Category: English

On the very first day of lectures, a notification popped up on my phone. It was a text from Mom. [Class is 45 minutes long. You’ve been scrolling TikTok for 31 minutes and 56 seconds! Is this how you repay me for sending you to college?] A split second later, my professor’s phone rang. She put it on speaker, and the whole lecture hall heard my mother’s banshee shriek. “My daughter is playing on her phone instead of studying! Professor, confiscate it immediately!” My professor, looking exhausted, replied, “Ma’am, Chloe is a college student. Parents really shouldn’t be micromanaging at this level.” My classmates snickered, whispering about the pathetic girl who couldn’t cut the umbilical cord. But I was frozen, staring at the new message flashing on my screen. [You are forbidden from eating that spicy takeout for lunch. Or else.] Mom was a thousand miles away. How did she know my exact screen time? And how the hell did she know I had just ordered spicy noodles? 1 [That spicy trash is full of chemicals. I’m giving you three minutes to cancel the order.] Another text. I jerked my head up, scanning the room frantically. The snickering had stopped; everyone was back on their own devices. The professor was droning on about syllabus policies. No sign of Mom. No suspicious figures watching me. My brain was short-circuiting. I couldn’t figure out how she knew my every move. My fingers trembled as I typed back. [Mom, how do you know what I’m doing?] Her reply was instant. [I can know whatever I want.] [Chloe, don’t make Mommy unhappy.] [You have 2 minutes and 12 seconds left.] [2 minutes, 7 seconds.] Buzz. Buzz. My phone vibrated relentlessly, counting down like a bomb. The numbers dropped too fast. It felt like a giant hand was wrapping around my throat, squeezing the air out of me. In my panic, I hallucinated Mom standing there with a stopwatch, her eyes dark and heavy. “You didn’t brush your teeth for the full three minutes. Do it again!” “School is two miles away. It took you twenty minutes. Did you stop to play on the way home?” “You took 12 minutes on this worksheet. That’s 18 seconds slower than last time. No sleep tonight. Do it again!” Ever since the divorce when I was twelve, Mom poured her entire existence into me. She was determined to raise the perfect daughter, to prove she didn’t need Dad. When I slept, what I ate, when I woke up—everything followed her script. I tried to rebel once. I locked my bedroom door on a Saturday to sleep in. Mom hacked the door down with a meat cleaver. “Why are you locking the door?! Are you doing something dirty inside?!” “Time is life! Get up and study!” We went through a dozen locks. eventually, I stopped locking the door. I stopped struggling. I let her pilot my life. No password on my phone. No lock on my diary. My clothes, my sheets, even my phone case—everything had to be pink. “Girls use pink. You like black? Black represents evil! It means your mind is twisted!” She threw away my black hoodies and forced me to keep my hair long, demanding I “look like a lady.” She denied my taste, my choices, my autonomy. Every time I pushed back, she would give me that heartbroken look. “You’re too young, you don’t understand. Mommy is doing this for your own good.” “With a personality like yours, you’d never survive without me.” “I do all of this because I love you!” Middle school through high school—six years of living in her shadow. I thought getting accepted into a university across the country was my escape ticket. But… [Time remaining: 1 minute, 11 seconds.] Her messages were flooding in. I quickly checked her Facebook. She posted selfies from her Zumba class every day. She had posted one fifteen minutes ago. She was definitely back home, not here in the city. I played the part of the good daughter. [Okay, Mom. I canceled the order.] The countdown stopped instantly. Maybe she just guessed I’d order the spicy noodles? It was my favorite, after all. But the screen time… I couldn’t explain that. Just to be safe, I turned off every privacy permission for my video apps. Then I checked my food delivery app. She wasn’t here. I was an adult. She wasn’t going to control my lunch. 2 Mom didn’t text again. I grabbed my spicy beef noodle soup from the delivery rack and snuck it back to the dorm. I put on a trendy idol drama to watch while I ate. Just as I was grinning at a romantic scene, a notification banner dropped down. [Stop watching that brain-rot TV show. Use your downtime to study.] I froze. A chill crawled up my spine. I scanned the dorm room. It was just me and two roommates. Did she install a micro-camera when she helped me move in? I tore the room apart looking for a lens but found nothing. Suddenly, a woman’s voice shouted from the hallway. “Who is Chloe Jiang? Phone ending in 2215!” “Chloe Jiang!” I rushed out. “That’s me. What’s wrong?” A woman wearing an apron with the spicy noodle shop’s logo looked at me with relief. She shoved a wad of cash into my hand. “Finally. Here. $23.50. That’s your refund.” “Where are the noodles? Give them back. Now.” “Your mother called my shop over a hundred times! She said my food is poison and she’d keep calling until I took it back.” “I can’t take it anymore! I’m not doing your business!” I stood there, paralyzed. The woman spotted the takeout container on my desk. She rushed in, grabbed it, and snapped a photo. She pulled out her phone. I saw the chat window. It was my mother’s profile picture. “Ma’am, I took the food back. Your daughter only ate three bites.” She sent the voice note, then looked at me with a mix of pity and annoyance. “Kid, if your mom doesn’t let you eat spicy food, don’t order it. You’re making me run back and forth for nothing.” Her words felt like a slap in the face. Students were gathering in the hallway, watching the drama. I slammed the door and dialed Mom, my hands shaking. “It was just soup! It wasn’t poison! Why did you harass the shop owner?!” Mom’s voice was calm, righteous. “This is the price of lying.” “If you had listened and canceled the order, or eaten something healthy, Mommy wouldn’t have had to do that.” She twisted it back on me. My anger exploded. “I am eighteen! Can you stop controlling me?! Can’t I have a shred of freedom?!” “How do you know everything I’m doing?! Tell me!” Silence on the other end. Then, a heavy sigh. “Chloe, I don’t like it when you yell.” My throat clicked shut. Conditioned reflex. Since I was a toddler, I knew the rule: My emotions didn’t matter. Only hers did. I couldn’t cry, couldn’t be annoyed, couldn’t get mad. Because if I did, her reaction would be ten times worse. Sure enough, she started sobbing. “I feed you, I clothe you, I suffered so much to raise you, and this is how you treat me?” “If it weren’t for you, I would have divorced your father years earlier. I endured him for you!” “Your father has no conscience, he cheated on me, and now you won’t even empathize with me? I should just die.” The familiar, suffocating guilt washed over me. I hung my head. “I’m sorry, Mom. I was wrong…” Hearing my apology, she sniffled, satisfied. She nagged me a bit more, then hung up. I buried my face in my hands and screamed silently. I was a thousand miles away, and I was still in her cage. My roommate, Sarah, patted my back. “Don’t cry, Chloe.” “Your mom is… intense. Hey, maybe you should apply for the study abroad program?” “I asked Professor Hayes. Freshmen can apply.” “Your mom might be powerful, but she can’t micromanage you from London or Tokyo.” “But…” Sarah paused, looking confused. “There are no cameras here. She doesn’t know us. How did she know which restaurant you ordered from?” Right. And she knew what show I was watching. I forced myself to calm down. When Sarah mentioned studying abroad, Mom didn’t text to stop me. She didn’t hear that. TikTok, delivery apps, streaming apps… it was all on my phone. A terrifying thought crossed my mind. I opened a delivery app and ordered a bubble tea. The second the payment went through, a text arrived. [Bubble tea is bad for your body. Cancel it!] I frantically hit ‘Cancel’. Instant reply: [That’s Mommy’s good girl.] I threw the phone across the room like it was a venomous snake. My eyes widened in horror. 3 I paid a computer science major to check my device. He confirmed it. There was a hidden monitoring app rooted deep in the system. The admin could see my screen in real-time. No wonder she let me travel so far. She bought my train ticket. Before I left, she “checked the schedule” on my phone several times. She had been installing spyware. I couldn’t uninstall it. I couldn’t block it. If the signal went dark, she’d be on the next plane. But… this was leverage. As long as I didn’t use the phone, I could do whatever I wanted. My heart started racing. It was the thrill of freedom. I explained the situation to my roommates. They were sympathetic. “I’ll buy all the dorm supplies,” I told them. “You guys just transfer me the cash.” I couldn’t buy in bulk, or Mom would get suspicious. Toilet paper, wipes, body wash—I bought them on my phone, following her strict brand requirements. Every time I ordered, her approval texts came in. [Don’t buy that cheap brand. Buy the one I told you.] [Don’t be stingy. Buy quality.] [Send me a photo when it arrives.] I played the obedient soldier. I kept the cash my roommates paid me. It became my secret fund. Using Sarah’s laptop, I submitted the application for the exchange program. In two weeks, I had saved nearly a thousand dollars in cash. I used cash to buy spicy noodles. I bought black clothes. I drank bubble tea. No one stopped me. I started smiling more. When Sarah suggested a music festival on the weekend, I actually said yes. I waited until 10:00 PM—Mom’s mandatory bedtime. I turned off my phone. Then I put on a black dress and snuck out. First time drinking alcohol. First time dancing under stage lights, bass thumping in my chest. I laughed loud and hard. This was what being young was supposed to feel like. We walked back to campus at dawn, buzzing with adrenaline. But as we reached the dorm entrance, my smile froze. My mother was standing there. 4 Mom audited my shopping orders every week. Yesterday, she noticed I bought an extra pack of pads. She suspected a health issue and called. But it was after 10 PM. My phone was off. She called the dorm warden to wake me up, only to find out I wasn’t in my bed. She flew to the city overnight. She looked at me with pure disgust. “Chloe Jiang, your wings have really hardened, haven’t they? Staying out all night!” “What are you wearing? That skirt doesn’t even cover your knees! Did you go out to find men?” Her rage boiled over. She pulled a pair of scissors out of her purse. She grabbed a handful of my long hair and hacked it off. “I told you not to be a slut!” “Liar! I know everything! You’ve been eating junk food! Buying things for others to get cash! Is this how you repay me?” “You are rotten to the bone!” She screamed curses, hitting and kicking me right there on the sidewalk. I had been through this a thousand times. I curled into a ball, protecting my head, staring at the concrete. I didn’t dare look up. I was terrified of meeting the eyes of the students walking by. My roommates tried to intervene. “Ma’am, calm down! Chloe was with us all night…” “Get lost, you tramps!” Mom shoved Sarah to the ground. “It’s you lowlifes who corrupted my daughter!” “She was perfect before she came here!” No… You forced me to be perfect. Suddenly, Mom grabbed my wrist. She yanked my head up. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair wild. “You’re coming home! You’re dropping out!” “You’re only safe when you’re with Mommy!” That sentence broke me. The dam holding back eighteen years of suppression burst. I lunged and snatched the scissors from her hand. I pressed the sharp tip against my own throat. “I am not going with you! I am not going back to that cage!” “Get out of here! Leave me alone or I’ll die right now!” I was done. Done with the pink room. Done with the suffocation. Done with being her pet dog. “Chloe, don’t be stupid!” Panic flashed in her eyes. I pressed harder. A drop of blood trickled down my neck. She froze. Then, she dropped to her knees. She started wailing. “What did I do wrong?! Why are you breaking my heart like this?!” “If you die, I’ll die too!” She started listing her sacrifices again, trying to weaponize her pain to make me bow my head. But it just destroyed my last shred of sanity. Shut up! I wanted to die. She wanted to die. Fine! Let’s all just die!

