “other woman” was, the one who had turned my marriage into a battlefield. Clara stood before me like a victorious general, gloating over her conquest. “Vivian, there’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for years,” she’d said, a smug smile on her face. “You never really thought you were all that special, did you?” Back in high school, Tim would wrap his arms around me and joke that my fiery temper was a product of him spoiling me rotten. But that day, after Clara’s taunts sent me into a blind rage and I shoved her to the ground, his face went cold. His voice was laced with a contempt I’d never heard before. “You should take a good look at yourself in the mirror right now, honey,” he’d snarled. “Bullying a pregnant woman. Does that make you feel powerful?” 3. That fight with Tim was apocalyptic. I fell apart, consumed by a desire to destroy him, but I could never bring myself to do it. He tried to smooth things over, of course. He’d hold me, whisper promises that once the baby was born, everything would go back to the way it was. But I hated him. I hated him for betraying me, for turning our perfect, storybook romance into a cheap joke. And I hated myself even more for not being able to let him go. So we tortured each other, becoming the bitter, warring couple everyone whispered about. Things hit a new low when Clara sent me a video of her and Tim in bed. Shaking with rage, I confronted him, and it escalated into the worst fight we’d ever had. I smashed everything in the house I could get my hands on, screamed the most vile things I could think of, and even threatened to leak the video online, to ruin him completely. But Tim just sat there on the sofa, calmly smoking, a lazy, confident smile on his face. He extinguished my fury with a single question. “So what if I’m openly keeping a mistress? So what if I knocked her up, and there’s a sex tape floating around?” he asked, blowing a smoke ring. “Are you really going to leave me, honey?” I froze, an icy dread creeping through my veins, as if someone had dumped a bucket of freezing water over me in the dead of winter. All I could do was stand there and tremble. Tim laughed, his eyes full of pity and scorn. “Pathetic.” After that, he knew he had me. He bought Clara a penthouse, flew with her to Switzerland for prenatal checkups. When they found out it was a boy, he threw a lavish party to celebrate, months before the due date. He made sure the entire world knew he didn’t love me anymore. He turned me into a punchline, a cautionary tale whispered at cocktail parties. Sometimes, watching them together, so open and blissfully in love, a sliver of doubt would creep in. Maybe I was the one who should just walk away. But I couldn’t. I was too proud, too stubborn. So I stayed, rattling around in our empty mansion, slowly turning into a paranoid, obsessive mess. I just couldn’t let go. Not until the day I stumbled upon a video of an interview at our old high school. 4. Tim had taken a very pregnant Clara back to our alma mater for a donation ceremony. In the video, he was wearing a simple black windbreaker, his hair unstyled for once. He stood under the shade of a poplar tree, a faint, easy smile on his lips. For a dizzying moment, I saw the boy he used to be—the one with the cocky slouch who waited for me after class every day. Then I blinked, and the illusion shattered. I saw him gently stroking Clara’s swollen belly. A reporter asked them about their relationship. They exchanged a look, a perfect picture of domestic bliss. My eyes started to burn. I wanted to turn it off, but then I heard the reporter’s next question. “What is your biggest regret from your high school days?” Without a moment’s hesitation, Tim looked directly at Clara, his voice soft and full of meaning. “Probably that I was blind back then,” he said. “That I didn’t fall for her sooner.” He squeezed her hand. “I just hope the universe gives me a second chance. This time, let it be my turn to chase you.” Clara playfully swatted his shoulder, a shy, happy blush on her cheeks. The reporter gasped with delight. The students around them cheered. And I just stood there, frozen. The world went silent, so quiet I could hear my own heart hammering in my chest. Thump. Thump. Thump. And then, with one final, shuddering beat, it stopped. In that instant, every tower I had built inside me came crashing down. Something inside me shattered completely. It was the last, lingering piece of my obsession with the boy he used to be. I finally understood. Sometimes, letting go isn’t a process. It’s a single, blinding moment. 5. I blinked away the sting in my eyes, pushing the memories aside. Then I got up and started to systematically gather everything that belonged to Tim in the house. One by one, I carried it all out to the curb with the trash. When I was finally done, I let out a long, slow breath. I turned my phone back on. A flood of missed calls and frantic texts poured in. I knew, with absolute certainty, that the calls were from the real, 18-year-old Tim. But I felt nothing. I calmly ignored the number and called a friend back. She was inviting me to a class reunion next week. I didn’t hesitate. “Sure, I’ll be there.” As I was about to put the phone down, my eyes caught the string of desperate texts from the unknown number. [Shit, Viv, don’t scare me like this!] [What’s going on? Pick up the phone!] [Your man just ran eight laps around the track and now his heart feels like it’s gonna explode.] [If you don’t answer, I swear I’ll drop dead right here and now!!!] The familiar words hit me. He was talking about that day it poured, the day I got caught in the rain. My white shirt was soaked through, and a few guys were making lewd comments. Tim had appeared out of nowhere, his face a mask of cold fury. He’d grabbed a chair and brought it down on one of them, hard. Afterward, the coach made him run eight laps as punishment. He collapsed with a fever afterward, got seriously ill, and missed the championship soccer game he’d been training for for two years. I remembered how, besides me, Clara had been devastated. She had glared at me with pure resentment. “Can’t you just stop being such a drama queen?” she’d spat. “You love seeing him torture himself for you, don’t you, princess?” Before I could even respond, Tim cut her off, his voice sharp despite his exhaustion. “What’s it to you?” he’d snapped, looking right at her. “It’s my choice, isn’t it?” That day, Clara’s face had been even paler than Tim’s. But times change. The boy Tim from back then could never have imagined. That the thing he’d regret most in his thirties, at the height of his success, was making Clara Ross sad. 6. The reunion was already in full swing by the time I arrived. The divorce hadn’t left me with a car. So when a sudden downpour started, all I could do was hold my purse over my head and make a run for it. I burst through the doors, breathless and slightly disheveled, and