Category: English

Three years after being cast out of the Hawke family, Eleanor Hawke walked into my shop for a pair of custom shoes. As it happened, I was the one assigned to her. I knelt reflexively, ready to help her with her shoes, but she stopped me, her hand on my arm. “Julian,” she said, her voice laced with surprise. “What are you doing working a job like this?” It seemed she never imagined that her once-pampered heir would now be serving others with such practiced humility. I used her grip to help myself up, and in the same smooth motion, talked her into putting $200,000 on a store card. She did it without hesitation. As she was leaving, she asked, a little too carefully, “Julian, do you still hate me?” I gave her a perfect, professional smile and saw her out the door. The moment she was gone, I asked my manager for a transfer to another branch. I didn’t hate her anymore. But I never wanted anything to do with the Hawke family again. 1 It was pouring rain when I got off work. Eleanor’s Maybach was parked by the curb, its hazard lights blinking. She rolled down the window and called out to me. “Julian, let me give you a ride home.” I glanced at the rideshare app on my phone. The wait was endless. I wisely accepted her offer. Life has taught me one crucial lesson: never pass up an opportunity for comfort. Otherwise, your entire existence becomes a trial. The driver was still Arthur. He grinned when he saw me. “Young Master Julian, you look different.” “More grounded,” he continued. “A bit like your father.” “Arthur, just drive,” Eleanor said sharply from the back. My father’s death was a wound that never healed for any of us. The slightest mention was enough to make it ache. A soft classical piece began to play through the car’s speakers. Eleanor had looked like she wanted to say something, but the mention of my father had silenced her. She leaned back against the leather, her expression weary and dark. I took a pause in the music to speak. “Arthur, you can just call me Julian. I haven’t been the ‘Young Master’ of the Hawke family for a long time.” Arthur just kept smiling, unfazed by Eleanor’s mood. “It’s just a title, son. A habit of many years.” 2 Hearing Arthur’s warm, steady voice, I couldn’t help but smile. When I was fourteen, at the peak of my rebellious phase, Eleanor brought home a boy she was sponsoring. His name was originally Caleb, but after learning he was an orphan, Eleanor had him take our name. She thought his given name was common, so she renamed him Caleb Hawke. I was Julian Hawke, he was Caleb Hawke. But everyone always said how polite and thoughtful Caleb was, how it was no wonder Eleanor doted on him. As for me, I was arrogant and spoiled, not nearly as composed as the boy from the mountains. A rebellious teenager has his pride. I wouldn’t let him outshine me. I berated every gossiping servant in the house until I was exhausted. I sat down to catch my breath, only to see Eleanor standing around the corner, her eyes filled with disgust. And next to her stood Caleb, dressed in the latest designer clothes, looking smug. I knew it was his doing. Ever since he arrived, everything I did was twisted to make me look like a bully. I had been friendly to him at first, but he would always act hesitant and wounded. Within days, rumors were flying that the Hawke heir looked down on commoners. I swore to Eleanor, argued, collapsed into her arms in a desperate hug, and pleaded, “Mom, why don’t you believe me?” She just sighed. “Julian, when will you ever grow up?” She always thought I was a lost cause. She seemed to forget that she once promised, “No matter what Julian does, Mommy will always have your back.” I wanted to rip the mask off Caleb’s face and show her the ugliness underneath. But what I said was, “What gives you the right to wear something like that?” The clothes were from a new collection. He couldn’t have worn them without her permission. Her favoritism had been there all along. I was just too stupid to see it, too desperate to win a game that was already lost. The day after that, Caleb’s name was legally changed. He became the sole heir of the Hawke family. And I became a complete joke. 3 Only two people ever stood by my side: my father and Arthur. My father was always busy with work and carried a deep guilt towards my mother. Even when he knew I was being wronged, his only solution was to give me more money. This only made Eleanor despise me more, believing I was a greedy manipulator. Arthur was originally my father’s driver. After hearing that Caleb was being “bullied,” Eleanor assigned Arthur to drive him, a clear message that the entire household stood behind Caleb. But no matter how Caleb tried to win him over, Arthur remained unmoved, never saying more than was necessary. With me, however, he was different. “Young Master,” he’d say, “it’s getting cold. Make sure you wear a coat.” When he saw me withdrawn and miserable, he’d try to comfort me. “She’s your mother, son. Deep down, she still loves you.” Did she? I had stopped believing that a long time ago. But I was still grateful for his kindness. A dark cloud of scorn hung over me, and Arthur was the only one who ever tried to let a little light through. The car slowed. I knew we were close to my place. “Arthur, you can just stop here. The alley ahead is a nightmare to get in and out of.” Eleanor seemed to wake from a trance, her eyes widening in shock as she took in the run-down neighborhood. “Julian… you live here?” I just smiled and gave a polite farewell. “Thank you for the ride, Mrs. Hawke. I won’t take up any more of your time.” Pain flickered in her eyes. “Do you have to speak to me like that?” I simply bowed my head. Then I opened my umbrella and walked alone into the heavy curtain of rain. 4 When I got home, I saw a new friend request on my phone. The name was simply “[Mom]”. My manager had told me Mrs. Hawke had specifically asked for my contact information. She’d praised my service and added two million dollars to her store card. “Keep this client happy, Julian,” he’d said, “and you’ll be our top salesman for the year.” I hesitated, but the thought of Leo’s medical bills made me accept. “Thank you for your support, Mrs. Hawke 🙂 :)” I typed. The status indicator showed she was typing for a long time. I waited, wondering what she could possibly be writing. Eventually, I gave up and went to take a shower. When I came back, I saw a string of retracted messages. Only one remained. “Your father’s memorial is the day after tomorrow. Will you come?” The message triggered a night of relentless nightmares, replaying the events that had destroyed my life. Caleb had been suddenly diagnosed with leukemia. He needed a bone marrow transplant, and I was the only match. But my own health was poor at the time, and I was undergoing treatment. I refused. I was ready to give up everything, to leave the Hawke family and never look back. The night before I was set to leave, Eleanor sat me down for a talk. She reminisced about my childhood. How I was a messy little boy, and she had dreamed of raising a perfect prince. How for her birthday, I had dressed up in a flamboyant suit to make her happy, only to be scolded for being too ostentatious. How I’d cried in the middle of the night, telling her, “I just wanted to make you happy, Mommy.” How in elementary school, I’d overheard other parents mocking her for being a bad mother because of my poor grades, and I’d studied relentlessly to get a perfect score, losing so much weight in the process that my chin was sharp against her shoulder. “It hurts my shoulder,” she’d said, “but it hurts my heart more.” She looked at me with a misty, nostalgic gaze. “Julian, do you still love your mother like you did when you were a little boy?” “Of course,” I’d answered. “But Mom… do you still love me?” “…Of course.” If only I had seen the flicker of evasion in her eyes through the dim light. If only I hadn’t taken that glass of water she’d drugged. I collapsed into her arms. I remember her soft fingers on my cheek, gently wiping away a tear. But when I woke up, it was to an ice-cold reality. My own mother had drugged me so they could take my bone marrow for Caleb. The procedure left me bedridden and weak for months. 5 Lying alone in that sterile hospital room, I had only one thought: revenge. To hell with her. From that day on, she was no longer my mother. She was just… that woman. I stormed back to the Hawke estate, weak and shivering in a thin hospital gown. They were celebrating Caleb’s birthday. I took a baseball bat and demolished the entire ground floor of the mansion. If security hadn’t stopped me, I would have caved their heads in. I screamed until my throat was raw, the rage in my eyes making that woman shrink back in fear, right into Caleb’s waiting arms. Their solution was to have me committed to a psychiatric hospital. If my father hadn’t returned when he did, I would have ended up either a mindless vegetable or a corpse. He returned with the truth. The leukemia, the transplant—it was all a lie, a scheme cooked up by Caleb. His real target was my fiancée. My engagement to Isabella Vance had been arranged since we were children. The Vance family’s new energy enterprise had made them far more powerful than the Hawkes. No matter how hard that woman tried to push Caleb into high society, she could never find him a better match. So, Caleb had been secretly corresponding with Isabella for months. And I had worked tirelessly to earn the approval of Isabella’s parents, finally securing my place in their family. 6 Now, with the truth revealed, that woman just held Caleb and wept. “In that case,” she declared, “Caleb should marry Isabella.” “What else can we do? We can’t lose our connection to the Vance family.” “As for Julian…” She glanced at me, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes, before looking away. “You can have the villa in Northwood. You can move there today.” I had grown up in Southwood. She was banishing me to the other side of the city. I didn’t want to stay in that house a moment longer, but I would not let them get away with this so easily. My father flew into a rage, but she just sobbed. “What was I supposed to do? I finally have a son who loves me. Are you asking me to lose him too? It’s because you were never here! I had to raise him alone!” “If I can only have one son,” she screamed, “it will be Caleb! If you make him leave, I’ll go with him.” In the end, my father gave in. The day I left, he said, “Wait for your mother to come to her senses. Don’t hate her.” He didn’t understand. I hated him too. For his weakness. I left without saying goodbye. I became a snake, coiled in the darkness, waiting. I watched as Caleb and Isabella got married. I watched that woman beam with joy at the wedding. I heard that Isabella had bought Caleb a yacht, and they threw extravagant parties. The media called Caleb a golden boy, the savior of the Hawke-Vance alliance. One day, my father called me. “Isabella is pregnant. The morning sickness is hitting her hard.” Then, after a pause, “Julian, it’s been a while. Are you feeling better?” I heard myself answer, my voice wooden. “No. The doctors say the damage is permanent.” Everything after that happened in slow motion. I drove to the hospital. I saw that woman helping Isabella out of a car, laughing and chatting. I saw my father and Caleb walking side-by-side, a perfect picture of father and son. I pressed my foot on the accelerator. Faster. Faster. I was going to kill him at the peak of his happiness. I was innocent. Why did he deserve a life of joy? Their faces turned to masks of horror. My father shoved Caleb out of the way. He hit the windshield, blood blooming across the spiderweb of cracks before he fell away. I slammed on the brakes, my chest colliding with the steering wheel, a tearing pain ripping through me. The car door was wrenched open. I was dragged out. That woman beat me over the head with her handbag. Something sharp cut my face. A flurry of slaps. The police came. They took me away. My father’s last words were: “Don’t blame Julian.” But that woman and the Vance family hired the best lawyers. They pushed for the maximum sentence. The day I was sent to prison, they told me Isabella had lost the baby due to the shock. I smiled. “You monster,” they screamed. “How can you still smile?”