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Chapter 1 I never thought my ex-flame would use a company meeting to destroy me. But there it was. On my laptop screen, projected for the entire boardroom to see. A video of him and his current girlfriend, going at it. The sounds of their heavy breathing filled the room, amplifying the sudden, suffocating silence. Waves of shock and disdain crashed over me from my colleagues. Panic and shame clawed at my throat as I scrambled to slam the laptop shut. I turned, trembling, only to see Julian Thorne smirking, a cruel twist to his lips. “Can’t handle it?” he sneered. In that moment, I knew. He did this on purpose. He’d swapped my presentation. He wanted me humiliated. He wanted me to watch him making love to another woman until it broke me. I took a shaky breath, trying to steady my racing heart. I remembered when we were in love. We were so close, just waiting for that final barrier to fall. Then, my so-called best friend set me up. I was framed for climbing into his bed, then accused of digging for the Thorne family fortune and stealing trade secrets. Because of that scandal, the Thorne dynasty nearly collapsed. Julian’s parents, driving frantically to deal with debt collectors, lost control of their car on a cliffside road. No survivors. Everyone blamed me. I became the villain of the century. Then came the diagnosis: Leukemia. Not wanting to drag Julian down with a dying woman, I left. That’s when I found out I was pregnant. Twins. One was born weak and sickly; the other was taken from me, missing without a trace. When I returned, desperate for money to save the only child I had left, I swallowed my pride. I agreed to be Julian’s assistant. I knew he only kept me around to torture me. I bit my lip, refusing to look at him. But my silence only seemed to infuriate him. He let out a cold laugh, his fingers drumming rhythmically on the mahogany table. “Take it off.” Two words. The room cleared instantly, colleagues fleeing the tension. I looked at him in disbelief. “Take off what?” “Vanessa’s dress got ruined. She’s in my lounge right now, and she doesn’t want to see your face. So, take yours off and give it to her.” Julian’s voice was ice. My chest tightened, a suffocating pressure building behind my ribs. I swallowed the rising bile of grievance. “Julian,” I whispered. “If I strip in the conference room, how am I supposed to walk out of here?” “Walk out naked. Or were you hoping someone would carry you?” He leaned back, eyes dark. “Think about your situation, Elara. If you want the money, be a good girl.” The threat hung in the air. I unclenched my fists. My baby was in the ICU. I couldn’t watch my child die. Slowly, I reached for the zipper. The office lights glared off the glass walls. Outside, people were watching, waiting to see my shame. Finally, I tossed my dress onto the table. Julian watched, savoring my humiliation. “Does it hurt, Elara? You deserve it. Compared to what you did to me, this is nothing.” His malice was undisguised. Tears stung my eyes, but I forced them back. What did I do wrong back then? I was framed. No one believed me. I was innocent, yet I was the sinner in everyone’s eyes. I thought I had moved on, but the tears wouldn’t listen. Julian grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Crying? Already? Save your tears. You’re going to need them for what comes next.” He wiped a tear from my cheek with a rough thumb, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “I’m in a good mood. Company retreat tonight. Everyone attends. Especially you.” He let go, and the stinging in my bones—the leukemia—flared up, nearly buckling my knees. I sank to the floor, hugging myself, shivering. Even after he left, the phantom sounds of that video echoed in my ears. Hours later, after everyone had gone, a coworker quietly handed me a spare coat. “What did you do to offend the boss? He’s going to eat you alive at dinner.” It was the only kindness I’d felt in months. I shook my head, unable to speak. The history between Julian and me was too heavy for words. I knew he had more humiliation planned for the retreat, but I had no choice. When I pushed open the door to the private room at the restaurant, I saw her immediately. Vanessa, nestled in Julian’s arms. She was wearing a red slip dress—definitely not the one I had taken off. She smiled at me. “Julian said your dress was too shabby for me. You aren’t mad, are you, Elara?” I looked at her gloating face, pressed my lips together, and lowered my eyes. “Does she dare be mad?” Julian scoffed, addressing the room. He slid three full glasses of liquor across the table toward me. “Late arrivals are penalized three drinks. You know the rules.” My doctor had been explicitly clear: No alcohol. Not with the leukemia. “I can’t drink,” I said, my voice trembling. Julian’s face went cold. “Can’t drink? How about this?” He pulled a check from his pocket and slapped it onto the table. “Fifty thousand dollars. Finish the bottles on the table, and it’s yours. Is that enough?” He sneered. “For a woman like you, who’d do anything for cash, this should be easy.” My heart shattered. I stared at the check. I thought of the ICU bills. I closed my eyes, grabbed the first bottle, and started chugging. One bottle. Two. The pain in my stomach blurred as the alcohol hit my blood. The room went silent as they watched their CEO’s face grow darker with every swallow I took. He hated me, didn’t he? He should be happy I was debasing myself. Why did he look so angry? I slammed the last empty bottle down, snatched the check, and shoved it into my pocket. “I’ll take the check—” Before I could finish, the burning in my stomach sent me running. I barely made it to the restroom before throwing up everything, blood mixing with bile. I was rinsing my face with freezing water, shivering, when I heard a sharp voice behind me. “I overestimated you. I thought you really didn’t care.” Vanessa walked into the frame of the mirror, applying lipstick. “You left, broke his heart, and now you crawl back to seduce him? Have you no shame?” I looked up, panic setting in. Vanessa capped her lipstick aggressively. “Keep your mouth shut. After Julian and I get married next month, I’ll tell you where your other kid is. Until then, stay out of sight.” Chapter 2 “My child?” My eyes lit up. When I first returned, Vanessa hinted she knew what happened to my missing twin. I had to believe her. I’d been searching for years while trying to keep my sick child alive. I stepped closer, desperate. “Where? Tell me!” But as I moved, I saw the hickeys on her neck. My breath hitched. Then, a sharp cramp in my stomach doubled me over. Vanessa watched coldly. “I’m actually worried you won’t live long enough to find out. Try not to die, Elara.” She clicked away in her high heels. Sweat drenched my back. I gripped the sink, forcing myself to stand. I had to live. For the kids. I dragged myself to the hospital. Dr. Liam Pierce looked at my test results and went silent. “Your condition is critical, and you’re drinking? Do you want to die? Your stomach is bleeding. You need to be admitted. Now.” My lips were pale. “Liam, I need the money. Just give me the meds, like usual.” He sighed, frustrated, but wrote the prescription. I visited my baby in the ward, then checked my bank account. Less than a hundred dollars. I clutched the fifty-thousand-dollar check, grateful I had sold my dignity for it. On the waiting room TV, news of the Julian-Vanessa engagement was breaking. They looked perfect together. My eyes burned. I went home to take my meds. I woke up at 3:00 AM to a dozen missed calls from Julian. Thinking maybe he felt guilty, I called back. “What kind of garbage was that proposal you submitted?” His voice was freezing. “Redo it. I want a satisfactory draft by morning, or don’t bother coming in.” I checked my laptop. I had sent that draft three days ago. He hadn’t even opened it. In the background of the call, I heard a woman’s moan. “Julian… please… I can’t take anymore…” “You started this fire,” Julian growled. “Already tired?” I hung up, tears streaming down my face. I spent the rest of the night rewriting the proposal to save my child. The next morning, I handed him the new draft. He didn’t even read it. He threw the file in my face. “I told you to redo it, not give me this trash.” He walked to the shredder and fed my night’s work into it, staring at me the whole time. I stumbled back, falling, hitting my bruised knees. My leukemia caused my bones to ache constantly, but my heart hurt worse. I looked up at his hate-filled eyes. “Okay. I’ll write it again.” I went back to my desk. Halfway through, a stack of contracts landed on my head. “Why didn’t you go to the meeting with Mr. Carter yesterday?” Julian demanded. “Remember your place, Elara. If you want money, do your job.” Yesterday? When he made me strip? How could I meet a client like that? “Yesterday, I—” “Excuses?” He cut me off. “If we lose this contract, the loss comes out of your pocket.” I nearly fainted. The contract was worth millions. I couldn’t pay that. He was driving me to a dead end. I rushed to Carter Corp to apologize. The receptionist kicked me out. “No appointment, no entry.” I waited outside for three hours in the scorching sun, then a sudden downpour soaked me to the bone. From the building across the street, I saw a silhouette in the window. Julian, swirling a glass of wine, smiling as I stood in the rain. How does it feel, Elara? his eyes seemed to say. I wiped rain from my face. I didn’t kill his parents. He never believed me. Then Vanessa appeared beside him. They toasted, laughed, and kissed passionately against the glass. My heart went numb. The rain beat down, reminding me of the past. Once, in a storm, a pervert followed me. Julian had appeared, soaked half his body to keep me dry under his umbrella. “I’ll protect you forever, Elara,” he had said. Now, he was the storm. I laughed until I cried, unable to tell rain from tears. Finally, Carter’s car pulled out. The window rolled down. It was Julian driving. Vanessa was in the passenger seat. “Mr. Carter,” I begged, rushing to the car. “Just ten minutes, please!” Julian laughed. “You beg with no sincerity, Elara. Look at you. Disgusting.” He floored the gas. The car grazed my knee, knocking me into a puddle. Vanessa mouthed Loser and gave me the finger as they sped away. I sat in the mud, powerless. But I thought of the hospital bills. I forced myself up, limping to hail a taxi. “Follow that Maybach.” Chapter 3 I followed them to a shooting range. I ran up to Carter’s group, holding the soggy proposal. But Vanessa grabbed Julian’s arm, smiling wickedly. “Julian, I have a great idea for a game. But we need Elara’s help.” My stomach churned. “If Elara agrees to be our target,” Vanessa purred to Carter, “you should give her a chance to pitch. Deal?” Julian paused, then tapped Vanessa’s nose affectionately. “You always have such fun ideas.” He turned to me, his face hardening. “Unlike some money-hungry women who are just boring and vulgar.” I stood there, swaying. I wanted to scream that I did this for our son. But I couldn’t. “Fine,” I croaked. I put on the protective gear and stood by the targets. Before I was ready, Vanessa fired. The bullet grazed my left ear. Blood trickled down. It burned, but I felt numb. “You’re terrible at this, Elara! You’re supposed to dodge!” Vanessa laughed. “Good aim,” Julian clapped. My heart bled. He was cheering for the woman shooting at me. Bang. Another shot hit my stomach. The impact knocked the wind out of me. I fell, gasping. “Julian! Did you see? Bullseye!” Vanessa squealed, hugging him. “You’re amazing, babe,” Julian said. Then he pointed at me. “Get up. Let her shoot again. Or the deal is off.” I looked at him, remembering the eighteen-year-old boy who used to hold the gun for me so the recoil wouldn’t hurt my shoulder. That boy was dead. I forced myself up. Vanessa fired again. A hit to the chest. I collapsed, hitting my head on the back wall. The world spun. “Is she dead?” Vanessa scoffed. “Julian, surely she’s faking it.” “She’s nothing,” Julian said. “Get up, Elara. Stop being dramatic.” I watched him pick up a gun. He aimed. I froze. The bullet whizzed past my nose, grazing the tip. Blood gushed out. Tears blurred my vision. Those eyes… they used to look at me with so much love. Now, only hate. “You said… if I did this… I’d get a chance,” I gasped. Julian frowned, tossing the gun aside. “I was joking. You didn’t actually believe me, did you?” My world tilted. Joking? With my life? “You’re despicable, Julian!” I screamed. “Despicable? I’m not even half as bad as you were,” he retorted, turning to leave with Vanessa. I panicked and grabbed Carter’s sleeve. He shoved me away. “Don’t touch me. I didn’t promise anything. Ask the lady.” I realized this was all Vanessa’s game. But before I could beg her, Carter grabbed my arm. “Actually, I changed my mind. Julian’s ex is dirtying my suit. Lick it clean, and I’ll listen to your pitch. Right here, in front of Julian.” Carter sat down, spreading his legs, pointing to a spot on his shoe—or perhaps higher. It was pure humiliation. My nails dug into my palms. “Hurry up!” Carter barked. He grabbed my hair and forced my head down. Terrified, I reached out and grabbed Julian’s pant leg. “Julian, please…” He paused. Then he kicked my hand away. “What does this have to do with me? Who do you think you are to ask for my help?” He lit a cigarette, pulling Vanessa close. “Open your eyes. I have a girlfriend. Flirting with me in front of her? Do you think I won’t hurt you?” My heart froze. I couldn’t defend myself. “Elara is so stupid,” Vanessa giggled. “Did you really think anyone would dare bully you without Julian’s permission?” Her words struck me like lightning. I closed my eyes, accepting the despair. Carter pushed my head down harder. “Enough chatting. Show some sincerity.” Chapter 4 Carter wasn’t really going to let me pitch. He just wanted to break me. As he forced my head down, I panicked. I grabbed a heavy ashtray from the table and smashed it against his head. Slap. Carter backhanded me so hard my vision went black. I heard the sound of a second blow coming, but it never landed. Julian had stopped his hand. For a second, I saw concern in Julian’s eyes. But then he smiled, a cruel, twisted thing. He pulled out his phone. “911? I’d like to report an assault.” My hope died. “Did you think I was saving you?” he whispered, leaning down. “Use your brain. I’m calling the cops on you.” I collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably. “Why are you doing this to me?” “You owe me this,” he hissed. “Go to jail and think about what you did.” Vanessa stepped on my hand with her stiletto heel as they left. “Enjoy the cell, Elara.” Seven days in detention. The inmates knew who put me there. They tortured me. Maggots in my food. Ice water at midnight. Beating me in the bathrooms. “Who do you think you are?” the leader of the cell block shouted, slamming my head into the wall. “Trying to seduce Mr. Thorne? With Miss Vanessa in the picture? You’re trash.” I lay on the cold floor, hallucinating the old Julian. The one who brought me water after gym class. The one who ignored everyone else just to sit by me. When I was released, I dragged my broken body home. The door was smashed open. Men were tearing my apartment apart. “Pay up!” one shouted. “You owe us on the loan!” “I never took a loan!” I cried. “Get out!” Vanessa walked in, clapping. “Still feisty?” Julian followed her. “I took the loan out in your name. To cover the losses from the Carter deal. You messed up, you pay.” My blood ran cold. He was systematically destroying me. My bank accounts were frozen. How would I pay for the hospital? “Julian, please,” I begged, grabbing his sleeve. “What do I have to do for you to let me go?” He shook me off. “Let you go? Did you let my parents go? I want you to suffer for the rest of your life.” I fell to the floor. When his family went bankrupt, I watched him work night shifts, living in a basement. I left him because I was dying and pregnant, not because I didn’t love him. I tried to save him from my burden. “Search the place!” Julian ordered the thugs. “Take anything valuable.” They smashed my furniture. I tried to stop them, but they shoved me into a bookshelf. Books rained down on me. Vanessa picked up a brown leather notebook. “Ooh, what’s this?”