my eyes immediately landed on Clara, looking immaculate and radiant. She looked me up and down, a smug, superior smile spreading across her face. “Vivian, darling. I never thought I’d see you looking so… desperate.” Laughter rippled through our old classmates. They were enjoying the show. Life is fickle. So what if Tim cheated? So what if Clara was a homewrecker? Siding with the powerful and kicking the weak—that’s just human nature. My gaze drifted past them to Tim, who was watching with a lazy, amused smirk. I dug my nails into my palm, crushing the tiny pinprick of pain in my chest. Suddenly, someone gasped. “Is that… Clara Ross?!” All eyes snapped to a phone someone was holding up. Someone had leaked the video. The video of her and Tim. A guy snickered. “Damn, and while she’s pregnant, too.” The next second, the sound of shattering glass echoed through the room as Tim smashed a bottle over the guy’s head. “All of you, shut the hell up!” he roared. But it was too late. The color drained from Clara’s face. She looked like she was about to snap. Her eyes found mine, and with a guttural scream, she hurled her glass directly at me. “You did this! You leaked it!” Tim’s face hardened as he turned to me, his voice a low, menacing growl. “Honey, did you forget what I told you?” 7. I didn’t have time to dodge. The glass shattered against my forehead, the sharp pain making me wince. The water inside splashed all over my dress, leaving me looking even more of a wreck than when I’d arrived. I pulled out a tissue, pressing it to the cut. “First,” I said, my voice steady despite the throbbing in my head, “I didn’t leak the video. Second, I’m not your honey.” Tim’s jaw tightened. He just stood there, seething, though I couldn’t tell what he was angrier about. But before he could respond, Clara let out a choked cry. The shock had sent her into labor. The room descended into chaos. For the first time, I saw panic in Tim’s eyes. He had fought too hard for this child. He swept Clara into his arms and started pushing through the crowd. As he passed me, he paused, his voice dripping with scorn. “I underestimated you. Are you satisfied now that you’ve made this mess?” He leaned in closer. “Don’t think for a second that I’ll let you off the hook if anything happens to Clara, Vivian.” I glanced at the crimson stain spreading across the tissue in my hand. Then I looked up, and I swung. My hand connected with his cheek with a loud, satisfying crack. “That,” I said, my voice ringing with clarity, “was for Clara.” Tim’s head snapped to the side. His face was a canvas of shock and disbelief. Before he could react, I shook out my stinging hand and, without a backward glance, turned and walked away. 8. The rain was still pouring outside. I stood under the awning, watching the frantic scramble of people, and answered my phone. “The money’s been transferred to your account, Ms. Quinn. A pleasure doing business with you.” “Likewise,” I said, and hung up. It was true, I hadn’t leaked the video. Not directly. A CEO’s affair and a mistress’s pregnancy—that kind of scandal could do serious damage to a company. So I simply sold it to Tim’s biggest corporate rival. After all, Tim hadn’t exactly been generous in the divorce settlement. A girl has to look out for herself. A sudden clap of thunder split the sky. “Viv! I finally found you!”

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My husband betrayed me. I decided to kill him. Later, as his body was breaking down and he was spitting blood, he confessed to me, apologizing for hurting me. I smiled and told him it was okay; I forgave him. After all, I was the one who had put arsenic in his food and laced his clothes with paraquat, ensuring his agonizing death. 1 It was nine o’clock at night when Marcus Black came home. His shirt reeked of cheap perfume, and his neck was covered in hickeys. “Welcome home, honey.” I pretended not to notice his cheating, even walking up to him to help him take off his jacket. “Go fix me something to eat. A late-night snack.” Marcus was polite and academic in public, but at home, he dropped the façade and ordered me around without hesitation. I asked him sweetly: “What would you like, honey?” “Whatever.” I obediently walked into the kitchen. I knew the truth. Marcus didn’t love me. While I was agonizing in the delivery room, giving birth to his child, he casually told me he was cheating. He was so arrogant because he assumed our child was my only anchor, and I would never dare divorce him. Marcus was wrong. Even without the child, I wouldn’t have left him after his betrayal. The best way to deal with a scumbag isn’t to leave him. It’s to kill him! On the cutting board, I already had fresh shrimp ready. Next to the board, water was mixed with a high concentration of Vitamin C. The combination of shrimp and high-dose Vitamin C produces arsenic when consumed by the body. I heated the oil, poured the live shrimp into the pan, and the extreme heat made them twitch and struggle violently. But within seconds, they changed color and died in the sizzling oil. Soon, the fragrant shrimp and a bowl of seaweed soup fortified with Vitamin C were on the table. Marcus looked impatient. “Can’t you cook faster?” I kept my head down, looking humble and remorseful: “I’m sorry, honey.” He grunted, picked up a shrimp, and ate it. I stayed still, not daring to move, but I couldn’t stop staring at him. Eat. Eat more. The more you eat, the faster you die! Thud. A sharp shrimp head suddenly landed on my head. Marcus wiped his hands with a napkin and sneered: “I cheated, but you keep trying to please me and suck up. You’re more obedient than a dog.” I covered my forehead, maintaining the illusion of silent devotion. “Oh, Sarah Green, Sarah Green. Do you think the more I cheat, the more afraid you are of losing me, and the nicer you become?” Marcus leisurely picked up the spoon and drank the soup. After one sip, he glanced at me, spitting out venomous, repulsive words: “You are truly pathetic. If I had known you were so desperate, I would have told you sooner: I slept with another woman on our wedding night.” 