Category: English

1 The moment we were reborn on the set of that godforsaken reality show, I scheduled a hysterectomy. My fiancé, the heir to the Croft empire, booked a vasectomy. In our past life, it all started at our engagement party. Melody, the underprivileged student we were sponsoring, burst in and pointed a trembling finger at me. “How can you marry him when you’re carrying my brother’s baby?” Then she turned, weeping, to my fiancé, Julian. “And I’m carrying your child! How could you just abandon me?” We thought it was a sick joke. We’d never done what she claimed. We’d met her family when the show had us stay at their rural home, and moved by their poverty, we offered our support. But then, in front of a ravenous press corps, she produced two positive pregnancy tests. Hers, and mine. She tried to force me to marry her brother. She demanded Julian marry her. When the story broke, my acting career imploded overnight. Julian’s family business was dragged through the mud, the stock price plummeting, pushing them to the brink of bankruptcy. To clear our names, we had no choice but to see the pregnancies through. We waited for the births, for the DNA tests that would finally prove our innocence. We never imagined the results would only seal our public execution. Unwilling to drag our families down with us, we walked into a blizzard on a remote mountain and let the cold take us. And then, I opened my eyes. We were back. Back on the very first day we stayed in Melody Song’s home. … I gasped, my lungs burning as if I’d been starved of air. A cold sweat soaked through my clothes, the phantom chill of the blizzard still clinging to my bones. I looked down at my hands—pale and slender, not the swollen, frostbitten claws I remembered. A knock came at the door. “Sera? I need to talk to you…” That voice. Cool, familiar, beloved. Tears streamed down my face. I threw the door open and launched myself into his arms like a moth drawn to a flame. Julian Croft. The crown prince of New York’s high society. We’d grown up together, and the moment he heard I was joining a dating reality show, he’d signed up too. He held me back with the same desperate force, like a man reclaiming a lost treasure. When we finally calmed down, we sat on the edge of the flimsy bed. The room smelled of damp earth and mildew, the walls stained with black mold. Neither of us spoke. Julian pulled out his phone, and I saw the date. September 20th. Day one of filming. The day we were assigned to stay with the Song family, the day our naive compassion set our doom in motion. I saw the complex emotions warring in his eyes. He remembered, too. We were both reborn, back at the start of the nightmare. “I can’t believe it,” he whispered, his voice thick with a fear that mirrored my own. “We’re both back.” Neither could I. In our last life, our story on the show had been a fairytale. We became the nation’s sweethearts, and the proposal was the perfect, logical next step. That day, the one we’d anticipated our whole lives, became the first day of our damnation. Julian was on one knee, the ring box open, my hand trembling as I reached for it. That’s when Melody burst in. She claimed we had toyed with her and her brother’s affections during our stay. She screamed that the baby in my belly wasn’t Julian’s—and that the one in hers was the true Croft heir. We thought she was insane. We’d never even been alone with either of them. Then she produced the pregnancy reports. The media, always hungry for a scandal, devoured the story. Copies of the reports were everywhere. Our careers, our lives, were put on hold. But Julian and I, we never doubted each other. To prove our innocence, we agreed to wait for the births, for the DNA tests. The moment the babies were born, we thought we were saved. Instead, we were dragged into an even deeper abyss. When the results came back, we stared at the two reports in disbelief. My child was a genetic match for her intellectually disabled brother, Peter. And her child was a 99.9% match for Julian. The hospital was a circus of flashing cameras. Live streams of our public humiliation hit millions of viewers in minutes. The world’s judgment was swift and merciless. Sluts and scumbags. No wonder they found each other. The rich are all the same. They see a poor family and just use them for sport. Disgusting. Who would ever support them again? God knows what diseases they’re carrying. Our families were dragged into it, accused of using their philanthropic work as a front for depraved activities. The shock sent Julian’s grandfather to the ICU. We couldn’t let them suffer anymore. We posted one final, cryptic message online, and walked into the snow. Now, sitting in that wretched room, we tried to piece it together, to understand how it had all gone so wrong. One thing was certain: once this show wrapped, our families would push for that engagement party again. The thought of that day, once a dream, now a terror, made Julian’s hand tighten on mine. “This time,” we said in unison, our voices a low, fierce promise, “we find the truth. And we never repeat the past.” The next morning, the rooster’s crow woke us. As Julian and I stepped out of the room, we found Melody standing right outside the door, her eyes blazing. “Why are you two coming out of the same room?” she demanded. Julian’s gaze was hard as flint. He draped an arm over my shoulder, pulling me close. “We grew up together. We’re in love. Get over it.” Melody’s expression flickered. She seemed to realize she’d come on too strong. Her voice softened. “I was just worried. You’re on camera. I didn’t want it to affect your image.” She bustled off to make breakfast as the film crew began to arrive. A few minutes later, she returned with just two boiled eggs, her head bowed in practiced humility. The camera zoomed in on her, and she shuffled her feet, drawing attention to her worn-out shoes. Her brother, Peter, wandered out, his pants stained with something unidentifiable. Last time, we had immediately offered to sponsor them, to find the best doctors for Peter. This time, we just wanted the truth. We wanted to get as far away from these two as possible. Melody offered us the eggs. Her stomach rumbled audibly, and Peter drooled, his eyes fixed on the food. I smiled sweetly and pushed the eggs back towards her. “We’re not hungry. You two eat.” We said nothing about sponsorship. Melody froze, insisting we take them. A crew member chimed in. “Just take it. It’s a kind gesture. It’s the last two eggs they have.” Julian was a Croft. He’d only reined in his imperious nature for my sake. That comment was the last straw. He snatched the eggs and thrust them at the crew member. “Here. You eat it. Don’t let her kindness go to waste.” The man, remembering exactly who Julian was, paled and accepted the eggs. I turned and met Melody’s eyes. They were filled with a burning hatred. Even Peter’s vacant stare held a flash of malice. Something was deeply wrong here. Peter had a government-issued disability certificate; that couldn’t be faked. And yet, in our past life, after my child was born, he had miraculously recovered his health. He and Melody had come to us, demanding I take my child and marry him. We still had several days of filming left. Julian and I knew we couldn’t eat or drink anything the Songs offered us. Seeing our refusal, Melody’s eyes welled up with tears. She cast a wounded look at the director. He whispered something to her, and she immediately calmed down, turning to me with a faint, chilling smile. A sense of dread washed over me. Sure enough, the next day, without any warning, the show was switched to a live broadcast. As the cast sat together, Melody appeared, representing the village. She carried a platter of local fruit, her eyes wide and pleading. “I hope you won’t look down on our humble offering.” The other cast members, unconcerned, each took a piece of fruit. Remembering our last life, Julian and I didn’t move. Suddenly, Melody dropped to her knees. She looked up at me, her eyes brimming with tears, a portrait of defiant sorrow. I followed her gaze and saw eight cameras pointed directly at us. I understood. I almost had to laugh at the sheer audacity of it. The network knew their audience. They loved watching entitled celebrities and rich kids bully a simple, poor girl from the countryside. They’d seen our hostility towards the Songs and cooked up this little piece of theater on the fly. Just as they’d hoped, the live chat exploded. So much for the ‘philanthropist’ actress. Her true colors are showing. They’re two of a kind. She’s just as fake as he is. That poor girl’s hands are shaking and they won’t even take the fruit. Melody’s voice broke into a sob. “I know our village is poor… and you probably look down on us… but this is the best we have to offer, Miss Pitt…” I saw the fury building in Julian’s eyes and put a hand on his arm, stopping him. Melody’s acting was superb. It was a shame she wasn’t in Hollywood. But she forgot one thing. I was an actress, too. An award-winning one. I bit my lip and sighed, bowing my head. When I looked up again, my own eyes were glistening with unshed tears. “Julian, it’s okay,” I whispered, my voice trembling slightly. “So what if I have a skin allergy right now? I can eat it. If something happens, I’m sure the network will get me to a hospital.” Julian, my partner in all things since childhood, caught on instantly. His tone shifted to one of grudging concern. “You’re right. It’s a kind gesture. Worst case, I’ll just stay with you at the hospital. We can watch the rest of the show from there.” We were the show’s main draw. The director knew he couldn’t afford to lose us. He cleared his throat, ordered the live broadcast cut, and waved for the crew to help Melody up and escort her away. But she suddenly wrenched free. She ran to Julian, her face a mask of innocent concern, but her words were a cold blade of terror. “Brother, why are you so angry? It’s okay. You’ll belong to Melody soon anyway.” She then turned to me, her smile serene. “And you, Miss Pitt, will be part of our family, too.” With that, she calmly allowed the crew to lead her away. In our past life, her words would have been nonsense. This time, Julian and I felt a chilling dread seep into our very bones. The show ended, and as expected, our on-screen romance captivated the nation. A month later, despite my caution, a paparazzo caught me looking nauseous. The tabloids ran with it. Our parents saw the news and called immediately, urging us to get married as soon as possible. They even bought a ridiculously large diamond at auction and had it couriered to Julian. The news spread like wildfire: The Croft heir and the A-list actress, a shotgun wedding. The proposal was imminent, and the world expected a spectacle. I leaned against Julian’s shoulder, the memory of our icy deaths making my voice catch. “Julian, maybe we shouldn’t do the proposal. Maybe we should just… elope.” He took my cold hands in his. “I can’t let you marry me without a proper proposal. We’ve been so careful this time. I still want to give you the wedding of your dreams.” Our parents were insistent. There was no getting out of it. A dark premonition settled in my gut, but with Julian by my side, I felt a flicker of security. On the day of the engagement party, I was in a couture gown, Julian’s hand holding mine as we entered the grand ballroom. And just like before, Melody was there, with Peter in tow. She was clutching a stack of papers, dressed in thin, ragged clothes, her stomach slightly rounded. “You’re getting married? What about us? Did you think you could just play with our hearts and walk away without any consequences?” The room erupted. Reporters swarmed, their cameras flashing. With tears and snot running down her face, Melody spun her tragic tale of coming all the way from her poor village only to find the father of her child marrying another woman—a woman who was carrying her own brother’s baby. Gasps filled the hall. Melody began handing out copies of the pregnancy reports. She pointed at me. “To create some saintly image for yourself, you seduced my disabled brother! You got pregnant with his child! And after the show, you just tossed him aside! But he’s in love with you now! He can’t live without you!” Then, turning to Julian, she wept. “And you! You told me you were tired of this woman, that you only loved me! You gave me this baby! Why are you still with this slut? Why?” Just like last time, the crowd was swayed by her performance. They turned on us. “Tsk, tsk. They took advantage of those poor villagers, and now it’s come back to bite them.” “A pair of disgusting cheats. They make me sick.” Julian and I met each other’s gaze and shared a cold, humorless smile. She was here. Right on cue. As Melody reached for me, trying to drag me away with her brother, I pulled free. I slapped a piece of paper against her face. My words were clear, ringing through the silent hall. “Then explain this. How does a woman with no uterus get pregnant with your brother’s child?” Julian, with a look of utter disgust, threw his own report at her feet. The one confirming his vasectomy.