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1 I was always a whirlwind, a rambunctious spirit who could never sit still. My family, however, was a portrait of quiet dignity. No one else seemed to appreciate the chaos I thrived on. The year I turned fifteen, I stayed up all night, meticulously crafting a birthday present for my older brother, Michael. When he opened it, a kaleidoscope of paper butterflies erupted from the box, startling him. His face immediately darkened. The next day, I was sent to an etiquette coach. Michael stood there, his brow furrowed with disapproval. “Mrs. Keller, my sister’s… disposition will make her a laughingstock in our circle. I see no other way. I can only entrust her to you to teach her some discipline.” “In return,” he added coolly, “the Lucas family will see to it that your daughter is taken care of for the rest of her life.” The next time I saw him was three years later. Michael’s eyes scanned my poised, serene form, and a look of deep satisfaction settled on his face as he prepared to take me home. But I simply tilted my head, my expression one of innocent confusion. “I’m sorry, who are you?” … Michael froze for a second, then his expression soured as he reached for me again. “Stop playing dumb. You don’t recognize your own brother?” “Mom and Dad are back from their world tour tonight. Come home with me; we’ll surprise them.” His tone was sharp, and I instinctively took two steps back, only to be met by a firm push from behind. “Mia, dear, go home with your brother!” I turned to see Mrs. Keller, the woman who had spoken. Her warning gaze met mine, and I flinched. Mrs. Keller was my etiquette coach. She was the epitome of grace and virtue, a gentle smile always playing on her lips. But her eyes… her eyes held a hidden threat. “Remember to be on your best behavior when you get back. You don’t want to be sent back here!” I nervously wrung my hands, only for one to be taken in a firm grip. Michael looked down at me. “Why are you sweating so much? Are you hot?” I could feel Mrs. Keller’s dangerous stare on my back and quickly shook my head. “N-no. I’m not hot.” Michael nodded, then turned to Mrs. Keller with a polite smile. “Mrs. Keller, Eliza seems to be enjoying her stay with us so much she doesn’t want to leave. I’m afraid it might be a few more days before we can bring her back to you.” At the mention of her daughter, Mrs. Keller’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s no problem at all! Let her stay as long as she likes. She can stay forever if she wants!” “These past few years, you’ve found her the best schools, arranged for her to study abroad… I can’t thank you enough!” Michael gave a slight nod. “You’ve taught Mia to be so well-behaved. It’s the least we could do.” With that, he led me to the car waiting to take me home. During the entire ride, I sat primly in my seat, a careful distance from my brother. My hands were folded in my lap, my back was ramrod straight. I didn’t dare speak. Michael’s gaze on me was soft. “Excellent. You finally look like a Lucas heiress.” “It seems we should double Mrs. Keller’s compensation.” Soon, the car pulled to a stop in an exclusive, gated community. Michael got out first, then thoughtfully circled around to open my door, extending his hand to me. I had been taught these courtesies. They were etched into my mind. I lifted my left hand and gently placed it in his palm. I stepped out, planting my foot firmly before gracefully exiting the vehicle. The smile in Michael’s eyes deepened. “Very good, Mia,” he praised. But in the next second, the hand resting in his suddenly clenched! The sight of the villa before me was surreal and disturbingly familiar. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. Michael frowned. “What’s wrong?” Goosebumps erupted on my skin, but I had to maintain my composure. I quickly shook my head. “N-nothing.” He released my hand. “Then let’s go inside. I have a present for you.” I followed him. The closer we got to the house, the more my head throbbed. Once we were inside, Michael presented me with a beautifully wrapped box. “Mia, welcome home.” He opened it, revealing a delicate butterfly bracelet. The color drained from my face. My head felt like it was splitting open. The butterfly on the bracelet seemed to come alive, its wings beating as it flew straight at me. My vision swam, and I thought I heard a shrill, angry voice echo in my mind: “You stayed up all night just to pull a prank? Mia, it’s my birthday! Can’t you be considerate for once in your life?” I was never the favorite child. I was too loud, too boisterous. The Lucas family rules were strict. My brother, Michael, was born with an innate air of reserved elegance, making him the apple of our parents’ eyes. But I was different. I was a carefree whirlwind, a bundle of hyperactive energy that didn’t seem to fit the Lucas mold. Before I turned fifteen, my parents had me take three different DNA tests. Each time, they would stare at the results and shake their heads in weary resignation. “Mia’s personality is just so… untamed. She’s nothing like the other debutantes.” “Richard, are you sure she’s ours? What did we do to deserve this?” “She and Michael are supposed to inherit the company one day. With this lack of decorum, she’ll be a disaster…” They never bothered to hide their conversations from me, and I never took them to heart. I’d usually just flash a mischievous grin and wrap my arms around my mother’s. “What, you two don’t want me anymore? Did you forget who mediated your last fight?” “You two would never have made up so quickly without me!” My mother would sigh, exasperated, and tap my forehead. “Honestly, what are we going to do with you?” And so, my life before fifteen, though filled with my family’s disapproval, was not unhappy. Until the day I got into a fight with the daughter of my father’s business partner over a dress. My parents gave me the silent treatment for a full day before quietly conferring with my brother. “This personality of hers will be a liability when she takes over the company. Michael, you need to find a good etiquette coach. It’s time she learned some discipline.” Michael nodded. “I’ll arrange it after my birthday.” That night, I stayed up until dawn, creating a butterfly kaleidoscope for him. The next morning, I stifled a yawn and pushed the gift into his arms. “Happy birthday.” He looked at my red-rimmed eyes, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile. But when he opened the box, he used too much force. The butterflies were supposed to flutter out one by one, a beautiful, ethereal display. Instead, his rough handling sent them all bursting out at once. Two of them grazed his eyes, nearly blinding him. His face turned to stone. For the first time, his legendary patience snapped. He smashed the box on the ground. “You stayed up all night just to pull a prank? Mia, it’s my birthday! Can’t you be considerate for once in your life!” I tried to explain, but he wouldn’t listen. He just turned and walked away. The next day, I was sent to Mrs. Keller’s. These memories used to be crystal clear. But now, all I could recall were fragmented images and the sound of my brother’s angry reprimand. The rest was a complete blank. My headache intensified, and I rubbed my temples. Michael watched me, still patiently holding out the gift box. Just then, a girl ran over and snatched it from his hands. “Wow, this bracelet is gorgeous! Michael, can I have it?” “But this is a gift for Mia…” Michael, never one to say no, looked at me with a conflicted frown. A memory flashed in my mind—my parents scolding me for not knowing how to share after the fight over the dress. I quickly forced a smile. “You can have it. Here, let me help you put it on.” I graciously fastened the bracelet onto Eliza’s wrist and even offered a compliment. “It’s beautiful. It suits you!” She looked baffled, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “You’re really giving it to me? You’re not angry?” I patted her hand magnanimously. “Of course not. Mrs. Keller taught me that sharing is a virtue.” Michael’s frown smoothed out, a genuine smile reaching his eyes. But Eliza just glared at me, yanked her hand away, and stormed off to her room. I didn’t understand why she was upset and felt a flicker of panic. “What’s wrong with her?” I asked Michael. “Why is she still unhappy after I gave her the bracelet?” “Her?” The smile on Michael’s face vanished. “You don’t remember Eliza? She’s Mrs. Keller’s daughter. You’ve met her several times.” At the mention of Mrs. Keller, my expression shifted, and tension coiled in my stomach. Michael, ever observant, finally realized something was wrong. He cupped my face in his hands, staring into my eyes for a long moment, his own expression growing grave. A moment later, he was on the phone with Mrs. Keller. “Mrs. Keller, Mia has been acting strangely since she came back. It seems like she doesn’t recognize people. What’s going on?” Mrs. Keller laughed on the other end. “Oh, that’s perfectly normal. She’s eighteen now, right in the middle of her rebellious phase. She’s likely upset that you sent her to me and is just pretending.” “Many of the children I work with do the same thing when they go home. It’ll pass.” When he hung up, Michael’s frown had only deepened. He clearly wasn’t convinced. Before he could investigate further, the front door opened. A middle-aged couple wheeled in their luggage, their faces breaking into wide smiles when they saw me. “Mia’s home! Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” The woman rushed over and pulled me into a tight embrace. Another wave of pain shot through my head, but out of politeness, I didn’t push her away. They then proceeded to pepper me with questions, their affection overwhelming. I maintained a polite, distant smile throughout. By the end of our conversation, their satisfaction with me was palpable. I had also figured out that they were my mother and father. At dinner, my father mentioned a gala in a few days and said he wanted to take me. Eliza pouted. “Uncle, Auntie, can’t I go?” My mother patted her shoulder reassuringly. “There’s only one extra ticket, dear. If we take Mia, we can’t take you. Be a good girl, Eliza.” Eliza remained sullen, barely touching her food for the rest of the meal. As dinner was ending, I tried to appease her. “There’s only one spot. Why don’t you go? Don’t be upset.” Her eyes lit up, but Michael immediately shut it down. “No. You are the Lucas heiress. Eliza is just Mrs. Keller’s daughter.” “Many influential people will be at this gala. It’s a crucial opportunity for you to network.” I had no choice but to nod. “Alright, I’ll go then.” Suddenly, Eliza threw down her chopsticks and ran to her room, slamming the door behind her. Watching her second rude outburst, I couldn’t help but ask, “Is she really Mrs. Keller’s daughter? Why is she so ill-mannered?” My mother smiled and stroked my hair. “She’s not a Lucas. She won’t be moving in high society. She doesn’t need to be so disciplined.” “I see,” I said, a flicker of understanding dawning on me. That night, I lay awake in my old bedroom, unable to sleep. I felt a gaping hole in my heart, an unbearable emptiness. But I made no sound, just lay there quietly, clutching the blanket. I even held my bladder until morning. My parents were ecstatic. “Mrs. Keller is a miracle worker! Mia’s rambunctious nature is finally gone!” “Now we can finally entrust the company to her without worry.” A few days later, Michael took me to the gala. With my arm linked through his, I moved through the crowd with ease, chatting with entrepreneurs and meeting other young heirs and debutantes. Michael beamed with pride and eventually let me wander on my own. I was heading to the balcony for some fresh air when a hand grabbed my arm. A young woman stood before me, her brow furrowed in annoyance. “Mia Lucas, you don’t recognize me? I’ve been looking at you all night. Why haven’t you said hello?” I was stunned by her rudeness. “Who are you? Let go of me! This is highly improper!” “Hahaha—” The girl burst out laughing. “What are you talking about? You, talking about being proper?” “Weren’t you the one who slapped me over a dress three years ago? What’s this, a case of amnesia?” My mouth fell open. A nerve in my brain snapped taut. “Slapped you?” Before I could process it, she gave me a hard shove. I lost my balance and stumbled backward, crashing into a waiter. Red wine and broken glass showered over me. Amid the gasps of the onlookers, I struggled to my feet, trying to maintain my composure. The girl, Sophie, raised an eyebrow, watching me intently, as if waiting for me to retaliate. But I simply straightened my dress, my face cold. “I will not admit to something that never happened. But for assaulting me, I will be calling the police.” Just then, Michael rushed to my side. He took in my disheveled state, and his brow furrowed deeply. “What happened?” Sophie stomped her foot. “Michael, your sister has lost her mind! Three years ago, she hit me over a dress, and now she’s pretending she doesn’t know me!” Her voice was loud, drawing a crowd. “What’s going on? The Lucas and Chen families have been friends for generations. How could Mia not know Sophie?” “Exactly! Everyone knows she hit Sophie over that dress. I thought she had changed, but now she’s denying it…” All eyes were on me. The pressure was becoming unbearable. “I said I don’t know her!” I cried out, my voice trembling as I pulled out my phone to call the police. “That’s enough!” Michael grabbed my hand, pulling me away from the scene. “Michael, I really don’t know that girl,” I explained meekly on the way home. But he wouldn’t listen. The car stopped in front of a hospital. I looked at him, surprised. “We’re not going home?” Michael got out and reached for my hand. I flinched, my face paling with fear. He froze, his expression complicated, but his voice softened. “Mia, let’s get your head checked.” “I don’t want to. I’m scared…” I shook my head, pressing myself against the car door. Michael’s lips thinned into a hard line as he pulled me out of the car without another word. After a full battery of tests, his expression grew even darker. The results showed I was in perfect physical health. “So Mrs. Keller was right. You’ve been faking it all along!” He dragged me home and threw me onto the floor. “Mom, Dad, and I sent you to Mrs. Keller for your own good! Do you have any idea how much we’ve spent? Five million a year for tuition, not to mention supporting Eliza this whole time.” “Why can’t you be grateful instead of being so rebellious?” “Do you know how important tonight’s gala was? The impression you made is out there now. Do you have any idea what the other debutantes will be saying about you behind your back?” I cowered on the floor, trembling, my legs too weak to stand. He looked at me with bitter disappointment. “If you keep this up, I’ll have no choice but to send you back to Mrs. Keller for another two years.” “No!” The moment the words left his mouth, I fell to my knees, banging my head on the floor. “Don’t send me back! I’ll be good! I’ll be obedient! Please don’t send me back! I won’t do it again!” Michael’s eyes widened in shock. He bent down to help me up. “What are you doing? Get up!” But I just kept bowing, ignoring his pleas, repeating over and over, “I’m sorry! Please don’t send me back!” His face was a mask of distress as he tried to pull me up. A sneer cut through the air from behind him. “My mother never abused you. Who are you putting on this pathetic show for?” Michael looked up at Eliza, and his hands slowly fell away from me. His voice was laced with disappointment. “If you want to kneel, then kneel.” He turned and went into his study. I remained on the floor, my movements robotic and numb. Eliza crouched down in front of me, a sinister smile on her face. “If you don’t want to be sent back, you’d better listen to me. When your parents get home, you’re going to tell them to let me stay here forever.” “If you disobey, I’ll have my mother—ah!” Before she could finish, I lunged, my nails raking across her face. She and Mrs. Keller looked so much alike, so terrifyingly alike! Fear erupted from every pore, and I started screaming. “Shut up! Stop talking! Stop talking!” Michael burst out of the study and pulled Eliza behind him. She was clutching her bleeding face, shrieking. His eyes darkened, and he slapped me, the force of the blow snapping my head to the side. I froze, listening to his voice, cold as ice. “How dare you attack her? Go to the basement and reflect on what you’ve done! Don’t come out until you’ve learned your—” He stopped abruptly, a look of horror flashing across his face. Because the moment I heard the word “basement,” my body started to convulse, and then, I collapsed. “What are you pretending now?” he asked, his voice shaking. He nudged me with the toe of his shoe. When I didn’t respond, he quickly scooped me up from the floor. His hands were trembling. I had never seen him so lost. “Call an ambulance—” … When I opened my eyes again, I was in a hospital, surrounded by people. A doctor with a grave expression was removing a needle from the pressure point above my lip, scribbling notes in a chart. Michael’s eyes were bloodshot, his voice hoarse. “Doctor, why did my sister suddenly faint? I just had her examined. She’s perfectly healthy!” The doctor frowned. “The patient’s problem isn’t physical. It’s psychological.” “She has likely endured prolonged abuse. The trauma was so severe that her mind chose to forget.” He looked at the pale, horrified faces of my parents and brother and sighed. “If you want to know what your sister went through, the only way is through hypnosis.” “But, you need to be prepared…”

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I was born with a cursed mouth. The day my mom gave birth to my little brother, four-year-old me spoke the first sentence of my life: “Here comes the debt collector.” My dad heard it. He grabbed a sewing needle and pierced my lip. I bled so much. My Nana held me in her arms, heart broken, screaming at my dad, “She’s just a child! How could you?” I stared unblinkingly at my father and whispered, in a voice only Nana could hear: “He’s going to die.” The next day, my dad’s semi-truck jackknifed on the highway. By the time they found him, he was nothing but a pile of meat paste. 1. After Mom got the insurance payout, she took my baby brother and moved to Chicago, leaving me behind in the boonies with Nana. She said I cursed my father to death. She said I was a jinx, a bad seed. I stared at the baby in her arms and thought: But he’s the debt collector. Why is she blaming me? From that day on, I rarely saw my mother. The folks in our small town didn’t know I could speak. To them, I was just “The Mute.” Adults whispered it; kids shouted it. Some mean little boys would throw mud at me. “No daddy, no mommy, just a stray little mute! Get lost! We don’t play with freaks!” Children’s cruelty is pure and unfiltered. Nana would march to their houses, hands on her hips, and curse their parents out, but it didn’t change much. One day, when Nana came home, I was tending the wood stove. She pulled a first-grade reading book out of her canvas tote. She rubbed my head, her rough hands gentle. “Raven, honey, I helped Mrs. Gable clean her attic, and she gave me this instead of cash. Nana’s gonna teach you to read, okay?” I shook my head. I didn’t want to read. Counting ants was more fun. Nana, usually so gentle, got angry for the first time. Her eyes were sharp. “If you don’t want to learn, you don’t eat dinner. Think about it.” Two hours later, I found Nana and waved my hands frantically. I wanted to learn. Not because I had an epiphany, but because I realized if I didn’t read, Nana really wouldn’t feed me. I was hungry. Nana smiled, her face wrinkling up like a happy apple. She rushed to serve me stew. “I knew my Raven was smart. We start after supper.” From then on, Nana taught me a word a day. If she didn’t know it, she’d ask the neighbors. By the time I was eight, I knew hundreds of words. I communicated with Nana using a whiteboard I cherished like gold. Mom had thrown it out as trash when she moved; Nana had dug it out for me. Nana knew I could speak. She knew I just chose not to. She told everyone, “She’s just saving her words for something important.” 2. On the night of my twelfth birthday, Nana made me a huge bowl of longevity noodles. Two golden fried eggs sat on top, garnished with fresh greens from the garden. It looked perfect. I ate until my mouth was slick with oil, waving at Nana to eat too. She just watched me, smiling. “Eat up, Raven. Nana wants you healthy and to live a hundred years.” “You’re twelve now. What’s my big girl’s birthday wish?” I chewed on the end of my chopstick, thought for a moment, then grabbed my pen. I wrote, stroke by stroke: To be with Nana forever. To have a happy home. Inside, it was warm and loving. Outside, the wind howled, promising a storm. 3. Then came the knock at the door. I slurped a noodle, wondering who it could be. We didn’t have friends. A widow and a mute girl? People avoided us like we carried the plague. I peeked out and saw my mother. She dragged my brother, Caleb, inside and dumped her expensive bag on the heater. My heart leaped. Did Mom remember my birthday? Did she come back to celebrate? She saw me and the bowl of noodles. Her brows knitted together tight. “Today is your birthday?” Caleb tugged her hand. “Mom, I’m hungry. I want fried eggs too.” Mom ignored him. She just stared at me. I nodded, hope rising in my chest. Then, she lunged. Smack. She slapped me so hard I saw stars. “I knew it! I knew you were a curse! Why don’t you just die?” My face swelled instantly. Nana rushed in from the kitchen, saw me holding my face, and shoved Mom away. She hugged me tight. “What is wrong with you?! It’s Raven’s twelfth birthday! If you want to act crazy, get out!” Mom laughed and cried at the same time, collapsing on the floor, pointing a shaking finger at me. “This little bitch jinxed me, Ma!” “I was going to put a down payment on a condo tomorrow. But today? Today Caleb burned down the entire carport at our complex!” “I had to pay $30,000 in damages! Eight years of savings, gone! They kicked us out. We had to run back here overnight.” She looked at me through blurry tears. “What kind of demon are you? You cursed your dad to death, and now you’re destroying me and your brother. Why won’t you just die? Please, just die!” I was stunned by her screaming. Tears pooled in my eyes. I didn’t understand. Caleb set the fire. Why was it my fault? Nana pushed me gently. “Raven, take your brother to the back room to sleep. I need to talk to your mother.” I nodded and reached for Caleb’s hand. “Don’t touch my son, you mute freak!” Mom screamed. If anyone else had said that, Nana would have fought them. But this was her daughter. I lay in bed, tears soaking the pillow, unable to sleep. Late that night, Nana lay down beside me and pulled me into her arms. “Don’t blame your mom, Raven. She’s had a hard life.” The next day, I brushed my teeth and went to school as if nothing happened. I treated my mother like air. She hadn’t cared for me in years, only to come back and call me a freak? Fine. I only needed Nana. That woman wasn’t fit to be a mother. 4. Mom spent the next few days transferring Caleb to the village school and showing him off to relatives. Eight-year-old Caleb was a spoiled brat. He thought he was better than everyone because he came from the city. He sat under the big oak tree, showing off a toy. “My mom got this train from overseas. It’s expensive.” He pressed a button, and the train went Choo Choo and ran along the ground. Billy, the neighbor’s kid, drooled over it. “Caleb, let me play when you’re done?” Caleb sneered. “Get away. You dirty hillbilly, you’ll break it. Go play with mud.” Billy rolled his eyes. “I may be a hillbilly, but at least I don’t have a mute sister who kills her dad.” Billy started dancing around, chanting, “Caleb’s sister is a mute! The mute has a brother named Caleb!” Caleb flew into a rage. He grabbed a rock and smashed it into Billy’s head. “She’s the mute, not me! I don’t have a sister! Mom said she’s a debt collector, she should be dead!” “I’ll kill you! You dirty wild kid!” By the time the adults found them, Billy had a four-inch gash on his head. He needed fourteen stitches. That afternoon, I came home to a cold kitchen. When Nana and Mom finally dragged Caleb back, Mom twisted his ear and made him kneel. I did my homework, not looking up. “Why did you hit him with a rock?!” Mom screamed. “Do you know how much trouble I went through to get you into this school?” “Why can’t you behave? You won’t have any friends!” Caleb pointed at me, sobbing. “It’s her fault! They made fun of me because of her! Mom, you said she’s a debt collector, why isn’t she dead yet?” “I want Daddy! I don’t want a sister!” Nana’s face turned green. For the first time, she yelled at Caleb. “Your sister is not a debt collector! Raven is a good child!” Mom heard Caleb say it was my fault, and her anger shifted targets instantly. “Raven! Did I owe you something in a past life? Must you destroy me and your brother? Do you know how much I’ve suffered because of you?” I put my homework in my bag and looked at Caleb kneeling on the floor. His fat face had no childish innocence. Just snot and malice squeezing out of his piggy eyes. His mouth was wide open, wailing. I couldn’t articulate my disgust. So I spoke. “Then let the real debt collector be childless and die before he turns sixteen.” My voice was raspy from disuse, but the curse rang clear in the small room. Nana rushed over and covered my mouth. “Raven! Don’t say such things! There are no debt collectors in this family!” She started bowing to the empty air, like she was possessed. “Child’s words, no harm meant! God, please don’t listen to her nonsense! I apologize on her behalf!” Nana slammed her head against the floor until it bruised. I tried to stop her, but she pulled me down. “Raven, kneel! Tell God you were just talking nonsense!” I stubbornly kept my mouth shut. I was the mute again. Mom laughed coldly. “Ma, if she dares to curse him, let’s see if God opens his eyes.” “Don’t worry. If this little bitch dies, you still have me, and you have your precious grandson. We’ll take care of you.” Nana ignored her, shaking my shoulders. “Raven, take it back!” I shook my head. A word spoken is a word bound. Disappointed, Nana slapped me. It was the first time she ever hit me. I didn’t want to cry in front of Mom. I held back the tears and ran out the door.