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I’m a mukbang streamer, but I never purge. One day, someone spammed 100 “Carnival” gifts during my stream. All they wanted was to watch me eat in person, just once. When I arrived, I found out it wasn’t just her. There was also a strikingly handsome guy with pale skin and a gaunt frame. The elegant lady pulled out a thick envelope. “If you can get him to take even one bite, this ten thousand dollars is yours.” Turns out, severe anorexia is a real thing? I methodically polished off the entire table of food. Finally, I licked my lips and looked pitifully at the steak in front of him. “I… I’m still hungry. If you’re not going to eat that, can I have it…?” His pupils dilated in shock, and his slender, bony hand slammed down on the plate. “This is mine!” My ex-boyfriend told everyone I ate like a pig. So, I decided to become a mukbang streamer. Suddenly, someone dropped 100 “Carnival” gifts in my chat. All for the chance to watch me eat a meal live. “You really eat with such gusto, can you truly eat anything?” She watched wide-eyed as I demolished a whole table of delicacies. Pointing to the handsome guy next to her, she slapped down a red envelope. “If you can get him to eat a single bite, this ten thousand is yours.” Wait, people who don’t like food exist? Not in my worldview. I licked my lips and stared longingly at the steak in front of him. “I… um… if you’re not gonna eat that, can I have it…?” His pupils shook, and his elegant hand immediately guarded the plate. 1 He even picked up the bowl and had a few sips of mushroom soup. The lady next to him looked like she was about to cry tears of joy. But I just stared at his unfinished bowl. “Um, are you done with that? Can I drink it?” He looked at the table, wiped clean of food. Then he silently scooted his chair away from me. The elegant lady came to my rescue, “Dodo, are you still hungry?” I scratched my head, nodding sheepishly. “The portions here are kinda small, just a little bit on each plate.” She glanced at the dozen empty plates on the table and silently ordered another round. My eyes lit up. This place was amazing, the mushroom soup was to die for. Soon enough, I finished that round too. Seeing me stare hungrily at his bowl again, the handsome guy couldn’t help but take a few more sips. I wiped my mouth and started on the fruit platter. Chase finally couldn’t hold back, “You can still eat fruit?” I looked at him curiously. “Fruit is delicious, why wouldn’t I be able to eat it?” He reached out, pinched a slice of melon, and put it in his mouth. A flash of pain crossed my eyes. I unconsciously pulled the fruit platter closer to myself. The elegant lady’s eyes were shining with excitement. She grabbed my hand. “Dodo, please, I’m begging you. Eat with my son every day.” “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll cover all the food costs. You just need to show up.” “Ten thousand… is ten thousand a month okay?” Turns out the handsome guy had anorexia, so severe he needed IV drips. I looked at her in surprise. A job this good exists? Seeing I didn’t respond, she added, “Is it too little? Twenty thousand.” Chase suddenly scoffed. “Mom, let’s go. If we don’t leave, she won’t have anywhere to purge!” I stared at him blankly. You can insult my character. But you cannot insult my appetite. If it weren’t for four eyes watching me, making me a little shy… I could have eaten another table full. Food is precious; I never waste a crumb. 2 Don’t let my status as a humble little mukbang streamer fool you. I never, ever purge. “EatMoreDodo” is my handle. My real name is Bella Tang. But I’ve been hungry since I was a baby. Naming is serious business, folks. It wasn’t that my family was poor. Legend has it, I cried day and night during my first month. My mom almost lost her mind. Until my grandma came to visit and mixed a giant bottle of formula. I drank every drop and finally stopped crying. My mom was baffled. My intake was ten times the recommended amount. Basically, I had been starving for a whole month. They say my first words were “Eat food.” My mom always says… There was nothing in the house I hadn’t gnawed on, except the toilet. Everyone else used bowls. I used a pot. Because running back and forth to refill a bowl was too tiring. All the buffet restaurants in my hometown had my photo up in the staff room. “If she comes, pay her to go to the competitor across the street!” My parents even took me to the hospital, but the doctor said I was healthy. He said some people are just born with a big appetite and a strong stomach. During puberty. I tried to eat tiny portions like the other girls. But by the afternoon, I was dizzy and seeing stars. By the next meal, I couldn’t fake it anymore. The bowls I stacked up were half a meter high. My classmates were stunned by my appetite. They said I was born to be a mukbang streamer. Prophecy fulfilled. My mom always worried my salary wouldn’t cover my food bill. It covers it just fine. After all, eating is my job. Doesn’t that count as free meals? After a rough job hunt post-graduation, I just started livestreaming my daily meals. Somehow, people started treating me like a mukbang star. In reality, I was just eating my normal amount. Although my viewer count isn’t as high as the big streamers, it’s steady. Fans say they’ve never seen a streamer like me who goes live three times a day. More punctual than an alarm clock. And I chew slowly, making it pleasant to watch. They say watching me eat makes the food look delicious! Naturally. I eat on time, sleep early, wake up early, am not picky, and enjoy everything. Lots of people treat me as their virtual meal buddy. I picked up the red envelope from Chase’s mom, Auntie Sarah. “Thanks for today, Auntie! I’m gonna go digest now!” Her eyes lit up with curiosity, “Digest?” Chase looked like he expected this, “Eating so much and staying thin, heh heh.” I patted him. “You eat too little, nothing in your stomach. Otherwise, we could go together.” Auntie Sarah looked excited. “Then take me with you! Is this an industry secret I’m allowed to see?” I was confused. Do rich people not know how to digest food? 3 I led them on a walk along the road. Clapping my hands front and back as we walked. “A hundred steps after a meal, live to ninety-nine, hey!” Then raising arms up and down, crossing to pat shoulders. “Rotate and twist the universe, boost yang and strengthen the body!” Then flicking fingers with both hands. “Flick flick hands, worries go away, hey!” Half an hour later, I squinted comfortably. Auntie Sarah’s pupils were trembling. “This… this is what you call digestion?” Chase looked like he’d seen a ghost, lips pressed tight, speechless. I nodded. “You guys really don’t know how to digest after a meal?” “I do this post-meal walking exercise every day.” Auntie Sarah looked like she was about to jump. She slammed a card into my hand. “Okay, okay, okay! Here’s twenty thousand. Just eat with him for a month first.” “I’ll also arrange a chef to come over. He can cook whatever you want.” Look at this. I need to brag to my mom. People who know how to eat always have good luck! Twenty thousand a month! Auntie Sarah insisted on driving me home. The next day, she delivered Chase to the apartment across the hall. “I thought about it. Going to my place might make you uncomfortable, so sending him here is more convenient.” “His nickname is Biggy. He’s a year younger than you.” She left without looking back after saying that. Only then did I learn they bought the apartment across the hall overnight. Rich people really do whatever they want… When will I become one of the rich people in this world?! I looked at Chase, whose legs were thin as ostrich legs. “Biggy?” He slammed the door shut. Then opened it a crack, speaking arrogantly. “My name is Chase.” Oh well, names are important! Chase, like chasing food, but he doesn’t eat! “Okay, Biggy!” 4 Early the next morning, I prepared breakfast. Then I knocked on Chase’s door. He saw my table full of food. Each dish on a colorful plate. His handsome face was just like my plates. What’s the word? Feast for the eyes. I had Chase sit at the other end of the long table. Then I turned on the phone on the stand to start the stream. My fans know my streams are quiet. Just a few sentences. “Hi everyone, breakfast time! Here’s today’s deliciousness.” “Dodo is gonna start eating!” Then I focused on enjoying the food. First, a bite of yam and hawthorn jujube cake. Sweet and sour, really appetizing. Chase sat opposite me. As I chewed and chewed… He couldn’t help but pick up a piece of cake too. Then he drank some porridge, mimicking my movements like a robot. I couldn’t help sharing. “Biggy, I pickled these veggies myself. They smell amazing!” Comments started floating across the screen. “Streamer is eating breakfast with someone today? What about last night??” “Boo hoo, my little cabbage has a pig.” “Who is it? Which pig dares to root up my soft and sticky streamer!” I laughed and explained. “My little brother came to visit. I’ll be eating with him lately. He won’t be on camera, stream content won’t change!” “So it’s a little brother. Streamer is so cute, brother must be… hehehe, let the sisters see.” “I just like watching the streamer, stop interrupting upstairs.” “Little brother, then it’s fine. As long as it’s not a pig rooting the cabbage.” “Too bad my son is only in first grade. Streamer, grow up slower.” I’m often amused by the comments. When I finished everything, I turned off the stream. “Done eating, bye bye, see you at lunch!” While I was cleaning up the plates, Chase stood in front of me, squinting, voice rising. “Little brother?” Despite being thin, he had a large frame and broad shoulders, blocking the kitchen doorway. “Biggy brother, what’s up?” I pushed him away. As expected, no pecs. Bad review. “You…” He moved away from the door, changing the subject. “Others stream all day and sell products. Do you earn enough to feed yourself?” I showed him my phone screen with the viewer count. Thousands of people watch me eat every day now. Although I never promote products or make big money. Breaking even is no problem. He knows how to hurt people. I gave him a gloomy look. He huffed lightly and lifted his chin, saying nothing more. I started my post-meal exercises. “Biggy, join in.” I went over to teach him the moves. His fingers were so long and slender, like a hand model. I couldn’t help but pinch them! He shrank back slightly, ears turning suspiciously red. “You… what are you doing?” “Teaching you. You have to do this. Hit the tiger’s mouth points together. Good for the spleen and stomach.” He complained verbally. But under my “one, two, three, four” rhythm, his hands moved too. Like a ninety-year-old lady dancing tango in a wheelchair—ten beats slow! Just then, a noise came from the door. The door opened with a roar. A bouquet of roses was smashed onto the floor.

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The charity student my fiancé was sponsoring had her eyes on the prize: him. The girl slammed her Columbia University acceptance letter and a box of ultra-thin condoms onto Julian’s desk simultaneously. She looked shy but acted bold. “You said if I got into the Ivy League, you’d grant me a wish… I only want you.” I was standing outside the door, trembling with rage. I was about to burst in and slap the entitlement out of her. Suddenly, floating text scrolled across my vision. [Let the side character slap her. It just makes the Male Lead feel sorry for the Heroine.] [The Male Lead is already planning to give the Heroine a title. One slap from the fiancée, and he’ll break the engagement for sure.] [Wait for the angry fiancée to storm off, then the Male Lead will lift the crying Heroine onto the desk… hehe… possessive daddy vibes. One box won’t be enough.] It hit me. I was just a cannon fodder side character in a CEO romance novel. I paused for two seconds. Then, I thoughtfully closed the door for them, opened the interior surveillance app on my phone, and hit Record. 1 Through the crack in the heavy oak doors of the CEO’s office, I could see everything. The girl was wearing a pleated skirt and a hoodie, her hair tied up in a high ponytail. She looked fresh-faced and innocent. The way she slapped that acceptance letter down screamed youthful arrogance. “Julian, you promised me a reward.” “You…” Julian leaned forward, tapping her forehead playfully. “The letter just arrived and you’re already here to collect? Do you think I’d shortchange you?” Mia put her hands on her hips, a mix of cunning and nervousness in her eyes. “I’m just afraid you can’t afford what I want.” Julian slowly rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes held the arrogance of a man on top of the world. “Mia, don’t underestimate my bank account. If you asked for the stars, I’d find a way to buy them.” “I want you!” Mia suddenly pulled out a small box. She spoke fast, terrified he’d say no. “Before finals, you said you’d buy me a condo or a car. I don’t care about those. From the beginning, the only thing I’ve wanted is you.” I clutched the doorframe, my heels wobbling. I knew the student Julian sponsored had a crush on him, but I didn’t expect her to be this brazen. Inside, Julian stared at the box labeled “Ultra Thin.” His gaze darkened. “…You know I have a fiancée, right?” I let out a small breath. Julian and I had been childhood sweethearts. We clawed our way up from rock bottom together. When we got engaged last year, this usually reserved man professed his love to the media. He never took off his engagement ring. He knew boundaries. “So what?” Mia pouted, unconvinced. “You aren’t married yet. I still have a chance.” Julian said coolly, “Vanessa and I plan to get our marriage license by the end of the year.” “I can be your mistress,” Mia blurted out. Her eyes turned red, tears welling up until her voice cracked. “Julian, don’t bully me just because I love you… it’s too cruel.” My blood boiled. I’ve seen plenty of ungrateful people, but someone actively trying to wreck a home while taking the homeowner’s money? She was a first. I cracked my knuckles, ready to go in there and teach her a lesson in reality. But the air in front of me shimmered with comments again. [Just let the fiancée hit her. See if the Male Lead’s heart breaks for her.] [Lol, the only reason the Male Lead brought up the fiancée was to test the Heroine’s feelings. The fiancée actually thinks he cares about her.] [The Male Lead is looking for an excuse. One slap, and the engagement is toast.] What? Julian would leave me for a charity case? You have to be joking. But then I saw it. My fiancé, the man I trusted with my life, picked up the box of condoms and chuckled. “Do you even know how to use these? And you’re trying to tempt me?” Before