2 I flinched. His dirty hands touched someone else, then came back to touch me! The disgust made me physically ill. “Haha, are you upset?” Marcus grinned, holding up three fingers: “I didn’t just sleep with one; I slept with three.” I clenched my teeth, desperately trying not to throw up. On our wedding day, I was full of expectation. But he claimed a student needed him urgently and he had to return to the university. I truly regret it now. If I had known he was chasing other women that night, I would have called the police without hesitation. After dinner, Marcus openly called his mistress right in front of me. “Baby, I miss you so much.” Before he could say more, I put on a look of unbearable pain and rushed toward the balcony. I needed Marcus to see me as a weak, helpless wife who was silently suffering from her husband’s infidelity. Only then would he lower his guard. … Marcus had a habit of drinking milk before bed. I added a sleeping pill to his glass. He was dead to the world that night. Staring at the gentle rise and fall of his throat as he breathed, an intense urge to kill surged through me. I truly wanted to take a knife and slit his throat. But as the blade touched his skin, I forced myself to stop. To plan his silent murder, I had sent our newborn daughter to stay with distant relatives and constantly acted subservient to him. I had sacrificed too much and endured too much. I couldn’t let a moment of impulse ruin everything! Next, I used Marcus’s fingerprint to unlock his phone. He had three unread messages on his social media. “Are you coming back to see me tomorrow?” “Professor, you are so handsome. Can I pursue you?” “Professor, you bought two dresses online. Which color do you want me to wear? Pink or black?” I clicked on each profile. They were all beautiful female college students. Then, I looked through his chat history. Most of the students initiated contact with Marcus. Marcus had good looks and the aura of a university professor, naturally making young women flock to him. But he didn’t sleep with every student. After a careful check, I found Marcus had slept with fifteen students. Their common traits: beautiful, not locals, and from poor backgrounds. The student who had maintained the longest relationship with Marcus was named Maya Lin. I started scrolling through Maya Lin’s social media. In a photo dated November 25, 2021, a corner of Marcus’s shoe was visible. And the message, “Professor, you bought two dresses online. Which color do you want me to wear? Pink or black?” was from Maya Lin. Hah. This cheating couple has been together for four years. I smiled coldly, a vicious plan forming in my mind. I wouldn’t let the scumbag go. And the tramp wouldn’t escape either! 3 The next morning, I prepared Marcus’s breakfast: plain porridge, fried dough sticks (you-tiao), eggs, and hot milk. The fried dough sticks were cooked in cheap oil. The porridge contained a bit of sugar. The hot milk and sugared porridge, when eaten together, create fructose-lysine. Fructose-lysine can induce coronary heart disease and vascular blockages. Marcus ate everything. After he finished and left for work, I headed to the hospital. Last night, I had thoroughly researched the student Marcus had been cheating with for four years. Maya Lin, Nursing Major, a graduating senior, currently interning at the city’s top hospital. It was the best hospital in the state; countless medical students fought tooth and nail to get in. Maya Lin got the position easily thanks to Marcus… At the hospital. I immediately recognized Maya Lin among the nurses. She was very pretty, slender, and looked innocent. “Excuse me, how do I get to Lab B21?” I pretended to be lost and approached her. “Take the elevator to the 7th floor, then walk straight, then turn right…” Maya Lin’s voice was soft, and she was patient, but I felt sick. She was the mistress! I interrupted her, acting anxious: “I don’t know the way. Can you take me?” Maya Lin hesitated, then agreed. On the way, I played the victim, weeping that I might have cancer and was dying soon. My college major was psychology; I knew how to quickly establish intimacy. Maya Lin immediately showed concern. She took me to the lab and even added me on social media, saying if I had any questions about my condition, I could message her, and she would try to help. I was surprised. She wasn’t the arrogant, aggressive mistress I had imagined. After leaving the hospital, I subtly started extracting information from Maya Lin. She had a boyfriend. But she didn’t know her boyfriend was married. She was the unsuspecting other woman. … Three months later, under my careful nourishment, Marcus started showing signs of weakness. That day, the delivery man brought a new potted plant to the door and asked for acceptance verification. Normally, I would open the door and take the package. But I was conveniently in the bathroom and couldn’t come out. Marcus was teaching an online class, so he couldn’t immediately vent his frustration at me. I sat on the toilet, watching the surveillance video on my phone. Marcus politely told his students to wait a moment. He stood up, opened the door, and impatiently took the package from the delivery man. The moment the box landed in Marcus’s hands, his body swayed downward, and his expression changed immediately. It wasn’t anger; it was shock. I was ecstatic. He must be shocked that a grown man couldn’t hold a simple box! Hahaha! Every meal I meticulously prepared for him was designed to counteract the body’s functions. Celery and rabbit meat to cause hair loss. Liquor and dog meat to suppress the heart. Banana and beef to damage the spleen. Tomato and mung beans to deplete vital energy. … Thud! The potted plant fell heavily to the floor. A few clumps of dirt spilled from the box. Marcus staggered, staring at his hands in disbelief. I laughed uncontrollably. The countdown to death had officially begun. Marcus, enjoy the last moments of your cheating life! 4 I turned off the surveillance, took a deep breath, and adjusted my expression before leaving the bathroom. “Honey, what’s wrong?” I rushed to Marcus, looking anxious. “The box has a plant; it’s light. Why can’t you hold it? Are you too stressed from work lately?” “Get lost, you pathetic…” Marcus’s curse was cut short. He seemed to remember he was still teaching. He glared at me and rushed back to his study. I smiled, tossing the spilled dirt into the trash. … During this time, thanks to my psychology expertise, Maya Lin and I became close friends. Maya Lin told me everything. She told me her boyfriend was her university professor. She said she loved him so much she even had an abortion for him… I asked tentatively: “Why did your professor ask you to have an abortion? Wouldn’t getting pregnant be the perfect way to get married?” Maya Lin lowered her head: “He said he was at a critical stage of his career and didn’t want to be distracted by a child. But he promised to make it up to me with a grand wedding later.” I pressed: “Could it be that your professor is already married and is just playing with you?” “Absolutely not!” Maya Lin said without hesitation: “He swore to me that if he ever had another woman besides me in his life, he would be struck by lightning and die a horrible death.” I rolled my eyes. Marcus said the exact same passionate words when he married me. I guess there are too many scumbags, and God can’t strike them all down. So, I’ll just have to ensure he dies a horrible death myself! … Marcus’s health worsened daily. One morning, while drinking milk, he suddenly got a nosebleed. “What is going on?” Marcus tried to wipe the blood, but it only flowed faster. “Honey, what’s wrong?” My eyes widened. I frantically reached for a tissue. Marcus pushed me