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1 The day before our wedding, my fiancé Kevin demanded I buy him a Mercedes. “You’re pregnant and won’t be working,” he said with feigned helplessness. “I need a car to support us.” My mom gave me her funeral savings to help. Three months later, she was diagnosed with stomach cancer. I begged Kevin for help, only to find his bank account held just three hundred dollars. He accused me of trapping him and forced me to have an abortion. “Plenty of women want to have my child,” he sneered. I worked desperately, but couldn’t save my mom. Leaving the crematorium with her ashes in a simple box, I saw Kevin at a car dealership with another woman. “I thought Avery was different,” he told her, “but she’s just another poor schemer. Pick any car—I lost the bet.” As I turned to leave, he suddenly fell to his knees, begging me to stay. … “I told you from the start, poor people don’t have a genuine bone in their body! I just feel bad for my poor brother, getting his feelings played with like that. She couldn’t even keep up the act for long. Three months and her true colors are already showing. So boring.” The woman next to Kevin preened, rubbing against his shoulder. I couldn’t see his face, only the cold, detached way he swiped his credit card. “A bet’s a bet. I guess I misjudged this one. But whatever. Avery’s pretty, great body. I’ll just think of it as hiring an escort for two years. No real loss.” The woman couldn’t hide her glee. She pulled Kevin into a brand-new car. I knew this dealership all too well. During the months my mom was sick, I had worked here as a part-time mechanic, taking on the dirtiest, most grueling jobs I could find. I had only come back today to pack my things and quit. As the limited-edition Ferrari sped away, a flamboyant streak of red, I slowly walked towards the entrance. The salesman who had just made the sale was still buzzing. “That’s the son of the richest man in the city! Drops millions on a luxury car like it’s nothing. I swear, I don’t even want to work anymore. Just find me a sugar daddy and I can skip ten years of struggle!” I stood there for a long time, clutching the cookie tin that held my mother’s ashes. My manager came out and settled my final wages, sighing as he patted my shoulder. “I added a bonus. My condolences. If you ever want to come back, the door is always open.” Less than two thousand dollars in cash. Not even enough to cover half a day of my mom’s medical bills. Now, it was all I had to my name. I stumbled home in a daze, only to find my landlord waiting for me at the door. “Avery, you’re two months behind on rent. The security deposit isn’t going to cover it for much longer.” I forced a smile, my hand clenching and unclenching around the cash in my pocket. “Sir, I’ve had an emergency. I can’t pay. I’ll move out as soon as I can.” His eyes held a hint of amusement. “Bought a new place? I saw your husband come home in a fancy car the other day. You two are full of surprises.” I lowered my head, a bitter smile on my lips, unsure how to explain. Just then, Kevin stepped out of the elevator. He saw me and let out an impatient sigh, tossing his bag at me without a care. The landlord addressed him directly. “You know, if you break the lease, you don’t get the deposit back. And you still owe for these two months. You don’t look like you’re short on cash. Don’t make things difficult for me.” At his words, Kevin’s gaze turned icy as he looked at me. “You haven’t paid the rent? Is that why you’re waiting for me? Avery, do you have to be so damn pathetic? Your scheming is so obvious it’s practically hitting me in the face. Is a little bit of money really worth all this?” The word escaped my lips before I could stop it. “Yes.” The fifty thousand dollars my mom had saved her entire life, a sum that meant nothing to him, had cost my mother her life. He sneered, pulling a thick wad of cash from his bag and slapping it against my face. “Here. How much do you want? I’ll give it to you!” Red bills scattered across the floor. A few days ago, I would have scrambled to pick them up, dignity be damned. But now, they were useless to me. I counted out the amount for two months’ rent, handed it to the landlord, and let myself into the apartment. Kevin and I had lived in this place for two years. It was filled with the traces of our life together. My eyes fell on a photo on the wall. The two of us, looking a little shy, leaning against each other, our smiles bright and genuine. It was the first picture we ever took together. We had just graduated. We met in the breakroom of the company where we were both interning. He told me he was an intern from another department. I remember the way his eyes curved when he smiled, how they sparkled as he said he didn’t know anything and asked me to show him the ropes. I couldn’t forget that innocent, boyish charm. He had pursued me, and I couldn’t help but fall for him. I had wanted so badly to build a future with him. I worked my ass off, fighting to get a permanent position, trying to make a place for us in this city. For two years, we supported each other, comforted each other, slowly building our story in this apartment. Now, it was all gone. My dreams for the future were just part of some rich kid’s role-playing game. A wave of absurdity washed over me. Kevin, oblivious to my turmoil, dropped onto the sofa. “Satisfied, Avery? You finally got your money. You must be thrilled.” “This money-grubbing version of you is disgusting. How did you become like this? You used to have so much pride.” “Just think about it. How many times have you asked me for money these past few months? It was just one Mercedes, and it exposed your true nature. Were all those things you said about working hard, about our future, just empty words?” I looked up at him. He was different now. Dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, his hair impeccably styled. It seemed he was done with the act. The disappointment and exasperation in his eyes were like tiny needles pricking my skin. I didn’t answer his accusations. I just said, my voice flat, “Let’s get a divorce, Kevin.” A strange silence stretched between us before he burst out laughing. “Shouldn’t I be the one saying that? To get me to pay back that fifty thousand, you even made up a story about your mom having cancer. You know how much I hate being lied to! Two years together… I was so wrong about you. If we’re getting a divorce, I’m the one who gets to initiate it.” His voice was laced with anger. He pulled a piece of paper from his bag and signed it with a flourish. “Get over here and sign. Let’s get this over with. I don’t have time to waste on you.” So, he’d been prepared for this all along. I carefully placed the cookie tin of ashes and my mother’s framed, face-down photo on a shelf, then walked towards him. I picked up the pen and signed my name without a moment’s hesitation. In my peripheral vision, I could see him looking me up and down. A wave of disgust and weariness washed over me. After I signed, he snorted and threw a bank card on the floor. “Your money is all in there. I didn’t touch a cent. Consider it my parting gift for two years of my life. I was wrong about you.” I turned and gave him one last, long look. I remembered a few days ago, when my mom was on her deathbed. She had whispered that she wanted to see Kevin, that she wanted to know we were okay. By then, he had lost all patience with me because of my constant begging for money. But for my mom, I swallowed my pride and called him. I called all night before he finally picked up, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Let me guess, you need more money? What’s the excuse this time?” I choked back my anger, my voice a small plea. “My mom… she’s dying. Could you… could you just come see her? Just so she knows we’re okay. That’s all.” A loud, mocking laugh erupted from the other end of the line. “Wow, you’ve really upped your game. You think that’ll make me feel sorry for you? Make me believe you and send you money?” “I’m not a fan of this particular drama. You should rehearse it some more. Come up with something more heart-wrenching next time. Maybe then I’ll be soft-hearted enough to fall for it.” He hung up. When I tried to call back, I was blocked. He never came. Not even after she passed. I’ll never forget the last words my mother said to me. “When you have the baby, I won’t be there to help you. The first month after childbirth is so important for a woman. I wanted to tell him to take good care of you.” “When two people build a life together, they have to understand each other. He’s a good boy. You two need to make it work.” Even at the very end, she wanted us to be happy together. But what my mom didn’t know was that the day after I begged Kevin for money, he dragged me to a clinic for a forced abortion. He said he wouldn’t be threatened by a child, that he would crush any ideas I had of trapping him. Right after the procedure, with no time to rest, I was hounded by hospital bills and forced to work day and night. And what was he doing then? Was he out partying with other women? Was he complaining to his friends about how I had tried to manipulate him? I couldn’t even muster the energy to be angry anymore. All I felt was a deep, hollow sadness. I picked up the card. It held my mom’s life savings. It was her money, and I was taking it back. As I bent down, Kevin scoffed, as if my actions were beneath contempt. I ignored him, put the card away, and started to pack. Fifty thousand dollars. It was enough to buy my mom a decent urn and a proper burial plot. At the thought, a sharp pain pierced my heart. I’m not a crier. I didn’t cry while taking care of my mom. I didn’t cry when she died. I just kept telling myself that if I tried a little harder, maybe things would turn around. But the grief was just delayed, hitting me now with the full, crushing weight of reality. My mom was gone. Tears streamed down my face, my hands trembling as I packed. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Kevin went to open it. I looked over. The woman was familiar. It was the girl from the dealership. She smiled at Kevin. “Brother, I was worried she might do something crazy, so I came to protect you. Poor people can get really scary when they’re desperate. Did you get the papers signed? I’m here to take you home.” Kevin’s expression softened instantly. “You’re always so thoughtful.” The woman smiled demurely, then her gaze shifted to me. “A pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from Kevin. I thought you might be different from the other low-class people, but it turns out you’re just a bad actress and a liar. Such a ‘devoted daughter.’ Now that you have your money back, you can drop the act. Go on, bring your mom back to life. Wouldn’t want all those ominous words to come true, would we?” Her mocking tone, her dismissive eyes… the rage simmering inside me finally boiled over. She could say whatever she wanted about me. But not about my mom. On pure instinct, I lunged forward and punched her square in the face. As Kevin roared my name, she crumpled to the ground. “Avery, are you insane? Did I hit a nerve? Do you have any idea who you just touched?” Did it matter who she was? I had nothing left to lose. I ignored his threat, dragged the woman to her feet, and slapped her hard across the face. But before I could release any more of my fury, several large men in black suits burst through the door and pinned me to the floor. The woman scrambled up, crying, and ran into Kevin’s arms. “Brother, I’m okay! I provoked her on purpose! I recorded the whole thing on a micro-camera. Now I can sue her!” I was forced to my knees, unable to move, my teeth gritted in silent rage. She pulled a tiny camera from her collar and gave me a sinister smile. “I’ve got it all on tape now. Brother, you have to make her pay for hitting me!” Kevin looked at me, his face grim. He took off his shoe and slapped it against my cheek, then swung his hand hard. The pain was sharp and immediate. Tears sprang to my eyes. A flicker of pity crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced by disappointment. “I never thought we’d end up like this. You were so close, Avery. You were so close to passing my test. But you had to go and show your true colors at the last minute.” “We had two years together. I really did love you. This slap is for Sarah. Let’s just go our separate ways. You and I were never meant to be.” The woman, Sarah, still seemed unsatisfied. “Kevin, you’re just too soft. That’s why this gold-digger was able to fool you for so long. Look at her, she’s not even sorry. I bet if she knew who you really were, she’d be on her knees begging you to take her back.” Kevin looked down at me, his eyes filled with a pity that felt like a slap in the face. In the two years we were together, he had never once given me a gift. In fact, I was the one who was constantly trying to satisfy his demands. Perhaps that was another part of his “test.” But when it came down to it, I didn’t owe him a thing. My voice was cold and detached. “Does it amuse you to play with people’s hearts? In this relationship, I have never wronged you. I may not be good enough for a rich heir like you, but you have no right to insult me.” “From the very beginning, you were the only one who was ever in the wrong.” The words were barely out of my mouth when another angry slap came down. “I was in the wrong? I wasted two years of my life on you! Do you really think those cheap gifts you gave me can make up for two years of my youth? You know I’m a rich heir. Do you have any idea how valuable my time is? A person like you could never understand.” Kevin’s face was flushed with anger. Sarah, the woman beside him, laughed as if enjoying the show. “See, Kevin? Didn’t I tell you? People like her never learn. You try to be nice, and she takes advantage of it.” “She needs to be taught a lesson. Once she’s scared enough, once she knows she’s wrong, then she’ll apologize.” Sarah leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper. “Devoted daughter, your apology isn’t enough. Now I want you to drag your liar of a mother out here and have her apologize to my Kevin. Don’t make me go get her myself. Things could get ugly, and an apology won’t be enough to fix it then.” Kevin smiled coldly. “That’s right. Since you won’t accept my kindness, I don’t have to be kind to you.” “When you do something wrong, you have to admit it. Even if it’s your mother, even if she’s an elder, there are no exceptions! And to think I was actually sincere with her. I can’t believe she was in on your scheme. Like mother, like daughter.” “I bet it was your mother who taught you to use a pregnancy to control me, to make me devoted to you. You thought I’d be scared of the baby in your belly, that I’d have no choice but to give you whatever you wanted.” As he said this, his eyes turned red. “And you still dare to say you never wronged me?” A storm of grief and rage erupted within me. I couldn’t control it anymore. With all my strength, I broke free from the bodyguards’ grasp and lunged for Sarah, grabbing her by the collar. They could hit me, they could insult me. I had been a fool to trust them. But my mom had done nothing wrong. I would not let anyone tarnish her memory. I swung my fists blindly, completely out of control. The bodyguards reacted quickly, shoving me hard to the ground. The force of the push sent me crashing into the shelf. The cookie tin and the framed photo toppled over. The photo hit the floor with a sickening crack, the glass shattering. The lid of the tin flew off, and my mother’s ashes spilled across the floor. Everyone froze. Especially Kevin. He stared at the mess on the floor, muttering to himself. “This… this is impossible… Sarah investigated. Your mom wasn’t really sick. How can there be ashes and a memorial photo?” He looked at me, his whole body trembling. “How… how could this happen?”