Mia could answer, his large hand grabbed the back of her neck, and he kissed her. 2 My scalp tingled as if it had been electrified. If the comments were real, barging in now would be suicide. So, I quietly pulled the door shut. I opened the surveillance app connected to the CEO’s office and hit record. They kissed for nearly ten minutes. When Mia finally collapsed against Julian’s chest, gasping for air, I adjusted the heavy thermos in my hand and turned the doorknob. “What are you two doing?” “V-Vanessa…” Mia whimpered, pushing Julian away and clumsily stuffing the small box into her pocket. “I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault, don’t blame Julian…” Panic flashed across Julian’s face before he smoothed it over, buttoning his slightly rumpled shirt. “Why are you here?” The comments scrolled by: [I thought the side character finally grew a brain when she turned to leave, but nope.] [Hahaha, I can already picture the Male Lead impatiently telling her to get out.] [Once the fiancée gets kicked out, he’s going to lift the crying Heroine onto the desk… Hehe… one box is definitely not enough!] I was calm. Dangerously calm. Julian was soft-hearted to those who played nice, but ruthless to enemies. He held the majority of the company shares. If we broke up now, I’d get nothing. So, I pulled the lunchbox from behind my back. “You always forget to eat when you’re working. I spent all morning making this. Two dishes and a soup. Try it.” I smiled warmly, as if I hadn’t seen a thing. Julian grabbed my hand. “…Did you burn yourself?” He blew gently on my fingers, his tone reproachful but affectionate. “We have a chef at home. This isn’t something the heiress of the Lin family should be doing. Just tell the staff what you want.” “Oh, stop,” I cooed, softening my voice. “The chef’s food doesn’t taste like love. You must be starving. Eat.” I was the youngest grandchild in my family, spoiled rotten by my grandfather. I was raised to be proud and direct. Julian used to call me his “Little Princess.” When I acted spoiled, he usually couldn’t resist. He coughed lightly and turned to Mia. “You should head back. I’m going to eat with Vanessa.” Mia blinked her wet, doe-like eyes. “When will you have time for me? For the graduation gala, I want to wear the dress you picked out.” Julian’s eyes darted around. He explained to me unnaturally, “The kid did well on her SATs. Since she’s the first student our group publicly sponsored, I thought we should celebrate.” Mia’s eyes curved into crescents. “Vanessa, you have to come too. You and Julian are the two people I’m most grateful to in this world.” She was baiting me. I took her hand and patted it, my smile flawless. “Time flies. Mia, you’re such a pretty young lady now. Remember eight years ago in that remote village? Your mom was trying to sell you to a thirty-year-old bachelor. Julian said you were so dark and skinny he couldn’t even tell you were a girl.” “I insisted on saving you,” I continued. “I said you had a fire in your eyes. Look at you now. Prophecy fulfilled.” “…” Feeling I’d performed enough, I made a graceful exit. As soon as I left the office, Mia grabbed Julian’s tie and kissed him messily. “That old woman is gone. Why won’t you look at me? …An engagement isn’t a marriage. Let me compete with her fairly, okay?” She touched him somewhere, making him groan. “Mia, don’t move.” Mia’s face was flushed. “You don’t have any desire for her, do you? I saw you using my panties to relieve yourself that night.” “Admit it, Julian. You want me. Otherwise… why are you reacting like this?” 3 Julian was clearly turned on, but he pushed her away and left the room, dropping one sentence behind him. “Vanessa is your benefactor. Like she said, without her, you wouldn’t be here today. Before she finds out about your feelings… let’s stop this.” I stopped listening. I contacted a contractor. While Julian was out, I quietly installed several more hidden cameras around his private office. Over the next few days, I watched Mia relentlessly throw herself at Julian. They staged scenes of tender romance and reluctant partings daily. I didn’t even show up, yet I was the villain tearing them apart. The comments were roasting me: [What is the side character doing? She ruined the uniform play scene I was waiting for! (Crying emoji)] [The older man’s restraint vs. the younger girl’s seduction… this book would be so spicy without the fiancée.] [Don’t worry, the Heroine won’t give up on seducing Daddy. Tonight’s gala is the perfect chance.] The text hurt my eyes. It made my years of trust in Julian look like a joke. I pulled myself together and called my stylist. The gala was at a five-star hotel downtown. All of Julian’s business partners were invited. I knew exactly what this was—he was paving the way for his “little girl” before she even started college. I arrived late and saw Mia holding Julian’s arm, schmoozing with CEOs. Someone winked at Julian. “Smart, pretty, and younger than the Mrs. You’re a lucky man, Julian.” “You misunderstand,” Mia said, glancing at Julian with a mix of resentment and affection. “I think of him as an uncle. We have a purely…” “Sponsor and student relationship,” Julian finished smoothly, though I saw his hand pinch her waist behind her back. “Oh, Vanessa is here!” Mia was wearing a platinum mermaid dress, her hair pinned up elegantly. You couldn’t see a trace of the poverty she came from. She asked a waiter for three glasses of champagne and handed me the one on the far left. “I wouldn’t be here without you and Julian. A toast to you both.” I didn’t take it. Because the comments said: [To stop the fiancée from ruining the mood, the clever Heroine spiked her drink with sleeping pills. Once she passes out, they’ll lock her in a room!] [The scene where Vanessa wakes up weak in a closet, listening to the girl’s moans next door, imagining her fiancé railing Mia… I can’t wait!] “It was your own hard work.” I smiled perfunctorily. Under Mia’s panicked gaze, I snatched the glass on the right—the one meant for Julian—and downed it in one gulp. [OMG she grabbed the Male Lead’s drink! That one has drugs too!] Dammit! Why didn’t you say that sooner? [High-grade aphrodisiacs. In the original book, the Male Lead took one sip and went for three hours straight… The fiancée drank the whole thing!] I choked, coughing violently. Julian patted my back. “Slow down. What’s the rush?” I grabbed his arm tight. “The wine… there’s something in it.” Julian glanced at Mia’s pale face and chuckled. “You’re probably just tipsy. I’ll have the driver take you home.” I realized instantly: Julian was covering for her. “If you don’t give me an explanation, I’m calling the police right now.” I held up my phone, tears of anger and betrayal in my eyes. “A blood test will prove it.” 4 “Vanessa, don’t be mad. Those two glasses were… to help spice things up for you two.” “Oh?” I sneered. “So you drugged me for my own good?” Mia twisted her fingers together, finally cooking up a lie. “I heard people in the company saying Julian hasn’t been home in days. I was worried about your relationship, so I thought…” Julian hadn’t been home because he claimed he was busy. But the surveillance showed Mia with him from dawn to dusk. “Mia meant well. Go to the hospital and get your stomach pumped. Let’s drop it,” Julian said coolly. “These are important guests. Don’t make a scene.” It was absurd. “I’m the one who was drugged, and you’re forgiving her on my behalf?” Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, Julian frowned. “She’s just a kid. You’re a grown woman. Why are you holding a grudge against a child?” I literally watched you stick your tongue down that “child’s” throat. Mia shrank behind Julian, giving me a look of pure provocation. I took a deep breath. I blinked, squeezing out a tear. “But I feel so sick, Hubby. Come with me to the hospital?” The comments said the Heroine planned to bag the Male Lead tonight. I wasn’t going to let that happen. “With a drug like this, I don’t trust anyone else. I need you.” Julian hesitated, his expression softening. “Alright…” Suddenly, Mia grabbed the middle glass and downed it. “Now I’ve drunk it too.” “Vanessa, I’m punishing myself the same way. Is that enough?” Of course not. She drank the one safe glass—or maybe the one with the sleeping pill? But then, Mia collapsed into Julian’s arms like she had no bones. “Julian… the effects… I feel so hot…” “Idiot! Why did you drink it if you knew!” Julian scolded her, his voice low, but his hand firmly grasped her lower back. “Her reaction is severe. I need to take her to get treated.” In front of everyone, my suit-wearing fiancé scooped Mia up in his arms and walked away without looking back. The comments mocked me: [One is barely 18, one is pushing 28. Any idiot knows who to pick.] [The fiancée failed to block them. Look, her face is green lol.] [I wonder how the Male Lead will “treat” her. Hard to guess. (Wink)] [Do you believe they went to a hospital, or do you believe I’m the Queen of England?]

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1 My husband developed a second personality right after I got pregnant. By night, my Adrian still loved me more than life itself. But by day, his other self was devoted to his young secretary. My rival, Andrew, told me repeatedly that Adrian was faking it, but I refused to believe him. Not until I went to Adrian’s office to drop off his lunch and overheard him on the phone with his best friend. “Adrian, man, this whole split personality act… You’re playing with fire. Aren’t you worried Ella will find out? You’re gonna regret this.” Adrian just scoffed. “It’s just a bit of fun, and I’ve got it covered. Besides, ten years is a long time. A man gets bored.” He continued, his voice dripping with condescension, “Once she has the baby and I’ve had my fun, I’ll just ‘recover.’ Just keep your mouth shut.” My hand flew to my belly, a chill seeping deep into my bones. I turned on my heel and dialed Andrew’s number. “You said you’d raise my child as your own. Your proposal… I accept.” “I’ll be there in three days to get you.” … “Who’s there?” The moment I hung up, the office door flew open. “Ella? What… what are you doing here?” Adrian’s eyes darted around, a flicker of panic in their depths. He quickly composed himself, his face hardening into the cold mask of his “other” self. “I’ve told you, Autumn is the one I love. This obsession of yours is pointless.” Before, I would have seen that flicker of panic as a sign of my real husband trying to break through. Now, I saw it for what it was: a shoddy performance. “Fine,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “I get it.” I turned to leave, clutching the lunch box. “Wait!” Adrian’s hand clamped down on my arm, his face grim. “Did you hear anything just now?” The cloying scent of Autumn’s signature perfume, a scent he once told me he loathed, wafted from his suit. A wave of nausea rolled through me. I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. “The man I see in the daytime only loves Autumn. What could I have possibly heard that would matter to you?” My gaze drifted to the wastebasket beside his desk. A tangle of used condom wrappers caught the light, and my blood ran cold. “It’s normal to desire the person you love,” he snapped, stepping in front of the bin to block my view. “Don’t start making a scene.” Even in our most passionate moments, he had never been this… prolific. The blisters on my hand, earned from cooking for him, suddenly burned with a searing pain. The lunch box, filled with the meal I’d spent all morning carefully preparing, slipped from my grasp and crashed to the floor. The food scattered across the expensive rug. A muscle twitched in Adrian’s jaw. “Didn’t I tell you Autumn doesn’t like red meat?” he seethed. “If you can’t even do this right, maybe we should just get a divorce!” To keep his “daytime self” from divorcing me, I’d signed every humiliating contract he’d put in front of me. Autumn has a stressful job, so you will cook her a nutritious meal every day. Autumn’s commute is tiring, so you will give her our apartment and move to the suburbs. Autumn is sensitive, so you will tell everyone we are already divorced. … I lifted my chin, forcing back the tears that threatened to fall. “Eat it or don’t. I’m done!” I was done with him, too. The words had barely left my mouth when a sharp, twisting pain shot through my abdomen. My face went pale, and I stumbled toward the door, needing to get away. Just then, the door swung inward with reckless force, and a petite, doll-faced girl stumbled in. “Oops!” The impact sent me sprawling to the floor. “Careful, you little klutz,” Adrian cooed, catching her in his arms. He knelt down, his touch infinitely gentle as he checked her ankle, completely ignoring me on the ground. “You’ll twist your ankle again and then you’ll be whining to me about the pain.” I remembered a time when a simple prick from a sewing needle on my finger had brought tears to his eyes. “Ella, as long as I’m here, I’ll never let you get hurt again,” he had sworn, his voice thick with emotion. “When you hurt, I feel it a thousand times more.” That promise was now a mocking echo. “For God’s sake, Ella,” Adrian’s voice was laced with irritation. “She barely touched you. You’re not even bleeding. Stop being so dramatic.” The pain in my heart was as sharp as the cramps in my belly. I tried to push myself up, my hands slipping on the polished floor, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. A dreadful premonition began to form. “What are you, made of glass?” Autumn sneered, rolling her eyes. Then, the stiletto of her high heel dug viciously into my pregnant belly. “Ah!” A scream tore from my throat. Autumn just smirked, a triumphant glint in her eyes. “See, Adrian? She’s got plenty of energy to scream. She’s fine. Just trying to get your attention.” A flash of alarm crossed Adrian’s face. “What did you do? She’s pregnant! The baby is innocent.” Autumn pouted, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Oh, sweetie, I was just trying to borrow some of her baby luck. I’m just a girl, how hard could I have possibly stepped?” Adrian’s resolve melted. He sighed, tapping her nose playfully. “You’re trouble.” Then he turned his glare on me. “Get up, Ella. Since the baby’s fine, stop the act. I told you, I’m not him. Don’t try to use the baby to manipulate me.” But it was him, the real Adrian, who had once pressed his ear to my belly, whispering promises of protection for me and our child. He really thought his performance was flawless, that I couldn’t see through his pathetic charade. I tried to speak, but a pain so intense it felt like a knife twisting in my gut ripped the air from my lungs. A dreadful warmth spread beneath me. Something was terribly wrong. Panic seized