away. But he had no strength. I stayed put, pretending to worry: “Honey, are you under stress? Should I make you some cooling tea?” “Get out!” Marcus roared, covering his nose and stumbling toward the bathroom. But after only two steps, he collapsed to the floor. He had passed out. “Tsk tsk. You’ve been hollowed out.” I didn’t hesitate to kick him lightly. After twenty minutes, I finally dialed 911. Three hours later, Marcus woke up in the hospital. The test results were in. The report showed absolutely nothing wrong with his body. “Nothing wrong? If nothing’s wrong, why do I bleed from my nose and pass out?!” The inexplicable symptoms made Marcus drop his pretense. He yelled at the doctor: “The lab made a mistake! I want another full body scan, blood work, and physical examination!” The doctor looked at Marcus as if he were an idiot. Marcus wasn’t stupid. He understood the doctor’s disdain, which only fueled his fury. The angrier he became, the happier I was. I acted like a busy bee, dutifully paying bills and submitting forms. At the nurses’ station, snippets of conversation drifted my way. “The patient in room 302 looks presentable, but he’s a maniac.” “I know! This is the state’s best hospital. How could the lab make a mistake?” “You’re missing the point. Didn’t you notice that patient is Maya Lin’s boyfriend?” “What? He’s Maya Lin’s boyfriend? But his file says he’s married!” “Is Maya Lin a mistress…?” The nurses’ chatter set off an alarm in my head. I absolutely couldn’t let Maya Lin find out I was Marcus’s wife. If she grew suspicious, everything I had done would be ruined. … I hardened my heart and decided to move up Marcus’s death date! I went to a remote farming supply store and bought a bottle of Paraquat, a deadly herbicide. I also bought a new shirt that Marcus often wore. Back home, I soaked the brand-new shirt in Paraquat. The shirt soaked for a day and a night, then I rinsed it repeatedly until the smell was gone. To be safe, I used a test strip to check the Paraquat levels. Only after confirming they were minimal did I iron the shirt and put it in a luxury box to give to Maya Lin. “I bought this shirt for my husband, but it didn’t fit.” I gave the high-end gift box to Maya Lin, smiling: “I bought it overseas, so I can’t return it. Since you mentioned your boyfriend is the same size, I thought you might want it.” “Wow, this brand is expensive! Are you sure you want to give it to me?” Maya Lin was genuinely surprised. She had told me she came from a poor family and was saving up to buy Marcus a gift. Since I was handing her a ready-made one, she happily accepted it after a brief exchange of pleasantries. I smiled coldly. Paraquat is incredibly toxic. Just 0.01 grams is enough to kill a person. Marcus wouldn’t ingest it directly. But the shirt would be worn directly against his skin. The Paraquat would seep through his pores into his capillaries. In less than a month, Marcus would die a painful death!

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My boyfriend, seeking a thrill, convinced me to drink a spiked beverage. But just as the effects kicked in, he was called away by his “moonlight.” I was about to protest when scrolling text appeared before my eyes: [That despicable jerk! How could he abandon our girl at a time like this! I’m furious!] [The jerk is going back to the moonlight again! Our girl is so tragic!] [Girl, forget the jerk! Go find Dr. Alex next door! He’s crazy about you!] [Don’t hesitate! Dr. Alex is your antidote!] I couldn’t think straight. I struggled against the agony and stumbled, knocking on the neighbor’s door. “Dr. Alex, help me…” 1 After taking the call, Leo Black pulled his halfway-off pants back on. “I have to go out. You figure yourself out.” The drugs were already taking effect. I was stunned. “You’re leaving now? What about me?” Leo’s face instantly darkened at my protest. “Chloe, you’re an adult. Can’t you handle yourself?” Seriously? He drugged me and now expected me to handle myself? Before I could plead with him, his voice became impatient. “Enough! Tiffany is sick. Can you stop causing drama at a time like this?” The pleading words died in my throat. I watched, desperate and burning, as he walked away. The moment the door slammed shut, scrolling comments flashed across my vision: [How could the jerk abandon our girl now? This is too much!] [This is the eighth time Tiffany has been “sick” this month! Every single time, the jerk leaves our girl for her! No wonder she’s a tragic heroine—this is awful!] [I can’t watch! Someone save our girl!] [Girl, forget the jerk! Go find Dr. Alex next door! He’s your antidote!] [Yes! Hurry next door! Dr. Alex is tall and hot—way better than that jerk!] My mind spun, trying to process the comments. Dr. Alex? The same Dr. Alex Lynn who always wore a cold expression and seemed utterly untouchable? The drugs made my body uncontrollably hot. I couldn’t care less about the comments anymore. I stumbled out, fighting the agony, and knocked desperately on the neighbor’s door. 2 I knocked a few times, but no one answered. I must be hallucinating. Just as I was about to leave, I heard a door open behind me. A voice called out, “Chloe?” I turned and met Dr. Alex Lynn’s dark, deep eyes. He must have just showered. He was shirtless, his lower body wrapped in a white towel. I couldn’t help but notice. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, eight-pack abs… Water droplets clung to his taut muscles. For my current state, the sight was pure fuel. My heart raced, and my chest heaved with every accelerating breath. A cool voice broke the silence. “Is the view satisfactory?” I subconsciously looked up. Even against the light, I could clearly see his prominent brow bone, high nose, and slightly upturned lips. Why had I never noticed before? Alex’s face was like an anime heartthrob brought to life! Mesmerized by his beauty, I blurted out: “Very satisfactory…” The moment I spoke, he visibly froze. His expression instantly looked uncomfortable. The comments exploded. [OMG! Our girl is so blunt! I love it!] [What am I seeing? The ice prince is blushing!] [Blushing is an understatement! Our girl says he’s hot, and he’s… that’s ridiculous!] I instinctively glanced down, unable to help my observation. …It was, indeed, ridiculous. The comments continued: [Save me, he’s wearing only a towel, and he’s… I can’t imagine…] [Hahaha, Dr. Alex is absolutely smitten!] [I’m so nervous! Is the plot I’ve been waiting for finally happening?!] [I order you two: now, immediately, get to it!] 3 I felt like a waterlogged sponge, melting into Alex’s embrace. “Dr. Alex, I feel awful…” “Can you kiss me?” His figure stiffened at my request. [Who understands this? Our girl’s voice is soft and tearful. It’s melting my heart!] [Forget you, Dr. Alex is about to lose his mind! Hahaha.] [I get it. He’s been crushing on her for three years. He must be going crazy.] [Exactly! Every time he saw