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My sister decided she wanted my fiancé. So my family, who had always worshipped the ground she walked on, sold me. They offered me up to settle a debt, leaving me in a darkness so absolute it shattered my mind. By the time Adrian found me, I was already gone. He carried me out of that hell without a word. The next day, my family’s empire crumbled. My parents were found dead. My sister, Chloe, was dragged into an alley and brutalized so badly she would never carry a child. For seven years, as I drifted in a fog, Adrian never left my side. He took me to every specialist, every clinic, becoming a ghost who haunted the city, a man everyone feared. They called him a madman, shackled to a broken woman. Then, a miracle. I was healed. I held the doctor’s report in my hand, a surprise I couldn’t wait to give him, a new beginning for us on the eve of our wedding. That’s when I heard them in the dressing room. His voice, a raw, ragged whisper. “Keep it down. If Stella hears you, I’ll kill you.” And Chloe’s, hitched and broken as he moved against her. “You broke those men’s hands just for touching me during that little stunt you arranged. Are you really going to kill me, Adrian?” …I stood frozen on the other side of the door, listening until the very end. I forced the tears back down, swallowing the acid in my throat. Then, I plastered a bright, vacant smile on my face, and with the light, skipping energy of a child, I ripped the curtain open. “Adrian! I was looking for you! I found you!” 1 The charged atmosphere in the small space evaporated. My eyes landed on the two of them, pressed together, and for a fraction of a second, the mask on my face cracked. They both jumped, startled. Adrian instantly grabbed his suit jacket, throwing it over Chloe to hide her. I tilted my head, my expression one of pure, childish confusion. “Adrian, why are you being mean to the pretty lady? You made her cry. Did she do something bad?” Chloe let out a sharp, derisive snort, a smirk twisting her flushed face. “God, she’s still just a broken toy.” Adrian, his face tight with discomfort, finished buttoning his shirt. He looked at me, at the empty innocence in my eyes, and a wave of relief washed over him. “It’s nothing, Star. Don’t worry about her. She’s just a salesgirl. Come on, let’s get you into a beautiful dress.” As he tried to lead me away, I twisted in his arms, my reaction sudden and violent. “No! Let me go! You smell… wrong. I don’t like it!” Adrian’s face froze for a moment. He quickly recalibrated, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “Okay, Star. You’re right. My fault.” He gently sat me down on a velvet chair and disappeared, returning only after he had changed into a fresh suit, smelling of nothing but clean linen and his familiar cologne. His assistant brought out dozens of wedding heels, but I shook my head at every single one. “Don’t like them.” Adrian, without even looking at the shoes, flicked his fingers. “Bring more.” Just then, Chloe emerged from the dressing room, fully clothed. She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at me. “Adrian, I want the pretty lady to try them on for me!” Adrian’s hand, which had been resting on my waist, tensed. Chloe’s face fell. When Adrian gave a curt nod of approval, her expression twisted into outrage. “You want me to try on shoes for a psycho?” Her shriek made me flinch and shrink back into Adrian’s side. His expression darkened instantly. With a sharp gesture, he had his assistant forcibly drag Chloe over. “You’re lucky she’s even letting you touch her,” he said, his voice deadly calm. “If you don’t want to do it, you can be on a bus back to whatever nowhere town you crawled out of before this city ever knew your name.” Chloe’s face went pale, then red. Reluctantly, she knelt at my feet and picked up a stiletto. The second her fingers brushed my ankle, I kicked out, sending her sprawling backward. I immediately burst into tears and buried my face in Adrian’s chest. “Hurts,” I whimpered. “My toe hurts. Her nails…” Adrian’s brow furrowed. He glanced down at Chloe’s long, blood-red manicure. “Cut them,” he ordered. That was the final straw. The suppressed fury in Chloe ignited. She snatched the high heel and hurled it against the wall. “Adrian, if you wanted to humiliate me, you could have just said so! I wasn’t born to be your goddamn servant!” Sobbing, she turned and ran out of the boutique. “Adrian, is the pretty lady mad at me?” I asked in a small voice. He stroked my back, his touch meant to be soothing. “Don’t worry about her.” His voice was cold, but his eyes were locked on Chloe’s retreating figure. We were halfway through the wedding dress fitting when Adrian’s assistant rushed in, her face pale, and whispered something in his ear. Adrian didn’t move at first, just took a long, slow drag from his cigarette, but a storm was gathering in his eyes. After a long moment, he loosened his tie and finally stood up. “Star, something’s come up at the office. I’ll have Sarah take you home.” I dropped the veil I was holding and ran to him, grabbing his hand. “Adrian, please don’t go. Today is…” “Stella, be good. Don’t be difficult.” He patted my head, his touch dismissive, and walked away without another glance. The rest of my sentence died in my throat. The assistant picked up the discarded veil. “Ma’am, let me help you with the fitting.” I saw the pity in her eyes. I looked down, my voice so quiet it was barely a whisper. “No, thank you. I don’t like it.” We don’t have to try anymore. Midnight came and went. Adrian never came back. I sat by the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out into the storm. Outside, wind and rain lashed against the glass. On the table, the birthday cake he’d had delivered had melted into a sugary puddle. In seven years, this was the first birthday he had ever missed. Suddenly, a deafening crack of thunder echoed, and the entire mansion plunged into darkness. My mind went completely blank. “Adrian!” I screamed into the void. Silence. I scrambled to my feet, my back drenched in a cold sweat. Blinded by the dark, I tripped and fell hard on the marble floor. “Ma’am! Ma’am!” The housekeeper, hearing the crash, rushed in with a candle. I was curled into a ball on the floor, clutching my head, shaking uncontrollably. “Don’t touch me!” Just as I felt the edges of my consciousness fraying, the front door burst open with a deafening crash. A familiar scent cut through the darkness. Adrian rushed to my side, pulling me into his arms. “Stella, don’t be scared. Don’t be scared, I’m here.” He was soaked from the storm, his clothes cold and damp, but his hands holding me were feverishly tight. It was too late. I was already lost. This was the first time I had experienced true darkness since my recovery. The memories I had locked away came flooding back in a torrent. I screamed, sobbing, my flailing hands striking his face, leaving red marks on his skin. “Get away! Don’t touch me!” The sheer terror in my eyes made him realize this was something more, something new. He scooped me up and raced to the hospital. In the hazy delirium, I felt like I was drowning. A doctor’s voice drifted in and out. “Mr. Blackwood, your fiancée has severe PTSD and nyctophobia. She must have experienced some kind of extreme trauma… Also, regarding Miss Landon… her condition is critical. If she doesn’t receive a uterine transplant soon, she’ll never be able to conceive.” It turned out Chloe had crashed her car after running from the boutique. When she woke up in the hospital, she’d had a complete breakdown and tried to kill herself. “Adrian,” she had shrieked, “if you blame me for what happened back then, then let your punishment be real! Let me pay her back for good!” The silence in my hospital room was absolute, broken only by the cold, rhythmic beeping of the machines. After a long time, Adrian sat down on the bed beside me. He gently wiped a tear from the corner of my eye and leaned down to kiss my forehead. His voice was choked with emotion. “Don’t let it be too painful for her.” I tried to force my eyes open, to fight, but my body wouldn’t respond. I was helpless as they wheeled me toward the operating room. When I felt the cold steel of the scalpel against my skin, I summoned every last ounce of strength and clamped my hand around the blade. “Ma’am, let go!” a nurse hissed in alarm. The surgeon leaned close, shouting in my ear. He listened to the frantic whispers coming from my lips, then drew in a sharp breath. “I understand,” he said quickly. “I will convey your message to Mr. Blackwood.” He rushed out of the O.R. But just as he began to explain the situation to Adrian, a nurse ran up from the other end of the hall, shouting that Chloe’s condition was deteriorating. Adrian’s furious roar was so loud I could hear it through the doors. “Every second you waste talking is another second of pain for them! Do it!” “But Mr. Blackwood, your fiancée—she’s—” “Shut up! A broken mind doesn’t need a womb! Stella has me. That’s all she’ll ever need. You say one more goddamn word and you can clear out your locker tomorrow!” The surgeon returned, his face a mask of bitter defeat. The scalpel slipped from my grasp.

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“I’m broke and hungry,” I texted my family. After thirty minutes, all I got was a photo of a bag of apples, followed by a voice message from my dad: “Picked these myself this morning. Had someone deliver them to you.” Liam, my boyfriend who was serving me dinner, froze. “Your dad’s an upstate apple farmer? So you’re not from some old-money city family?” I shook my head, confused. He eyed my Chanel outfit with dawning disgust. “This is a university, not a brothel. You’re just a peasant buying knockoffs to trap a rich guy,” he sneered before walking away. The words My family practically built this city caught in my throat. Tears welling, I pulled the black card from the plastic bag where it lay tossed beside the apples and played the rest of Dad’s message: “Your hotel’s Christmas apple-picking event is a huge hit. The hotel’s in your name now—the card’s your bonus.” Just then, Liam posted my photo in a campus group chat with the caption: “Sugar baby, 9/10 condition. Delicate. Best offer.” With shaking hands, I canceled the $50,000 monthly grant my dad had been anonymously sending him. If he looks down on me for relying on my family, he shouldn’t rely on them either. … “A GOLD DIGGER’S DIARY! FAKE SOCIALITE TREATS CAMPUS KING LIKE A DOG!” My fingers went numb the moment I clicked the link. Liam’s “heartbreaking exposé” was the top post. “These past three months have been a complete joke,” he wrote. “She told me her father ran a ‘small business.’ Turns out he grows apples upstate! I spent my scholarship money taking her to fancy dinners while she was parading around in fake designer clothes.” Below the post were screenshots of our chats. “Check-in! 34976! Send me a selfie video with the hand sign!” The post showed days of these “check-ins,” and the comment section exploded. “So controlling! Lily Monroe is a psycho!” “OMG, is our campus king getting PUA’d?” “Someone tag the Dean’s office! Shouldn’t this trash be expelled for moral corruption?” Someone else quickly posted a picture of me eating bread in the evening. “Look at her! Eating plain bread just to afford knockoffs! So pathetic!” I sighed and typed a reply: “That was my pre-workout meal.” The chat went silent for a beat before a new wave of mockery crashed over me. “Now she’s pretending to be a fitness guru?” “A single session with her trainer costs a thousand bucks! Where would a peasant like her get that kind of money?” “Poor Liam! She scammed his heart and his money!” My nails dug into my palms. The screenshots were deliberately incomplete. He conveniently left out the part where every video he sent was followed by a wire transfer from me for the exact amount he’d signaled. But now, he was twisting my affection into proof of his victimhood. What sent a true chill down my spine was the marketplace link that popped up minutes later. “Sugar baby, 9/10 condition. Delicate and soft. Best offer.” Tears pricked my eyes as I scrolled through the comments, which were overwhelmingly sympathetic—to him. “Our boy is heartbroken! A real heiress needs to come and save him!” Liam had even “accidentally” leaked my contact information. My phone immediately froze, overwhelmed by a flood of friend requests and hateful messages. Words I had never seen before filled the screen. I’d been sheltered and adored my whole life; I’d never heard such filth. My hands shook as I tried to message Liam, but then I saw his latest comment on the forum. “I loved her once,” he wrote calmly. “That’s why I’m helping her find her next client. I can’t bear to see her with nothing.” I let out a bitter laugh. Nothing. He wasn’t entirely wrong. I had poured all my personal funds into the Christmas event for the new hotel I’d acquired. I had planned to give him the hotel as a birthday gift. Not anymore. I looked at the last message on my screen from Liam: “Fake sugar baby. We’re done.” I sent a voice message to my father. “Dad, that fifty-thousand-dollar anonymous monthly grant for Liam…” “Cancel it.” If he despises me for being a sugar baby… Then he can stop being one himself. That silver spoon? I’ll smash it for you. The moment the message sent, my father called. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Fifty thousand is nothing.” His tone was light, but he must have sensed my silence, because his voice immediately hardened. “Did that boy hurt you?” A lump formed in my throat. I’d only asked my father to set up the “anonymous grant”—which was just the daily interest from one of his savings accounts—because I saw that Liam was poor but driven, and I didn’t want to hurt his pride. My father’s voice was cold as ice. “Power and money are the best gifts for a girl. A man is just an accessory. If he doesn’t suit you, find a new one.” His tone shifted, a hint of a smile in his voice. “Speaking of which, the Sterling Group is begging for a partnership with your hotel. You should meet them as the new owner. It’ll be a good distraction.” “Okay.” The dark cloud over me began to lift. I went to my closet to get dressed, but it was empty. My roommate, Megan, leaned against the doorframe, a smirk on her face. “Well, well, if it isn’t the campus queen. Going to beg Liam for forgiveness?” she drawled. “Or… which sugar daddy are you visiting tonight?” Her eyes raked over me. “It must be nice to be pretty. Just spread your legs and someone pays the bills. Slut.” My fists clenched, my heart turning to ice. When her father was sick, I had transferred her ten thousand dollars without a second thought. I took a deep breath. “If you have so much shame, Megan, you can start by paying me back the ten thousand you owe me.” The color drained from her face. I soon understood the source of her newfound confidence. BANG! The dorm room door was kicked open by Chloe, the Student Council President. Megan scurried over to her, grinning obsequiously. My eyes followed her gaze, and my stomach dropped. All of my clothes were in a trash can in the hallway, drenched in bright red paint. My gaze fell on a stained white dress in the corner. My vision went red. It was a birthday gift, designed by my late mother. Now it was trampled in a puddle of filthy water. I lunged for it, but Chloe stuck out her foot, tripping me. I fell hard, and she planted her shoe on the back of my hand, grinding her heel into my knuckles. Megan pointed at the ruined clothes. “Chloe says she’s never seen these designs before. They’re all fakes. Let me tell you, one of Chloe’s handbags is worth more than your entire family’s lives!” I laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. My clothes were sent directly from the designers. There were maybe three of each piece in the entire country. Of course someone of her social standing had never seen them. Chloe looked down at me, her voice dripping with condescension. “As Student Council President, I have a duty to uphold the standards of this campus. Someone get her things off that bed and throw them out!” I struggled, trying to reach my phone to call my dad. Chloe kicked me again, sending my phone smashing against the wall. “Trying to call Liam? Want to play the victim?” She pinned my wrist with her foot and mockingly opened Liam’s social media. The latest post was a picture of his hand intertwined with hers. The caption read: “The struggle is over. I’ve found my true love.” Chloe’s smile was triumphant. “My family’s company is signing a deal with the Kanes tonight. What do you have that can compete with me?” I froze. The Kanes? Was that the partnership my father mentioned? Chloe’s hand came swinging toward my face. I summoned all my strength and screamed, “Chloe! Go ask your father—if you don’t let me go right now, your deal is dead!” Her palm connected with my cheek, and the world went dark. “Bitch! I’m going to make you watch as my family climbs to the top on the Kanes’ coattails!” When I came to, I was staring through a floor-to-ceiling window at the iconic rooftop garden of my own hotel. “You’re awake?” Chloe’s voice came from behind me. “The Kane heiress will be here soon. Liam told me you’re very… flexible. A good little dancer.” “Miss Kane enjoys dancing, too.” The tape was ripped from my mouth, and I coughed violently. “Give Miss Kane a good ‘performance’ later,” she said, patting my cheek. “If she’s happy, I might even arrange for your father to be a janitor at my house. One month of his salary would be more than your family makes in a year of digging in the dirt.” The door slammed shut. Megan stood guard outside. Seeing my chance, I broke free of my restraints and slipped into a service corridor. I had to get to the top floor, to my dad. As I passed the banquet hall, a wave of dizziness washed over me. I hadn’t eaten properly in three days, consumed by the Christmas project. On a side table sat a tureen of mushroom soup, still warm. My father’s favorite, prepared just for me. I picked up a spoon, and a tear splashed into the broth. CRACK! A splitting pain shot through the back of my head. My face was shoved into the scalding hot soup. “Miss Kane hasn’t even arrived, and a piece of trash like you dares to eat?” Chloe yanked my hair, slamming my head against the rim of the bowl again and again. “I’ll let you drink! Drink it all!” Hot soup and blood flooded my throat. I was suffocating. Just as Chloe raised her hand to slap me again, someone grabbed her wrist. Liam. His brow was furrowed. “That’s enough.” His gaze drifted to the decorative apples on the table, and he seemed to recognize the logo on them. He reached out to take a closer look, but Chloe looped her arm through his. “Liam, you’re here!” she cooed. “It’s our first day as a couple! I want you to meet the Kanes!” I used the distraction to scramble for my shattered phone, but Megan snatched it away. “Calling for backup?” Chloe sneered, slapping me again. “I guess you haven’t learned your lesson!” I spat out a mouthful of blood. “I am a Kane,” I said, each word an effort. “Stop now, and you might just live.” In the struggle, my black card fell from my pocket. Liam bent down to pick it up. The moment his eyes landed on the embossed gold Kane family crest, his pupils shrank to pinpricks. Megan’s lip trembled. “Chloe… could she really be…?” Chloe stomped her stiletto onto my fingers. I heard the faint crack of bone. “Don’t be an idiot! The Kane heiress isn’t named Monroe!” I’d used my mother’s maiden name since I was a child. It was a detail few people outside our inner circle knew. Chloe snatched the card from Liam. “Did your dirt-farmer dad find this in a ditch? Or did you dig it out of your dead mother’s grave?” She accidentally woke my shattered phone screen. A picture of me and my father filled the display. The next second, her hand cracked across my face again. “Perfect. I was wondering what to get Miss Kane as a welcoming gift. It’s a well-known fact that Mr. Kane adores his daughter. If I kill his secret little mistress and present the body to the real Miss Kane, he’ll probably applaud.” She stared at the smile on my face in the photo, then gave Megan a look. “Go on. Carve out those cute little dimples for me.” The cold tines of a fork pierced my cheek. The pain was so intense I almost passed out. Liam started to intervene, then stopped himself. “Chloe’s doing this for your own good, Lily. If Miss Kane finds out about you, it’ll be much worse. I’m disappointed. I thought you were just a poser, but you’re just pathetic trash.” My mouth throbbed. Chloe smiled, satisfied. “Now you look like a proper clown.” She waved a hand. Her bodyguards swarmed me, lifted me up, and threw me into the nearby swimming pool. “Give her a good wash,” Chloe’s laughter echoed across the water. “When Miss Kane arrives, she can see for herself what kind of shameless bitch tries to crawl into her father’s bed!”