me. I crawled forward, ignoring the mess and the pain, and grabbed the cuff of his pants. “My stomach… it hurts so much. Adrian, please… help me. Help our baby.” “Autumn barely touched you. There’s a limit to how far you can take this act, I swear to…” He looked down, his impatient retort dying on his lips as he saw the spreading pool of crimson on the floor beneath me. Panic finally broke through his mask. He scooped me into his arms, his voice suddenly frantic, shifting back to the man I knew. “Don’t be scared, Ella, it’s me! The real me is back! I’m taking you to the hospital.” Even now, he couldn’t drop the act. A final wave of agony washed over me, and the world went black. I woke up in a hospital bed. My hand instinctively went to my stomach. It was flat. A raw panic clawed at my throat. “My baby? Where’s my baby?” A nurse rushed to my side, gently restraining me. “Easy, easy. You’ve been through a lot, and you need to rest. The baby is in the NICU incubator. He’s stable.” He. A boy. But I sensed a hesitation in her voice. Our eyes met, and she sighed, her expression softening with pity. “Your son was born prematurely, and the trauma… well, he’s not as strong as other newborns. He’s going to require very careful, dedicated care.” The knot of terror in my chest loosened slightly. I could do that. I could give him all the care in the world. After thanking the nurse, Adrian walked in. He helped me sit up, his eyes filled with a familiar, aching tenderness. “Ella, you suffered so much.” He held up a small, elegant box. “I went to The Gilded Spoon and got you your favorite blueberry cake. Will you have some?” The Gilded Spoon was on the opposite side of town from the hospital. He’d gone to a lot of trouble. But I love strawberry cake. Blueberry was her favorite. Seeing my silence, he pulled me into a hug, his voice cracking. “My love, I’m so sorry. I can only break through to protect you for a moment when you’re hurt. This is all my fault.” He pulled back and slapped himself hard across the face, then again, without a hint of hesitation, not caring about the bruises he’d have to explain at work tomorrow. The old me would have rushed to stop him, my heart breaking for his torment. Now, watching his one-man show, I only felt a cold, bitter amusement. “Bring Autumn in here,” he commanded a nurse. Autumn was brought in, her feet swollen, her eyes shooting daggers at me. Adrian kicked the back of her knees, forcing her to the ground. “You’re lucky Ella is okay,” he snarled. “Otherwise, your worthless life wouldn’t be enough to pay for it. You dare glare at her? You’ll kneel in the hallway all night and think about what you did.” The punishment was meaningless. I just felt tired. Lying in the sterile bed, my eyes burned. I had to ask. “Adrian, do you really love me? Is there anything… anything at all you’ve been hiding from me?” He stroked my hair, a weary smile on his face. “Of course I love you. Why else would I have been able to fight through my condition to get you here? Ella, what could possibly make you think I’m hiding something from you?” Hearing his probing question, I just shook my head. “Nothing. Just asking.” “We’re childhood sweethearts. We’ve loved each other for ten years. Don’t let your mind wander. Get some rest, sweetheart.” He kissed my forehead. “I’ll find a way to make this other me disappear for good.” He seemed to relax, then left the room. I closed my eyes, exhaustion washing over me. Yes. Ten years. From high school sweethearts to husband and wife. But in the end, it couldn’t compete with a cheap thrill. He was still lying to me. And I was done with it. Before I fell asleep, I pushed my weakened body up, wanting to see my son. As I passed Autumn’s room, I saw the light was on. Through the crack in the door, I saw Adrian kneeling on her bed, gently massaging her legs, whispering soft words of comfort. He was so meticulous. He must have told her his ‘main personality’ broke through her punishment. I looked away and continued down the hall to the NICU. He was so tiny. His little face was pale, almost translucent, and he was sucking on his own fist. He looked so fragile, so perfect. My heart ached with a love so fierce it stole my breath. I traced the outline of his face on the glass, making a silent vow. Be strong, my little one. Just three more days. Then Mommy is taking you away from all this. In my dreams, I was back in the beginning. An eighteen-year-old Adrian, blushing furiously, handed me a love letter. “Ella, will you be my girlfriend? I’ll spend my whole life making you happy.” A twenty-year-old Adrian, shielding me with his own body as thugs beat him bloody. “How a woman dresses is her choice! It’s not an invitation for scum like you to harass her.” A twenty-four-year-old Adrian, down on one knee with a ring. “Ella, marry me. I promise to love you, cherish you, and be faithful to you for all my days.” A twenty-eight-year-old Adrian, his arm wrapped around Autumn, looking down at me with contempt. “So what if we had ten years, Ella? I’m bored. Autumn is the one I love now.” The Adrian in my dream blurred, and I woke to a searing pain in my cheek. My eyes flew open to see the real Adrian standing over me, his face a thunderous mask. “You are a vicious, heartless woman, Ella.” “Autumn already knew she was wrong, and you made her kneel all night? Do you have any idea she almost had a miscarriage?” “It seems you still haven’t learned your lesson.” Two burly security guards entered the room, each holding a baseball bat. My mind was a confused jumble, but I had the presence of mind to glance out the window. It was daytime. I was dragged from my bed and forced to my knees in front of Autumn. “Don’t you worry, my love,” Adrian said to her, his voice cold and menacing as he looked at me. “I’ll break her legs for you right now.” The bat slammed into my shin, and I screamed. How could I forget? The one time I’d called Autumn a homewrecker, Adrian had hired some thugs to corner me in an alley, just to “teach me a lesson.” I only got away after kneeling on the pavement and begging for his forgiveness, calling myself worthless a hundred times. Even though I’d seen him tending to Autumn’s swollen legs last night, I knew he would never admit it. He would only be crueler to me. The bones in my leg felt like they were shattering. I couldn’t take it anymore. “Adrian, I was wrong! I shouldn’t have made her kneel. I didn’t know she was pregnant. Please, just let me go.” I looked up at him, pleading, but he just kicked me hard in the stomach. A fresh wave of agony tore through me. His face was a mask of disappointment. “You’re still lying. You’ve been pregnant. You’re telling me you couldn’t tell that she was?” The wound from my C-section ripped open. Suddenly, I had no desire to argue. The Adrian I knew would have believed me without question. This man wouldn’t believe me if I tore my own heart out to prove my innocence. My consciousness began to fade. Just as I thought I would die from the pain, Adrian finally signaled for the men to stop. “So you don’t forget this lesson, you can stay here and reflect. I’ll have a doctor see to you in three hours.” … I lay crumpled on the cold hospital floor, a spectacle for every passerby. “Serves her right! Trying to break up a happy couple. What a homewrecker.” “He’s so handsome and she’s so beautiful. And he dotes on her! I heard he’s buying her a private island as a gift now that she’s pregnant.” I listened to their insults numbly, wincing as someone kicked my side. They didn’t know. I was Adrian’s wife. That island was where we got married. He promised we’d take our child there one day to show him where our love story began. Now, looking down at my numb, useless lower body, my heart turned to stone. Three hours later, no doctor came. I crawled back to his room. He was sitting by Autumn’s bed, peeling a pear for her. “Oh, Adrian, don’t share a pear with me! Don’t you know the superstition? It means we’ll be separated,” Autumn chirped, playfully pushing the fruit away. Adrian chuckled and apologized. “You’re right, you’re right. My mistake.” But that’s not what he used to say to me. “Ella, that’s just an old wives’ tale. We’ll never be separated.” He’d said, popping a piece of shared pear into my mouth. “See? If the tale were true, we’d be doomed to part ways now.” Today, his words had become a prophecy. I pushed the memory aside and looked at him, my voice flat. “Adrian. I want a divorce.” The knife in his hand stilled. A sudden, suffocating panic seemed to grip him, the fear of losing something vital. He avoided my eyes. “You still haven’t learned your lesson, have you, Ella?” He gestured dismissively at my torn, dirty clothes. “I had a doctor sent for you. Who are you trying to disgust by showing up like this?” Autumn shook her head, pointing an accusing finger at me. “She’s not confused, Adrian! She’s doing this on purpose! She wants revenge. She wants to get rid of me.” She continued, her voice rising hysterically, “Think about it! When you’re gone, that other personality will find out what happened and he’ll kill me! Then she can have you all to herself!” Hearing this, Adrian seemed to let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Enough. I don’t have time for your theatrics,” he said to me. “I’ll have a nurse take you back to your room.” I knew what he was thinking. He was sure I loved him too much to ever leave him. But he was wrong. I had no love left to give. That night, Adrian came to my room. He knelt by my bed, his fingers gently tracing the bandages on my legs. “Ella, I’ve already contacted the best orthopedic surgeons in the country. Don’t be afraid. They said there’s a 50% chance they can fix your legs. You’re going to be okay.” His voice was thick with emotion. “Ella, I know my illness has made you suffer. I’ll have someone break Autumn’s legs right now. Just… just don’t leave me, okay? Please?” He looked up at me, his eyes red-rimmed and shining with tears in the moonlight. “I’ll die without you.” I reached out and gently touched the face of the man I had loved for a decade. “Really?” Adrian nodded desperately. “Sweetheart, you have to believe me.” But I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell his lies from the truth anymore. It didn’t matter. I was leaving soon with my son. When I woke up next, I was being wheeled into an operating room. Autumn was leaning against Adrian, a smug look on her face. “I knew you’d try to have that other personality come after me. Good thing my Adrian hid me away.” Adrian stroked her hair, then shot me a look of pure disgust. “You never learn, do you, Ella? Go ahead. Amputate.” The hope of walking again was snuffed out, just like that. When I woke again, I had prosthetics. “Mr. Sterling says that while it may be painful, your duties to Miss Autumn cannot be delayed,” the doctor told me clinically. “He hopes you will adapt quickly.” At the same time, a text from Autumn arrived. You have five minutes to get over here. Or else something might happen to that little weakling of yours… The raw stumps of my legs screamed in protest against the unfamiliar press of the prosthetics, but I didn’t care. I scrambled into my wheelchair and rushed to the NICU. My son was sleeping peacefully in his incubator. My heart settled. I took a deep breath and went to see what new hell Autumn had devised. I kept my face a cold mask. “What do you want, Autumn? I’m warning you, if you touch my son, I will kill you.” She laughed, a high, tinkling sound. “Is that a threat? Adrian cares about the baby in my belly. Yours is just a preemie destined to die young. He’ll always protect me.” I snapped. The slap echoed in the quiet room. No mother could hear someone curse her child like that and do nothing. “Say that again.” Instead of anger, she just smiled, a strange, twisted expression. “Oh, Ella, I know everything. I know you and Adrian aren’t really divorced. He just lied to me because he was afraid the stress would hurt my baby.” “But you’re in your thirties now. You’re old news. Why are you still clinging to him so shamelessly?” she taunted. “He deserves better. He deserves me.” I felt nothing. “I don’t want him anymore. If you want him, he’s all yours.” Autumn’s smile widened. “As long as his ‘main personality’ exists, I’ll never truly have him,” she said. “So I’ll just have to use you to provoke him. Push him until he finally kills that other part of himself for good.” I was about to tell her it was all an act when she suddenly grabbed a fruit knife from the bedside table, forced it into my hand, and plunged it deep into her own stomach. “Your son…” As I stared in shock, she leaned close to my ear and whispered, “A baby is nothing. Compared to Adrian, a baby is nothing at all.” The next second, Adrian burst through the door and saw the scene. A raw, primal scream tore from his throat. “Autumn! Don’t worry, I’ll get a doctor! You’re going to be okay!” “Yes, Adrian… I love you,” she whispered weakly. He carefully lifted her and rushed her to the operating room. Then he stormed back, his face contorted with rage, and kicked me so hard I flew across the room and slammed into the wall. “You’re a monster! That was an innocent child!” “No! It wasn’t me! She stabbed herself! The security cameras… check the cameras!” I fumbled for my phone, showing him the threatening text she’d sent. He shook his head, his face a canvas of pure disappointment. “I don’t need to. You’re still lying, even now. I saw it with my own eyes. Do you think I’m a fool?” “Since you refuse to repent,” he snarled, his eyes glinting with a terrifying coldness, “you’re going to feel the same pain.” He dragged me, kicking and screaming, to the NICU. As I watched in horror, he reached behind my son’s incubator and yanked the power cord from the wall. “NO! Adrian, please! He’s a preemie, he’s so fragile! He’ll die! He’s your son, too!” “Whatever you’re angry about, take it out on me! Don’t hurt the baby, I’m begging you!” I sobbed, banging my head on the floor, pleading with him, but he just sneered. “Now you know how Autumn feels. Maybe this will finally teach you a lesson.” Half an hour later, a doctor appeared. “Miss Autumn is awake. The family can see her now.” “Remember this, Ella,” Adrian spat, his voice low and menacing. “If you ever hurt Autumn again, I will make you pay a hundred times over.” He turned and left without a backward glance. My hands trembling, I crawled to the outlet and plugged the cord back in. But inside the incubator, my son was perfectly still. … Three hours later, I was on a plane, leaving the country forever. At that exact moment, Adrian’s phone rang. It was his friend, Leo. “Adrian, bad news! Ella knows! She knows the split personality was a fake!” “You’ve got to get to the airport, man! She’s taking the baby and she’s leaving!”