her with that jerk, his heart must have been breaking.] The comments stunned me. He liked me for three years? I had no idea! But there was no time to think. A sudden, strong force pulled me inside his apartment. The door slammed shut behind me. A tall figure blocked the light. He looked down at me. His long, elegant fingers grazed my cheek, tilting my chin up with warm breath. His voice, however, remained cool. “Explain… what did you mean?” I was forced to look up. Seeing his face so close made me too flustered to speak. But he wasn’t letting up. His intoxicating face leaned closer to mine. “Tell me clearly…” “Where does it hurt?” 4 His question made my face flush. I didn’t know how to answer, but the agony was overwhelming. I finally grabbed his long, defined hands. [OMG! Is this legal? Our girl is so bold!] [Who can resist this? Next step, a physical exam? So exciting!] [I can’t handle this! My composure is gone!!!] Alex’s breath hitched at the touch. He froze, his face turning bright red. I seized the opportunity, wrapping my arms around his neck. I stood on my toes and kissed him. The moment our lips met, he completely surrendered. I don’t know how long we kissed. I found myself on a soft bed. I watched his muscular body lean over me, casting a shadow that enveloped me in the dim light. “Chloe, how do you want me to help you?” Before I could answer, his nose grazed my neck and shoulder. A tingling sensation spread from my earlobe through my entire body. I trembled. But then, my phone rang—totally inappropriate timing. Overwhelmed by lust, I fumbled and hung up. But another call immediately came through. Alex stopped, looking toward the phone. “I’m sorry, I’ll turn it off right now.” I moved to grab my phone. But his hand pressed down on my wrist. “Maybe… let’s just stop.” 5 “Stop? Why?” Did my phone bother him? Is that why he’s mad? I looked at his tightly furrowed brows. I had a terrible thought. Is it because… he can’t perform? My eyes instinctively dropped. [Hahaha, what is our girl looking at? Is she doubting Dr. Alex’s skills?] [She hasn’t realized yet, has she? Dr. Alex is just jealous.] [I’m so mad! That deadbeat jerk had to call now and ruin everything! How can I watch the plot now?] I finally realized the issue. Just as I was about to explain, he spoke first. “Chloe, I don’t want to be the side guy…” “Can you accept that?” His last three words were barely audible. [That’s weird. Didn’t Dr. Alex wish on a photo of her two days ago that he’d be her side piece or even her side-side piece if she just gave him a chance?] [I can confirm! He promised he’d sacrifice everything for love! Now he wants respect? How calculating!] [Wait, why is that calculating? Dr. Alex guarded her for three years! He deserves respect!] [I agree. That jerk abandoned her on Valentine’s Day, and she was followed by creeps until Dr. Alex saved her! He’s done so much for her!] I opened my phone right in front of him. Ignoring the endless missed calls from Leo, I pulled up the breakup text I’d drafted but never sent. I hit send. Then I blocked, deleted, and powered down the phone. Seeing this, Alex looked like a stray dog finally finding its home. I leaned in and kissed his lips. “Dr. Alex, are we good now?”

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I was at my poorest when I met the city’s most notorious playboy. He’d already burned through thirty-five girlfriends; I was number thirty-six. He asked me out three times, and I said no. The fourth time, I threw myself into his arms and sobbed, “It’s you I like, not your money.” Asher Wolfhard held me, deeply moved. But in private, he complained to his friends, “I’ve seen all her tricks before. I’m just playing along because I’m dying to get in her pants.” When I overheard that, I went to bed with him without a word. Unsurprisingly, he dumped me right after. A few days later, my roommate became his thirty-seventh girlfriend. Everyone laughed at me, but I didn’t care. Not long after, Asher was diagnosed with HIV, and I found out I was pregnant. Suddenly, the child in my belly became the most precious treasure of the Wolfhard family. 1 Every Friday, a spectacle unfolded at the gates of Northwood University. A fiery red Maserati would roll up, dropping off a different beautiful woman each time. The car’s owner was Asher Wolfhard, Northwood’s most infamous playboy heir. Every woman who slept with him was said to be left utterly obsessed. But he never went back for seconds, never lingered on any woman for a moment longer than necessary. He would conquer one and, without missing a beat, move on to the next. Three months into the semester, he’d already had thirty-four girlfriends. Number thirty-five was my coworker at the bubble tea shop, Felicity. The moment she got the invitation text, she quit her part-time job on the spot and rushed off to a salon to get her hair and nails done. “Oh my god, my golden ticket finally landed on me,” she said, changing her clothes. “Thank you, universe.” “Willa, seriously,” she went on, “you should buy some nice clothes, maybe get a haircut. Your bangs are too long; they’re hiding your supermodel good looks. That’s why Asher hasn’t noticed you yet.” “If he saw your face and knew you were hiding a rare 36D under that jacket, he’d fall head over heels for you.” I just smiled and said nothing. After she left, I bent down and picked up the panda hair clip she’d dropped. The soft white fuzz trembled in the breeze, just like my restless heart. I was so poor. I’d never owned a single nice piece of clothing in my life. My father was a simple farmer who knew nothing but the soil. My grandmother was sick and needed medicine constantly. My mother… she had left a long time ago. She went to find work in the city, met a construction worker, and never came home. Since I was a little girl, the weight of money had been suffocating me. Now in college, while everyone else was enjoying campus life, I was constantly scrambling for part-time jobs just to eat. The first time I heard the name Asher Wolfhard, a plan began to form in my mind. The Wolfhard family was influential in Northwood City. His mother was a famous entrepreneur, his father a distinguished university professor. Asher was their only child, born late in their lives, and they had spoiled him rotten. A purely physical relationship with him would be fleeting, and I’d be forgotten. Any payout would be minimal. So I waited, biding my time, observing, looking for a better opportunity. The next day, that fiery red Maserati pulled up in front of the tea shop. Felicity got out, dressed in a Chanel knockoff and carrying a designer bag, but her expression was anything but bright. After the car sped away, she grumbled, “I can’t believe it. I didn’t even get his number.” I recalled the fleeting glimpse I’d caught through the car window. “Whose? Asher’s?” “Yes! He slept with me, gave me ten thousand dollars and this outfit, and that was it. The girl from the dance department got twenty thousand! What, am I not as good as her?” I had no answer for that. Felicity sat and fumed for a while longer before her anger finally subsided. “Damn it, I’m so pissed. I need to go get something nice to eat,” she said. “Whatever. With this ten grand, at least I don’t have to work for the rest of the semester. I’ll figure out the rest later.” She smiled at me. “Willa, I’m not trying to lead you astray, but you really don’t have to make things so hard on yourself.” “Just lie back, have some fun, and make some money. What’s so bad about that? It’s a hell of a lot better than shaking bubble tea until your arms fall off for less than three thousand a month.” 