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To marry into the Levitan fortune, I fabricated my entire past. The day my lies were exposed, I sliced open my wrist. “If you divorce me,” I told Chris Levitan, my voice shaking, “I’ll die right here.” A cruel, mocking smile touched his lips. “You want the title of Mrs. Levitan that badly? Fine. You can have it. I hope you don’t live to regret it.” That move saved my marriage, but it made me the laughingstock of the city’s elite. From that day on, Chris treated me as if I were invisible. His affairs were constant tabloid fodder. He brought women home, brazenly, and once, he made me kneel outside his bedroom door while he was with one of them. “You’re so obsessed with status,” he’d sneered, his voice muffled through the wood. “You clawed your way into this family with cheap tricks. So now you’re going to watch and learn how a real woman pleases me.” That night, I knelt on the cold marble floor and listened to them, again and again. Later, he tossed a used condom at my face. “You truly are pathetic. You’d do anything to keep your title.” His voice was laced with contempt. “Now, I’m out. Go buy me more.” I did as he asked, even thoughtfully purchasing a variety of styles. This continued for five years. Until the day Chris walked in with a college girl on his arm and ordered me to dress her for a gala. That was when I calmly presented him with a set of divorce papers. “Let’s end this.” Five years. I had fulfilled my promise. It was time to leave. … “Claire, this is Tiffany. I’m taking her to the gala tonight. I need you to find her a gown.” Chris’s voice was clipped and dismissive. “And get my mother’s sapphire necklace. It’s a gift for Tiffany.” A cold knot formed in my stomach. The sapphire necklace was the most cherished piece of his late mother’s collection. Chris treasured it. Other women he’d been with had admired it, begged to even try it on, but he’d never allowed anyone to so much as touch it. And now he was giving it away to this girl. This one, he must truly adore. I stood frozen. Tiffany broke the silence. “Mr. Levitan,” she purred, looking me up and down, “is your maid always this slow? You gave her an order, and she hasn’t even moved.” I met her gaze. Her eyes danced with malice. She knew exactly who I was. This was a deliberate provocation. As expected, Chris’s face darkened. The back of his hand cracked across my cheek. “Do you have a problem with that? Look at yourself. What’s the difference between you and a maid? Now go get the jewelry. If you make me late, how exactly will you compensate me?” Tiffany gasped, covering her mouth with a perfectly manicured hand, her expression a caricature of innocent shock. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I had no idea you were Mrs. Levitan. It’s just… your clothes… you look so much like the help.” I glanced down at my simple housedress and apron. She wasn’t wrong. Tiffany then shot a playful, chiding look at Chris. “Darling, you shouldn’t have done that. Making your wife work for me? I’m just your humble assistant.” She leaned in, tracing a finger along his lapel. “Look, you’ve bruised her cheek. Be careful, she might get angry with you.” Chris laughed as if it were the funniest joke he’d ever heard. “Her? Get angry?” He sneered at me. “A woman who built her life on a mountain of lies? A woman who had to resort to threats and hysterics just to stay here? She has no pride. She does whatever I tell her to do.” His fingers, cold as ice, clamped onto my chin, forcing my head up. “Isn’t that right, Claire?” This time, however, I was going to disappoint him. I held out the papers I’d prepared long ago. My voice was even, devoid of emotion. “I want a divorce, Chris.” He stared at me for a moment, then burst out laughing, his face a mask of derision. “After five years of playing the pathetic lapdog, you’ve realized that act doesn’t work on me? So you’re trying a new strategy?” He leaned closer, his voice a low threat. “Are you out of your mind, Claire? Trying to manipulate me with this? You’re playing with fire. You’ll just end up on your knees, begging me to take you back.” “Now, go get the gown and the necklace, and attend to Tiffany properly. If you do, I’ll pretend this little outburst never happened. Otherwise, you know I won’t be so forgiving.” I sighed. “I am serious, Chris. I want a divorce. This isn’t a game.” I pushed the papers toward him again. “Just sign them, and I’ll be gone.” Tiffany’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “Oh, darling, she really is upset,” she whimpered, clinging to his arm. “Look how convincing she is.” “I shouldn’t go to the gala with you tonight. You should take your wife. Then maybe she’ll stop this little drama.” Chris’s face hardened. He slapped me again, harder this time. Then, right in front of me, he ripped the divorce papers to shreds and threw the pieces in my face. “So that’s what this is about. You want to go to the gala with me.” His eyes raked over me with disgust. “Have you looked in a mirror? Taking you to a black-tie event? Do you want to embarrass me even more than you already have?” “Claire, know your place. Someone like you belongs in this house, as a maid. Don’t you dare dream of anything more.” “I don’t want to go with you, I just…” “Enough!” he roared, cutting me off. “You’re caught in your own pathetic little scheme and you still won’t admit it. God, I’ve never met a woman as shameless as you.” “After the stunts you pulled to stay here, after five years of groveling, you expect me to believe you actually want a divorce? That’s hilarious.” He turned, wrapping a tender arm around Tiffany. “I’ll buy you a new gown, darling. The most beautiful one in the city. I only want you by my side tonight. As for everyone else,” he shot a venomous look at me, “they’re only fit to shine your shoes.” Tiffany buried her face in his shoulder, her voice a faux-shy whisper. “Don’t say that, Chris. You’ll break your wife’s heart.” He scoffed. “Like I care.” As they left, Tiffany glanced back at me, a triumphant smirk on her face. “Don’t you worry, Mrs. Levitan,” she said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “I’ll take very good care of your husband.” After they were gone, I shook my head and started packing. My phone rang. “Ms. Hayes? It’s Adrian Cole. We need to iron out a few final details on the collaboration we discussed. I’m at the grand ballroom at The Regis Hotel right now. Would you be able to meet me?” Adrian was a crucial business partner. I immediately dropped the suitcase. “Of course, Mr. Cole. I’m on my way.” When I arrived at the ballroom, dressed in haute couture, the first person I saw was Chris. His back was to me, his arm around Tiffany’s waist as he chatted with a group of friends. “Chris, you’ve got good taste this time,” one of them was saying. “How long are you planning to play with this one?” Chris leaned in and placed a tender kiss on Tiffany’s forehead. “Tiffany is the love of my life. She’s not like the others. I’m going to love her forever.” He shot his friends a warning look. “Don’t joke like that again, or you’ll regret it.” “So what about the ball and chain at home?” another friend asked. “She put up with your flings before because she knew they were just games. What do you think she’ll do when she finds out this one is serious? A woman that obsessed with you might do something crazy.” Chris’s tone was pure contempt. “What could that pathetic doormat possibly do? You all know the truth. As long as I let her stay, she’d kneel at our bedside and serve us if I asked her to.” “Haha, you’ve got her wrapped around your finger, Levitan. You don’t see that kind of devotion these days.” I had grown numb to words like these. I was about to turn and walk away when Chris turned around. For a split second, I panicked, bracing for a confrontation. But his eyes slid right past me, not a flicker of recognition in them. “Marcus, I’ve been waiting for you,” he said to one of the men. “You said you had a VIP you wanted me to meet.” I almost laughed. I looked down at my silk gown, the delicate jewelry, the professional makeup. Of course he didn’t recognize me. How could he possibly connect the glamorous woman standing before him with the drab, weary housekeeper he left at home? I walked away and found Adrian. We immediately dove into the details of our contract. “Ms. Hayes, I have the utmost respect for your talent,” Adrian said earnestly. “It’s a shame you’re unwilling to move abroad. We could be doing so much more together.” He sighed. “The international market desperately needs an expert with your deep knowledge of traditional silk brocade. With you leading the charge, Chinese artistry could become the next global luxury standard.” Adrian had invited me to expand internationally many times, to share the beauty of our craft with the world. I had always refused, tethered to my life with Chris. But my time was up. Now, I could finally chase my own dreams. “Actually, I’m planning to move abroad now,” I said, a new sense of resolve hardening my voice. “The beauty of our brocade needs to be understood not just by our own people, but by the world. I want to see it take its rightful place among the great luxury houses.” Adrian’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Are you serious? But you always said you wouldn’t leave the country.” “I had some unfinished business here,” I replied. “But it’s been settled. I’m ready to take our brand global.” “That’s fantastic! I…” Adrian was cut off by another voice. “Well, well, Adrian. I was wondering where you’d disappeared to. Scheming with a beautiful woman, I see.” A cool look passed over Adrian’s face. “Marcus, this is Ms. Hayes, my esteemed business partner.” I recognized the man as one of the friends Chris had been talking to. Realizing his blunder, Marcus quickly apologized. “My apologies, Ms. Hayes. That was out of line.” Then he turned to Adrian. “Speaking of which, Chris Levitan has been dying to meet you. Since you’re both here, let me make the introduction.” Chris approached, his demeanor now humble and professional. “Mr. Cole, a pleasure. I’ve heard great things. I also heard you’re looking for a designer specializing in traditional textiles. Coincidentally, Tiffany here is a graduate of that very program. She has an exceptional portfolio I’d love for you to see. I’m sure a collaboration would be fruitful.” Tiffany feigned a gasp of delighted surprise. “You’re the Adrian Cole? I’ve admired your work for years. It would be the honor of a lifetime to collaborate with you.” I had to hand it to her; her audacity was something to behold. She’d already promoted herself to collaborator before he’d even spoken a word to her. Adrian, though usually affable, had a very sharp edge. A cold, dismissive smirk crossed his face. “Who are you? And are you an idiot? When did I ever say I wanted to work with you? Don’t embarrass yourself.” Tiffany’s face flushed crimson, her eyes instantly brimming with tears. Seeing his new love humiliated, Chris bristled. “Mr. Cole, that’s an incredibly rude way to speak to her. Tiffany is a top graduate from a prestigious university. She expressed her admiration, and you insult her? That’s completely unprofessional.” Adrian rolled his eyes. “And I need her admiration because…? Are you serious?” Seeing that Adrian was not going to back down, Chris was about to lose his temper when Tiffany stopped him. She bowed her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. “It’s my fault. I was presumptuous. I was just so excited to meet Mr. Cole. Please, blame me. Don’t let this affect your relationship with Mr. Levitan.” “I don’t care for cheap theatrics,” Adrian said, his voice like ice. “And besides, I already have a designer. Ms. Hayes.”