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I meticulously cultivated my Princess Sissy Roses, only to have a popular B-list celebrity tear them all up for her reality show. Her tone was sickeningly innocent. “These flowers are so pretty, they should be made into crowns. Their owner really doesn’t know how to use them.” “Let me help them fulfill their true purpose.” In the variety show, she flashed a bright smile, showing off her new flower crown to her fans. Afterward, she refused to apologize and even led her fans in cyberbullying me. Looking at my chaotic, trampled garden, I smiled too. “This garden is insured for $15 million.” “According to the contract, you owe me $150 million!” Chapter 1 I was woken up by the blaring alarm of my security cameras. I threw on a robe and groggily walked outside. My cottage is secluded. I rarely get visitors, and with a locked gate, who would be trespassing at the crack of dawn? The yard was swarming with people. At least a dozen strangers had surrounded my little sanctuary. My front gate, which I had beautifully woven with flowering vines, had been ripped open. Vines were torn and discarded on the ground. The wooden gate hung crookedly off its hinges. My meticulously arranged flower beds had been trampled, a muddy path stomped right through the middle. Burly cameramen were pointing their lenses at a girl standing in the center of my ruined garden. She was undeniably pretty, basking in the spotlight. She casually plucked a few more blooms, weaving a flower crown. “Babies, look at this crown! Doesn’t it suit me perfectly?” “It’s a shame there’s only one type of flower. If there were others to mix in, it would be even prettier.” She smiled brightly, dimples showing. I recognized her. It was Bella Rose, the current “It Girl” of reality TV. I was actually watching her latest drama. Online, she had a reputation for being gentle, kind, and down-to-earth. A real-life fairy. I used to like her. I never expected my first real-life encounter with her to look like this. Looking at the crown on her head and my devastated garden, my anger flared. “Who are you people? Who gave you permission to come in here?” The production crew seemed surprised someone actually lived here. The director stepped forward, explaining, “We’re with the production team. Just shooting a quick segment.” “Can’t you see this is private property? You broke my gate to get in!” Bella took off her flower crown. “It’s just some flowers. Here, take them back.” She held the crown out to me. I didn’t move. Seeing my refusal, Bella threw the crown on the ground in a huff. She looked me up and down with disdain. “Here’s five hundred bucks. That should cover what a country bumpkin’s flowers are worth.” Her assistant pulled out five hundred dollars and threw it at my feet. “Take the money and leave. Don’t disturb Bella’s shoot.” The crew moved to shoo me away, assistants forming a wall with blockers. Country bumpkin? I almost laughed. Sure, I ran out in my pajamas with bedhead, but I am far from a “country bumpkin.” Trespassing, vandalism, and now trying to pay me off like I’m a beggar? The audacity is truly breathtaking. Chapter 2 Honestly, I just wanted a sincere apology. If they had been decent, I might have let it slide. But with this attitude? The gloves are off. “What show is this?” The director, thinking I was backing down, softened his tone. “Miss, we’re filming Country Bliss. We saw how beautiful this cottage was and just wanted to capture some shots.” I sneered. “Just wanted to capture some shots? So that gives you the right to break and enter?” The director looked around, realizing they were in the wrong. “Look, how much compensation do you think is appropriate?” I chuckled. “How much? I’m afraid you can’t afford it.” These weren’t just any roses. They were the world-renowned Juliet Roses, often called the “£3 million rose.” Juliet Roses are notoriously difficult to grow. I spent a fortune and countless hours cultivating them. And, I insured the garden for $15 million. Bella, resting on the sidelines, cut in impatiently. “Director, why waste breath on a villager? She just thinks five hundred isn’t enough. Give her two grand and be done with it.” I walked up to Bella and slapped her across the face. “Villager? Aren’t your ancestors from the countryside too?” My move was so sudden, even her assistant didn’t react in time. Five red fingerprints bloomed on her cheek. Bella clutched her face, tears springing to her eyes. “You dare hit me?! I’ll kill you!” She lunged at me. I side-stepped. Momentum carried her forward, and she face-planted into the dirt. Her assistants finally snapped out of it and rushed to help her up. “What are you standing there for?! Beat her up!” Bella, hands on hips, screeched at her staff like a banshee. “Useless idiots! Get her!” I shook my head. This shrew behavior… where did the “human fairy” go? The assistants charged. I didn’t flinch. Taekwondo and kickboxing lessons weren’t for show. A few goons? Please. “Stop!” The director suddenly shouted, halting the assistants. He whispered something in Bella’s ear. The crew started packing up to leave. Before going, Bella glared at me venomously. “You bitch, just you wait!” I glared back. We’ll see who’s waiting. 3 That afternoon, while I was sipping coffee, my assistant called. “Boss, you’re trending!” “Send it over.” My assistant, Leo, sent a link. It was a video posted by the show’s official account. Heavily edited. It only showed me storming out, the director explaining politely, Bella offering the crown, her assistant offering money, and finally, me refusing the cash and slapping Bella. The video ended with a freeze-frame of Bella clutching her face, a single tear rolling down. Twenty minutes in, it was the #1 trending topic. Hundreds of thousands of comments. [Who is this Karen? How dare she hit our Bella! Dox her!] [Look at that handprint. My heart is breaking for Bella.] [Bella is so pitiful. Why didn’t the staff stop her?] [Useless crew! Protect our queen!] [Hit her back! Beat her ass!] [Someone find her address. I’m going to teach this bitch a lesson for Bella!] [Wait, isn’t the crew in the wrong here? That’s private property.] [Yeah, the yard looks trashed. The owner probably got mad because they wrecked her stuff.] [Bella’s comment was kinda passive-aggressive though…] [To the person above, our Bella using those country flowers is doing them a favor!] [Off topic, but the crazy lady is actually kinda hot even with messy hair.] […] There were a few sensible comments, but they were quickly drowned out by the fan mob. Bella posted a selfie on Weibo: [Thanks for the concern, babies. I’m okay.] The photo showed a faint red mark on her face. The comments were a flood of sympathy for her and vitriol for me. I closed the app. Edited videos are boring. The raw footage is where the fun is. The crew didn’t know my cottage is rigged with hidden cameras. Their little break-in was recorded in 4K. 4 That night, I uploaded the unedited footage. I had Leo put $15,000 into promoting it to ensure it hit the prime-time feed. Marketing accounts picked it up instantly. By the time Bella’s PR team realized what was happening, it was too late. The comments section did a 180. [Plot twist! Bella is actually like this in private? Unfollowing.] [The production team is trash. Breaking and entering and acting like they own the place?] [They ruined such a beautiful garden. I’d be pissed too.] [Team Crazy Lady. The crew and Bella are shameless.] [That slap was satisfying. Queen behavior.] [But there was no “No Trespassing” sign. They probably didn’t know.] [Exactly. Using the location is free publicity. She should be paying Bella for the exposure!] [Bella even gave her $500. That’s more than enough for some wild flowers. She’s just greedy.] I scoffed at the comments. Publicity? Exposure? The dog really does take after its master. Shameless. Suddenly, shouting erupted outside. “Bitch! Come out!” “Come out here! How dare you set me up and post that video!” I walked to the gate. Three people stood there: Bella, the assistant who threw money at me, and a man I assumed was her manager. Bella was kicking my gate. Seeing me, she screamed, “You cheap bitch!” “Miss Rose, there are cameras here too. Want another viral video?” “You…” Bella glared but stopped kicking. “Miss, Bella was impulsive today. Can we come in and talk?” The manager asked. “No need. Say it here.” “We want to discuss compensation and deleting the video.” The manager slid a contract through the gate. “Take a look.” I flipped through it. They offered $15,000. In exchange, I delete the video and issue a statement saying I’m not the owner, just a friend watching the house, and that the owner had actually given permission. “This $15,000 is for your trouble. If you’re not satisfied, we can offer you a job on the crew,” the manager said, holding out a stack of cash. “I can delete the video, but I won’t lie. And Bella needs to apologize to me.” I tapped the cash against my palm. “Why should I apologize to you?!” Bella shrieked. “So you’re not sorry? Then no deal.” I threw the cash back at Bella. The bills fluttered around her furious face. “Bye.” “Bella, apologize!” The manager barked. “Wait. I don’t want an apology anymore. We’re done here.” I cut her off. “Don’t be ungrateful! Do you know who my backer is? My boyfriend is the heir to the Lin Group!” “Lin Chen?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. Thinking I was scared, Bella smirked. “Yeah. Scared now? Kneel and apologize, then delete the video, or I’ll make sure you never work in this town again!” “I’m shaking. Let’s see who ends up jobless.” I turned and walked back inside, ignoring her screaming. Lin Chen’s girlfriend? She probably doesn’t know Lin Chen is my…

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My parents are in a business marriage. Zero love, all assets. My mom makes out with her boy toys right in front of my dad. My dad openly photoshops his “one that got away” into our family portraits and uses it as his lock screen. They didn’t divorce because they wanted to give me a “complete home.” But recently, the wind changed. Dad’s “one that got away” came back from overseas. Mom’s “dead” first love turned out to be alive. They started talking divorce. But they both decided to fight to the death for custody of me. In court, my mom pulled out a knife, threatening to remove her own uterus right there on the stand. My dad pulled out a pair of scissors, threatening to castrate himself. Their love for me is truly… moving. 1 When my Grandma caught us, I was reading a graphic novel on the couch, and my Mom was playing tonsil hockey with her new boy toy. Grandma was so mad she immediately called my Dad to come over. Mom didn’t care at all. She continued flirting with the fresh meat. I call the new guy Uncle Kyle. When I got tired of reading, Uncle Kyle read to me. Grandma was standing there, cursing my Mom out. She called her shameless, asked her what the Sterling family ever did to her. 2 Mom wasn’t backing down. She put her hands on her hips, ready to scream back. Grandma cut her off: “Save it for when my son gets here. You two are divorcing today!” Mom rolled her eyes. “Good luck getting your son to divorce me.” My parents are a corporate merger. When they got married, both families were at the top of the food chain. But soon after, my Grandpa’s business went belly up. There were a million reasons why. Mom has wanted to divorce Dad forever. They both love other people. Dad loves a poor college student he considers his “White Moonlight”—the pure, unattainable love. He photoshops her into photos of him and me. Originally, he just Photoshopped her over Mom in photos of the three of us. But I threw a fit. I didn’t allow a photo without my Mom. So now, he Photoshops her standing next to us. 3 Mom loves a poor college guy too. They were first loves. But that guy joined the military, went on a spec-ops mission, and “died.” So Mom only dates college boys now. I know she’s mourning her first love. My parents are very sentimental people. Dad arrived quickly. He rushed over, picked me up, kissed my cheeks, and called me his precious “Muffin.” I was happy too. I hugged him and asked for a piggyback ride. Grandma immediately started in: “Richard, your wife isn’t even hiding her cheating anymore! You have to divorce her! If you don’t have shame, I do!” Dad looked furious: “Victoria, are you crazy? Cuckolding me in broad daylight!” Mom rolled her eyes again. “He’s our daughter’s manny.” Dad’s attitude flipped instantly. He nodded at Uncle Kyle. “Thanks for your hard work. Take good care of Muffin. I’ll give you a raise.” Grandma almost had a stroke. “Richard Sterling! I want you to divorce her!” Dad looked pained. “Mom, if I divorce her, she’ll steal my daughter!” Mom scoffed. “She’s my daughter. Why would I give her to you?” “She’s mine too!” “Bullsh*t! She came out of my body!” “Don’t give me that biology crap. Since she was born, I’m the one who raised her! I changed the diapers! Now that she can run and talk, you want to claim the credit? And look how you raise her—hiring playmates? Is that how a mother acts?” Mom fired back: “Ha! You’re so great, you raise her then! If you actually spent time with her, would I need to hire a manny? You’re all talk.” 4 I looked at Dad, then at Mom. I was about to tell them to stop fighting. But their phones rang at the exact same time. I saw the Caller ID on Dad’s phone: Vivian. “Richard, I’m back in the states. Can you pick me up at JFK?” Vivian. Dad’s White Moonlight. His eternal heartache. Dad lost his voice. On the other side, Mom suddenly choked up: “Cole… you’re not dead?!” Cole. My Mom’s first love. Every Memorial Day, Mom makes me yell “Daddy” at his tombstone. Mom’s logic was that Uncle Cole died childless, so he had no one to burn offerings for him. I had to pretend to be his kid so he’d have spending money in the afterlife. 5 The silence was deafening. My parents looked at each other, then tactically looked away. I said, “Mom, Dad, I’m hungry.” Grandma was livid. She cursed Dad, saying she should have given birth to a BBQ pork bun instead of him. Grandma swore they had to divorce. They took me to dinner first. Uncle Kyle took care of me on the side. He breathed quietly, smiled apologetically at Dad, bowed to Mom, and catered to my every need. At the table, I was the only one eating. My parents were on their phones—sighing, looking sad, then looking conflicted. I knew they were reminiscing about their lost loves. I felt a little bad for them. 6 After eating, the food coma hit, and I fell asleep. I felt Dad pick me up, and I slept soundly in his arms. I woke up in the afternoon. I yawned, climbed out of bed, drank a big glass of water, and went downstairs. Downstairs, my parents were negotiating the divorce. Dad said, “Vivian is back. I have to give her a home.” Mom didn’t mock him this time. She looked sorrowful. “Cole isn’t dead. He was deep undercover all these years. He survived because of his love for me. I can’t let him down.” They spoke in unison: “The daughter…” Then silence. Dad spoke first: “I’ll give you half my personal assets. You keep all the joint marital assets. You leave Muffin with me. You’re young, you can have another one.” Mom said: “I’ll leave with nothing. I’ll pay you $30k a month in alimony. Give me Muffin.” Both of them sneered at the same time: “Keep dreaming! Scumbag!” 7 The vibe in the house shifted. Before, they wanted a divorce. Mom would kiss a boy toy, Dad would scream divorce. Dad would cry over his photoshop collection, apologize to “Vivian,” and Mom would scream divorce. But they always stopped when it came to custody. They knew the other person was trash. No compromise possible. Now, they were raising the stakes, desperate to divorce and keep me.