2 I didn’t close the shop until 11 PM. On the way back, Felicity’s words echoed in my head. Was I making things too hard on myself? Everyone else was taking shortcuts. Why shouldn’t I? If I couldn’t lock down Asher as a long-term investment, I could just find someone else. At least I could get a quick ten thousand to solve my immediate problems. My head started to ache. I almost laughed at myself. Willa, Willa, you’re getting desperate. The thought of killing the goose for a single golden egg was something I was actually considering. As I turned down a small side street, I saw a car stopped by the road, smoke pouring from the hood. It had crashed into a guardrail. The driver was slumped over the steering wheel, unconscious. I ran to the driver’s side and saw it was Asher Wolfhard. There was no time to think. Terrified the car might catch fire, I started pulling him out. I wasn’t strong enough. It took all my strength to drag and haul him to a safe distance. While I was on the phone with 911, Asher started to come to. He looked at my face, a flicker of surprise and awe in his eyes. “You…” I quickly pressed him down. “Your head is bleeding. Don’t move.” I used my handkerchief to apply pressure to the wound. Soon, the paramedics arrived and loaded him onto a stretcher. I used his phone to contact his family, then turned and walked back to campus. A few days later, as I was leaving class, Asher blocked my path, holding a bouquet of flowers. He still had a bandage on his forehead, and his lips were pale, but his eyes were shining. “You were the one who saved me the other day, right, Willa?” I nodded. “It was nothing. Don’t worry about it.” “How could I not? You saved my life. I’m a pretty big deal, you know. So what you did was a pretty big deal, too.” He thrust the flowers into my arms and then held out a credit card. “There’s ten thousand on here as a thank you. I was wondering if you’d do me the honor of having dinner with me tonight?” He was asking me out. I looked into his charming, almond-shaped eyes, a thousand thoughts racing through my mind. But after a few seconds, I shook my head. “I can’t have dinner with you. I have to go to my part-time job.” “What’s so great about that job? I’ll just give you the money.” “No, thank you. I have hands and feet. I don’t need to take advantage of you.” I fought to keep my racing heart in check, coolly rejecting his offer before turning to leave. I knew he was watching me, probably seeing right through my act. But I was playing the long game. Even if the chances were slim, I had to try. 3 Sure enough, at 7 PM, Asher showed up at the bubble tea shop where I worked. He’d probably never been rejected by a woman before, and he didn’t look happy about it. His face was a thundercloud when he saw me. “You turned me down to work in this dump?” he sneered. “How much do they pay you an hour? Twenty? Thirty? Fifty?” My expression turned even colder than his. “That’s none of your business. Either order something or get out. I don’t have time to play games with you.” Asher was taken aback. He took a deep breath. “I’ll give you one last chance. Ten thousand an hour. Are you coming with me or not?” My face was a mask of indifference. “Get. Out.” Furious, Asher spun around and stormed off. But he only made it to the door before whirling back. He slammed a card on the counter, followed by his hand, slapping it down with a sharp crack. “Everyone in here gets the most expensive drink on the menu. My treat.” “You like shaking bubble tea so much? Tonight, you can shake until you drop.” He was ruthless. For two straight hours, I made over 180 drinks. My hands were trembling, but I didn’t say a word. His face grew darker and darker. When he saw me shaking as I tried to carry in a new container of toppings, he blocked my path. “Fine, that’s enough. Stop.” “There are still three drinks left on your order.” “So I’m canceling them! Just stop, damn it. I’ve never seen anyone so stubborn.” Asher turned and left, and this time, he didn’t come back. Not only that, but he had tipped five thousand into the shop’s account. The ten-thousand-dollar card was still on the counter. On my way back, I stared at the card, a storm of emotions churning inside me. So this was what a shortcut felt like. The money came so fast. What had I been doing all those years, working myself to the bone? Just then, I saw Asher sitting on a bench on the side street. The late autumn night was cold, and he was still in his hospital gown, his head bowed. I had already walked past him, but I hesitated, then turned back. “Here,” I said, holding out the card. “You forgot this at the shop.” Asher looked up, his face deathly pale. “It’s for you.” I pushed the card back into his pocket. I started to walk away but couldn’t stop myself. “What’s wrong? Are you not feeling well? Do you want me to take you to the hospital?” Asher stared at me for a long time. “I’m fine. Just a headache.” He pursed his lips, looking unhappy. “Leave me alone. You don’t have to care. It’s not like anyone cares if I live or die.” What a load of crap. His parents doted on him, and he had a legion of girlfriends who would have done anything for him. I didn’t argue. I just moved behind him and started gently massaging the back of his neck. “It’s a side effect of the accident. You should be resting, not running around and getting angry.” He grabbed my hand, his voice weak. “If you hadn’t refused to go out with me, I wouldn’t have gotten so worked up.” “…Then I guess you’ll just have to stay angry. I don’t have time for this.” The Wolfhard family car arrived to pick him up. As he got in, he pushed the card back into my pocket, a rare look of disappointment on his face. “This money is just to thank you for saving my life. Please, take it.” “Okay.” The car sped away. I turned, a small smile playing on my lips. Inside the luxury car, Asher was smiling too. “Sly little fox, playing hard to get with me. We’ll see who’s better at this game.” He closed his eyes and inhaled. “A faint, milky scent… soft 36Ds. Even though I was out of it, I couldn’t have been mistaken. She’s a masterpiece.” The driver had seen it all before. “If you like her, sir, just go after her. There’s no one you can’t have.” Asher chuckled. “What