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1 After the breakup, I took my shattered heart and, without telling a soul, fled the country to study abroad. For five years, I changed my name, my number, and severed every last tie to my old life. Everyone thought I was dead. That I had died on the day my boyfriend, Liam, went behind my back and married my stepsister. For five whole years, a fresh red rose was laid on my grave every single day. Five years later, I returned to arrange for my mother’s grave to be moved. And there he was, Liam, once again holding a red rose to mourn me. After a moment of shared shock and awkward silence, I managed to speak. “Long time no see.” He forced a twitch of his lips, hiding the rose behind his back. “Long time no see,” he echoed. “I thought… I thought you were dead.” I offered a thin smile, pretending not to notice the redness rimming his eyes. He wasn’t wrong. Cathy was dead. She died five years ago, on the day he secretly married my father’s illegitimate daughter. 2 I was arranging to have my mother’s grave relocated when I noticed a new headstone right next to hers. A headstone that belonged to me. The inscription read: 【Beloved Wife, Cathy Graham】. In front of it lay a bouquet of fresh roses, a small St. Christopher medal, and a slice of the chocolate fudge cake that used to be my favorite. The cemetery administrator followed my gaze and his eyes widened slightly. “Ms. Davenport, look at the photo on that headstone. Doesn’t she look just like you?” He chuckled nervously. “If I didn’t know you just flew in from Paris, I’d think I was seeing a ghost!” I smiled. “She does, but it’s not me.” My name is Stella Davenport. I’m a senior writer for the Parisian magazine MT and the sole heiress to the Davenport Corporation. I just celebrated my third wedding anniversary with my husband. Our son is two. A winner, by all accounts. The woman on that headstone was Cathy Graham. Five years ago, after my father’s illegitimate daughter was diagnosed with depression, my father and brother arranged a wedding for her behind my back. The groom was the man I had loved since we were children, my fiancé of eight years. She was a complete and utter loser. We were no longer the same person. Tearing my eyes away, I turned back to discuss the relocation details with the administrator. Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the air from behind me. “Cathy!” I ignored it, continuing my conversation. A strong hand suddenly gripped my arm. Under the administrator’s astonished gaze, I stumbled, spinning around to meet Liam’s eyes. “Cathy,” he breathed, his voice tight with disbelief. “You… you’re not dead?” A cold smile touched my lips, but my eyes drifted to the red rose in his hand. Five years. Since when did Liam’s eyes become as red as the roses he held? 3 After the administrator left, I stood before my own grave. Liam was behind me, the rose now crushed on the ground. His voice was laced with the fury of a man who’d been deceived. “Quite the act you’ve been pulling, huh, Cathy? Was it fun? Watching me drown in guilt every single day for five years?” “You couldn’t even leave a single message.” I answered with a casual shrug. “Wasn’t it you who told me to never bother you again?” Five years ago, when I got the news he was marrying Mia, I’d raced to the venue. I crashed on the way. The airbag pinned me to the driver’s seat, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I called him, begging him to come save me. But he was busy placing the veil on Mia’s head. The phone rang and rang. He only picked up on the final call. “Mia’s had a hard enough life as it is,” he’d said, his voice cold. “Can’t you even let her have one wedding?” “I don’t care if you’re in a car crash. Even if you died, don’t bother me. I am marrying Mia today!” I met Liam when I was seven. We started dating at eighteen and were engaged at twenty-three. At twenty-six, he told me to die so he could marry my father’s illegitimate daughter. In that moment, I made a vow. I would never bother him again for the rest of my life. Now, hearing my words, he tugged uncomfortably at his collar. “C’mon, it was just a figure of speech. You actually took it seriously?” He straightened up, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. “How did you know I’d be at the cemetery today? You even wore that green coat I always liked…” A humorless smirk played on his lips. “You don’t actually think that after tricking me for five years, all you have to do is play dumb, play a little hard-to-get, and I’ll come crawling back, do you?” “Let me tell you, Mia has been wonderful to me while you were gone. Unless you get on your knees and beg for my forgiveness, I will never—” “You’re overthinking things,” I cut him off, my patience gone. “I’m here to move my mother’s grave. Once that’s done, I’m leaving.” “And one more thing…” I paused, then started walking towards the cemetery gates. “Since you’re married, you should probably stop wearing our engagement ring.” “It’s faded.” 4 Liam stood frozen for a second before striding to catch up with me. “It’s your dad’s fiftieth birthday tomorrow. He misses you. Make sure you come early.” I hesitated for a fraction of a second, then quickened my pace. As far as I was concerned, my father died five years ago. Five years ago, at my mother’s funeral, Robert Graham brought his illegitimate daughter home and introduced her to all our relatives. “I just made a little mistake, the kind any man could make,” he’d announced. “Mia’s been living on the outside for over twenty years. I waited until after your mother passed to bring her home. I did right by your mother.” So, to “compensate,” he let Mia take my room, my jewelry. He let her play the “innocent little sister” and wedge herself between me and Liam. When I was rushed into surgery after the car crash, the nurse called him for consent. He’d refused. “Today is my younger daughter’s wedding. A hospital is such a downer, I can’t go.” “I know Cathy. She’s always been a drama queen. Broken bones, major blood loss… she’s making it all up. You’re a hospital, not a theater. Don’t play along with her.” “My daughter is calling for me, the ceremony is about to start. Don’t call again.” Lying on that operating table, I could feel the pity and sympathy in the eyes of the doctors and nurses around me. They had probably never seen someone so completely abandoned by their family. Snapping back to the present, I pulled down my sleeve to cover the scars on my arm and hailed a cab back to my hotel. That evening, I video-chatted with my husband and son. My husband, Noah, is an expat, and he’s wonderfully clingy. Just like our little boy, he can’t stand a day without me. “Honey, Dad said he’s feeling homesick too. He’s packing right now and will fly back with us tomorrow morning,” Noah said. My adoptive brother, Julian, poked his head into the frame. “That’s right, little sis. Dad and I talked it over. Moving your aunt’s grave is a big deal, we have to be there.” “Besides,” he added, “Dad and I can inspect our domestic operations. You take care of yourself while you’re there alone. Eat well, stay warm. You know how your knee gets.” The accident five years ago left a permanent ache in my knee. Julian was my mentor back then, the first to see how lost I was. During those five years in France, he took me in, made me his sister, and helped me build a new identity. My adoptive father, Richard Davenport, doted on me as if I were his own. They are my real family. I smiled and nodded. After a few more minutes of chatter, I reluctantly hung up. It felt so good to have a family that cared. 5 The next day, the arrangements for the grave were proceeding smoothly, so I had some free time. I decided to go to the mall to buy a few things for my family’s return. On the way, Liam, who had somehow gotten my new number, sent me a text with an address. The Alistair Hotel. One of the properties my adoptive father, Richard, was planning to inspect upon his return. I ignored it and hailed a cab back to my hotel. A black Maybach pulled up silently in front of me. Before I could react, the back door was opened, and I was pushed inside. The door clicked shut, locking me in. “Bobby?” Seeing the familiar face of my brother, Bobby, in the driver’s seat, the name slipped out instinctively. Then I remembered the last call I ever made to him. Five years ago, boarding pass in hand, I had called to tell him I was leaving for good, that I wouldn’t get in the way of him and Mia being “real” siblings anymore. But before I could say a word, his angry voice had cut me off. “Cathy! Did your manners die with Mom?” “If Liam and Dad hadn’t told me, I never would have known you’d stoop so low as to fake a car crash just to ruin Mia’s wedding. You just can’t stand to see her happy, can you?” “Don’t you ever call me ‘brother’ again. I don’t have a sister like you!” The memory flooded back, and I immediately corrected myself. “Sorry, my mistake.” “Mr. Graham.” I stressed the name, emphasizing my detachment. Bobby’s face darkened instantly. “You’re still so… Hmph. Have the last five years been that hard on you?” he sneered, glancing at my shopping bags. “Can’t even afford a decent gift for Dad’s birthday.” “If Liam hadn’t told me you were back, how long were you planning on holding this grudge?” “If you were half as considerate as Mia, I wouldn’t have to—” He stopped himself. I gave a small, bitter laugh, finishing his sentence for him. “You wouldn’t have to choose her over me.” It was a line I could have recited in my sleep five years ago. Bobby glanced at the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable. Then, he said casually, “There’s chocolate fudge cake in the fridge.” I used to love chocolate fudge cake. Especially the kind Bobby made. Before Mia moved in, Bobby had been the kindest person to me in the world, besides my mother. I loved pink, so he filled my closet with pink princess dresses. I loved chocolate cake, so he learned how to bake it himself. Whenever I was upset, he would appear with a freshly baked cake to coax a smile out of me. I once believed he was the one person in the world who would never betray me. But at Mia and Liam’s wedding, he was the one who led the toast, wishing them a lifetime of happiness together. On my way to crash that wedding, I had called and screamed at him, “Why are you helping an outsider bully me?” I could have accepted anyone’s betrayal. Anyone but his. Because he was my brother. He had paused on the phone, then his voice came back, firm and final. “Cathy, you’re my sister. But Mia is my sister, too.” “I want her to be happy.” That phrase, “Mia is my sister, too,” had made my mind go blank. My hands slipped on the wheel, and I crashed into the guardrail. I could almost feel the phantom pain of steel tearing through my knee again. Taking a sharp breath, I forced the memory down. “I stopped eating chocolate cake five years ago,” I said softly. Bobby froze, his lips parting as if to say something. I looked up, my eyes sweeping over his hair, which was now streaked with gray. “This isn’t the way to my hotel. Where are you taking me?” Bobby’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “To Dad’s birthday party.” The black Maybach stopped in front of the hotel. I was reluctantly dragged inside by Bobby. At the head table in the center of the grand hall sat my biological father, Robert Graham, dressed in a festive red suit and looking perfectly genial. He had aged in five years, softened around the edges. If the memories weren’t so painful, I might have forgotten the way he’d forced me to kneel in the rain all night because I wouldn’t give my room to Mia. “Dad, I brought Cathy,” Bobby announced, pulling me through the crowd. Liam was sitting next to my father, but Mia was nowhere in sight. “Dad knew you were coming back today, so he sent Mia on a trip,” Bobby explained, as if reading my mind. “He’s missed you a lot these past few years.” I snorted. How amusing. “You’re back,” Robert said, his gaze sweeping over me with the calm indifference of a parent addressing a child who had just finished a tantrum. I ignored him and looked at Bobby. “We’ve had our reunion. Can I go now?” My other father and brother would be landing soon. They’d worry if I wasn’t there. Bobby looked taken aback. As he was about to speak, the surrounding relatives, hearing the commotion, turned to look. “Isn’t Cathy dead? How is she still alive?” The speaker was my Aunt Carol, who used to dote on me more than anyone. She sighed dramatically to the person next to her. “It’s a good thing Mia isn’t here, or this would just upset her again.” “On such a happy occasion, for her to just show up out of the blue… Honestly, that girl has no sense of propriety.” “Tell me about it,” chimed in Aunt Susan, who always used to say she wanted to take me home as her own daughter. She shot me a disdainful look. “I always knew there was something conniving about Cathy. Look at her now, lying to her own father just for attention. She’s just like her dead mother!” Their words flew back and forth. All reprimands. Not a single person asked where I’d been for five years. If I was okay. If I had been hurt. A wave of exhaustion washed over me. I wrenched my arm from Bobby’s grasp and turned to leave. “Stop!” Robert’s voice was sharp, his expression complicated. “Cathy, you’re not even going to stay for dinner?” As if he wasn’t the one who’d forbidden me from eating for a week because I refused to give Mia my bedroom. Liam stood up and grabbed my arm, his face a mask of concern. “It’s Dad’s birthday. You just got home. Don’t make a scene.” I shoved him away, spitting out two words. “You’re insane.” I made for the hotel exit. A heavy hand grabbed a fistful of my hair, and the next second, a stinging slap landed across my face. The blow was forceful, snapping my head to the side. My scalp and left cheek burned with a fiery pain, and I tasted blood. My Uncle David, the man who used to give me piggyback rides, let go of my hair and roared, “You little brat, is that any way to speak? Do you have any idea how many times your father has been sick with worry over you?” “Get on your knees! Apologize to your father properly.” “So young, yet so full of anger…” Five years ago. My mother’s funeral. Robert had walked in with Mia, a girl only a year younger than me, and announced to everyone at my mother’s memorial that she was his long-lost daughter and was being officially welcomed into the family. I had flown into a rage, a madwoman clawing at them. I screamed for them to get out, to not defile my mother’s memory with their presence. Aunt Carol had held me back, scolding me for being difficult. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a sister?” Aunt Susan had comforted the “shocked” Mia, saying I was crazy and to ignore me. Uncle David had clapped Robert on the shoulder. “I told you,” he’d said sagely, “you can’t spoil girls. Look at the state of Cathy now.” “Disgraceful.” The past flashed before my eyes, a nauseating wave of disgust. If I was going to be sick, they were going to be sick with me. I dropped the hand covering my cheek, grabbed a wine bottle from the table, and smashed it at their feet. “I’m telling you for the last time. My name is Stella. Not Cathy. And I have nothing to do with any of you!” Uncle David pointed a trembling finger at me. “Robert, look at your precious daughter! Daring to defy her elders!” “Throw her out! She is not welcome in this family!” Robert stepped in. “Brother, calm down. She is my daughter, after all. Bobby’s sister. She’s just a child who doesn’t know any better. I’ll teach her.” Bobby moved to stand in front of me, his voice a mixture of frustration and disappointment. “Cathy, can’t you just be reasonable for once?” Liam leaned in, his tone urgent. “I told you not to make a scene! These are our elders. Why do you have to be so stubborn?” “Look, just step outside for a bit. I’ll call Mia back, let her smooth things over with everyone, and then you can—” Before he could finish, the grand doors to the hotel ballroom swung open. My husband Noah and my brother Julian walked in, flanking my adoptive father.