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When my husband asked for a divorce, his mistress was already showing. That night, working late and alone, I couldn’t stop myself from wailing like a banshee for my dead marriage. Unexpectedly, my caterwauling caught the attention of the CEO. He appeared, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, carrying a container of still-warm shrimp dumplings. His eyes were surprisingly gentle. It was the dead of night. A man and a woman, all alone. In a moment of self-destructive abandon, I thought, Well, winter is coming. Time to give my husband a taste of his own medicine. But then the CEO handed me a tissue and, after a bit of awkward preamble, I finally understood. He wasn’t interested in me. He was interested in my scumbag husband. My sobs died in my throat. My mind started racing. My husband with another woman? I lose my appetite. My husband with another man? Hell, I’d even pop some popcorn and watch them cook. 1 The only sound in the empty office was me, howling and sniffling. Every time I thought about the divorce papers, a bitter knot tightened in my chest. They say there’s a seven-year itch. Mine got restless in five. He had a case of the wanderlust so bad even a prescription-strength cream couldn’t cure it. Yes, my husband, Mark, had found a mistress. Her name was Lily, and with a bun in the oven, she was planning on leveraging that pregnancy for all it was worth. And Mark, my dear husband, was dead set on divorcing me to marry her. All in the name of “following his heart and giving his child a proper family.” What a load of crap. Wasn’t it “true love” when he married me, too? Sure, our passion had thinned to the consistency of tissue paper over the years, but we were a financial unit. I figured we could coast for a few more years. Unfortunately, that paper had finally torn. And my grand life plan of coasting on my husband’s salary had crashed and burned right along with it. Life had been sweet with access to two paychecks. Now, with our assets split, how long could a “lazy freeloader” like me last? My fine-tuned skills of leisure would turn a mountain of gold into a molehill in no time. At that thought, a fresh wave of sobs escaped me. Between wails, I mentally cursed my heartless boss. My own career was already on life support. Just last week, he’d ripped my latest project proposal to shreds, metaphorically dumping a bucket of pig’s blood on my head. It was like he’d sprinkled industrial-grade chili powder on my already wounded soul. “What’s with all the crying? It’s the middle of the night.” A deep, slightly impatient male voice sounded from above me. I jolted, looking up with a start. Through my tear-blurred vision, I saw him: my boss, standing right beside my desk. In his hand was a takeout container with the logo of “Silver Palace”—my favorite place for dumplings. He placed the container on my desk. “Eat something. Stop crying.” I choked back a sob and opened the box. A cloud of steam and the savory scent of shrimp dumplings rose to meet me, which only made the tears flow faster. As I nibbled on a dumpling, I snuck glances at him. Uriah Thorne was the company’s founder. Young, brilliant, and utterly ruthless. In our industry, he was known as the Devil Incarnate. He was usually stricter with us than a wicked stepfather. What was happening tonight? Not only was he not scolding me for disrupting the office’s pristine silence, but he’d brought me food? Could it be… he saw that my marriage was failing, that I was vulnerable… and he wanted to take advantage? A quid pro quo situation? The thought was so shocking it startled me. But then again… was it really so bad? Mark had already cheated on me. Why shouldn’t I return the favor? Just as my internal drama reached the climax where Uriah and I teamed up to crush Mark, forcing him and his mistress to their knees to beg for mercy, my boss’s cold voice cut through my fantasy. “That woman, Lily. She’s the one who wrecked your marriage?” I choked on my dumpling and nodded miserably. “I hear she’s basically taking a dump on your head?” It was crude, but coming from him, it sounded like a strange, cold form of empathy. I nodded again, more forcefully this time. “I see,” he said slowly, his long fingers tapping a rhythm on my desk. “So, do you want to… take a bigger one on hers?” I…!!! The half-chewed dumpling nearly shot out of my mouth. What? Did I hear him right? My boss was so offended on my behalf that he was going to personally step in and help me get revenge? Revenge was all I needed to hear! I dropped my chopsticks, my eyes wide. “Yes! Absolutely! A massive one, boss! Super-sized, with extra toppings!” 2 A second later, he delivered the punchline. “I want your husband. You help me get him, and you’ll get back at the mistress. It’s a win-win.” His words hit me like a lightning strike. My eyes widened, my mouth hanging open. “What? You… you want to get my husband… into your… bed?” I wondered if I’d cried so hard I was hallucinating. Or maybe my boss had eaten one too many expired snacks. “Mr. Thorne… are you feeling alright?” There wasn’t a trace of embarrassment on his face. Instead, he shifted into full-on business negotiation mode. “I’m perfectly fine. And perfectly clear. Also, for the record, I’m a top.” I… That was too much information. My brain was overheating. Ignoring my petrified state, he strode over to the office whiteboard and expertly drew a mind map. “Let’s conduct a rational analysis of your current situation.” On the board, a logic diagram with “Mark” at its center took shape. “First, the marriage. The mistress is five months pregnant, and your husband is resolute. This divorce is happening. It’s just a matter of when and how much you get.” “Second, your financial status. Even with a 50/50 split of the condo and one car each, your monthly salary is $3,500 after taxes. Subtract your $500 car payment, and you’re left with $3,000. Given the cost of living in this city, assuming no major illnesses, no new clothes, and zero entertainment, you’ll be barely surviving.” The cold, hard numbers were a slap in the face. I could already picture myself eating instant noodles and living on the poverty line. “Therefore,” he concluded, “if you refuse my proposal, you’re not just facing a personal life collapse, but likely unemployment. With my influence in this industry, it would not be difficult to ensure you don’t find a suitable job for some time. At which point, you won’t even have that $3,500 to fall back on.” I sucked in a sharp breath. This was a threat, plain and simple. “However,” his tone shifted, dangling the bait, “if you choose to cooperate, we become allies. Our goals are aligned. I get the man I want, and you… you get your dignity back.” I cut him off. “Wait! Dignity? Boss, is dignity all I get?” After that brutal financial analysis, my priorities were crystal clear. He seemed to have anticipated this. “Of course not. When this is done, I’ll give you a one-million-dollar bonus.” “One million dollars?!” I grabbed the calculator from my desk, my fingers trembling as I punched in the numbers: 1,000,000 ÷ 3,500 ÷ 12 ≈ 23.8. That was almost twenty-four years of my current salary! Paid in advance! He continued, sweetening the deal. “In addition, I’ll have the company’s top project director personally mentor you. You’ll gain new skills and become an essential part of the team in the shortest possible time. Which means, even without the million, you’ll be able to build a very comfortable life for yourself.” Oh, my God. This wasn’t kicking me while I was down. This was a winning lottery ticket falling from the heavens. A Michelin-starred, solid gold lottery ticket. He must really, really be in love… with my husband. So in love that he’d resort to threats and bribery, personally crafting a “husband-snatching” strategy. The scales in my mind tipped dramatically. Mark’s betrayal, Lily’s arrogance, my bleak future… compared to the very real pile of money, career advancement, and this bizarre but promising new path? They were nothing. He cheated on me with a woman. So what was wrong with me introducing him to a powerful, successful man? It was perfectly reasonable! This was a public service! I was helping him explore new, exciting horizons! “Boss,” I declared, my voice ringing with newfound purpose. “From this day forward, I am your dedicated strategist. I will do everything in my power to… uh… clear the way for you to secure your target!” Uriah Thorne looked at my impassioned face and gave a slight, satisfied nod. “Excellent. A pleasure doing business with you.” 3 First things first, we had to handle the divorce. Mark arrived with Lily attached to his arm like a permanent accessory. Her slightly rounded belly was her badge of honor. I tried to keep my voice steady, even a little nostalgic. “Mark, do you remember when we first moved in here? We didn’t even have a proper table. We ate instant noodles sitting on cardboard boxes, and you promised you’d give me a good life one day…” I slowly recounted the memories we’d shared, my eyes locked on his face, searching for any flicker of emotion. If he had even an ounce of heart left, a shred of guilt, then maybe… maybe my plans would have been different. Maybe his… assets… could have been spared. But I was disappointed. His eyes were filled with nothing but impatience. He cut me off. “Let’s not talk about the past. I’m here to discuss the terms of the divorce.” The tiny, flickering flame of hope in my heart sputtered and died. Fine. This just made what I had to do next that much easier. I lowered my head, my shoulders trembling slightly, my eyes red-rimmed. “Okay, I get it. I was hoping for too much. But you’re the one who wronged me, aren’t you?” “Look, I’m up for a promotion at work, and my boss puts a lot of stock in his employees having stable family lives. The company’s annual gala is next week. Mark, for old times’ sake, can you do me one last favor and come with me? Just show your face. If you do that, I’ll sign the papers the very next day. No more fighting.” This combination of retreat, vulnerability, and mutual benefit made Mark hesitate. But Lily was on high alert. “No way!” she snapped. “Who knows what you’re planning! What if you try to get back with him?” Her eyes darted around, and she came up with an even crueler demand. “If you want him to go, fine. But you have to give back all the designer bags and jewelry Mark ever bought you! Consider it a security deposit on your character!” I put on a show of distress. “But those were gifts! He gave them to me! They’re mine!” “Gave them? Or you wheedled them out of him?” The standoff was tense. My chest heaved with manufactured rage. “I need to use the restroom to calm down!” As soon as I locked the bathroom door, I whipped out my phone. “Boss, the mistress is demanding I give back all the luxury items Mark bought me before she’ll let him attend the gala. I’m refusing, we’re at a stalemate.” Uriah replied almost instantly: “How much are they worth?” I thought for a moment. “Probably around $30,000.” My phone buzzed. A bank notification: an incoming transfer of $50,000. Another message from Uriah followed: “Stop wasting time. Stick to the plan.” Seeing that number, a wave of calm washed over me. I rubbed my eyes in the mirror until they were satisfyingly red, then walked back out with an expression of pained resignation. “I’ve thought it over. I’m serious about becoming an independent woman. These material things… I don’t need them!” Under Lily’s suspicious and Mark’s surprised gazes, I opened my safe and piled the designer bags and jewelry boxes on the bed. “It’s all here.” Lily inspected the items like a pawnbroker, a triumphant smirk spreading across her face once she confirmed they were real. “Since you’re being so sensible, Mark, I guess you can go with her.” Then she turned to Mark, her voice dripping with possessiveness. “But during the gala, you have to reply to my texts instantly! And video call me to show me where you are and who you’re with! You hear me?” Mark nodded eagerly, the picture of obedience. 4 The night before the gala, Uriah summoned me to his office. “What brand of cologne does Mark usually wear?” he asked. I blinked, caught off guard. “…Terre d’Hermès. He’s worn it for years.” “And his drink of choice?” “Single malt scotch. He thinks it’s masculine.” As I answered, I couldn’t help but marvel at the level of detail in his research. His next questions were even more jaw-dropping. He quizzed me on everything from Mark’s preferred clothing style and hobbies all the way to the most intimate details of our… private life. Uriah asked the questions without a flicker of emotion, a true scholar in his field. I gritted my teeth and reported the facts as objectively as I could. When it was over, I couldn’t resist asking. “Boss, if you don’t mind my asking… what is it you see in him?” Uriah slowly lit a cigarette, took a drag, and exhaled a plume of smoke. “The front may be used,” he said calmly, “but the back is brand new.” I… Rich people, I swear. They have a special kind of audacity. He didn’t just not see me as a woman. He didn’t even see me as a person. He flicked some ash into an ashtray. “Liking someone is a feeling. A vibe. If it feels right, it’s right. You wouldn’t understand.” I certainly did not. But for the money and my career, I chose to respect the boss’s vibe. After the interrogation, he called the project director into his office. “Starting tomorrow, you’ll be mentoring her personally. I want her up to speed in the shortest time possible.” I was ecstatic. My career was about to take off! The night of the gala went exactly as planned. Under the guise of “mingling with the common folk,” Uriah sat at the table with Mark and me. He had toned down his usual Devil Incarnate aura and was the picture of a charming, attentive gentleman. He was witty, knowledgeable, and could talk to Mark about everything from macroeconomics to football. Mark, initially reserved, quickly loosened up under Uriah’s calculated flattery. The two of them were soon chatting away like old friends. But the pleasant atmosphere didn’t last. Lily’s check-in texts started arriving like clockwork, every fifteen minutes, the vibration of Mark’s phone a constant, nagging reminder. Uriah’s brow furrowed in annoyance. He discreetly sent me a transfer under the table. My phone buzzed. A peer-to-peer payment of $2,000. The note read: Make her stop. I got the message. I slipped away and sent Lily a short video of the two men talking, then called her, my voice a low threat. “My boss is very impressed with Mark and is discussing a potential partnership. This is directly tied to my promotion and his performance bonus. If you keep this up and piss off my boss, I swear, I will not sign those divorce papers. I will drag this out until you both rot.” She cursed me out, but as I’d hoped, she stopped bothering Mark. Because she started bombarding me instead. Washed-up hag. Scheming bitch. You deserve to be dumped. The messages were vile, one after another. I was shaking with rage. The wine I’d been drinking churned in my stomach. Why? Why did they get to be so self-righteous about their affair while I, the victim, had to endure this humiliation? A dark impulse took over. While Uriah had Mark’s attention again, my hand “slipped,” and I tipped a small packet of powder into Mark’s drink. He didn’t notice a thing, laughing with Uriah as he drained the glass. Not long after, Mark’s eyes glazed over, and he slumped back in his chair. Uriah immediately feigned concern. “Mr. Stevens, are you feeling alright? You’ve had a bit too much to drink. Our company has a corporate suite at this hotel. Why don’t you stay the night? The company will cover it.” A woozy Mark had no objections, and I played my part. “Thank you, boss.” Uriah helped Mark to his feet, and I followed them out. As we neared the suite, Uriah gave me a look that screamed Get lost. I understood. I got lost.