do you know? Beautiful women are a dime a dozen. But a sly fox like her… that’s rare. I haven’t met a woman who could get under my skin like this in a long time. I’m going to have some fun with this one.” 4 When I got my paycheck of three thousand, I sent two thousand home. My grandmother’s heart was getting worse, and she was back in the hospital. My father had no money, so her medical bills fell to me. After paying a school activity fee and buying some necessities, I was left with only five hundred dollars. I lay on my dorm bed, staring at the credit card, my mind at war with itself. I knew its owner, Asher Wolfhard, was also waiting for a notification that it had been used. Just then, the door opened, and my roommate, Tara, walked in. She’d been out at a club all night and reeked of smoke and stale alcohol. The smell quickly filled our small room. A moment later, she stumbled to the bathroom and started vomiting violently, leaving the door wide open. The sour stench was overwhelming. I wrinkled my nose. “Tara, can you please close the bathroom door? The smell is awful.” No answer. When she was finished, she staggered out, ripped open my bed curtain, and snarled, “Mind your own damn business!” Then she collapsed onto her bed and started snoring. Sleep was impossible. I went to the library to catch up on my studies. Time passed, and I almost forgot about Asher. Then one day, as I was leaving the tea shop, I saw him leaning against his car, holding a bouquet of flowers and a cake. “Happy birthday, Willa,” he called out. My eyes welled up. No one had ever celebrated my birthday before. How did he know? As if reading my mind, he said, “Don’t ask how I know. Just come make a wish and blow out the candles.” My first instinct was to walk away, but then I saw the little panda drawn on the cake. My nose stung. “Why a panda?” “Because when you saved me, I saw you were wearing a panda hair clip. I thought it was cute.” “…Thank you.” We found a spot on the curb, made a wish, and cut the cake. We sat side-by-side, and I asked him, “Is your head all better?” “Yeah, it’s healed.” “Let me see.” I leaned in close to look at the wound on his forehead. The stitches were out, leaving only a faint red line. Without thinking, I blew on it gently. I looked up and saw that Asher was blushing. He cleared his throat, his eyes shining. “What… what are you doing?” I quickly looked away, embarrassed. “S-sorry. I didn’t mean to.” We were both a little flustered. We finished the small cake in silence. I stood up, brushing off my pants to leave. Asher grabbed my hand and pointed to his red sports car. “Let me drive you.” I pursed my lips stubbornly. “No. I won’t get in.” I knew how many other women had sat in that passenger seat. Asher seemed to understand. His eyes flickered, and he ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek. After a moment, he pulled out his phone. “Fine. But can I at least get your number?” 5 I had finally gotten Asher Wolfhard’s number. His social media was simple: a few birthday photos, an occasional picture of his car or a party. None of the thirty-five other women had ever made an appearance. I casually liked one of his posts. A message came through almost immediately: [Home yet?] Me: [Yeah.] [Get some rest.] [Okay.] [Want to get dinner sometime?] [We’ll see. I’m a little busy lately, picked up another tutoring job.] [Let me know when you’re free.] [Okay.] I turned off my phone and closed my eyes. There was no tutoring job. I just needed more time to figure out my next move. Asher stared at the screen, a smirk on his face. This damn little fox. One lie after another. He’d given her the card over a month ago, and she hadn’t spent a dime. Her clothes were frayed, her shoes were falling apart, but she was still playing her game. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested. The way her eyes faintly gleamed whenever she saw his car, the way she unconsciously touched her nose when she lied—Asher had been around the block enough times to know. She was playing the long game. And even knowing that, he wanted to see what this seemingly innocent girl would do next.

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It had been two months since I broke up with Julian after our cold war, and he still hadn’t sent me a single text. I couldn’t take it anymore. I was ready to cave and apologize first. But that very day, I suddenly received a confession from the school’s poorest student, Hudson. I was about to reject him when a wall of text—like a livestream chat—flashed before my eyes: “LMAO, the side chick actually thinks Hudson likes her.” “He just lost a bet with the female lead. He’s forced to confess.” “Poor male lead. Just realized his crush is pushing him away, and now he has to get rejected by this shallow, gold-digging prom queen.” “Must be heartbroken!” “It’s okay, it’s okay! Once he gets reclaimed by the billionaire Harper family in New York, worth billions, our female lead will come running back!” …Wait, what? The Harper family from New York? The super rich one? Hold up! Pause the makeup session. I want this broke boy! 1 I am a gold digger. But I’m good at hiding it. Usually, I treat all my classmates equally and with kindness. Except when it comes to dating. My bottom line is non-negotiable— He has to be rich. And, of course, hot. Julian was the closest thing to my ideal in my eighteen years of life. His family is loaded, old money. Rumor has it they’re second only to the Harper family in New York. Of course, a family like the Harpers is out of my league. Julian was arrogant, cold, and high-maintenance. I chased him for months before he finally agreed to be my boyfriend. But once we were together, he constantly complained that I wasn’t clingy or caring enough. He’d threaten to break up over anything. “Let’s just end it. You only chased me for my money anyway.” “I saw you talking to the basketball captain. Interested in him now?” “Don’t let that used McLaren fool you; it’s worthless.” “Block his number right now, or I’m done!” This happened all the time. By now, he’d practically monitored every good-looking guy in my contacts. Two months ago, Julian picked another fight. The reason? I was twenty minutes late to his birthday party. “This shows you don’t value me!” “You weren’t late to the school assembly! Am I less important to you than the principal?” “Let’s break up. We need to cool off!” Same old routine. Are they even comparable? I’m not a trust fund baby like him. I can’t just offend the principal whenever I feel like it. I was getting tired of it anyway, so I just went along with it. “Fine. Break up then.” “Don’t contact me.” 2 That day, Julian’s face went pale. He glared at me for a long time before smashing a bottle of wine worth thousands on the floor. And true to his word, he never contacted me again. Two months passed. I calmed down. Let’s face it, Julian was the ceiling of what I could reach. Who doesn’t love money? My family is average. My parents favor my younger brother and give him everything good. I want out. But I’m not smart enough. Even studying my butt off only gets me into the top 80 of my grade. My biggest asset is this face… So what if I use my looks to get ahead and satisfy my ambition? What’s wrong with that? Thinking like this made me feel better instantly. School was just letting out. Julian had been playing basketball every afternoon lately. I packed my bag and headed to the courts. I planned to intercept him, apologize, act cute, and smooth things over. But just as I reached the gym entrance, someone unexpected called my name— Hudson. 