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The third year Benjamin and I were married to the Beaumont sisters, their old flame came back. At a family dinner, Benjamin’s wife, Stella, slapped him across the face for defending the guy. When I found him, half his face was swollen and his eyes were bloodshot. “Noah, I can’t take this anymore. She hit me—for him!” he choked out. “I want a divorce. What about you?” I thought of how Clarissa had grown colder and colder since Tristan Davenport returned, of all the nights she hadn’t come home. A bitter smile touched my lips. “If you’re leaving, I’m leaving. We’ll go together.” We planned our escape for weeks, and finally, we boarded a flight abroad, having told no one. But as I settled into my seat, I looked up and met the icy gaze of my wife, Clarissa Beaumont. We were dragged off the plane and locked in a dark room in the Beaumont estate to “reflect.” As I wracked my brain trying to figure out where our plan went wrong, Benjamin’s voice, small and weak, cut through the silence. “Sorry, Noah… I did it for your own good.” 1 I stared at my best friend, Benjamin Shaw, my mind blank. “What do you mean?” Benjamin was already afraid of the dark, and my flat, emotionless question was the final straw. He swallowed hard and finally confessed. “Just… don’t get mad, okay?” he whispered. “Clarissa runs the entire Beaumont corporation. She’s sharp as a damn razor. She knew we were up to something for ages! The day we left for the airport, I opened my door, suitcase in hand, and she was just… standing there. Waiting for me.” “You know how terrified I am of your wife, especially when she gets that look on her face. The second she started questioning me, I couldn’t even think of a lie. I just told her everything.” I never would have guessed. Our escape was foiled by a traitor in our midst. A firestorm of anger roared inside me, but one look at the genuine fear and apology written all over Benjamin’s face, and it fizzled out. I couldn’t stay mad at him. It was just… exhausting. I rubbed the bridge of my nose and forced my voice to soften. “Then why didn’t you tell me on the way to the airport? If we knew she was onto us, we could have canceled the plan, thrown her off the scent, and tried again later. Now she has us right where she wants us.” At the mention of that, Benjamin’s own anger flared. “It’s all Clarissa’s fault!” he seethed. “I thought, even if she stopped us, she’d only take you back. I never thought she’d care about me leaving! I’m not her husband!” …What a wonderfully simple way of thinking. That was the thing about my best friend. He had a heart of gold, but sometimes his logic was so simple it bordered on idiotic. The Beaumont sisters had lost their mother young. Clarissa, as the eldest, had practically raised Stella. Of course she wouldn’t let him just walk away, not after he made such a scene at dinner a few days ago. If he disappeared right after that, what would people say? I sighed and closed my eyes, hiding my fatigue. I had put so much work into planning this escape. Benjamin watched my face, not daring to speak. Then, he threw an arm around my shoulders. “Noah, don’t be mad, please? I was thinking of you, I swear. Before I told her, I thought about it. Clarissa’s always been good to you, hasn’t she? Gives you anything you want. If you really left with me, we’d have to struggle for a long, long time. I couldn’t stand to see you suffer. I figured… if you stayed with her, at least you’d be safe.” He paused, his expression turning bitter. “Besides… Stella definitely doesn’t want me anymore. I’m sure Clarissa told her our plan the second she knew. And look—Stella didn’t even try to stop me. She didn’t care that I was leaving. It doesn’t matter if you run or not, but for me… it’s real. She doesn’t love me anymore.” Seeing his pain, the last of my anger evaporated. I pulled him into a hug, about to offer some comfort when the door to the room was kicked open. Stella stood in the doorway, her face a thundercloud. “Benjamin Shaw, you’ve really grown a backbone, haven’t you?” she sneered. “A man who gets lost five blocks from his own house dares to run away from home? Who gave you the nerve? So I slapped you. We’ve fought plenty of times growing up. Is it really that big of a deal?” 2 They were childhood sweethearts, and their fights always devolved into dredging up the past. Sure enough, Benjamin shot to his feet, incensed. “You think what happened then is the same as what happened the other night? We were kids! That was just messing around!” Stella’s eye twitched. She crossed her arms, her expression flat. “Right. Messing around. When we were nine, you pulled my chair out from under me as I stood up to answer a question in class. I hit my head on the desk behind me and got a concussion. When we were thirteen, you tied my shoelaces together while I was asleep. I fell, broke my leg, and spent New Year’s in the hospital. If all of that was just ‘messing around’ in your eyes, then after all these years, a single slap seems pretty damn fair, don’t you think?” This kind of bickering was their normal. Watching them, I felt an unexpected pang of envy. Benjamin was speechless, his face turning cold as he struggled to catch his breath. “No matter what, you hit me for another man,” he said, his voice low and hard. “I will remember that, Stella. Even if I can’t leave today, this marriage is over.” Anyone who knew him understood: as long as he was yelling and fighting, it wasn’t serious. But when he went quiet, when he lost the energy to argue… that’s when you knew his heart was truly broken. Stella realized the gravity of the situation. She knew she couldn’t talk him down easily. Her expression finally turned serious. She sighed and turned to me. “Noah, don’t just stand there watching the show. You’re the one who really needs to think about what you’ve done. Benjamin and I have our issues to sort out, but my sister has respected you for the three years you’ve been married. She’s given you all the dignity a husband in our world could ask for. You shouldn’t have gotten involved in his drama.” Benjamin blinked, now looking at me too. “Yeah, Noah, I never asked. Why did you want to leave with me? I always thought Clarissa treated you with respect. She never embarrassed you in public, always gave you your space. Not like me…” He shot a glare at Stella and huffed. “I had no choice but to leave!” I flinched and looked down, a bitter smile on my face. Yes. Respect. Everyone could see it, even someone as dense as Benjamin. Clarissa had only ever shown me respect. I used to think that for someone as cold as her, respect and dignity were all she had to give. But after Tristan Davenport came back, I learned that she was capable of love, too. 3 Unlike Benjamin and Stella, who had grown up together, Clarissa and I were nothing more than a business arrangement. At first, I told myself her detached personality was a result of running the Beaumont empire for so long. That, combined with a loveless arranged marriage, made her coolness toward me seem normal. But three years in, I often wondered if it was more than just coolness. It was an almost complete absence. We were husband and wife, but aside from obligatory family dinners and polite morning and evening greetings, we barely spoke. If I ever tried to show a little more concern, she would shut me down. “I don’t like needy men.” “Don’t do unnecessary things.” If it weren’t for her father pressuring us for an heir, I doubt we would have been intimate more than five times a month. And even then, it was like she was completing a task assigned by her elders. The moment it was over, she would pull away without a trace of lingering affection and head for the shower. I never felt an ounce of passion from her. If Benjamin hadn’t been there, living in the same house, I think the loneliness would have driven me mad. I knew she wouldn’t change for me, so I tried to change for her, forcing myself to accept her coldness. Until Tristan came back. I watched her face carefully the day she got his call. Longing, joy, resentment, stubbornness. It was the first time I had ever seen such a complex storm of emotion on Clarissa’s eternally frosty face. And in that moment, I knew how wrong I had been. The day Tristan returned was my birthday. I had swallowed my pride and begged her for days to spend it with me, to act like a normal couple in love—a walk, a movie, a candlelit dinner. But after that call, she didn’t even glance at me again. As she rushed out the door, she threw a careless line over her shoulder. “Something urgent came up at the office. I’ll take you out when I get back.” I clung to that promise. I put on my best suit and waited. And waited. I knew that Clarissa never broke a promise. But I sat there, watching the sun climb high in the sky and then sink below the horizon, and my heart sank with it, piece by piece, into a dark abyss. At three in the morning, I stared at the long list of rejected calls on my phone and dialed her number one more time. This is your last chance, Clarissa, I thought. One more rejection, and I’m done. But this time, the call connected. I froze, a thousand emotions rushing to my lips, leaving me speechless. Before I could say a word, I heard it from the other end of the line. A soft, intimate gasp. Then another, more heated and intense. And finally, her voice, a breathy, tender whisper I had never heard before. “Kiss me.” It was nothing like she was with me. She didn’t have to say another word. I understood everything. And my heart turned to ash. She wasn’t a frozen lake, after all. She just wouldn’t create waves for me. … After I finished my story, Benjamin’s eyes were red. “Noah, why didn’t you ever tell me any of this? I had no idea you were going through so much. If I had known, I swear, even if Clarissa had skinned me alive today, I wouldn’t have told her our plan!” Stella listened in silence, then hesitated. “Noah, my sister, she…” Benjamin cut her off, his voice raw. “Get out! Both of you sisters are cut from the same rotten cloth!” He shoved Stella out of the room. Turning back, he saw the lingering bitterness on my face and pulled me into another tight hug. “We’re a real pair, you and me. Brothers in misery.” I let out a quiet sigh. If this marriage was a mistake, then it was time to cut my losses. I forced myself to rally, managing a weak smile. “It’s okay. We’ll get another chance. This time we failed, so we’ll just try again. But next time,” I warned, “you are not allowed to sell me out.” 4 At dinner, Benjamin and I were finally released. A number of Beaumont family elders were present, and to my surprise, so was Tristan. Of all the younger generation present, I was, by birthright, the least qualified to marry Clarissa. Our marriage was a formality, a way for the Beaumonts to repay a debt to my family, the Vances, for helping them in their early days. It was less a merger and more a favor, a way to elevate my family’s standing. Because of this, my father-in-law, Marcus Beaumont, held me in the lowest regard. He’d heard about our escape attempt. With Benjamin, he was merely patronizing, a few light scoldings. But when his gaze fell on me, his entire demeanor shifted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Benjamin was genuinely hurt, so a little tantrum is understandable. But you, Noah Vance, as the eldest son-in-law, you should have been talking sense into him, not joining in on the foolishness. Utterly classless. Can’t you use your brain? It’s a disgrace.” I wasn’t being foolish. And since everyone was here, it was the perfect time to clear the air. I shot a cool glance at Tristan and was about to speak. But he beat me to it, his voice smooth and warm. “Marcus, please don’t be angry. I bear some of the blame for this misunderstanding. I came today specifically to explain. The day I returned, I accidentally answered a call on Clarissa’s phone from an unsaved number. The person on the other end hung up without saying a word. Thinking back, it must have been Noah. I imagine he must have gotten the wrong idea, which led to all this.” He smiled gently, but his eyes held a glint of challenge. I forced the corner of my mouth up. “So?” I said, my face a mask. “What’s your explanation? What were the two of you doing that day?” He chuckled, feigning innocence. “I had just gotten back to the country. I missed Clarissa terribly, so we were just… catching up.” Catching up? Was that what he called a conversation that consisted of nothing but breathless gasps? I let out a cold laugh, ready to expose the truth. But Clarissa finally had enough. “If you’re going to cause a scene, you can leave,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. She wasn’t looking at anyone, as if warning the entire table. But I could feel her gaze on me from the corner of her eye. She was warning me. But I had been perfectly composed since I sat down, having said only one thing. Who was really causing the scene here? A bitter pill lodged in my throat. It took all my strength to keep the tears from falling. Benjamin saw my distress and secretly squeezed my hand under the table. “Say the word,” he whispered. “You start the fight, I’ll jump in. We married sisters for a reason, right? So we could have a united front against unreasonable in-laws and useless wives. I’m still scared of Clarissa, but for you, I’ll fight.” I managed a weak, sad smile and shook my head. Let it go. I had no hope for this family anymore. Clarissa’s outburst silenced the table for a moment. But it wasn’t long before Marcus started up again. “Some people just have no class,” he muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I always preferred Tristan, to be honest. But my late wife insisted on repaying your family’s kindness. What could I do? I’m sure if Tristan had married one of my daughters, he wouldn’t be throwing a fit over some baseless rumor. He wouldn’t cause such an embarrassing spectacle.” He fixed his glare on me. “Noah, since you married up, you need to learn your place. In our world, a woman can’t be expected to have only one man in her life. Whether it’s true or not, you have to be tolerant. Do you understand? You can’t have your cake and eat it too.” His tone was so condescending, as if my marriage to Clarissa was an act of his charity. Benjamin, with his famously short fuse, had been simmering for a while. The screech of his chair scraping back was loud in the silence as he shot to his feet. But before he could say a word, Stella and I grabbed his wrists from either side, holding him down. I shook my head, too tired to even smile. There was no point in arguing. If I still held any hope for this family, for Clarissa, maybe I would have fought back. But my mind was already made up. I was leaving. Fighting with them now was utterly meaningless. 5 After dinner, Clarissa and I returned to our room. Since Tristan’s return, she had started staying out all night. Soon, it became days at a time. We were husband and wife, but thinking back, aside from being caught at the airport today, we hadn’t seen each other in nearly two weeks. Now, being alone with her in the same room felt suffocatingly strange and awkward. I couldn’t stand the oppressive atmosphere. I silently tried to walk past her to the bathroom. But she grabbed my arm, her voice heavy. “In the Beaumont family, we don’t divorce. We have widows. Now that we’re married, it’s for life. You can’t run away. I don’t want this to happen again. Do you understand?” Her grip was painfully tight, as if she was truly afraid I would flee again, as if she could physically restrain me from leaving. But on what grounds? No divorce, only widows. It should have been a vow of loyalty, but between us, loyalty had only ever been a shackle for me. When had that word ever constrained her? A sarcastic smile twisted my lips. “In that case, if I insist on a divorce, would you die for me?” She frowned, not answering my question. “You know that’s not what I meant. Tristan and I are in the past…” “Enough!” I cut her off, my face cold. “I don’t want to fight with you, and I don’t care about your past. Let’s… let’s just go back to how things were before.” Without another look at her, I escaped into the bathroom. The warm water sluicing over my body brought a sliver of clarity to my mind. Her words had given me an idea. Simply running away would always leave loose ends. But death… death was final. If the only way out was to be a widower, then I would die for her. 6 The next day, the Beaumont sisters left for their respective businesses, and Benjamin and I finally had a chance to talk. When he heard about the “no divorce, only widows” rule, he exploded. “Are the Beaumonts all brain-dead? What century is this? How can they have such a backward, idiotic rule? What did all the men who married into this family do when their marriages fell apart? Did they all jump off a building?” “No way, I can’t accept that. The only way I’m leaving Stella is if we have a duel to the death on the interstate!” I thought for a moment, then said quietly, “Actually… that’s not a bad idea.” Benjamin froze, grabbing my shoulders. “Noah, don’t! Get a grip! Don’t throw your life away for a marriage that isn’t worth it!” I sighed, half-amused, and steadied him. “What are you talking about? I meant, if divorce and running away won’t work, we can fake our deaths to get out.” “But jumping off a building is too risky and hard to fake. How about the ocean? We’re both strong swimmers.” The moment he realized there was a way out, Benjamin’s eyes lit up. “The ocean is boring! If we’re going to do this, let’s go big! Let’s blow up this damn mansion! What do you think?” I blinked. “What?” He looked around the sprawling villa, a mix of nostalgia and hatred in his eyes. “This house is old. It’s filled with memories of me and Stella growing up. That’s the only reason we didn’t buy a new place when we got married. But now… I hate these memories. I don’t want to take them with me, and I sure as hell don’t want to leave them for her. So, let’s just burn it all down.” I hadn’t realized how much he had come to resent Stella because of her old flame. I wasn’t part of their childhood, so I didn’t know the history between the three of them. But it must have been painful. He didn’t want to talk about it, and I didn’t need to ask. I pushed aside my stray thoughts and considered his idea. It wasn’t bad. An explosion would take care of the problem of needing bodies. I refined the plan, then looked at him seriously. “I’ve confirmed it. Clarissa is leaving for a business trip tonight and will be gone for at least a week. The day after tomorrow, Stella is going to a friend’s birthday party in the countryside and won’t be home that night. That’s our only chance.” “I’ll find a way to send all the staff out so no one gets hurt. The only thing I’m worried about is you. This time, you can’t make any mistakes. Understood?” Benjamin gripped my hands, his expression just as solemn. “Deal.”