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At a high-level executive meeting, Ethan Fu’s newly hired assistant threw a whole cup of bubble tea in my face. “You, the slacker who just hides in the office playing video games all day, dare to question my proposal?” “I hereby announce you’re fired. Get out!” I calmly stood up, wiped the liquid from my face, and looked at Ethan Fu. He frowned, deliberately avoiding my gaze, choosing silence. I smiled, pulled out my phone. “Dad, did you hear that?” “They told me to scram.” Chapter 1 1 It was Monday, and I was deep in a gaming session when the office door suddenly knocked. “Ms. Lynn, Assistant Winnie is calling all managers to the main conference room in ten minutes.” Jess, from Administration, stood at the doorway, sounding rushed. I didn’t look up, my fingers flying over the keyboard. “Nope. Not going. No time.” In the six months since I joined the company, I hadn’t attended a single meeting. Not because I didn’t have to, but because I didn’t want to. “But…” Jess hesitated. “Assistant Winnie specifically said no one can be absent today. She said it was Mr. Fu’s order.” My fingers paused. My game character was instantly killed by the BOSS. As the screen went gray, I cursed silently and closed my laptop. When I arrived at the conference room, it was already packed. Several people gave me strange looks, whispering to each other. “Why is Manager Lynn here?” “Doesn’t she skip every meeting?” “Who knows? Assistant Winnie must have insisted.” “Winnie’s always been picking fights with her. I bet there’s drama today.” … I ignored the gossip, picked the seat furthest in the corner, and pulled out my phone to continue the game. Ethan Fu and Winnie Mian-mian finally arrived thirty minutes late. Winnie was clutching a stack of files, a smug, satisfied smile on her face. “Thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to attend this meeting.” Ethan Fu scanned the room. His gaze landed on me for less than a second before moving on. “Today, Assistant Winnie has an important proposal to announce to everyone.” Winnie cleared her throat and began droning on about her “revolutionary” marketing plan. I played my game, half-listening, and the more I heard, the more ridiculous it sounded. The budget was insane, and the plan didn’t match our company’s market positioning at all. “…Therefore, I believe we should immediately invest eighty million dollars to dominate the high-end market in three months!” Winnie concluded passionately. A sparse round of applause filled the room. I couldn’t hold back. Without looking up from my phone, I said, “Spending eighty million on meaningless exposure? You might as well throw the money off the company roof. That would generate more buzz and traffic.” The conference room went silent. Ethan Fu frowned. “What did you say?” Winnie’s voice spiked. I finally looked up and said slowly. “I said your plan is full of holes.” “First, the target customer group is wrong.” “Second, the distribution channel is inappropriate.” “Finally, the ROI calculation method is fundamentally flawed.” “That twenty million you plan to spend is basically flushing cash down the toilet.” “No, wait. Flushing cash makes a noise, at least.” Winnie’s face turned scarlet. She grabbed the bubble tea on the table and rushed over to me. “You, the slacker who just hides in the office playing video games all day, dare to question my proposal?” She practically screamed it. Then. Splash! The entire cup of bubble tea hit my face. The liquid streamed down my cheeks, staining my white dress brown. The conference room was dead silent. Everyone held their breath. “Skye Lin! I, as the CEO’s assistant, announce you are fired! Get out!” Chapter 2 2 Winnie looked down at me from above. I slowly stood up, pulled out a handkerchief, and methodically wiped the mess from my face. Then I looked at Ethan Fu. He frowned, then avoided my gaze, choosing silence. I suddenly smiled. I spoke into my phone, which was on speakerphone: “Dad, did you hear that?” “They told me to scram.” The other end was silent for two seconds. Then a low, powerful voice answered. “Got it. I’ll make the arrangements.” The reason I took this job was entirely because of a marriage contract signed by my grandfather. Ethan Fu was my fiancé. I hate arranged marriages, but my dad guilt-tripped me, practically using filial piety as a weapon. I had no choice but to agree. To deepen our relationship, my dad insisted I join Fu Corp. In the six months I worked for my fiancé, even though I played games all day, looking like a total slacker. Behind the scenes, I was leveraging my own resources to make the company’s performance soar, even pushing for its IPO. Fu Corp became a star company overnight, and Ethan Fu made the city’s rich list. Despite helping him immensely, we rarely talked. In our few mandatory dates, I learned that he only knew I was his arranged fiancée. He had no idea who I truly was. …… I sat back down in my chair, picked up my phone, and resumed the game that was interrupted. My fingers flew across the screen. I acted as if the tension in the conference room had nothing to do with me. Winnie’s face went from red to green. She clearly didn’t expect me to ignore her authority. She slammed her hand on the table. Her voice was sharp. “Skye Lin! What do you think this is?” “Everyone here is focused on the meeting, and you’re playing a game?” I sneered, “I’ve already hit my annual performance goal. Why can’t I play a game?” “If you don’t get out now, I’m calling security!” I didn’t even look up. “Go ahead.” The other executives exchanged uneasy glances. Some pretended to check files; others secretly watched Ethan Fu, waiting for his reaction. Ethan Fu finally stood up. He was dressed in a sharp black suit. His expression was cold and stern. He looked at me, his eyes filled with impatience and indifference. “Skye Lin, your performance is good.” His voice was calm but carried undeniable authority. “But this is the company, not your home.” “Please leave the conference room immediately and stop disrupting the meeting.” My fingers paused. My character died again. I looked up, met his gaze, and curved my lips into a playful smile. “Mr. Fu, are you sure you want to kick me out?” Ethan Fu frowned, his tone even colder. “I won’t repeat myself. If you have any professional ethics, you should know where the line is.” “What if I don’t want to leave?” “Then don’t blame me for being ruthless.” Seeing Ethan Fu on her side, Winnie grew bolder. She rushed over and slapped my phone from my hand. “Smash!” The phone hit the floor, the screen shattering into a spiderweb pattern. “Skye Lin, stop pushing your luck!” She grabbed my collar and yanked me up. “Mr. Fu told you to leave. What are you doing still sitting here? Get out!” From the day she became the assistant, Winnie had hated me. Once, when I passed the CEO’s office, I heard her pontificating, “Mr. Fu, the company isn’t a charity. It’s unfair to the other employees to spend so much money on a slacker who just plays games all day.” Her voice was low, but loud enough for me to hear outside. Ethan Fu didn’t reply. But through the window, I saw him pause while flipping a file. After that, Winnie only got worse. She started “casually” mentioning my “great achievements” in department meetings. “Some people get a huge salary but don’t even attend meetings. I wonder if they’re here to work or on vacation.” Gossip about me spread through the company. Some said I was a spoiled rich girl who used connections. Others said I slept in my office all day. Some even started betting on when I’d be fired. I knew all of it. I just didn’t care. Chapter 3 3 But the more I ignored her, the more entitled she became. This time, she seized the opportunity and acted completely unhinged. I wasn’t going to tolerate it. I grabbed her wrist and twisted hard. “Ah!” Winnie cried out in pain and instinctively released my collar. As she pulled away, her arm slammed into the edge of the conference table. Her expensive watch hit the solid wood with a sharp clink. She stumbled back, looked down, and her face went white. The face of her pricey Patek Philippe watch had a clear scratch, glaring under the light. “You… you…” She raised her trembling wrist, her eyes blazing with fury. “Skye Lin, do you know how much this watch is?” “It was a birthday gift from Mr. Fu! It cost eight hundred thousand dollars!” I slowly straightened my wrinkled collar. “You stumbled. Whose fault is that?” “Skye Lin!” Ethan Fu finally roared. “That’s enough!” “You’re disrupting the meeting, and now you’ve deliberately damaged someone else’s property.” “As the CEO, I officially inform you that you are fired.” “Now, collect your things and leave the company immediately!” Winnie screamed, “Mr. Fu, don’t let her off the hook! She has to pay for the watch!” The conference room was silent. Everyone looked at me with pity or schadenfreude, waiting for the show to begin. “Fine, I’ll pay.” “Eight hundred thousand, right?” I bent down to pick up my broken phone. The screen was cracked, but it still worked. I dialed a number, about to speak, when Winnie sneered, “Eight hundred thousand? It’s eight million!” I paused and looked at her. “Are you sure?” “I’m absolutely sure!” Winnie said haughtily. “A gift from Mr. Fu is priceless! Saying eight million is already letting you off easy!” “Tell everyone I’m right!” Winnie was determined to pin this on me. She knew my salary couldn’t cover that. She just wanted to humiliate me. The other executives chimed in immediately. “Yes, how can you put a price on a gift from Mr. Fu?” The finance director adjusted his glasses. “Manager Lynn, you should just admit your fault.” “The company isn’t a charity. If you break something, you pay for it.” The marketing director scoffed. “But with Manager Lynn’s salary, she’ll be paying until retirement, right?” Everyone laughed, their eyes full of mockery. They had always disliked me, the slacker. Now that I was in trouble, they were happy to kick me down. Ethan Fu stood by, frowning, but didn’t stop them. I ignored their sarcasm and looked up at Winnie. “Eight million. You won’t add any more zeros, right?” Winnie froze, then sneered. “Skye Lin, why are you pretending? You’re broke!” “You make barely anything. How are you going to pay eight million?” I ignored her, picking up my phone. “Prepare eight million in cash and deliver it to the Fu Corp conference room. ASAP.” Winnie looked disdainful. “Tch. Who are you trying to fool? You think you can call someone and magically get cash?” I didn’t answer, just waited quietly. Less than ten minutes later, the conference room door opened. A man in a sharp suit walked in. Behind him were three bank employees, each carrying a case. He walked straight to me and bowed respectfully: “Ms. Shen, here is the eight million you requested.” I nodded. “Thank you. Just put it here.” As the three cases were opened, the neatly stacked hundred-dollar bills shone under the lights. The conference room was silent. Everyone’s eyes were glued to the cash. The air seemed sucked out of the room. Even breathing was subdued. Winnie’s face was pale, and she couldn’t utter a single word. She stared hard at the cash, then looked up at the man in the suit. Suddenly, the finance director’s face went white. “Lu… President Lu?!” Chapter 4 4 Lu Ming-yuan, the CEO of the City Bank’s main branch. A powerful figure who was rarely seen. Even Ethan Fu’s grandfather would have trouble getting an audience. Yet, he was standing here, respectfully calling me “Ms. Shen.” Ethan Fu paused for a few seconds, then quickly stepped forward, offering his hand. “President Lu, why did you come personally?” “My grandfather often speaks of you. He would love to see you again.” Lu Ming-yuan didn’t even look at him. He simply nodded and addressed me. “Ms. Shen, if you need anything else, just say the word.” With that, he turned and left with his team. Quick and decisive, as if staying a second longer was a waste of time. Ethan Fu’s hand was frozen in mid-air. His face flushed with embarrassment. Winnie’s arrogance was long gone. Her legs were shaking. She was barely standing, her forehead covered in cold sweat. I slowly pulled a stack of bills from a case and gently patted her cheek. “Assistant Winnie, eight million. Not a penny less.” “Now, this watch is mine.” I ripped the Patek Philippe off her wrist and tossed it into the trash can in front of her. “You!” Winnie was livid. I turned to Ethan Fu and smiled faintly. “Mr. Fu, I paid for the watch.” “Now, let’s discuss compensation for my phone.” Winnie stared blankly, then sneered, as if I’d said the most hilarious thing. She crossed her arms, mockery in her tone. “How much could a Huawei possibly be worth?” I held up one finger. “It’s cheap, actually. Only about one hundred million dollars.” The room gasped, then burst into laughter. The marketing director dramatically slammed his hand on the table. “One hundred million? Manager Lynn, did the bubble tea fry your brain?” The finance director adjusted his glasses, mockingly serious. “According to company policy, damaged items are compensated at market price.” “Manager Shen, the market price for your phone is probably less than the interest on that sum.” Winnie was smug, seeing everyone agree with her. She walked up to me, smiling. “How about this? I’ll be generous and contact a psychiatric hospital for you.” “Delusions are a disease, after all. You need treatment.” Ethan Fu stood by, his brow furrowed, but remained silent. I remained calm amidst the mockery. “You’re right. A regular Huawei phone isn’t worth much.” Winnie sneered. “Glad you know. Stop making a fool of yourself!” “Too bad this isn’t a regular Huawei.” Just as I finished speaking, the conference room door opened again. This time, a middle-aged man in a gray jacket walked in, followed by eight bodyguards. Hank Huo, Senior VP of the Huawei Group. He only appeared at major press conferences. Ethan Fu’s expression changed instantly. He rushed forward. “Mr. Huo? What brings you here?”

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It was an elective, and my boyfriend had, yet again, only saved a seat for his childhood best friend. This time, I didn’t fight her. I didn’t make a scene. I clutched my textbook and walked over to sit next to the campus brainiac, Ethan Knight. While my boyfriend and his “bestie” were getting all handsy, I tugged on Ethan’s sleeve. “Your girlfriend is flirting with my boyfriend. Aren’t you jealous?” Ethan’s gaze was cool: “I don’t have a girlfriend.” I bit my lip and leaned closer: “Well, do you want one?” “What’s the upside?” He stopped writing and looked at me. My cheeks flushed: “You de-stress, I fix my hormones. Win-win.” 01 The moment I walked into the lecture hall, I spotted my boyfriend, Liam Ford. And right next to him, laughing and draped over his shoulder, was his childhood friend, Jenna Wells. They saw me, too. Liam instinctively moved to push Jenna away. But Jenna, smug as ever, just arched an eyebrow at me: “Oops, sorry! Liam only saved the one extra seat. First come, first served.” The classroom went silent. Everyone was watching. This wasn’t the first time Liam had only saved a seat for Jenna. The first time, I was devastated. I cried and ran out. The second time, Jenna provoked me again. I fought her, had a screaming match, and snatched my seat back. Because of Jenna, Liam and I had nothing but fights. All that stress had totally messed up my hormones. This time, seeing them pull the same tired stunt, I just felt utterly bored. I didn’t fight Jenna. I didn’t yell at Liam. I didn’t even look at either of them. I just hugged my textbook and walked straight to the only empty seat in the back row. “Excuse me, is this spot taken?” 02 Ethan Knight, who was writing notes with his headphones on, looked up. His gaze seemed to pause on my face for a second before shifting. Then, he stood up and gestured for me to slide in. I quietly thanked him and settled into the inner seat. Up front. There was a loud thud as a textbook was slammed onto a desk. I looked up. I met Jenna’s glare. Her eyes held a clear, burning resentment. I suddenly remembered a rumor I’d heard when I first arrived at school. Jenna supposedly had a childhood engagement—a “betrothal”—to Ethan Knight. I couldn’t help but look at the guy next to me. He had put his headphones back on and was bent over, focused on a problem set. I could only see his cool, remote profile, radiating an air of untouchable distance. My phone buzzed. It was Liam. [Lost a bet last night, that’s why I saved the seat for Jenna today.] [Don’t be mad, babe. Taking you out for a steak dinner tonight.] Reading his words, I just felt ridiculous. There was always an excuse. It was never that he stood me up, it was because Jenna was sick and he had to take her to the clinic. It was never that they were flirting, it was because they grew up naked together and were “pure bros.” If there was really anything going on, would he even be dating me? Liam was my first boyfriend. I had taken the relationship seriously. That’s why I was always so easily swayed by his mood swings. But now, I just felt empty. I didn’t reply. I just closed the chat. During the break. Jenna and Liam started wrestling. “Oh, you’re gonna use the strong arm against your dad, huh, Liam?” Jenna lunged, chasing Liam around. They looked more like they were heavily flirting. Jenna went for his neck, playfully choking him. Liam looked completely into it. “Okay, enough, act like a lady for once,” he chuckled. “My dad here isn’t one of those dramatic girls,” Jenna said meaningfully, glancing over at me. “I won’t cry a few ‘cat tears’ for attention.” “And I don’t use a squeaky voice, it’s sickening.” I looked down and curled the corners of my mouth. Under the desk, my hand lightly tugged the sleeve of Ethan Knight’s shirt. “Ethan.” He turned his head to look at me. I pressed my lips together and pointed to his headphones. Ethan didn’t speak, but he lifted his hand and removed the headphone from my side. I lowered my voice and, just as Jenna had described, gave it a slight squeak. “Your girlfriend is flirting with my boyfriend. Aren’t you jealous?” 03 Ethan’s eyes were utterly clear: “I don’t have a girlfriend.” “But I heard she has a betrothal—a childhood engagement—with you.” “Utter nonsense.” Ethan’s voice suddenly grew cold. I couldn’t help but look at him again, my gaze tracing his sharp, defined jawline. Then slowly moving down to the hand holding the pen. The sunlight streamed through the window, bathing him in light. His long fingers were like polished jade. I bit my lip, leaned in close, and whispered. “Well, do you want one?” “Want what?” Ethan suddenly turned his head to face me. I didn’t have time to pull away. I was hit with a faint but clean, cooling scent of peppermint. My breath hitched: “A girlfriend.” Ethan put his pen down decisively: “What’s the upside?” My cheeks flushed, and I lowered my long eyelashes. There was a red, angry pimple on my chin. It was throbbing and itching. My roommate said it was stress and a hormonal imbalance. Up front, Liam and Jenna were still being handsy. Jenna was sitting on the desk, teasingly kicking Liam. Every now and then, she would look over at me and laugh—loudly. Her laughter sounded carefree, but it was grating on my nerves. When Jenna first met me, she was instantly hostile. Liam introduced us. She stood next to him, arm hooked over his shoulder like any of his “bros.” She looked me up and down. Then she punched Liam’s arm: “You’re dating one of those delicate ‘little white flowers,’ huh, Dad?” “If you ever ditch your friends for her, I’ll be the first to call you out.” Liam had laughed happily. He probably enjoyed that dynamic all along. I took a deep breath. As Jenna looked over again, laughing on purpose, I tugged Ethan’s sleeve under the desk. “You de-stress, I fix my hormones. Win-win.” I’d heard whispers that Ethan’s current research project was incredibly difficult. He’d been pulling all-nighters in the lab. Ethan didn’t speak. His beautiful hand picked up the pen and twirled it. After a long moment, he looked back at me and curved his lips. “Sounds promising, but…” I unconsciously held my breath. The sunlight vanished behind a cloud. Ethan’s voice was suddenly cold: “I’m not interested in other people’s girlfriends.” 04 Class resumed. Jenna was seated properly now. The professor walked in. The noisy classroom quieted down. I leaned in and whispered so only Ethan could hear: “I’ve already decided to break up with him.” Ethan kept his eyes straight ahead at the whiteboard. “Then break up first.” I didn’t dare speak to him again. He was famously the top scholar on campus. When he got serious, he had an air of cold, untouchable seriousness. For the rest of the half-hour lecture. I kept my eyes obediently on the board and the professor. But only I knew my mind was already a million miles away. Just before class ended. Liam suddenly sent another text: [Something came up. Let’s meet tomorrow.] I quickly replied: [No need to meet again. We’re done. Break up.] [Stop being dramatic, Riley. I promise I’ll make it up to you this weekend.] [How many times do I have to say it? Jenna and I are just friends.] [Fine, I guarantee I won’t let her crash our date this weekend.] I didn’t reply again. As soon as class ended, Jenna grabbed Liam and rushed out. As she left, she glanced back at the back row. This time, she wasn’t looking at me—she was looking at Ethan. But Ethan was organizing his books with his headphones on, not looking up. Jenna looked slightly disappointed and quickly pulled Liam away. “Ethan, let’s exchange numbers.” I called out to him as he stood up, summoning my courage. Ethan didn’t scan my QR code. “Break up first.” He was so tall. Looking down at me, I always felt like there was no hiding from him. As if nothing could escape his notice. I didn’t dare look him in the eye. I pulled up the chat with Liam and showed him. I whispered: “See, it’s done.” Ethan looked at it. Then, right in front of him, I deleted and blocked Liam. “Do you believe me now?” Ethan’s impossibly handsome face still showed no emotion. But he pulled out his phone, brought up his QR code: “Add me.”