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My stepbrother and I had been in a cold war for a week. As fate would have it, I bumped into him just as he realized he’d locked himself out. He stood there, face like an ice sculpture, and held out his hand. “Keys.” Kiss?? I froze. I hesitated. I triple-checked the vibe. “Are you sure? Right now? Isn’t that a little inappropriate?” Hayes looked at me with an unreadable expression, his tone firm. “Hurry up.” The next second—SMOOCH. I planted a loud, wet one right on his lips. Then I whispered weakly, “You asked for it…” 01 Shock. Despair. Disbelief. All three emotions cycled through Hayes’s face in 4K resolution. He froze for a solid five seconds before stumbling back like he’d been tased. “I said keys! The metal things that open doors! KEYS!” A vein popped on his temple. His usually pale, cool-toned skin flushed a delicate shade of pink. I was stunned, too. Who the hell suddenly speaks English in the middle of a sentence? You can’t blame me for taking advantage of the situation. I mean, your girl got a perfect score on her AP English listening exam. I didn’t need a mirror to know my face was exploding with color. But I couldn’t lose the momentum. I choked back, “You fake foreigner! You spend a few years abroad and suddenly you forget how to speak human?” Hayes’s chest was heaving. The wind messed up his long hair, revealing the hidden strands of ocean-blue dye underneath. It matched his current turbulent mood perfectly. We stood there, engaging in a staring contest, neither of us saying a word. It was my dad who broke the silence. “Well, look at this. The house must be blessed this year. We’ve got two gargoyles guarding the door.” I looked away first, spotting Dad and Aunt Holly. I immediately latched onto Aunt Holly’s arm, turning on the charm. “Aunt Holly! Look at Hayes, looking like a total thug with that hair!” Hayes seemed to be rebuilding his entire worldview from scratch. He didn’t even react to my roast. Aunt Holly teased him a bit, which finally dragged his soul back into his body. He opened the door. I deliberately lagged behind, leaning into Hayes’s shoulder to whisper: “I heard guys with long hair usually have, you know… Erectile Dysfunction. Is that true?” Hayes gritted his teeth, his voice low. “Winnie!” I stuck my tongue out at him. Before stepping inside, I winked. “Ooh. The beauty is angry.” 02 I’ve been obsessing over my brother for a long time. The root of this goes back to when I was five. I still remember the scene. The elegant Aunt Holly holding Hayes’s hand. That poker face of his breaking into a brilliant smile when he saw me. Hayes inherited all of Aunt Holly’s best genes. At eight years old, he looked like a runway child model. The neighbor’s daughter teased me back then: “Winnie, your dad bought you a live-in boyfriend.” I dumbly asked, “What’s a live-in boyfriend?” “It means he belongs to you.” From that day on, I treated Hayes like my personal property. Unlike other girls who liked Barbies, I was only interested in dressing up Hayes. Dad bought Aunt Holly jewelry and clothes. Naturally, I used my allowance to buy Hayes trinkets. They weren’t expensive, but I hand-picked every single one. Later, I understood what the neighbor actually meant, but the possessiveness and habit were already ingrained in my DNA. When I got older, I realized I was actually in love with him. One wrong step, and the whole path went crooked. He found out when he graduated high school. Dad sent him to London to support his artistic dreams. That was when I realized I had severe separation anxiety. I wanted to FaceTime him 24/7. I was a ball of anxiety every single day. Dad thought I was just adjusting to high school, so he let me take a month off. Every night, I slept in Hayes’s bedroom. Hugging his duvet. Smelling his scent. Thinking of him until I passed out. Extreme longing drives people crazy. At 16, fueled by god-knows-what courage, I got on a plane to London alone. Being unreachable for over ten hours sent the whole family into a panic. When I landed, I called Hayes, sobbing. “Hayes, please don’t throw me away…” That was the first time Hayes skipped class—just to find me in a foreign country. That night, he patted my back to lull me to sleep, just like when we were kids. I gripped his collar, tears soaking the fabric, and whispered the question that had been eating me alive. “Hayes, can you please love me?” Hayes’s expression froze for a split second. But he quickly smiled. “I’m your brother. Of course I love you most.” 03 After a tense dinner, we both went upstairs. Not long after, Hayes knocked on my door with a dark expression. “Where are my clothes?” I played dumb. “How should I know?” Hayes clenched his jaw. “I need to shower. Give me my pajamas.” I yanked him into my room, crossed my arms, and acted unimpressed. “Apologize first.” Hayes let out a scoff of disbelief. “Apologize? Me?” Yes. If Dad hadn’t called us home for dinner, our cold war would still be freezing over hell. The reason was simple. I went clubbing. He caught me. He lectured me. I clapped back about his time abroad. Why could he party in London while I had to rot in the library? It ended with my tears, naturally. And then the silence began. I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Apologize.” Hayes took a deep breath. “I’ll say it one more time. I went to a club once in London to drop off a birthday gift. I was inside for less than ten minutes.” I knew that. But I was being a brat on purpose. He needed to learn his lesson about male virtue. Seeing I wasn’t going to be reasonable, Hayes did what he always did. He folded. “Fine. My bad. I apologize.” I didn’t smile. I just gave a cold “Oh.” Hayes had his long hair tied up in a messy bun, revealing black obsidian studs in his ears. “So, the pajamas. Now?” I blinked innocently. “I never said the pajamas were here.” Hayes’s face stiffened. “Then where are they?” I grinned. “In my dorm room!” Since starting college, Hayes had been busy with his start-up. We rarely saw each other. So, I stole his clothes to sleep with at school. Hayes: “…” Before he could explode, I quickly added, “But I have a new set here. Men’s style.” Hayes’s face relaxed slightly. He reined in his temper. “Give me a set. I’ll Venmo you.” I bounced over to the closet and handed him brand-new silk pajamas. Hayes looked at his set. Then he looked at the matching set I was wearing, just in a different color. Silence again. “Winnie, you…” “Hayes,” I interrupted, “your face looks really soft. Let me kiss it again.” Three seconds later. Hayes walked out the door. Correction: He walked out with the pajamas, face black as thunder. I shrugged. I replayed his expression in my mind. Chef’s kiss. I should have peeled that expression off his face and framed it. But then again, I couldn’t bear to hurt him. 04 I pulled out my phone and used my burner account to add Hayes’s work profile. He recently opened a studio making custom BJD (Ball Jointed Dolls). High-end stuff for the collector crowd. Technically, I shouldn’t know about this. Hayes never tells the family about his struggles. But I have spies everywhere. I got his work contact. [Hello. Custom order.] Hayes must have been showering. He didn’t reply for an hour. I scratched my head. Hayes usually showers in ten minutes. Why was he in the bathroom so long tonight? [Hello. Here is the price list. Please review.] I typed back like a sugar mama: [Give me the highest tier specs. Only one requirement: Realism!] Hayes replied like a bot: [Understood. Rest assured, likeness can reach 98%. We offer unlimited revisions.] I paid the deposit immediately. Then I cheekily asked: [Will you be making it personally?] Hayes: [Different team members handle different body parts.] Me: [I want you to sculpt the face. I’ll pay extra.] He hesitated, then replied: [Okay.] I thought for a moment, then typed: [Um… is it possible?] Hayes: [? What.] I sent a sketchy, winking emoji. [You know. Can you install… the hardware?] Hayes realized what I meant. He must have had customers like this before. [Yes. Please send the dimensions. Also photos of the face from different angles. Hands and legs would be helpful too.] I spammed him with photos of Hayes. To avoid detection, I chose public photos from his college days. As expected, Hayes went silent again. I could practically see him having a mental breakdown. [Hello? Still there, hun?] Five minutes later, having rebuilt his psyche, he replied: [What is your relationship to the person in the photos?] I answered truthfully: [His girlfriend.] Future girlfriend counts, right? Hayes stopped replying again. Half an hour later. [This requires an in-person handover. Is that acceptable? ^_^] The smile at the end was terrifying. I gritted my teeth: [Of course.] Hayes: [Great. Looking forward to meeting you ^_^] Why did I feel a chill down my spine? I let the lust take the wheel: [By the way, make the size XL.] Hayes: […Okay ^_^]

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My neighbor diverted the raw sewage from his hog operation directly into my wheat fields. The foul, black sludge swallowed the waist-high stalks, destroying an entire year’s harvest overnight. My dad was ready to grab a shovel and commit murder. My mom was on her knees, sobbing, begging me to run to the Councilman for help. I stopped them both. I didn’t say a single word. The next day, I silently drained the toxic mess and planted hundreds of willow trees in the mud. The whole town laughed, calling me an idiot. My neighbor smirked, convinced I was a coward who had accepted defeat. Three years later, a convoy of EPA agents pulled up to his front gate. 1 The August wind should have carried the scent of ripening wheat, the sweet, dusty promise of harvest. But standing on the ridge of my family’s land, all I could smell was the gut-churning stench of rot and ammonia. The golden waves I had nurtured were gone. In their place was a horizonless hellscape of black water. My waist-high wheat stalks were drowning in a thick, dark sludge. The heavy heads of grain drooped into the filth like the heads of drowning victims. Sunlight hit the surface, reflecting a sickly, iridescent oil slick. Swarms of bluebottle flies buzzed in a frenzied, chaotic cloud above it. This was my family’s only field. My entire savings. My hope. My name is Mason. I have a degree in Agronomy. I spent two years burning out in a city cubicle, getting laid off, and growing sick of the rat race. In the end, watching my parents age over video calls broke me. I chose to come back to the small, dying town where I was born. I brought my degree and every cent I had to my name, determined to use scientific farming to give my parents a better life. My crop was the best in the county. The stalks were sturdy, the kernels full. Everyone who drove past stopped to say that my college degree hadn’t been a waste of time. My dad, Frank—a man who’s spent fifty years working dirt until his hands looked like tree bark—had been happier these past few months than I’d ever seen him. He’d walk the perimeter three times a day, hands clasped behind his back, chest puffed out, grinning like a fool. He told me that once we sold the harvest, he’d bank the money for my future wedding. Now, it was all gone. Overnight. Our neighbor, Bubba Vance, had expanded his hog operation. To save money on a septic system and waste treatment, he dug a trench straight from his pits to the lowest point of the valley: my field. Hog manure, urine, wash-water, and the chemical sting of industrial disinfectant surged down the hill, effectively drowning our livelihood in toxic waste. “Vance! You son of a bitch!” My dad’s eyes went bloodshot instantly. Veins bulged from his neck to his temples. He looked like an enraged bull seeing red. He roared, spinning around to grab the heavy iron shovel leaning against the fence post. He was going over there to kill Bubba Vance. “Frank! Don’t do it!” My mom, Martha, threw her arms around his waist, her knees buckling into the mud. Her wail was a sound of pure, jagged heartbreak. “Don’t go, Frank! If you hurt him, we lose everything! You’ll go to jail!” “A whole year of sweat and blood! Oh God, why are you doing this to us?” She pounded the ground, her hands splashing into the toxic muck, sobbing until she choked. I grabbed my dad from behind, locking my arms around his biceps. His muscles were hard as iron, shaking with adrenaline. He fought against my grip. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a giant hand, crushed, and tossed into that cesspool. Rage, nausea, and injustice bubbled in my chest like magma, threatening to erupt. But my face remained a mask of stone. I leaned in, putting all my strength into holding him back, and whispered into his ear. “Dad. Stop.” My voice was cold. It sounded alien, even to me. “Let go of me!” He whipped his head around, glaring at me with wild eyes. “Mason! Are you a man or not? He’s destroying us, and you want to play the coward? Did all those books you read turn your spine to jelly?” Mom was screaming now. “Mason, go find Councilman Higgins! Ask him to help us! How are we going to survive this?” Councilman Higgins? He was Bubba Vance’s first cousin. Asking him for help was like asking a wolf to guard the hen house. Just then, a horn blasted. A rusted-out, lifted pickup truck rolled to a stop on the gravel road nearby. Bubba Vance, a man whose neck had long since been swallowed by layers of fat, rolled down the window. He looked at our flooded field and hawked a thick glob of spit onto the ground. “Well, look at that, Frank. Checking the crops?” He grinned, revealing teeth stained yellow by tobacco. It was a blindingly arrogant smile. “Consider that free fertilizer. Don’t thank me, that’s what neighbors are for. Next year’s crop is gonna be huge!” The woman beside him in the passenger seat cackled, her voice shrill. “That’s right! Saved you a fortune on chemicals! You college boys better learn to do the math!” Humiliation. Naked, unadulterated humiliation. My dad was shaking so hard I thought he might have a stroke. My mom’s wailing stopped, replaced by hopeless, gasping sobs. I didn’t respond to their taunts. I just slowly lifted my head. Across the fifty yards separating us, I locked eyes with Bubba. There was no anger in my gaze. No pleading. Nothing. Just a dead, icy silence. Bubba’s laughter cut short, like a radio suddenly switched off. He shivered, unsettled by the look, muttered “freak” under his breath, and stomped on the gas, leaving us in a cloud of black diesel smoke. I supported my father, who could barely stand, and pulled my mother out of the mud. “Let’s go home,” I said. That night, the lights in our house burned until dawn. Dad didn’t eat. He lay in bed, chest heaving, his blood pressure spiking dangerously high. Mom sat on the edge of the mattress, eyes swollen shut, tears leaking silently as she muttered, “What are we going to do? What are we going to do?” The air in the house was heavy enough to crush a man. I sat alone in my room, a fresh notebook open on my desk. Outside, the crickets and frogs were silent, as if terrified by the death radiating from our land. I didn’t turn on the lamp. In the darkness, I wrote. I drew diagrams. The scratching of my pen against the paper was the only sound in the void. When the sky turned gray with dawn, I closed the notebook. I looked out the window. The anger, the pain, the despair—it was all gone. Replaced by a calm that felt cruel. Bubba Vance. You like dumping filth on people? Fine. I’m going to show you exactly what it feels like to drown in your own waste. 2 I left the house early the next morning. I didn’t go to the Councilman. I didn’t go to argue with Bubba. I went into town. Using the last of my savings and a loan from an old college buddy, I rented a high-capacity industrial water pump. My parents thought I was going to drain the sewage to try and replant a late-season crop. They knew it was hopeless, but seeing me do something stopped them from screaming at me. The pump roared for two days and two nights. I drained the black sludge into an abandoned drainage ditch nearby. The field lay exposed—a expanse of black, necrotic mud covered in a layer of rotting wheat stalks, smelling worse than a corpse. My family waited for my next move. But I didn’t buy seeds. I made a call to a friend working at the State Agricultural Research Center. I ordered several hundred saplings. Not just any trees. I ordered a specific hybrid of Willow—Salix matsudana crossed with White Willow. A bio-engineered variety known for its hyper-tolerance to heavy metals and organic pollutants. Three days later, a delivery truck dropped the root balls at the edge of the property. Under the confused and mocking gazes of the entire town, I rolled up my pant legs and waded into the toxic muck alone. Digging holes. Planting saplings. Packing soil. Watering. Sludge splattered my face. Sweat mixed with the filth running down my neck. The smell made me gag every ten minutes. But I didn’t stop. The locals gathered on the road like they were watching a circus freak. “Did the college boy lose his mind?” “Good farmland ruined. He’s planting trees? Can’t eat willow bark.” “He’s cracked. The boy is broken. Shame about Frank and Martha… a lifetime of work gone.” Their whispers were like needles pricking my parents’ hearts. My dad’s face went from red to gray. He stormed down the embankment, pointing a shaking finger at me. “Mason! Get out of there! I have never been so embarrassed in my life! Are you trying to kill me?” He hadn’t eaten a full meal in two days. His voice cracked. Mom stumbled after him, tears flowing again. “Son, please. Stop this madness. Let’s just accept it. I’ll go beg Bubba. I’ll beg him to have mercy next year so we can eat.” I stopped digging. I straightened my aching back and looked at their weathered, desperate faces. My heart bled for them. But I couldn’t explain. Not yet. Any explanation would sound like insanity to them right now. I looked them in the eye and spoke with a firmness they hadn’t heard since I left for university. “Dad. Mom. Trust me. Just this once.” I turned back around, bent down, and planted another tree. My silence broke them. Dad collapsed onto the dirt, clutching his chest, gasping for air. Mom’s weeping turned into a low, keening wail of defeat. Bubba Vance drove by in his truck. He stopped to admire my “work.” He walked the perimeter, then threw his head back and laughed—a loud, booming sound that echoed off the hills. “Hahaha! Alright, kid! I gotta hand it to you! Creative!” He walked up to the edge of the field and slapped my muddy shoulder hard enough to make me stumble. “College brain, right? You know you can’t beat me, so you’re changing careers! Not bad. When those willows get big, I’ll need firewood for scalding the hogs. They burn hot!” His wife shouted from the truck. “At least he knows when to quit! Unlike some old stubborn fools!” Every word was salt in my father’s open wounds. I could feel Dad’s murderous gaze burning into my back. But I didn’t react. I was a machine. I planted the last sapling. When I packed the final mound of earth, I stood up and looked at the rows of spindly, fragile sticks protruding from the black mud. They looked weak. A strong wind could knock them over. But to me, they weren’t trees. They were soldiers. They were the first pawns on the board. A three-year game of chess had just officially begun. 