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The year my foster mother beat me half to death was the same year I found out I was the “real” daughter, switched at birth on purpose. After a whirlwind transition back to the wealthy Sterling family, I instinctively chose the smallest, shabbiest room in the mansion. My biological mom immediately stopped me. “Why are you going into the maid’s quarters? Your room is upstairs.” My brother walked towards me with his hand extended. Conditioned by habit, I lowered my head and meekly handed over my monthly allowance. His eyes widened in shock. “I’m your brother! I was reaching out to bandage your wounds, not take your money!” Then came Chloe, the girl who took my place. She walked towards me with a tear-streaked face. I braced myself, turning my left cheek like they do in the dramas, ready for the slap. I expected a stinging pain. Instead, I got a kiss on the cheek. “I’m sorry, big sis. Can you please not hate me?” 1 The scenery outside the car window blurred past. The woman sitting next to me held my hand, her grip slightly nervous. Maybe my expression was too numb, because she kept throwing out topic after topic. “Do you like Barbies, Ava? Mom will buy you a bunch, you can pick whatever you want.” “How are your grades? Is there anything you’re particularly interested in? Mom can sign you up for some classes.” “Oh, I’m talking too much. How about you decide what we eat for lunch, Ava? We can have the chef make it, or Mom can cook. My specialty is steamed egg custard, I just don’t know if you like it.” She gave me an awkward smile. Her hands were well-maintained, soft and fair, not looking at all like the hands of a forty-year-old woman. I lowered my head and whispered, “Whatever is fine.” My foster mother used to say my voice sounded like a rooster crowing—annoying as hell. Every time she saw me, she got irritated. Since then, I tried not to speak unless absolutely necessary. I was afraid if I opened my mouth, I’d scare this new mom, and she’d send me back. After all, she didn’t raise me. She might find me repulsive. 2 The day my mom found me, my foster mother had gotten into a huge fight with my drunk foster father. She took all her anger out on me. A wooden stick as thick as a thumb—she said she’d break it on me, and she did. I didn’t have a single patch of unbruised skin left. beaten to within an inch of my life, I was suddenly pulled into a warm embrace. Hot tears fell on my face. In my daze, I thought I had gone to heaven. I didn’t want to die, but heaven seemed okay. There was a woman with a gentle voice guiding me. Life there probably wouldn’t be too hard. At least, it couldn’t be harder than this. “My daughter… I finally found you. My poor baby.” I was sent to the hospital and recovered for a month before my mom took me home. My dad is the CEO of a publicly traded company, my mom owns an art gallery. I have a brother in his junior year of high school, and a sister in the same grade as me—freshman year. A sister with zero blood relation to me. We live in a villa, with countless luxury cars, a housekeeper, and bodyguards. After entering the house, Mom went to the kitchen to check on lunch. She told me to pick a room first. “You can have whichever one you want.” I pursed my lips and carefully walked around the first floor. Even the bathroom was bigger, brighter, and cleaner than the entire house I used to live in. I picked the only room that seemed “small and shabby” compared to the others, though it was actually spacious, bright, and had AC, a washer, and an ensuite bathroom. In my old life, I wouldn’t have dared to dream of this. Just having a bed was a luxury. I figured this one would do. I shouldn’t be greedy as the newcomer. Not sleeping in the security booth was already a win. I started walking towards that room. Mom poked her head out of the kitchen and saw me. She immediately called out, “Ava, why are you going into the maid’s room? That’s for the housekeeper! Your room is upstairs!” 3 I sighed softly. I knew I didn’t have that kind of luck. The upstairs room must be cramped, dark, damp, and stuffy. Walking up the carved wooden staircase, I was dazzled by the exquisite paintings on the walls. I didn’t dare touch anything, not even a corner. I was terrified Mom would make me pay for it. Even if I sold my worthless life, I couldn’t afford it. When I got to the second floor, I was dumbfounded. Every room was twice the size of the ones downstairs. The luxury was jaw-dropping. Just as I was debating whether to sleep on the stairs or in the small storage closet at the end of the hall, a boy with striking eyebrows and bright eyes put his hand on my shoulder. I turned to look at him. He looked about 50% like me. He had a sunny smile on his face and a backpack over one shoulder, looking like a high schooler who just got home. “You must be Ava. I’m your brother, Liam.” He looked apologetic. “Sorry I didn’t visit you in the hospital earlier. I was at a training camp, and the coach wouldn’t let me leave. I just got back.” “You’ve suffered all these years. As your brother, it’s my fault for not protecting you back then. If I had been a bit older, you wouldn’t have been taken.” His eyes were filled with pain. I couldn’t help but comfort him, “It’s okay. I’m fine now.” It wasn’t their fault. Liam looked up. “You were picking a room, right? Why don’t you take the one next to mine? Easier for me to look out for you.” I wanted to refuse, but he didn’t give me a chance. So, half-pushed, half-led, I chose the room next to his. Liam left for a second and came back holding a small box. He sat down in my room and extended his hand towards me. “Come here.” Right. Every time my foster brother, Tyler, needed money, he would sweet-talk me before extending his hand. This meant he wanted money. I dug out an envelope from my pocket. It was the allowance Mom had just stuffed in there. It wasn’t even warm yet. I was self-aware. I meekly handed over my living expenses. It wasn’t my money anyway. I had no attachment to it. Just like the twenty bucks I earned collecting bottles—I handed that over too. Liam’s eyebrows knitted together in displeasure. He looked at me, then at the envelope. Was he dissatisfied with the amount? Suddenly, his eyes widened in shock. “I’m your brother! I was reaching out to bandage your wound, not take your money!” He pulled my sleeve, looking anxious and angry. He took out a cotton swab, dipped it in iodine, lifted my hair, and gently applied it to the wound, even blowing on it softly. “This cut hasn’t healed properly. Wait a sec, I’ll put a band-aid on it. Your hair must have been covering it; Mom didn’t even notice.” “If anyone hits you in the future, you hit them back. I’ll take the consequences. If I can’t handle it, Mom and Dad will. You’re my biological sister; you can’t just let people bully you for nothing, understand?” I nodded blankly. He stuffed the envelope back into my hand. He seemed satisfied. “Although no one would dare bully you with me around, there might be times when I’m not there. How about this? I’ll sign you up for a kickboxing class.” He looked at me with burning intensity. I actually laughed. “Sure, why not.” Liam muttered helplessly, “Finally heard you speak. I almost thought you were mute.” Just then, Mom called from downstairs, “Dinner’s ready!” 4 I walked down the stairs stiffly, my feet feeling like I was walking on cotton. I was afraid if I stepped too hard, I’d wake up and realize this was all a dream. I was starting to get attached to this dream. The dining table was filled with over a dozen dishes. It was a grand affair. Mom and Liam kept piling food into my bowl until it was overflowing. “I peeled the shrimp for you, eat it while it’s hot.” “This abalone is really fresh, try a bite.” “This carp soup is the housekeeper’s specialty. Mom will get you a small bowl. Careful, it’s hot. Drink it when it cools down.” I took a cautious sip. Just then, Dad walked in holding my sister’s hand. Even though he was the CEO of a listed company, he was carrying her small backpack himself. My sister was cute, looking like a delicate doll. She had pigtails and a bunch of clips in her hair, looking like a princess living in a fairytale castle. Seeing me, she timidly called out, “Sister?” I bit my lip. Was my dream going to shatter this quickly? Mom had apologized to me before: “I’m sorry, Ava. We discussed it for a long time, but we couldn’t bring ourselves to send Chloe back. After all, we raised her for 15 years.” “If she went back, the drop in lifestyle would be too huge. She wouldn’t be able to handle it, and it would break our hearts.” “Even though there’s no blood relation, in our eyes, she’s been our daughter for a long time.” “I know you suffered and went through hell, but it wasn’t her fault. Chloe cried so many times, saying she didn’t mean for this to happen, that she’ll make it up to you and earn your forgiveness. Please let her stay, okay?” “I promise, even if I’m biased, I’ll be biased towards you.” Facing Mom’s pleading eyes, I couldn’t refuse. I had no right to refuse. After all, to this family of four, I was the real “outsider.” Whenever I dreamed of things I didn’t deserve, my foster mother would curse me out and slap me. “You stupid little wretch! Look in the mirror at your ugly face! Do you deserve anything? Pfft!” “Let me tell you, rotten melons don’t produce good seeds. You’re delusional! A toad wanting to eat swan meat! You just don’t have the destiny for it!” Back then, I was hung up and beaten for a whole day. And the reason? I saw other classmates eating lollipops and begged my foster mom to buy me one. That lollipop was on special at a new store. It cost ten cents. I lowered my head and stopped drinking the soup. I was waiting. Waiting for Chloe to throw herself into Mom and Dad’s arms and cry, asking why they brought me back. Waiting for Mom and Dad to make me apologize, scolding me for making their daughter unhappy. Waiting for my brother to heartache for Chloe and cut ties with me. “Get out! You’re not my sister! I hate you!” It was so strange. I had only been with them for a short time. Why did imagining these scenes feel like a knife twisting in my heart? Clearly, this was normal. I had always been the child who wasn’t favored. Why did it hurt so much? Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chloe walking towards me with a mournful face. Sigh. Isn’t that how it goes in TV dramas? I accepted my fate. I closed my eyes and offered my left cheek. My right cheek was still swollen from my foster mom’s beating. If she hit the left one, at least I’d be symmetrical. I waited for a long time. I expected a burning pain. Instead, a pair of soft, warm lips pressed against my left cheek. Not only did I not get hit, I got a kiss. I opened my eyes in surprise. Chloe threw herself into my arms. She was wailing, her small arms wrapped around my waist, melting like a little snowman. “I’m sorry, big sis! Can you please not hate me?” “I really don’t want to leave this home. Please don’t kick me out, okay? I didn’t mean to take your place.” “I won’t acknowledge my biological parents, never in this life. I only acknowledge you as my sister. Good sister, can you please like me in the future? I promise I’ll be good!” She… she wasn’t following the script? Was it my imagination? They seemed… actually welcoming? Even Dad, who had been stoic the whole time, had tears in the corners of his eyes. No, no, no. This must be their disguise. My foster mom said I was the worst child in the world and no one would like me. Yes, that must be it.

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The first thing the eighteen-year-old Kevin asked when he time-traveled to my present was, “Did I cheat on you, years from now?” From my lonely perch in this giant villa, I asked in surprise, “How did you know?” Eighteen-year-old Kevin gripped my hand. “Evelyn, just you wait. I’m going to beat the living crap out of my future self!” Leaning against the doorframe, twenty-nine-year-old Kevin asked with a cold smirk, “Beat the crap out of who?” “Trying to move in while the master’s away? Have some shame, Kevin.” 1. From our first date to our wedding day to this life together, it took Kevin and me nearly eleven years. But when I found a long strand of hair that wasn’t mine on his suit jacket and the smudge of cheap, dusty rose lipstick on his collar, I knew. Kevin was cheating. I accepted it with a strange sense of calm. It had been a long time coming. Humans aren’t built for eternal devotion. In the end, love is just a contract of responsibility. Besides, Kevin gave me so much. Every time he came back from one of his trysts, he’d bring me a designer gift as a peace offering. Every week, money would appear in my account like clockwork. Watching the numbers on my bank statement climb, I learned to live with it. After all, I was useless. Shoulders that couldn’t carry a thing, hands that couldn’t lift. The kind of delicate disaster who sees stars just from standing up too fast. Whenever he finally got tired of me and asked for a divorce, I’d just grab my closets full of designer clothes and my collection of black cards and disappear. But then, that night, the eighteen-year-old version of Kevin traveled here through a painting I’d made long ago. I was curled up on the couch, eating spicy takeout and binge-watching a show, when a voice called out from behind me. “Evelyn?” I turned to see a young, boyish face. I stared for a long moment before speaking. “Kevin, did you secretly get a facelift behind my back?” “…” He blinked, then grabbed my hand. “You idiot! I’m the eighteen-year-old Kevin.” He held my hand tight, waving his arms around wildly as he explained how he’d come through the painting. “I just touched it, and then this powerful, mysterious force just yoinked me into the future!” When you get to a certain age, your emotions tend to level out. I calmly watched this dramatic teenager. “Have you had dinner? You want to grab a bite before you go? I ordered enough for two.” Eighteen-year-old Kevin shook his head frantically. “I didn’t come here to eat!” “I came to ask you something important. Did I—the future me—fucking cheat on you?” That caught me off guard. “How did you know?” His eyes turned red. “Evelyn, you just wait. I swear I’m going to kill me!” Before either of us could react, a cold laugh echoed from the doorway. Twenty-nine-year-old Kevin was back, I don’t know when. He held a gift bag in one hand, his shoulder resting against the doorframe. His gaze landed like a physical weight on our joined hands. “Kill who?” “And who gave you permission to hold my wife’s hand?” “Trying to steal what’s mine while I’m away? Have a little self-respect, Kevin.” The younger Kevin was a lit fuse. He shot to his feet. “Who the hell is the shameless one here? You’re sneaking around behind this beautiful woman’s back, and you have the nerve to talk!” The older Kevin pulled me to his side. “You are, obviously. This is my wife, not yours. Now crawl back to whatever hole you came from.” The two Kevins started shouting over each other, and my head began to throb. The younger one, his eyes red-rimmed again, pointed a trembling finger. “Evelyn, you choose! Do you want the eighteen-year-old me, or this thirty-year-old fossil!” His expression screamed, If you don’t pick me, I’m going to throw a fit. 2. My twenty-nine-year-old husband let out a contemptuous laugh. “Kids are so melodramatic. What can you possibly give Evelyn? Go on, I’d love to hear it.” He pulled a glittering necklace from a box—the latest piece from my favorite designer—and gently fastened it around my neck. “I can give her anything she wants. And you?” “What can you do besides scream?” I thought the eighteen-year-old would back down. The adult world was far more complicated than he could imagine. But in the next second, his eyes welled up as he shot back, “At least I’m factory-new! Not like your second-hand equipment!” “…” It wasn’t just the older Kevin who went silent. I did, too. My husband’s face darkened. After a long pause, he forced the words out. “Evelyn, I am not ‘second-hand’.” The younger Kevin pulled me toward him. “Don’t believe him. Even if he’s not second-hand, he could be third-hand, fourth-hand, who knows? And you know Evelyn never shares.” The older Kevin was losing his famous composure, his anger rising to meet his younger self’s. “The only thing that matters is who can make her feel good! Are you as big as me? Do you have my technique? What can you do on your first time besides fumble around like an idiot?” The younger Kevin covered my ears. “La la la, I can’t hear you!” That was the last straw. The older Kevin looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. He grabbed my wrist. “Evelyn! The choice is yours. Choose. Me, the twenty-nine-year-old! Or him, the eighteen-year-old!” The younger one held onto my other hand for dear life, placing it on top of his head as he whispered pleadingly in my ear, “Evelyn, don’t go to him. Please, pick me?” The older one roared, “Have you no shame, Kevin!” “If it’s for Evelyn, I don’t need shame!” the younger one yelled back. One Kevin was already enough to drive me crazy. Now there were two. I yanked my hands free and slapped them both across the face. “Both of you, shut up! It’s too damn loud!” “I’m trying to eat. Go back to where you came from and do whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing!” The eighteen-year-old clutched his cheek, looking at me with wounded eyes. The twenty-nine-year-old just let out a quiet chuckle and worked his jaw. “By the way, Kevin…” They both answered at once. “Which one?” My gaze settled on the older one’s face. “I’ve made up my mind,” I said coolly. “I’ll go on the blind date you set up for me.” “After all, you said it yourself. A hundred thousand dollars for each meeting, and if I find someone I like, I get shares in your company. An offer that good would be stupid to refuse.” A sharp, wounded noise escaped the younger Kevin. “What?! Kevin, have you lost your goddamn mind? How could you do this to Evelyn after everything she’s been through with you?” The older Kevin sneered. “Was I really this immature at eighteen?” “Stop looking at the adult world through your childish lens and go back to college where you belong.” “And stay away from Evelyn. I only arrange the best for her.” The younger Kevin punched the older one square in the jaw. “Bullshit! I won’t let Evelyn leave my world. Not even for you!” And with that, he vanished back into the painting. I stared at the canvas, reaching out to touch it. Nothing happened. Apparently, only Kevin could open the passage. 3. The painting was my final project for a class. I named it Unforgettable. The subject was eighteen-year-old Kevin. Using soft, warm tones, I tried to capture the love that seemed to spill from the eyes of a boy as radiant as the sun. Suddenly, the older Kevin wrapped his arms around me from behind, his lips brushing my ear. “Feeling sorry for him? Having regrets?” I turned to face him and laughed. He took my hand and placed it on his bruised cheek. “You should be feeling sorry for me.” I’d already noticed the lipstick stain on his cuff. Today, it was a fiery terracotta. I looked at him, my smile laced with a double meaning. “Didn’t you already eat your fill before you came home?” “You haven’t touched me in ages. Did my eighteen-year-old self reawaken that long-dormant competitive spirit of yours?” Kevin froze for a second, then chuckled and let go of my hand. “Get some rest, Eve. Goodnight.” He turned and walked away. I couldn’t stop myself from calling out to his back. “Kevin, the person you’re cheating with is the eighteen-year-old me, isn’t it?” He paused but didn’t answer. I was right. I’d found cigarette ash beneath the Unforgettable painting. Eighteen-year-old Kevin didn’t smoke. It had to be the twenty-nine-year-old. Dusty rose and fiery terracotta. My two favorite lipstick shades my freshman year of college. The eighteen-year-old me was a vibrant, aspiring artist, full of life and sunshine. The almost-thirty-year-old me had lost all of that spirit, a money-obsessed recluse with no soul. The only person Kevin loved was the eighteen-year-old Evelyn. Luckily, the twenty-nine-year-old Evelyn wasn’t sad. Because the only thing she loved now was money. A hundred thousand dollars for a blind date. I agreed without a second thought. No one turns their back on money. While the twenty-nine-year-old Kevin was scheming about how to handle the two versions of me across time, the eighteen-year-old Kevin was doing everything in his power to make both versions of me happy. This was the fifth blind date my husband had arranged. I offered a polite smile to the balding programmer across from me. His first sentence was: “I’m almost thirty, twenty-eight actually, a little younger than you. My mom says I need to have a kid soon, preferably a boy. It would be best if we could have two in two years.” I stirred my coffee, quietly listening to him outline our post-nuptial life while mentally calculating how much my savings would grow after this was over. “Even though you’re about to be divorced, I don’t mind. My mom says a woman who’s been married before is more experienced and knows how to take care of a man. And she’ll be more skilled in bed. You know, one man plants the tree, another enjoys the shade.” “Oh, and my mom said if we get married, she’ll buy us a condo downtown…” SPLAT. A torrent of black coffee flew across the table, silencing his irritating monologue with its bitter aroma. “Your mom says this! Your mom says that! If your mom has so much to say, why don’t you just marry her?” “Two boys in two years? You want Evelyn to give you two sons? In your dreams!” “Even I wouldn’t dare to dream that big, and you’re already living it!” The programmer stared in shock at the familiar face of his assailant. “Dude, are you having a fight with yourself? Weren’t you the one who wanted to find a good man for your wife?” “None of your business! Take a look at yourself in a puddle! If you’re not weaned yet, don’t come out and ruin other people’s lives!” … A clean, fresh scent of mint washed over me. Eighteen-year-old Kevin grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the cafe amidst a string of curses. This was the fifth blind date he had ruined. The first guy got a fist to the face for staring at my chest a second too long. The second lost a tooth for calling me ugly. The third was so hideous he was kicked out the door before he could even step inside. The fourth was too poor. Kevin just tossed a credit card at him and told him to get lost. “Arrogant” was the only word for eighteen-year-old Kevin. Even now, with the twenty-nine-year-old version of himself watching us with a thunderous expression from his car, he wasn’t afraid. Young Kevin shot him the middle finger and put a helmet on my head. Over the roar of the motorcycle, the boy’s defiant hair whipped in the wind as he complained angrily, “I can’t believe he’d actually do something like this! The twenty-nine-year-old me is such a loser! Cheating on his wife! And then making her go on dates with other men!” “Thank god I came, or I can’t imagine how much you would have suffered!”