3 Hudson. Our school’s famous genius. Always number one in the grade. He’s 6’2″, super hot, and once narrowly beat Julian for the title of School Hottie— One of those votes came from me. No ulterior motive. Hudson is just exactly my type. My Libra nature demanded fairness, so I gave him a vote. But aside from that, I had almost zero interaction with him. He kept to himself, barely speaking to anyone. Rumors said someone saw his mom scavenging for vegetable scraps at the market. Others said his dad died young, and his grandma was sick, costing tens of thousands a year in medical bills. Basically, Hudson’s family was struggling. He applied for financial aid every year and worked part-time at a boba shop and a convenience store. In the cafeteria, he only bought the two cheapest veggie dishes. Even the girls wouldn’t be full on that, let alone a growing boy. Once, feeling generous, I took fifty bucks from my allowance and secretly slipped it into his pencil case. Anonymous. Now, at the gym entrance. When Hudson called my name, I frowned— Did he find out about the fifty bucks? In those cliché novels, these poor but proud scholars usually have massive egos. He probably thinks I was trying to humiliate him. Is he here to pick a fight? Before I could come up with a defense, his next words stunned me. “Sophia.” “I like you.” “Will you be my girlfriend?” 4 I was dumbfounded. The gym entrance was crowded. I looked back toward the basketball courts. Julian had walked out without me noticing. He must have just finished playing; sweat was dripping from his forehead. A few of his friends were around him, all looking at us with interest. They were talking loudly, not bothering to lower their voices. “Hey, isn’t that Sophia, Julian’s ex?” “Ex? Watch your mouth, bro. Ex-girlfriend!” “Haha, right! Ex. Gotta say, Sophia’s got backbone this time. Two months! Usually, she’d be crawling back by now.” “Did she find a rebound?” “Oof, Hudson. The scholarship kid.” “Julian, you think she’ll say yes?” Hearing them, I felt awkward. I instinctively looked at Julian. I wanted to give him a look, tell him not to misunderstand. But he never even looked my way. He just bounced the ball, looking bored. Like he was watching something completely irrelevant to him, he smirked mockingly. “Hm?” “Why would I care? Hudson’s a top student. If he likes Sophia, she’s punching up.” My heart sank. Julian really didn’t like me much, did he? He only accepted me because I chased him so hard. Agreeing to break up must have been a relief for him. That’s fine. Not trying to get back together saves me some dignity. 5 Even though I wasn’t planning on getting back with Julian, I wasn’t going to say yes to Hudson either. We’d spoken maybe twenty sentences in three years of high school. Starting a relationship out of nowhere seemed irresponsible to both of us. Just as I was about to reject him, a wall of text floated before my eyes— “Here it comes! The drama! The male lead confesses to the side character!” “Haha, look at her face. Does she really think Hudson likes her?” “It’s just a dare he lost to the female lead. Forced confession.” “Sigh, poor guy. Just realized his crush doesn’t like him and is pushing him to someone else. Now he has to get rejected by this shallow girl.” “Must hurt!” “Don’t worry! Once he gets reclaimed by the billionaire Harper family in New York, worth billions, our female lead will come running back!” …What? The Harper family? New York billionaires? My heart rate spiked. I knew some gossip about the Harpers. Rumor had it Mrs. Harper was frail and only had one child. But due to a business rivalry, that son was kidnapped at four or five. Lost. Never found. Over a decade later, despite expanding their empire, the Harpers never stopped looking. The text kept scrolling. “Almost there! Three months until Hudson gets found!” “The Harper family is abroad right now. Once they meet the kidnapper in London and get the info, they’ll fly back immediately…” “Our boy won’t have to suffer anymore!” Three months. Okay. For someone who loves money as much as I do, how could I let a golden ticket slip away? I crinkled my eyes into a perfect smile. “Sure.” “I accept, Hudson.” I was so shocked by the floating text that I didn’t notice Julian behind me. I didn’t see his face go pale or his fingers tremble. 6 “What? She said yes?” “No way! Isn’t she a gold digger?!!!” “She only dated Julian for his money. Total snob.” “In the plot, she’s supposed to regret it only after Hudson becomes rich!” “Exactly!” “Besides, what about our Wendy?” Wendy. Hudson’s childhood friend. The “female lead” the chat was talking about. They said Wendy made a bet with Hudson to make him confess to me because she liked Julian (the “second male lead”) and wanted to kill any chance of Julian and me getting back together. In the original story, I rejected Hudson, and Julian didn’t take me back. Instead, this “pure” childhood friend went to comfort Hudson immediately. Hudson didn’t have feelings for me, but being rejected publicly is awkward. Wendy, the mastermind, played the innocent flower. She kept Hudson on a hook while spreading rumors that I was a shallow girl who looked down on poor people’s feelings. But secretly, she chased Julian. Until Hudson was found by his rich family. Then she finally “accepted” his feelings. Happy ending for everyone. 7 I had to admit, this girl was good. If she hadn’t dragged me into this stupid bet and spread rumors about me, we might have been friends. But not anymore. I wasn’t going to be nice to someone who wished me ill. I glanced at the corner. Wendy looked shocked that I said yes. She froze for a second, then looked delighted as she turned to Julian. Rumor had it I pestered Julian into dating me, and he was sick of it. Now that he was finally free, he must be happy, right? But as I stepped forward and took Hudson’s hand, the crowd gasped— Julian slammed the basketball onto the ground. Face blank, he pushed through the crowd and stormed out without a word. His friends chased after him, apologizing to the people he shoved. “Sorry, sorry, urgent business.” “No, he’s not mad! Julian’s in a great mood!” “Why the scary face? Maybe he didn’t play enough… hehehe…” “Don’t ask, we gotta go! Bye!”

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