3 My “Willow Field” became the town’s biggest joke. I was the punchline of every conversation at the diner and the feed store. “The boy who studied himself stupid.” My parents gave up on me. Except for meals, they stopped talking to me. The house felt like a tomb. Bubba Vance was the victor. He became even more arrogant, bragging to everyone that I had rolled over like a dog. He preached his gospel that money and connections could crush anyone. A week later, Councilman Higgins finally decided to make an appearance. He summoned my parents, me, and Bubba to the Town Hall. Inside the peeling office, Higgins sat behind an old desk, nursing a coffee, his belly pressing against the wood. He started by slapping Bubba on the wrist. “Now, Bubba, that wasn’t right. We’re all neighbors here. You can’t just dump water wherever. It looks bad.” Bubba hung his head, feigning shame, but I saw the smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. Then, Higgins turned to us. “But, Frank, Martha… you can’t hold a grudge. Bubba is contributing to the local economy. Accidents happen. It wasn’t intentional.” Not intentional? Did the trench dig itself? Bubba reached into his pocket and pulled out five crumpled hundred-dollar bills. He slammed them onto the table. “Cousin… I mean, Councilman is right. Frank, take this. Buy some medicine. Let’s call it even.” Five hundred dollars. He destroyed a crop worth twenty thousand dollars, wiped out our savings, and offered five hundred bucks. It wasn’t compensation. It was a slap in the face. I saw my dad’s face turn purple. His fists clenched at his sides. My mom stared at the money, her lips trembling, humiliation washing over her. Higgins pushed the money toward my dad. “Alright then. Bubba apologized. He showed good faith. Frank, let it go. We all have to live here.” He looked at me, his eyes patronizing. “Mason, you’re an educated man. Be the bigger person. Go pull up those weeds you planted and start over next year. I’ll make Bubba write a promise note that he won’t do it again.” A promise note? From a man like that? It was worth less than toilet paper. I had been silent the whole time, a spectator to this farce. Until now. I stood up. Under everyone’s surprised gaze, I reached out. With two fingers, I picked up the stack of bills and slid them slowly back across the table to Bubba. The movement was gentle, but final. I looked Councilman Higgins in the eye and spoke. My voice was quiet, but it filled the room. “Councilman, first: My losses—not counting labor or emotional distress—are at least twenty thousand. Five hundred is a joke.” “Second: My land is a willow grove now. What I grow is my business. It’s not up for debate.” My words hit the room like a brick. Higgins froze. Bubba exploded. He slammed his hand on the table and jumped up, pointing a sausage-like finger in my face. “Mason, you ungrateful little shit! You trying to blackmail me? You want to play hardball?” I looked at his red, screaming face and smiled coldly. “I don’t want to play anything.” “Water can be cleaned. But a dirty soul? That’s harder to fix.” I turned to my stunned parents. “Dad, Mom. Let’s go.” I walked them out, ignoring the shouting behind us. Outside, the sun was blinding. My parents were silent, but I felt my dad squeeze my hand. His grip was warm. For the first time, he was doubting his conclusion that his son was a coward. 4 Autumn arrived quickly. Miraculously, the willow saplings survived. They rooted into the poisoned soil, shooting up green branches, growing at a supernatural rate. More importantly, the stench began to fade. The willows were drinking the filth. One afternoon, I was pruning branches when a voice called out. “Excuse me? Are you Mason?” I looked up. A girl in a white t-shirt and jeans stood on the ridge. She had a high ponytail and bright, intelligent eyes. “I am. And you are?” “I’m Elena. I’m the new Soil Conservationist with the Extension Office.” She smiled, revealing dimples. “I was driving by and saw this… it’s incredible.” She didn’t look at me like I was an idiot. She looked… fascinated. She squatted down, examining the soil. “This land… it was contaminated, right?” I nodded. She stood up, eyes shining. She lowered her voice like we were conspirators. “Phytoremediation? You’re using a willow-microbe consortium to degrade the organic pollutants and sequester heavy metals?” My heart skipped a beat. For months, I had been an island. She was the first person who spoke my language. “Exactly,” I said, grinning for the first time in forever. Elena became a regular. We tracked pH levels and growth rates. She brought me professional testing kits from the university. She was the only bright spot in a gray world. Our friendship didn’t go unnoticed. Bubba Vance watched from his porch, eyes narrowing with jealousy and suspicion. To a man like him, a “college boy” conspiring with a “government girl” meant trouble. A week later, on a moonless night, disaster struck. I arrived at the field to find the row of trees closest to the road hacked down. Clean cuts. Sap bleeding onto the ground. My blood boiled. It was Bubba. It had to be. My dad saw it and grabbed a machete. “I’m going to kill him! Mason, get out of my way!” I blocked his path again. “Dad! Proof? Where is the proof?” Dad faltered. “So we do nothing?” “No,” I said, staring at the stumps. “He did it once. He’ll do it again.” That night, I borrowed money from Elena and ordered four military-grade trail cameras with night vision. Bubba, you like working in the dark? I’m going to give you an audience. 5 I hid the cameras in the foliage, angled to cover every approach. Then, I set the trap. I went to the general store with my mom and spoke a little too loudly. “Mom, Elena said because of my innovation, the state is giving me a ‘Green Initiative Grant.’ It’s a few thousand dollars. Should be here next week.” Mom, bless her, played along. “Really? That’s wonderful!” The rumor spread like wildfire. Bubba heard it. I knew he would. He destroyed my land, and now I was going to profit from it? His ego couldn’t take that. Three nights later, my phone buzzed. Motion alert. The feed was grainy and green, but clear. Bubba Vance. Holding an axe. And he wasn’t alone. He had brought his teenage son, Junior. “Dad, why we doin’ this?” Junior whined. “Shut up and chop,” Bubba hissed. “This little punk thinks he’s gonna get free money? Not on my watch.” They went to work. Bubba swinging the axe, Junior pulling up saplings. They laughed. They cursed my family. And the four cameras recorded every second of it in 4K resolution. I didn’t run out there. I let them finish. I needed a felony amount of damage. When they left, I retrieved the SD cards. I played the footage on the living room TV. My parents watched in silence. Dad shook with rage, but when it was over, he looked at me with new respect. “I’m going to the Sheriff,” Dad said, grabbing his keys. “No,” I said gently. “Not yet.” “Police means a slap on the wrist. A fine. He’s rich, he’ll pay it and laugh.” I looked out the window into the dark. “I don’t want to fine him, Dad. I want to bury him.”

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I found a girl passed out on the sidewalk, dead drunk. Being a decent guy, I got her a room at a five-star hotel to keep her safe. She thanked me by calling the cops and accusing me of rape. She sobbed on the stand. “I was drunk… I woke up in a hotel bed, naked.” “You monster,” she cried, pointing at me. “I don’t even know you. How could you do this to me?” … I paid an exorbitant amount for bail. The day after I got out, I saw her again. Same situation, passed out drunk on the street. This time, I walked on by. 1 “You bastard! She’s only twenty! Are you even human?!” A middle-aged man, his eyes bloodshot, screamed at me, his voice cracking with rage. If the bailiffs weren’t holding him back, he would have torn me apart with his bare hands. Beside him, the girl, Tina, was a portrait of sorrow, her shoulders shaking with sobs as if I were some kind of monster. “Mr. Vance,” the opposing counsel’s voice was like ice, “my client, Miss Tina Reed, accuses you of raping her two nights ago in room 708 of the Grand Astoria Hotel. How do you plead?” The comments on the livestream of the trial were a torrent of hate. “Scumbag! Fry him!” “Looks so clean-cut in that suit, but he’s a total predator.” “That poor girl. They need to throw the book at him!” I stood in the defendant’s box, my mind a complete blank. I thought back to two nights ago. I was on my way to meet friends after a work dinner when I saw a girl passed out on the sidewalk. A group of guys who looked like trouble were circling her, whistling, their intentions clear. I frowned and walked over. “What do you think you’re doing?” They were younger than me, but I’m built solid. They muttered a few curses and shuffled off. I knelt and gently tapped the girl’s cheek. “Hey, wake up. Where do you live?” The reek of alcohol was overpowering. She was completely unresponsive, just mumbling something incoherent. I looked in her purse for a phone or an ID, but all I found was makeup and a set of keys. Leaving her there, dead drunk, was just too dangerous. I sighed, hauled her to her feet, and half-carried her to the nearest decent place, the Grand Astoria. I got her a room and laid her on the bed. I remembered my first-aid training and made sure to turn her on her side, in case she got sick. The moment I did, she threw up. All over the brand-new Armani suit I was wearing for the first time. The smell was so foul I almost joined her. I stripped off the ruined jacket, threw it in the trash, pulled the covers over her, and left. My friends were waiting. I thought that was the end of it. A small, insignificant act of kindness that had cost me a new suit. Bad luck, nothing more. The next day, I was in the middle of a crucial project meeting at my firm when two police officers walked right into the boardroom. “Who’s Alex Vance?” Every head in the room turned to me. “We’re from the city PD. You’re a suspect in a sexual assault case. Please come with us.” In front of my bosses and my entire team, they slapped handcuffs on my wrists. In that moment, I went from the company’s rising star to its resident rapist. 2 “Mr. Vance, please explain to the court why you would take a complete stranger, a drunk young woman, to a hotel?” Tina’s lawyer was relentless. “Like I said, I was concerned for her safety,” I answered calmly. “Her safety?” he sneered. “So your ‘kindness’ was to get her a hotel room?” “She was unconscious. I couldn’t get an address out of her. A hotel was the safest option at the time.” Tina’s father exploded again. “Bullshit! You were just using that as an excuse to take advantage of my daughter!” “Order!” the judge warned, banging his gavel. The lawyer continued. “Hotel security footage shows you entering room 708 with Miss Reed at 11:10 PM and leaving at 11:35 PM. What did you do in that room for twenty-five minutes, Mr. Vance?” “I got her settled, dealt with my ruined clothes, and left.” “Dealt with your clothes? Or dealt with the evidence of your crime?” Tina’s sobs grew louder. “When I woke up, I was in the hotel bed. My clothes were off. My head was pounding… I couldn’t remember anything.” She pointed a trembling finger at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of terror and hatred. “I found the room key on the nightstand and had the front desk look up who paid for it. It was him. I don’t even know you! Why would you do this to me?!” Her accusation was like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. I looked straight at her. “Let me ask you,” I said, my voice low and steady, “do you have a single piece of evidence that I touched you? Any marks on your body? Any physical evidence from the room?” Her lawyer answered for her. “My client underwent a full examination. Due to your sophisticated methods, you left no obvious signs of violence! But that does not exonerate you! As for evidence, my client was disoriented. Who knows if you cleaned the scene?” Her father roared, “My daughter’s word is all the proof we need! She’s a good girl! Do you think she would ruin her own reputation to frame you? What kind of monster are you?!” The online vitriol intensified. “Still denying it! What a piece of work.” “These smart criminals are the scariest. They know how to cover their tracks.” “She has no reason to lie. Believe the victim!” I was trapped. A young woman’s tears were the most powerful “evidence” in the world. In the court of public opinion, a thirty-year-old man taking a drunk twenty-year-old to a hotel was guilty by definition. My explanations were useless. The lawyer pressed on. “Mr. Vance, you claim this was an act of kindness. Have you ever performed similar acts of ‘kindness’ before? Can you produce a single witness to testify to your sterling character?” I was speechless. I was an orphan, raised on the pension benefits of my father, a fallen soldier. I’d worked my ass off to get where I was. I didn’t have a large circle of friends, and certainly no one I could call to vouch for my moral character on a witness stand. My silence was taken as an admission of guilt. The judge looked from me to the weeping girl and called for a recess. “We will reconvene next week to examine the prosecution’s evidence.” Because I was the son of a war hero and had a clean record, and because my father’s old unit stepped in to post an astronomical bail, I was temporarily released. The moment I stepped out of the courthouse, I was swarmed by reporters. The flashbulbs were blinding. Tina’s father broke through the crowd and punched me square in the jaw. “Scumbag! I’ll kill you!” I didn’t fight back. I couldn’t. I was out on bail. If I retaliated, I’d be back in a cell with an added assault charge, and tomorrow’s headlines would read: ACCUSED RAPIST ATTACKS VICTIM’S FATHER OUTSIDE COURTHOUSE. 3 My life was in ruins. The company put me on indefinite leave to “handle my personal affairs”—a polite way of firing me. In my apartment complex, neighbors would see me and immediately cross the street, their eyes filled with disgust and fear. My landlord called and told me to get out, said I was ruining the building’s reputation and he was getting grief from the other tenants. I locked myself in my apartment, poring over legal texts. The evidence was all against me, the DA was sharp, and the public had already convicted me. Tina’s father had used his media connections to paint me as a monster. Someone had even dug up the fact that my parents were fallen heroes. “He’s spitting on their graves!” “They should strip him of his parents’ honors! He doesn’t deserve them!” “Human trash.” Those words hurt more than any punch. I turned off my phone, feeling the walls close in. That night, I went out for a walk, just to breathe. I found myself at the same intersection as two nights ago. And I froze. A familiar figure, in the exact same pose, in the exact same spot. It was Tina. She was drunk again, passed out on the cold pavement. Her purse was open, lipstick and a compact scattered on the ground. The night air was chilly, and she was wearing nothing but a thin dress. I stood about thirty feet away, just watching her. My fists clenched and unclenched. I saw her father’s twisted face. Her lawyer’s cold, accusatory eyes. Her own pitiful, tear-streaked performance on the stand. Help her again? And wait for another accusation when she sobered up? Maybe this time it would be robbery? A bitter laugh escaped my lips. To hell with kindness. This world doesn’t deserve it. I pulled out my phone. 10:30 PM. Then I turned and walked around her, like stepping over a piece of trash that had nothing to do with me. Behind me, I heard a few low whistles as a group of young men headed in her direction. I didn’t look back. 4 The next morning, the frantic buzzing of my phone woke me. It was my lawyer. “Alex! It’s bad! Turn on the news!” I switched on the TV. The local morning news was covering a story. “Tragedy struck last night as a young woman was found deceased on a city street. Police have identified her as twenty-year-old Tina Reed. A preliminary investigation suggests the cause of death was asphyxiation after choking on her own vomit while intoxicated…” The screen showed Tina’s face, pale and lifeless. Police tape cordoned off the scene. The anchor’s voice was filled with sorrow. “Sources say Miss Reed had been drinking heavily. If only a kind passerby had noticed her condition and helped her, even by simply turning her head to the side, this tragedy might have been avoided. The death of this young woman is another stark reminder that apathy is the most terrifying disease of our society.” I stared at the screen, my face a blank mask. A kind passerby? The last kind passerby was being raked over the coals by the entire country and was about to face prison time. Just as I turned off the TV, my phone rang. It was her father’s number. I didn’t answer. I could imagine the venom, the unhinged accusations he would be screaming into the phone. He would blame me for his daughter’s death. In his mind, it was all my fault. Sure enough, within half an hour, the narrative online had shifted. #RapeVictimDiesAfterOrdeal The hashtag shot to the top of the trending list. The comments were a baying mob, calling for my head. “He’s a murderer now!” “It wasn’t just rape, it was manslaughter! He needs the death penalty!” “Avenge this poor girl! Make the monster pay!” My face and personal details were plastered all over the internet again. I was now the villain responsible for a young girl’s death. My lawyer called again, his voice grim. “Alex, this is not good. Public opinion is overwhelmingly against you. They’re saying you killed her. You need to be prepared for court this afternoon.” “Prepared for what?” I asked. “They’re going to use this. The pressure on you will be immense. You…” “I know,” I cut him off. I hung up, walked into my bedroom, and put on my best suit. I stood in front of the mirror and straightened my tie. The man looking back at me was calm, his eyes cold. Tina, you tried to ruin me with a lie about your honor. Now you’re trying to bury me with your death. You and your self-righteous father have underestimated me. This game is just getting started. At 1:30 PM, I was back in the defendant’s box. The gallery was packed with reporters. Tina’s father sat in the front row, dressed in black, his bloodshot eyes fixed on me like a predator.