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Chapter 1 I’m a world-renowned cardiothoracic surgeon. To facilitate my emergency surgeries across the state, the government issued me a specialized vehicle with the license plate “1111.” It’s authorized for my use only. Whenever this car hits the road, the traffic control system clears the way, giving me green lights and a police escort from start to finish. Since receiving the car, I’ve kept it at my fiancé, Julian York’s, garage for maintenance. Until today. I received an urgent call: a high-ranking official with top-secret clearance needed an emergency heart transplant. I rushed to the York estate to pick up the car. Just as I was about to leave, a strange woman yanked open the back door and slid inside. “First, drop me off at the mall for my manicure,” she demanded, not even looking at me. “Then pick up the gelato Julian ordered for me. If it melts even a little, I’ll kill you!” “This is my car,” I said, assuming she had made a mistake, keeping my voice calm. “I have an emergency and need to get to the airport. Please get out immediately.” She scoffed. “Pfft! A designated driver trying to act like an owner? Open your dog eyes and look at the license plate!” “You’re in the wrong here,” the housekeeper chimed in, eyeing me with disdain. “Everyone in the city knows Mr. Julian loves taking Miss Sienna out in this car. No one dares to mess with it.” I froze. My fiancé dared to use this car to take her joyriding? This was… catastrophic. … Using this car without my permission was tantamount to misappropriating government property. That’s a minimum three-year sentence. Not to mention using it behind my back to chauffeur another woman. That just added insult to injury. If the York family had any sense, they’d make Julian apologize profusely. For the sake of our engagement, maybe I could pull some strings and get him a lenient sentence. However… I looked at the woman lounging in the backseat like royalty. This Miss Sienna, whoever she was, was beyond saving. She refused to budge, and I didn’t have the patience to argue. I looked away, started the engine, and prepared to head to the airport. Saving a life was the priority. I’d make Julian explain this mess to my face after the surgery. The engine roared to life. I gripped the steering wheel, ready to go. “Are you insane?!” She screamed, lunging from the back seat to grab the wheel. “You dare drive without my permission?!” The car swerved violently toward the wall! At the last second, I slammed on the brakes and yanked the wheel back. We careened off the path and crashed into a flowerbed, the engine stalling. “Are you crazy??” I shouted, my heart pounding. “Who told you to touch anything!” She rolled her eyes. “Do it again, and I’ll chop your hands off! Bitch!” Ignoring her, I jumped out to inspect the dented hood. Thankfully, the engine seemed fine. A miracle in the chaos. Just as I was about to get back in, the York family bodyguards swarmed me, shoving me aside. Under the woman’s triumphant gaze, they hopped into the driver’s seat. “Offend Miss Sienna and think you can run?” they sneered. “We’ll skin you alive today!” I never expected the York family’s staff to obey her like trained dogs. “Who is she?” I asked the housekeeper, who was watching the drama unfold with a smirk. “You don’t know Miss Sienna?” She looked at me like I was a joke. “She’s the intern assistant the Young Master dotes on most! She’s only been at the company a month, and he’s already bringing her home every night. He even ordered everyone to call her the Mistress of the house. We don’t dare cross her. Who do you think you are?” Mistress of the house? I thought I misheard. Before I even married in, the York family already had a mistress? “Don’t you know Julian has a fiancée?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Pfft!” The housekeeper mocked. “The Young Master said ages ago that once that stupid woman marries in, she can get lost. He only recognizes Miss Sienna as the true mistress!” Sienna relaxed, looking at me smugly, deliberately flashing the diamond ring on her finger. I laughed in disbelief. The York family was truly shameless. If I had known Julian was this dirty, I wouldn’t have touched him with a ten-foot pole. I checked the time. Thirty minutes until the plane took off. If I didn’t leave now, I wouldn’t make it. “I’ll remind you one last time,” I said seriously. “You cannot afford the consequences of delaying my work. If you get out of the car now, I might put in a good word for you later.” Sienna’s eyes widened. “A little driver whose yearly salary can’t even buy one of my shoes!” she mocked. “Even if I beat you to death, I can afford to pay for your cheap life!” I didn’t have time to argue. Since she wouldn’t give up the car, I decided to leave and hail a taxi. I’d coordinate everything else on the way, hoping to make it to the airport in thirty minutes. Just as I reached the gate, a brutal kick landed in my stomach. My phone flew out of my hand. Caught off guard, I was knocked to the ground. My insides felt like they were being crushed. A metallic taste rose in my throat, and I coughed up a mouthful of blood. Sienna sashayed over and planted her stiletto heel on my face. “Trying to leave without apologizing?” Chapter 2 Pain paralyzed my body. Sienna aimed her sharp heel directly at my eye. If she pressed down, my eyeball would burst instantly. Julian’s bodyguards stood around her, baseball bats in hand, looking at me with malicious intent. I was no match for this many people. “I… I’m sorry, Miss Sienna…” I gasped, swallowing my pride to save my life. A life was at stake; I had to compromise. “I really have a patient to save, please let me go…” A flicker of surprise crossed Sienna’s face. She smirked, suddenly bending down to grab my hair and slamming my head against the pavement. “Still lying when you’re about to die?!” She shrieked, “Think it’s fun impersonating a doctor? Even if you were a real doctor, let alone a driver, I could kill you as easily as stepping on an ant!” I struggled to protect my head with my hands. Sienna stomped viciously on my fingers. I screamed in agony, trembling as I repeated, “I’m sorry.” As a surgeon, my hands are my life. If they were damaged, I might never perform delicate surgery again! “Scared now?” Sienna sneered. “Too late!” She pointed at my car. “You wanted to drive, didn’t you? I thought of something even more fun.” With a glance from Sienna, the bodyguards swarmed me, tying me up and tethering me to the rear bumper of the car. Realizing what she intended to do, I shook uncontrollably. “I’ll die!” The fear of death made me hyperventilate. “You can’t—” Slap! A stinging slap across my face. Then, a stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills was thrown at me. “Twenty grand to buy your life,” they laughed. “Miss Sienna once drove this car without a license and killed someone. She only paid ten grand. You should be grateful!” Before I could process their words, the engine roared. Lying on the scorching pavement, I was suddenly jerked forward. Sienna, behind the wheel, deliberately accelerated and swerved, cackling with glee as I was flung into a thorny rose bush. My exposed skin was shredded by thorns, blood instantly welling up in long streaks. I was only wearing thin casual clothes. If this continued, I would surely die! Suddenly, the car stopped. Sienna hopped out of the driver’s seat. “Tsk, tsk. I thought you’d pee your pants,” she said dramatically. “I’ve used this trick on five people. You’re the most boring!” I couldn’t retort. The bodyguards had already taped my mouth shut. Satisfied with my silence, Sienna hopped back in and gunned the engine. She deliberately drove onto a gravel path. Tiny rocks tore through my skin, embedding themselves deep into my flesh. My elbows and ankles were ground down to the bone. The excruciating pain blurred my consciousness. I wished my heart would just stop, so the torture would end. Just as I was about to black out from shock, Sienna slammed on the brakes. Chapter 3 “Julian! You—” She squealed excitedly, rushing forward. I struggled to lift my eyelids, wanting to demand an explanation from my fiancé. But the man stepping out of Julian’s car wasn’t him. It was his secretary, Vincent. Sienna immediately pouted. “I was so upset today I didn’t even get my nails done, and he sends you to placate me? I don’t care, he has to come soothe me himself!” “The boss has to stay with the Old Master for his surgery,” Vincent explained. “So what! The doctor I hired is a foreign expert, nothing will go wrong!” Sienna stomped her foot. “He won’t even come to keep me company…” Vincent frowned. When his eyes met mine, his body stiffened. He rushed to my side, shock filling his eyes as he took in my bloodied, battered state. “The boss ordered me to take her to the hospital immediately.” He reached out to untie the ropes. Dying, I only felt the irony. Most likely, something went wrong with the Old Master’s heart surgery, and Julian wanted me back. That surgery was extremely risky. No one but me could pull it off. “Her?” Sienna stared at me in disbelief, eyes burning with jealousy. “No wonder you dared to enter the York house! You used being a designated driver as an excuse to provoke me!” She screamed, “Speak! You dared to seduce Julian behind my back! You slut!” She slapped Vincent’s hand away from the ropes. “Think you can climb the ladder?” She mocked, “I’ve seen plenty of women like you! Julian just plays around. Once he’s bored, he hands them over to me to deal with.” “Even if I torture you to death, he’ll only praise me for a job well done!” Consumed by jealousy, Sienna ran back to the driver’s seat like a madwoman. The engine roared to life. She floored the gas pedal! Vincent, who had been trying to save me, was left in the dust. In an instant, I felt the skin on my back being ripped off along with my clothes. My wrists were ground raw, bone visible. “AHHH!!!!!” Sienna suddenly screamed. Crash! The car stopped. Vincent had rammed his car into hers to force her to stop. “Enough!” His chest heaved. “Mr. York said to bring her!” “Doesn’t he love me anymore?” Sienna wailed. “He’d rather be seduced by this trashy mistress than comfort me…” While she threw a tantrum, I seized the chance. Summoning the last of my strength, I broke free from the frayed ropes. I lunged at Vincent and snatched his phone. My hands were ground to a pulp. I would never hold a scalpel again. The mission to save the official was impossible now. Bleeding out, I held on to my last breath. Enduring agonizing pain, I used fingers with exposed bone to type a text to the leadership in D.C.: “Student incompetent. Failed the country’s trust. Only death can atone.” Chapter 4 “What garbage are you sending? Delete it!” Sienna’s shrill voice pierced my ears. I had lost too much blood. Darkness swallowed me, and I collapsed. I didn’t know how much time passed before I hazily opened my eyes. I tried to breathe, but only coughed up blood. “Where is Hazel?” The blurry figure in front of me sharpened. I finally recognized him. Julian. He frowned, radiating hostility, looking like he came to settle a score. “Asking for her as soon as you get here? What’s so good about her?” Sienna whined, putting on a baby voice. “If you like her so much, go live with her! I promise I’ll leave quietly.” “Don’t be silly,” Julian’s voice softened, full of indulgence. Favored, Sienna smiled even wider. She took Julian’s hand and led him to me. Seeing me, the man’s eyes widened. His gaze locked onto my face, confirming it was indeed Hazel. His breathing grew rapid, chest heaving. But in the end, he said nothing. He couldn’t even bring himself to scold Sienna. “She bullied me on purpose today! She scared me to death!” Sienna showed zero remorse. “I just gave her a little lesson. You’re not mad, are you?” “You did all this?” Julian frowned, disbelief in his eyes. “Yeah.” Sienna nodded innocently, eyes clear as a child with a new toy. “When I removed the uteruses of those blind women who pestered you before, you didn’t say anything. She just has a few scratches, and now you’re distressed?” “You care about a little driver? I’m jealous!” Hearing Sienna casually admit to forced hysterectomies, even though I was prepared, shock still hit me. She and Julian had hurt so many innocent people during their time together. All because the York family enabled her. And the irony? The York family’s power came entirely from me. If that was the case, I didn’t want this marriage. Julian bent down, suddenly grabbing my mangled shoulder. I screamed involuntarily. “There’s a problem with Grandpa’s surgery!” He gritted his teeth. “Come back with me immediately!” If I had the strength, I would have laughed. But I didn’t even have the energy to smile. I could only twitch the corner of my mouth. “I… am a liar…” “I promised you… I wouldn’t touch the Old Master…” Old Master York’s heart transplant seemed simple, but the risks were infinite. Only I had the ability to handle it. But my hands had been destroyed by Sienna. Julian’s eyes were bloodshot, looking like he wanted to kill me right there. “I’m warning you, if you still want to marry me, you have to save Grandpa! You owe me this!” “Me?” I lifted my arms, displaying my hands before his eyes. The abraded wrist bones shone starkly in the sunlight. Not one of my ten fingers was intact. Even a slight movement sent drilling pain through my body. “What makes you think…” I gritted my teeth, “these hands… can perform a heart transplant?” Julian’s face went pale instantly. He finally noticed my hands were mutilated beyond recognition. Old Master York’s last hope had been destroyed by the girl he doted on! “Impossible—” He took a deep breath, eyes red. “You must have a way!” Suddenly, an urgent ringtone interrupted him. The voice on the other end was crystal clear: “The Old Master… he’s gone!”