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1 In my past life, my family was cursed with a secret I couldn’t share: they could all hear the thoughts of the girl who had stolen my place. Only I was deaf to her voice. Returning to the Powell mansion, I stood before them in faded, threadbare clothes. Her sweet, venomous thoughts filled the air: [Her foster parents aren’t poor. She’s dressing like this to win sympathy.] My parents’ warmth turned to ice. Years of hardship had given me stomach cancer; every dollar went to painkillers. But Jane spun lies in her mind: [She’s not sick—she’s a gambling addict. Those are drugs.] Their flicker of concern became disgust. They dragged me to rehab. When I vomited from pain, she accused me of being pregnant. I begged and pleaded, but the Powells wouldn’t listen. They locked me away, and the staff tortured me until I died. When I opened my eyes, I was back at the beginning. But this time, I could hear her too. I looked straight at Jane and said, “I can hear you.” … The moment the Powells found me, I was digging through a dumpster for something to eat, my hands trembling from hunger. Jane stared at my patched-up jeans, and her silent voice slithered into my mind. [Her foster parents aren’t even poor. She must be dressing like this on purpose, scavenging for scraps just to win Mom and Dad’s sympathy. Should I say something?] Instantly, the pity on my birth parents’ faces curdled into revulsion. Just like before. In my past life, I couldn’t hear her thoughts, couldn’t understand why their expressions changed so abruptly. I just assumed they were disgusted by how dirty I was. But this time was different. I looked directly at Jane. “I can hear you,” I said, my voice clear and steady. “And I’m not wearing these clothes for sympathy. They’re the only ones I own. I’m digging through the trash because my foster parents don’t feed me. If I don’t, I starve.” Jane’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t expected me to be so direct, to voice her inner thoughts out loud. She bit her lip, her mind racing. [Can she really hear me? How can she lie without even blushing? I looked into it. Her foster parents treated her like a princess…] As my parents’ gazes filled with suspicion, I shoved up the sleeve of my tattered shirt, revealing a roadmap of old scars and fresh bruises. “Did you really look into it?” I challenged Jane. “Because all they ever did was beat me. I can’t remember a day in my life when I wasn’t covered in wounds. If you don’t believe me, take me to a hospital for an examination. But stop slandering me in your head.” Jane’s face went pale. She shrank behind Mrs. Powell, her thoughts turning pitiful. [She’s terrifying. She’s hurting herself just to get Mom and Dad’s attention.] [She doesn’t even need to do all this. She’s their real daughter. They’d love her anyway.] I turned to the Powells. “Take me to a hospital.” Seeing the marks covering my body, their eyes reddened with a fresh wave of pity, their faces a canvas of confusion. Who was telling the truth? Mr. Powell stepped forward, trying to smooth things over. “Alright, that’s enough,” he said to me. “Your sister… we’ve spoiled her. Don’t take what she thinks to heart. She’s just scared we’re going to cast her out.” I knew Jane’s place in their hearts was secure. She was the one who had been by their side all these years. I agreed to come back, but not for their affection. Last time, their blindness to Jane’s manipulations cost me my chance at treatment. This time, I wouldn’t let her silent lies destroy me. They ushered me into their car, ready to take me to my new home. But a sharp, agonizing pain seized my stomach. My face went white, my body started to tremble uncontrollably, and I fumbled in my pocket for my pills. I had just gotten the bottle open when Jane’s voice echoed in my head again. [Oh my god, she’s an addict. That’s not a painkiller bottle, it’s full of drugs. This is so bad…] The concern on my parents’ faces vanished, replaced by that familiar look of revulsion. Mr. Powell stopped the car, reaching over to snatch the bottle from my hands. But I was faster. I swallowed two pills and, in one swift motion, shoved a few more into his open mouth. I clamped my hand over his lips, tilting his head back like you would a stray cat you’re trying to deworm, and held it there until he swallowed. 2. Only then did I let go. “Elara!” my mother shrieked. “What are you doing?” The medicine was already working, dulling the fire in my stomach. I shrugged. “We should probably head to the hospital. If you start having withdrawals, you’ll have to check into rehab with me.” Jane’s face was ashen, her mind scrambling to regain control. [She’s terrifying. The drugs must be making her act like this. We have to get her to a facility, quickly—] Before she could finish the thought, my hand shot out and I slapped her across the face. Then I gave her the same treatment, forcing a few pills down her throat. As she choked them down, I looked at her with a cold smile. “You know damn well what they are.” Jane fell silent. My father’s face was a thunderous mask, but he had no time to rage at me. He slammed his foot on the accelerator and sped toward the nearest hospital. They ran every test imaginable: blood draws, an endoscopy, even a full toxicology screen. There was no sign of drug addiction. Still, my father wasn’t convinced. He insisted I was just a casual user and forced me through another battery of tests. That’s when they found it. The cancer. And the pills, they confirmed, were nothing more than high-strength painkillers. My parents couldn’t meet my eyes, their faces etched with shame. I looked at them. “So, are we still going to rehab?” My mother forced a laugh and reached for my hand. “Elara, honey, what have you been through? How could you have gotten cancer?” My voice was flat. “By living a life where I never knew where my next meal was coming from.” “The people who raised me swapped me with their daughter, Jane. They wanted me dead. A census worker showed up at their door, so they were forced to register me. They saw me as a waste of food, starving me for days on end before tossing me scraps like a dog.” “As I got older, I started scavenging from dumpsters just to survive. The constant hunger turned into a chronic illness, but there was no money for a doctor. I just learned to live with the pain. When I was old enough to work, I could finally afford to eat, but by then, it was already cancer. Every cent I made went to painkillers. With no money left for food, I went back to the dumpsters.” “When you found me, I thought… I thought I’d finally have enough to eat.” I let out a bitter laugh. The guilt on their faces deepened. Jane chose that moment to make her move. She approached my bed, tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry, Elara,” she sobbed, slapping her own cheek. “It’s my fault. I’m the one who stole your life…” Her strategy had shifted. Now, she was playing the victim. [Mom and Dad must hate me now. It’s all my fault. I’m the child of her foster parents. If it weren’t for me, my sister wouldn’t have suffered like this.] As predicted, my parents immediately rushed to her side. “Jane, honey, it’s not your fault. It’s your parents’ fault.” “That’s right, you had no choice in the matter! They switched you, you didn’t ask for this…” Just then, the hospital room door burst open, and my foster parents rushed in. My foster mother grabbed my hand, her face a mask of deep concern. “Elara, sweetie, are you okay? Why would you go digging through the trash?” she cried. “We gave you everything, we raised you like a princess! We know you were upset that we couldn’t buy you all the designer bags you wanted, but you can’t punish us like this…” She broke down into heart-wrenching sobs. My foster father hung his head, wiping away fake tears. “We’re just glad you’ve found your real parents. They’re wealthy. They can give you the life you deserve. It’s our fault we couldn’t provide for you…” 3. Every word was a carefully crafted performance, painting me as a vain, ungrateful brat. Jane’s thoughts chimed in right on cue: [But Elara said they were horrible to her?] My mother’s face flushed with anger. She spun around and slapped me. “Elara! Is this what you call being mistreated?” she spat. “I can’t believe you’d lie like that, pretending to be a victim just because they wouldn’t buy you a handbag! You manipulated us, tried to turn us against Jane!” “Thank god your foster parents showed up to set the record straight!” My foster mother immediately dropped to her knees. “Please, don’t hit her!” she begged. “If you have to hit someone, hit me! It’s my fault, I didn’t raise her right… I never laid a hand on her, not once! You can’t either!” My mother was furious. “This is what happens when you spoil a child! Look what she’s become!” But my foster mother remained on the floor, weeping with guilt. “It’s not her fault. We just couldn’t give her the life she wanted.” [Her foster parents’ clothes are so old and worn out. They look so poor,] Jane thought, fanning the flames. My parents looked at the couple—their threadbare clothes, their graying hair, the exhausted lines etched on their faces. The image of me, their daughter, throwing a tantrum over luxury goods while these poor people struggled to raise me, sent my mother into a fresh rage. “They worked so hard for you, and you repay them by pretending to be homeless? You’re unbelievable.” Having already died once, I felt strangely calm. “They’re lying,” I said simply. “And the hospital already confirmed I have cancer.” My foster father immediately shot back, “Elara, how could you lie to your birth parents like this? Just because the doctor is your cousin doesn’t mean you can make up something so serious!” I’d had enough. I walked to the door and raised my voice. “Excuse me! Doctor! My family says I’m faking my cancer and they want to stop my treatment!” A passing nurse and my own doctor, who was standing down the hall, both turned and hurried over. “What is wrong with you people?” the nurse scolded them. “Your daughter has stomach cancer and you want to refuse treatment? If she gets help now, she has a chance. If you do nothing, she might not have more than a few months…” My doctor’s brows furrowed. “Who here is Elara’s legal guardian?” My foster parents paled, realizing their lie had been exposed. The foster father stepped forward, trying to salvage the situation. “We are, we are. She’s just throwing a little tantrum, you know how kids are. We’ll just take her home now and get in touch with you later.” It was a clever move. To the doctor, it would sound like I was being difficult and they were responsible parents. To my real parents, it would confirm their suspicion that the doctor was my cousin. I didn’t bother arguing. I looked straight at the doctor. “My foster parents are claiming you’re my cousin, and that I paid you to fake my diagnosis.” The doctor’s face darkened. “That’s absurd! I’m nobody’s cousin!” He immediately called for the hospital administrator. Seeing things spiral out of control, my foster father tried to grab me and leave. The doctor blocked their path, his expression grim. “This is a serious accusation that affects my professional integrity. You will wait here for the police to arrive and take your statements.” Jane’s face went white. “You can’t call the police!” she blurted out. I smiled.

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