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A taming system fell from the sky, and I immediately used it on the campus heartthrob. “Call me Your Majesty!” “Take a walk with me.” “Let me touch you!” He never resisted, letting me do as I pleased. I was quite satisfied. Until I saw him holding hands with his childhood sweetheart by the lake… I was sick with jealousy. So I activated my power, pinned him to the sofa, tore at his clothes, and kissed him senseless. When I’d had my fill and was about to leave, he wrapped his arms around my waist. “Well? Aren’t you going to take responsibility for that?” I was stunned. I screamed at the system in my head. It blinked and stuck out its tongue. “(Tee hee, how embarrassing!) Actually, honey, I don’t have any powers to control people at all~” Me: ?? You son of a bitch, you played me! 1 I have a crush on Duke Shaw. I’ve had a crush on him since high school. But now I’m a sophomore in college, and I still haven’t told him. Because he’s the undisputed campus heartthrob. And I’m… a nobody. I often ask the universe, what’s the harm in making one more girl stunningly beautiful? The universe never answers. Until today. A voice suddenly popped into my head. “(Whimpers) Hello, host! I’m Angel Service System 511.” “Sweetie, can you hear me? 511 is at your service.” “Sweetie? Are you deaf?” … Have I been reading so many web novels that I’ve finally lost my mind? I’m in the middle of a lecture, and my brain is already going haywire?! Unreal. Absolutely insane. But I still found myself replying: “Who are you? What do you want?” System 511 cooed, “Sweetie, I heard your wish, and I’m here to help you make it come true.” My eyes lit up. “Really? Are you here to turn me into a world-class beauty?” “Well, no…” 511 cleared its throat awkwardly. “But honey, I can grant you one ability—the power to tame a person for a designated period of time!” “No matter what you command, they will obey.” That sounded familiar. Like something I’d read in a spicy fanfic. Still, I was thrilled. “Really? They’ll obey any command?” The system’s reply was firm. “Of course, sweetie.” And so… My gaze drifted involuntarily toward Duke Shaw. He was sitting perfectly straight, his tall frame cutting a sharp silhouette. His slightly long hair fell over his forehead, and his eyes were downcast, lost in thought. As if sensing my stare, he suddenly turned his head. I quickly looked away, pretending nothing had happened. The power to tame someone? A very useful power indeed. After all, I’ve been dying to get my hands on Duke for a very long time. 2 511 told me that to use the taming power, I had to follow three rules: One: We had to be alone together. Two: I had to hold his face in my hands and look directly into his eyes to issue a command. Three: The control period could not exceed five minutes. “Okay, got it!” I rubbed my hands together, eager to try. Heh heh, my sweet, unsuspecting prey. Here I come! After class, Duke walked over to me and gave me a light flick on the forehead. “You weren’t paying attention in class. What were you staring at me for?” I rubbed my head, my tone dismissive. “Don’t be so conceited. I was just thinking about what to get for lunch.” Could I really tell you I was plotting how I was going to pounce on you in a few minutes? That would be terrifying. “Perfect. Let’s go to the cafeteria together.” Normally, I would have agreed in a heartbeat. But the cafeteria was always packed. I couldn’t use my power there. So I had to force myself to say no. “Nah, I’m eating with my roommate… but wait for me after your last class! We can walk home together!” “Deal.” As I watched Duke walk away, my heart did a little dance. In high school, my grades were really unbalanced. Our teacher paired me up with Duke, who had the opposite problem, so we could tutor each other in math and English. That’s how we became friends. Honestly, he was already gorgeous back then. A handsome face, a great personality, and tons of friends. He was ridiculously popular. I was always seeing girls from other classes trying to talk to him. Because of our tutoring sessions, Duke was always nice to me. He’d bring me snacks and invite me over to his house to do homework on the weekends. Staring at that handsome face day after day, it wasn’t long before I was completely smitten. But a secret crush is a one-woman war. I once asked him what his ideal type was. He just smiled and said nothing. Undeterred, I asked his friend. His friend pointed to Isabelle Croft, the beautiful valedictorian of our class. He told me Duke was into her. They were childhood friends, a match made in heaven. I was already too scared to confess, and now I knew he liked someone else. So I just studied harder, hoping to close the distance between us, even if just a little. The day our college entrance exam scores came out, I called Duke immediately. When I found out his score was only a few points higher than mine, I was ecstatic. I made him promise to show me his list of college choices before he submitted it. I copied his application, school for school. Finally, we ended up at the same university in our city. And by some stroke of luck, our major only had one freshman class. So Duke and I were classmates once again. It’s been two years. He’s still just as lukewarm towards me as ever. We’re just friends. But… Who wants to be his friend?! 3 After my last class, I deliberately dawdled in the classroom for a good fifteen minutes, waiting for a chance to be alone with him. When all the other students had finally left, Duke looked at me, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “Summer, are you planning on taking your entire desk home with you?” 511’s voice suddenly burst into my head. “Host, now’s your chance—” I shot up from my seat, took a deep breath, cupped Duke’s face in my hands, and stared into his eyes. A few seconds later, I spoke. “Obey my command!” Duke blinked, but he didn’t speak or resist. My heart exploded with joy. It actually worked! Normally, he would have called me a lunatic by now. Okay, what command should I give him? I cleared my throat. “Call me Your Majesty!” 511 was speechless. “…Sweetie, are you insane?” I blushed. “It’s just a test run!” Duke looked at me, his perfect lips parting slightly. Then, he spoke, his voice low and clear. “Your Majesty.” I nearly jumped out of my skin with excitement. He actually did it! That was a completely ridiculous request! Oh my God! The system wasn’t lying! I quickly composed myself. There was still time, I couldn’t waste it. I issued my next command. “Walk with me on the athletic track!” The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Five minutes wasn’t nearly enough time for a walk. Just then, 511 swooped in like a superhero. “Go, sweetie! Since this is your first time, I’m giving you a one-time bonus of unlimited time. Go and enjoy yourself!” A bonus offer? This system was the best! Overjoyed, I grabbed Duke’s hand and bolted downstairs. He had no idea how many times I’d gone for a walk after dinner, watching couples stroll hand-in-hand, chatting, or hiding in a corner for a hug and a kiss, and felt a pang of envy. Today, I finally had someone to walk with me. It was perfect. On the track, I held onto the corner of Duke’s shirt, and we walked slowly for half a lap. Then, I slyly reached for his hand. His hand was broad, his fingers long and elegant. Of course, a guy with a face like that would have beautiful hands. I tried to weave my clumsy fingers between his, aiming for the perfect hand-hold. But his knuckles were firm, and he wasn’t exactly helping me out. After a few seconds of struggling, my fingers just hurt. “Stupid hand! What’s the point of being handsome if you can’t even hold a girl’s hand properly?” I playfully smacked the back of his hand. At that, Duke suddenly turned his hand over and laced his fingers tightly with mine. My heart started hammering against my ribs. His palm was warm, maybe even a little sweaty. We were so close I could feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek. My face flushed crimson, and my pulse was racing. 511 was my one-woman hype squad. “Go for it, sweetie! He’s still under your control. He’ll do whatever you say!” I cursed at it in my head. Shut up! But what came out of my mouth was something entirely different. “Kiss me.” Duke froze for a second. Then, he cupped my face in his free hand and slowly leaned down. His soft, beautiful lips brushed against the corner of my mouth. My head spun. I was as red as a boiled lobster. Ahhhhhhhhhhh— I actually kissed Duke Shaw! 4 In the end, I ditched Duke and ran for my life. Yes, I’m that pathetic. I couldn’t face him after he snapped out of it. And I was terrified of what he’d think if he knew what I did to him while he was… not himself. But as soon as I got home, I was filled with regret. If I’d known he wouldn’t fight back, I should have kissed him more, touched him more. What a waste! I buried my face in my pillow, reliving the moment for a while before a new thought struck me. “Wait, I just ran off. Will he be able to get home by himself?” 511 (cute face): “Of course, sweetie! The moment you left, the power automatically deactivated.” That made me feel even worse. “When he came to his senses and realized I’d ditched him, he wasn’t mad, was he?” 511 (pouting face): “Of course not, sweetie! And if you’re worried, I can help you erase his memory of this afternoon.” I shot that down immediately. “No, don’t do that! I don’t want to mess with his head!” That would just make things worse. That weekend, my roommate Maya called me. Her friend in the dorm next door was having a birthday party and she wanted me to go with her. I had nothing better to do, so I agreed. I never expected to see Duke and his roommates there when we arrived at the karaoke lounge. Great minds think alike, I guess. The birthday girl greeted us and then went to pick some songs. Thinking about what I’d done to Duke on Friday, my face burned with embarrassment. Luckily, the room was dimly lit, so no one noticed. Duke and his roommates were playing cards at another table. He looked completely normal and didn’t even say hi. I felt a pang of disappointment. We’ve been classmates for years, and he’s just going to pretend I’m invisible? Jerk. Tomorrow, I’m definitely going to find a chance to punish him with my powers. After singing a few songs, the birthday girl sat down next to Duke, draping an arm over his shoulder. They looked awfully chummy. I was so annoyed I cracked a walnut with my bare fist. Maya popped the nutmeat into her mouth, giving me a sideways glance. “What’s wrong? Jealous?” “You’re just too passive,” she said. “If it were me, I’d go right over there and join them. Who’s afraid of who?” That set me off. “He’s been ignoring me since I walked in! Am I supposed to chase after him and beg for his attention?” Maya looked at me, completely serious. “You’re lucky you have a hot guy to chase. Don’t be so picky.” Me: … “And stalking him like a little thief every day isn’t going to get you anywhere,” she continued, offering some unsolicited advice. “Why don’t you just confess?” I took a swig of beer, my heart full of bitterness. “You think I don’t want to? I’m afraid he’ll reject me, and then we won’t even be able to be friends anymore.” Maya peeled an orange. “So what? It’s not like you’re getting anywhere with him now.” …She had a point. I couldn’t even argue. The birthday girl picked up the microphone and called for everyone’s attention. “Today is my 20th birthday, and I’m so grateful you could all be here to celebrate with me.” “My mom once told me that after a girl turns 20, she can start making her own decisions in life. Even if she regrets them later, at least she’ll have no regrets about not trying!” As she spoke, Maya nudged me, wiggling her eyebrows. “Based on my experience, she’s about to confess to a guy in this room.” “The time, the place, the mood—it’s all perfect!” “Oh, please,” I scoffed. “You think everyone is as shameless as you are?” Maya was undeterred. “Wanna bet? If she confesses, you give me twenty bucks. If not, I give you twenty.” I snorted. “You’re on!”

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