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Chapter 1 On the day the SAT results were released, Caleb Thorne’s name broke the internet. A perfect 1600. Every news outlet was scrambling to interview the valedictorian, and Twitter was in a meltdown. Caleb himself posted a screenshot of his score on Instagram, accompanied by a picture of him kissing me on the cheek. The caption read: “My girl deserves the best. @ChloeVance” The class group chat was going insane. “Holy crap, a perfect score?! Is Caleb even human?” “Help, genius + prom king + loyal boyfriend… this man is too perfect!” “Chloe must have saved the galaxy in her past life! Your man is on fire!” “Power couple alert! Locking it down!” Amidst the flood of congratulations, a message popped up that felt painfully out of place: “I envy Chloe so much. I’ll never deserve a boyfriend this amazing.” It was Grace Miller. The transfer student on financial aid. Her message silenced the chat for a few awkward seconds. Just as I was about to reply, I saw a notification. Caleb had Venmo’d Grace $999.99 with the note: “You will.” I used to think Caleb was just too kind. Like when he’d lend his umbrella to a soaked Grace on rainy days, or sneak breakfast into her locker, or send her a thousand dollars because she said she was “envious.” Then came the call from Harvard admissions. They told him that if he committed, they could offer a “partner admission” spot. He gave it to Grace. Afterward, he coaxed me with explanations: “Chloe, Grace’s family is struggling. If she doesn’t get into a top school, they’ll force her to marry some random guy back home. She needs this more than you.” “Your grades are great too. You can apply to other schools in Boston. We’ll still be together.” He thought he had everything figured out. What he didn’t know was that moments before the application portal closed, Grace had logged into my account and changed my choices to a community college thousands of miles away. My Ivy League dreams were shattered. Community college wasn’t even on my radar. Since his love was no longer pure, I decided to let go. … “Chloe, the application for the university in London is done. You can start in the fall,” my mom’s voice came through the phone. “But are you sure about studying abroad? Caleb has been attached to your hip since you were babies. Long distance isn’t easy.” I gripped my phone, a memory of Caleb’s first birthday flashing in my mind. He was barely walking, surrounded by toys for the “grab ceremony,” but he ignored them all, stumbling toward me and hugging my leg tight. Our families laughed, joking that the boy had picked his wife early. And he really did stick to me. In kindergarten, he demanded to sit next to me. In elementary school, he waited for me every day. In middle school, he studied to stay in the top class with me. In high school, he declared his territory for everyone to see. Our parents, seeing how close we were, basically arranged our engagement. Everyone knew we were a package deal. Until Grace appeared. The poor transfer student who ate plain bread for lunch and wore a faded uniform. When classmates mocked her, Caleb was the first to defend her. I never joined in the bullying; I even stood up for her sometimes. But gradually, Grace started clinging to Caleb. Walking behind him after school, bringing him breakfast, handing him water at basketball games. Then came the accident. A ceiling fan fell in the classroom, and she pushed Caleb out of the way, breaking two ribs. She was hospitalized for a month. From that moment, Caleb’s attitude toward her changed completely. His concern grew, his gaze softened, and now, he had even given her the Harvard partner spot. I couldn’t tell if it was gratitude or love. But having experienced his 100% devotion, I didn’t want this diluted version. “It won’t be long distance,” I said softly into the phone. “Mom, our paths are different now. Let’s call off the engagement.” “Are you serious?” Mom asked, surprised. “Yeah. I’ve thought it through.” Silence on the other end, then a sigh. “Alright. You’re young; you’ll meet plenty of people. Once you leave, we’ll go to the Thorne family and break it off.” “Break what off?” A clear male voice came from behind me. I turned to see Caleb standing in the entryway, the front door open behind him. He was wearing a black windbreaker, tall and lean, effortlessly handsome. Sunlight framed his silhouette. The sight of this spirited boy used to make my heart race. Now, looking at his face, I felt nothing but calm. “Nothing,” I said, hanging up the phone casually. Caleb didn’t press. He walked over, smiling, and handed me an exquisite garment bag. “Chloe, get changed. We’re going to the Teacher Appreciation Banquet.” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “I picked the best dress for you.” I took the bag. The banquet was already scheduled, and since I was leaving the country, I wouldn’t see these teachers and classmates much anymore. Consider it a final farewell. I went upstairs, changed, and came back down, only to find Grace already sitting in Caleb’s car. “Ch-Chloe…” Grace greeted timidly, twisting the hem of her skirt. What stung most was that her dress was from the same designer collection as mine, just a different color. Caleb walked over to explain. “When I was buying your dress, I realized Grace probably didn’t have anything to wear, so I grabbed one for her too.” He paused, reaching out to ruffle my hair, his tone cajoling. “Chloe, don’t overthink it.” I tilted my head, dodging his hand, and gave a self-deprecating smile. Once upon a time, girls tried every trick to get Caleb’s attention, but he only had eyes for me. He never even looked at other girls, let alone worried about whether they had a dress to wear. At the hotel, Grace played her usual role: insecure and fragile. Caleb revolved around her, serving her food, pouring her drinks, even laughing indulgently when her eyes lit up at a tasty dish. That smile pricked my heart. “Chloe! Let’s have a toast!” A few classmates surrounded me. I wasn’t a big drinker, but I didn’t want to be a killjoy. Just as I raised the glass, a large hand snatched it away. “She can’t drink. I’ll take it for her.” Caleb downed it in one gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing, drawing cheers from the crowd. “Whoa, Caleb! Everyone wants to toast the Prom Queen. Are you gonna drink every single one?” the class president teased. “You’ll pass out!” Caleb smiled, eyes crinkling, shielding me behind him. “So what if I pass out? As long as my wife doesn’t touch a drop.” More hooting and hollering. The room was thick with the restless energy of youth. After the teachers left, things got wilder. Someone suggested Truth or Dare. Caleb lost the first few rounds. First punishment: Show his pinned contact. “Chloe” was right there at the top, followed by a red heart emoji. Second punishment: Show his photo gallery. It was full of me. My side profile sleeping on a desk, my hair flying while running on the track, my satisfied smile holding a bubble tea. Third punishment: Show his notes app. It was packed with details about me. Hates cilantro stems, loves strawberry flavor, cramps on day 1 of period, allergic to mangoes… There was even a note titled “How to handle Chloe when she’s mad: Hug first, talk later.” “That is so sweet!” The girls squealed, stomping their feet in envy. “But you guys aren’t going to the same college. Chloe is so pretty; what if someone steals her?” Caleb grinned confidently. “Who would dare? Besides, I already helped Chloe apply to a school near Harvard. She’ll be right under my nose. Right, wifey?” I forced a bitter smile. That was the plan. But now, thanks to Grace, my application was for a community college in the middle of nowhere. I glanced at Grace in the corner. Her face was pale, fingers knotted together in panic. I almost laughed. If she was so scared of getting caught, why did she do it? Just as I was about to speak, a distracted Grace lost the next round. Her punishment: Kiss the boy to her left. Unfortunately, the guy on her left was the class clown, known for… not being a looker. Grace’s eyes reddened instantly. She whispered, asking for a different punishment, but the crowd shouted her down. “Nope! Rules are rules!” Grace closed her eyes, trembling as she leaned in. Just as she was about to make contact, Caleb suddenly stood up, yanked the guy away, and kissed Grace himself. “Breathe,” he whispered. Chapter 2 The room went dead silent. I felt like an invisible hand was squeezing my heart, choking the life out of me. The kiss ended. Grace’s face was beet red. Caleb finally explained, “I just remembered, that was my seat earlier. I was on Grace’s left. Punishment complete.” The atmosphere was heavy with awkward silence. Everyone looked at me, their eyes filled with pity and secondhand embarrassment. I didn’t want to be a spectacle. The party was winding down anyway, so I stood up to leave. Walking out of the hotel, the night breeze hit my face, and I realized my cheeks were ice cold. “Chloe!” Caleb chased after me, grabbing my wrist. “I’m sorry. Are you mad?” His cautious expression made me want to laugh. “Why would I be mad?” “Just now…” he rushed to explain, sounding unusually panicked. “Grace didn’t want to kiss that guy. I was just helping her out. It was just a kiss, it doesn’t mean anything. Please don’t be mad.” “I’m not mad.” I pulled my hand back, smiling calmly. “From now on, you can kiss her however you want, for as long as you want. It has nothing to do with me.” Caleb froze, his face draining of color. “What… what does that mean?” I looked at him calmly. What else could it mean? It just meant I didn’t like him anymore. Whatever he did was no longer my concern. Just as I was about to say “let’s break up,” Grace ran out, eyes red and teary. “Chloe, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault…” She bowed repeatedly, looking frail and pathetic in the wind, acting like I was some kind of monster. “Don’t be mad at Caleb. If you want to blame someone, blame me!” Caleb immediately supported her. “What are you doing? I already explained it to Chloe. She’s not mad.” I smiled, nodding along. “Right. I’m not mad.” Grace let out a breath, looking timid. “Th… then I’ll head out first.” Caleb grabbed her wrist. “Wait. It’s late. It’s not safe for you to go alone. I’ll drive you.” Grace’s eyes lit up, then she looked at me with feigned hesitation. “But… what about Chloe? We’re going in different directions.” “Don’t worry about her,” Caleb said naturally. “Her family driver will pick her up.” With that, he pulled Grace into his car. Before driving off, he rolled down the window. “Chloe, stay safe. Call me when you get home.” I stood there, watching his taillights disappear into the night. He forgot. My driver had a family emergency and took leave days ago. I told Caleb that. He used to remember every tiny detail about me. Now, he couldn’t even remember this. Rain started to fall. I stood at the hotel entrance, unable to get a cab. Eventually, I had to walk home in the rain. The night was dark, the road slippery. An electric scooter knocked me down halfway. My knee slammed into the pavement, blood mixing with rain. The rider fled without looking back. I limped the rest of the way. Three hours later, I finally got home. I cleaned and bandaged the wound myself. My phone lit up with a text from Caleb: [Home yet?] I didn’t reply. I turned off my phone, showered, and fell into a deep sleep. The next day, the doorbell wouldn’t stop ringing. I dragged my exhausted body to open it. Caleb stood there, looking anxious. “You’re home? Why didn’t you text back last night?” I turned and walked inside. “Got hurt. Slept early. Didn’t see it.” Caleb finally noticed the bandage on my leg. His brow furrowed. “How did that happen?” “Driver was on leave. Got hit by a scooter walking home.” Caleb froze. He remembered the driver now. Guilt washed over him. “Chloe, why didn’t you call me?” I looked up at him. “If I called, would you have come back for me?” “Of course.” “What if Grace had an issue at the same time? Would I still be your first choice?” Caleb hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Of course.” I smirked slightly and said nothing. Before, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Back then, I was his entire world. He noticed if I even frowned. Now, that single second of hesitation said everything. Caleb couldn’t tell if I was angry. Usually, I’d give him the silent treatment for days or demand to be coaxed. But now that I was still talking to him, he felt even more panicked. “Chloe, let’s go to the aquarium,” Caleb blurted out, his tone ingratiating, desperate to make amends. I shook my head. “Don’t want to.” “I already bought tickets.” He grabbed my hand, rubbing my wrist with his thumb like he used to when soothing me. “Come on. You’ve always wanted to see the orca show.” He half-coaxed, half-dragged me into the car. But when the door opened, I saw Grace in the back seat. “Chloe…” Grace greeted me timidly, twisting her skirt, looking like she was terrified of upsetting me. Caleb instinctively stepped in front of her, explaining, “I saw on her story that she wanted to go too, so I invited her.” I watched him shielding Grace and suddenly felt it was all a ridiculous joke. I said nothing and sat in the passenger seat. Chapter 3 All day, Caleb used the excuse that “Grace has never done this” to take her on every ride. He rode the carousel with her, buckled her in, and held her hand when she was scared. Tourists looked on with envy. “That couple is so sweet.” I followed behind them like a ghost, silent. The boy who once had eyes only for me was gone. Finally, we went to the orca show. The host selected random audience members for interaction. Originally, the camera landed on Caleb and me. But Grace looked at him with puppy eyes, so Caleb whispered to me, “Chloe, it’s Grace’s first time. Let her try, okay?” I didn’t speak, which he took as a yes. Caleb and Grace went up. One of the interactions was to kiss at the highest point of the orca’s jump for a photo. The host announced it, and Grace blushed. The crowd cheered. Caleb glanced at me, then didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the back of Grace’s head and kissed her. “Wow!” The crowd erupted. Sitting in the stands, I felt like an invisible hand was crushing my heart. If the first kiss was to save her from embarrassment, what was this one? After the show, Caleb tried to explain, but I cut him off. “I know. You didn’t want to waste everyone’s time.” Caleb froze, a wave of panic hitting him. At dusk, we went to the central stairs to watch the fireworks. Caleb wanted to use the fireworks—my favorite—to make it up to me. But an accident happened. A nearby firework launcher exploded, spraying sparks everywhere! Chaos erupted. In the shoving, I stumbled and was about to fall down the stairs! Caleb instinctively reached for me, but behind him, Grace screamed in terror. “Caleb! Help me!” He looked back once, then turned and ran to Grace without hesitation! I watched his retreating back as my heart tore in two. I tumbled down the stairs, trampled by the panicking crowd. A kind stranger helped me up. When Caleb returned, shielding Grace, I was covered in bruises and scrapes. “Chloe!” Caleb looked distressed, reaching to hug me. I dodged his hand. My voice was terrifyingly calm. “I’m fine. Take Grace home.” How could he be at ease? He told Grace to take a cab and insisted on taking me to the hospital. The doctor said I might have a concussion and needed observation. Caleb stayed by my side, refusing to leave. But as soon as I was admitted, Grace called. “Caleb… the power went out at my place… I’m scared…” Caleb frowned, looking at me hesitantly. I spoke calmly. “Go.” “Chloe, I…” “I’m fine. The nurse is here.” Caleb stood up. “I’ll be back soon.” He rushed out. Watching his back, I suddenly called out, “Caleb.” He turned. “Yeah?” I looked at him, remembering a long time ago. He was at a competition out of town. He heard my raspy voice on the phone, realized I had a fever, and forfeited the competition to fly back that night just to watch over me. Now, he was leaving me, injured, for another girl. For a second, I wanted to ask, “Do you still love me?” But the words felt meaningless. “Nothing. Go.” Whether he loved me or not, I didn’t care anymore. I was letting him go completely. Chapter 4 I stayed in the hospital for three days. During those three days, I saw seventeen posts from Grace. [Caleb took me for hot pot! (Photo: Caleb’s hand putting beef in her bowl)] [First time bungee jumping, so nervous~ (Photo: Caleb watching her tenderly, looking just like he used to look at me)] [Caleb says he’ll take good care of me since I have a cold (Photo: Caleb sitting by a bed, stirring porridge)] I scrolled past calmly. Maybe after hurting so many times, the heart just goes numb. The day I was discharged, I went to my usual high-end spa for a treatment. As I pushed the glass door open, a familiar voice called out, “Chloe?” Caleb stood at the front desk with a fidgety Grace. He looked flustered. “You’re out? Does it still hurt?” “I’m fine,” I said flatly, looking at Grace. Caleb sighed in relief and explained, “Grace has never been to a spa, so I brought her to try it out.” He paused. “Since you’re here, and I don’t know anything about this stuff, can you show her the ropes?” I didn’t want to make a scene in public, so I nodded. We went into a treatment room. The esthetician brought out my custom skincare set and started my facial. Grace watched enviously. “This stuff must be expensive. It’s nice being a rich girl. Unlike me, I’ve only ever used water to wash my face…” Caleb frowned. “Don’t be envious. I’ll buy it for you.” Grace waved her hands. “No, no, I don’t deserve such nice things…” “Nonsense,” Caleb said firmly. “You deserve the best.” I closed my eyes. “Give them another room,” I told the esthetician. “I want some quiet.” Caleb blinked. “I’ll pay for these products…” “No need. I’ll tell them to get her a set just like mine,” I said wearily. Finally, they left. After the treatment, I changed and went straight home without waiting for them. As soon as I got home, the door slammed open. “Chloe!” Caleb stormed in, face cold, grabbing my wrist. “What was in those products? Why is Grace’s face having an allergic reaction?!” His grip hurt. I was confused. “What?” “I told you I’m only taking care of her because she saved me!” Caleb suppressed his rage. “The person I love is you. If you have a problem, come at me. Why hurt her?” I looked at him in disbelief. “I didn’t hurt her. We used the same products. Why am I fine?” “That spa is owned by your family!” Caleb sneered. “It would take one word from you to tamper with her stuff.” My heart trembled violently. Is that the kind of person he thinks I am? I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Caleb took my silence for guilt and dragged me out. “What are you doing?!” I struggled. He didn’t speak, speeding until we reached Grace’s hospital room. Grace lay there, face covered in ointment, looking pitiful. “Apologize,” Caleb ordered. I looked at my red wrist, eyes stinging. Before, he’d be heartbroken if I lost a single hair. Now he treated me like this? “I did nothing wrong. I won’t apologize.” Grace quickly tried to smooth things over. “If Chloe doesn’t want to apologize, it’s fine… I’ll just be here for a few days…” Caleb got angrier. “Look at Grace, then look at yourself! How can you bully her over and over?” His gaze landed on my necklace. “Since you won’t apologize, give her that necklace as compensation.” I froze, touching the pendant. “…Do you remember what this is?” It was a token he gave me, promising to be “locked” to me forever. Now he wanted me to take it off and give it to her? Caleb had forgotten. “It’s just a necklace. I’ll buy you a better one.” “Grace is being generous not asking for an apology. You won’t even give up a gift?” I took a deep breath, ripped the necklace off, and threw it at Grace. “Take it.” Caleb, I’m giving you away too. I turned and left, never looking back.

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Thomas rejected the honors program spot for me. He gave it to Rena Quinn, the scholarship kid he supposedly couldn’t stand. When I told him we were over, he just took off his gold-rimmed glasses, polishing them with a deliberate slowness, completely unfazed. “Don’t forget, I voted for you in the campus ambassador poll, not her. That took some real pressure.” He spoke as if placating a child. “Rena’s family is dirt poor. That program is her only shot. Think about how many times I’ve gone after her for your sake over the years. Just consider this a way of making it even.” “Jealous again?” he sighed, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Once you marry into my family, you can have anything you want. Why lower yourself to her level?” I stared at his infuriatingly calm expression. “I said we’re breaking up. Did you not hear me?” For the first time, a frown creased his brow, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a confident smirk. “Fine. I’ll give you a week to cool off. I’ll win you back next week. Happy now?” He was so certain I couldn’t live without him. But he had no idea. I’d already received a full scholarship offer from Oxford University. My flight to England was in five days. 1 “You’re breaking up with Thomas Chase?” My best friend Chloe’s shriek blasted through the phone. “Ava, are you insane? You don’t just dump the ultimate catch like it’s nothing!” I held the phone away from my ear and leaned back against my headboard, scrolling through the campus message board. The pinned post at the top was in a blaring red font: [Thomas Chase Defends His Girl, Humiliates Rival Rena Quinn with Program Spot!] The comments were a spectacle. “LMAO, isn’t Rena the one who’s always acting so high and mighty, saying she despises the rich? Funny how she took the spot so fast.” “You don’t get it. This is a power move. Thomas is basically saying: ‘Take the money, shut your mouth, and stop bothering my Ava.’” “Exactly! Our Ava is a queen. That broke girl Rena is always pulling shady stuff behind her back. It’s about time someone put her in her place.” “Thomas is way too good to Ava. He spoils her rotten.” I read the comments, a wave of nausea churning in my stomach. They all thought Thomas was defending me. Only I knew the truth. That spot—the one I had pulled countless all-nighters for, the one I had poured my soul into earning—had been tossed away to someone else with a careless, “let’s call it even.” “Ava, are you even listening? Say something!” Chloe was practically hyperventilating. I opened Rena’s social media profile. Her latest post was from half an hour ago. No picture, just a single line of text: “A handout, I know. But I earned this.” I screenshotted it and sent it to Chloe. “See? That’s his explanation to me.” Silence on the other end. After a long pause, Chloe’s voice came back, strained. “…So he really gave the spot to Rena? But why? I thought he hated her.” “Every time she tried to sabotage you at school, wasn’t he the first one to jump in and shut her down?” Yes, why? I once believed he was on my side. I used to think the animosity was because he loved me, and so he loathed anyone who tried to hurt me. But it turned out that every public confrontation was just a prelude to a private, generous compensation. And I was the fool, the only one who had been kept in the dark, the only one whose feelings were real. “Chloe,” I said softly. “Yeah?” “Thomas and I are really over.” “There’s no misunderstanding.” I heard Chloe’s sharp intake of breath. I knew what she wanted to say—that Thomas’s family was powerful, that he doted on me, that he was the perfect boyfriend everyone envied, and that I shouldn’t be so rash. But they only saw what he wanted them to see. 2 The next morning, a giant Hermès box was delivered to my dorm room. My roommates let out a collective gasp. “Oh my god, it’s the latest collection! Ava, Thomas is spoiling you rotten!” “Seriously, I’m so full from all this public display of affection!” Tucked inside was a card with Thomas’s elegant, flowing script. “Cooling-off period. 144 hours left.” My roommates buzzed around me, their eyes filled with envy. In their world, I was a princess cherished by the heir to a fortune, the undisputed winner in this game of love. The irony was suffocating. He thought money could fix anything, could erase any hurt, including my trampled dignity and broken heart. I calmly took out my phone, snapped a picture of the bag that was still warm from its packaging, and opened a luxury resale app. Title: [Guilt Gift from the Ex. Brand new, box opened once. Make an offer.] Once it was posted, I sent the link to Chloe, asking her to keep an eye out for a serious buyer. Her call came instantly. “Ava, are you nuts? You’ll lose so much money selling it secondhand right after you got it!” “It’s not like I’m ever going to use it,” I said, indifferent. I cradled the phone on my shoulder as I dragged a pre-packed suitcase from the back of my closet. “Chloe, I’m flying to England in five days. I got the full ride to Oxford.” “What?” The line went dead silent. I could picture her jaw hitting the floor. “When did you even—” “I applied a while ago. As a backup plan.” I managed a small smile. It was probably the single best decision I had ever made for myself. As soon as I hung up, a message from Thomas popped up. “Did you get the gift? Why aren’t you answering? Don’t you like the color? I can have it exchanged if you want.” I didn’t bother replying, just muted his chat. I continued packing, methodically organizing my life into boxes and arranging for an international courier to pick them up. Just as I sealed the last box, my mom called. The moment I answered, her placating voice filled the line. “Ava, dear, did you have a fight with Thomas? He called me, you know, he’s very upset.” “Mom, we broke up.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” her voice shot up an octave. “Ava, how can you be so immature? Our family latching onto the Chases is the chance of a lifetime. It’s a blessing!” “Don’t be so willful. A boy with Thomas’s background willing to bend over backward to please you is already a huge compliment. Don’t get arrogant and throw this all away!” I took a deep breath, cutting her off. “Mom, what if I don’t want this ‘blessing’?” A long silence stretched over the line. Then, my dad snatched the phone. “You wouldn’t dare! Ava, we’ve worked our fingers to the bone to raise you, not for you to act like a spoiled brat! If you ruin this engagement, don’t bother coming home.” Click. He hung up. I stood there in the middle of my messy dorm room, clutching my phone, and suddenly felt an incredible sense of release. Fine. Let it all be severed. Clean breaks were the best. That evening, a confirmation email from Oxford University landed in my inbox. I stared at the words for a long time before carefully typing out my acceptance. The moment I hit send, a heavy weight lifted from my shoulders. Finally, I was escaping. 3 “My family’s having a dinner party tonight. My mom specifically asked for you to be there,” Thomas announced over the phone. “Your parents will be there too. It’s time we moved forward with our engagement. It took a lot of convincing on my part, so please don’t show up looking like you’re at a funeral.” I rolled my eyes. As if I cared about his stupid engagement. But then I remembered some important research papers I’d left at home. This was a good chance to have my parents bring them and to get everything over with in one go. “Fine,” I agreed. The Chase family villa was a blaze of light. Thomas’s parents sat at the head of the table, their attitude toward me a mix of detached politeness and cool disdain. Every other sentence was a subtle jab about my ‘humble’ background, a reminder that I wasn’t their equal. My own parents seemed completely oblivious to the condescension, just nodding and scraping, smiling inanely at the Chases. They even started putting me down to curry favor. “Our Ava, we’ve spoiled her, I’m afraid. She has a bit of a temper. I hope you’ll both be patient with her in the future.” “She’s so lucky to be marrying Thomas.” I sat there stiffly, the feeling of being scrutinized making my skin crawl. During the meal, Thomas’s mother brought up Rena, her tone casual. “Thomas, I heard you’ve been picking on a girl at your university, a Rena Quinn?” Her perfectly preserved face held a hint of disapproval, but her gaze drifted over to me, as if blaming me for her son lowering himself. “Mom, don’t listen to rumors,” Thomas said, setting down his wine glass. “I actually admire Rena. Her family’s got nothing, and she’s stubborn as a mule. I was just teasing her a bit. I made it up to her afterward.” I tuned them out, mechanically stuffing my face with lobster and abalone. Halfway through dinner, the butler escorted someone into the dining room. It was Rena. She stood awkwardly in the opulent room, wearing a faded dress that stuck out like a sore thumb. All the defiant pride she carried at school was gone, replaced by a timid, hunted look. Her wide, watery eyes darted toward Thomas, pleading for help. Thomas frowned, rubbing his temples. “Take her upstairs and find her something to wear,” he told the butler. When Rena returned, she was transformed. The dress was a limited-edition piece from one of the Chase family’s brands, and on her, it had a certain fragile, captivating charm. At the table, Thomas’s mother was warmer to Rena than she had been to me, her son’s actual girlfriend, all evening. “You must be Rena,” she said, taking her hand. “Thomas told me all about you. You’re a hard worker, your grades are excellent, and now you’ve secured a spot in that honors program. You’re a wonderful girl.” She announced that the Chase family would be funding Rena’s entire education. “If you ever need anything, you come to me. We Chases have the utmost respect for resilient young people like you, who pull themselves up by their bootstraps.” Rena was overwhelmed, her eyes welling with tears as she stammered her thanks. I knew exactly what this was. Thomas’s mother was using Rena to slap me in the face. She was showing me that even a penniless girl had more grit and value than I, the daughter of a comfortable middle-class family, did. I was the real parasite, the one trying to worm her way into their dynasty. I couldn’t stand to look at my parents’ fawning, sycophantic faces anymore. The nausea I’d been suppressing all evening threatened to boil over. I put down my fork, stood up, and took the file folder with my research papers from my mother’s hand. “I’m sorry, I’m not feeling well. I have to go.” Thomas shot up from his seat to stop me. “Ava!” 4 I turned and gave him one last, cold look. His arm froze in mid-air. Slowly, he let it fall. Without another glance back, I walked out of that suffocating cage. The late-night air was frigid, the wind stinging my cheeks as I walked alone down the empty street. But my mind was a reel of memories, playing back my time with Thomas against my will. I first met him at the art studio where I worked part-time. A difficult customer was tearing apart one of my paintings when Thomas appeared out of nowhere, a knight in shining armor who defused the situation with a few sharp words. He wore a crisp white shirt and stood bathed in light, looking like a prince. When he pursued me, he said he was tired of the shallow, artificial socialites in his circle. He said he loved how real and genuine I was. He called me the most unique girl he’d ever met. And I believed him. My family was middle-class, my parents ordinary professionals. Our worlds were galaxies apart. But I truly believed our love was real, a connection of souls that transcended class. Then Rena appeared. She was fiercely independent, scornful of wealth and power, and branded anyone close to Thomas as a corporate lackey—especially me, his girlfriend. The first time we went on a date after we got together, we were at a small café near campus. I was sketching him when Rena, wearing a waitress uniform, came over with our coffee. She shot me a contemptuous look and muttered, “Climbing the social ladder and forgetting where you came from. Disgusting.” Thomas wasn’t having it. He slammed his hand on the table and shot to his feet. “What did you just say?”

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