Category: English

1 To save my people, I sought help from my childhood friend Caspian, now a famous scientist. He was still obsessed with me—kept me in his bed for seven days. Then he poured acid over me, coldly saying, “So mermaids feel pain. But it’s nothing compared to what your kind did to my parents.” For two years, he married another woman but kept me chained. He cut out my Coral Core to heal his wife, made me clean their bed, and listen to their nights. When she got pregnant, he fed her my flesh. He hated me, yet nursed me back each time I neared death, whispering, “You’re defiant because you know I love you. Tell me where my parents are.” I stayed silent. But soon, I won’t need to—a mermaid who stays on land for three years dies. I had three days left. … At three in the morning, the wooden door to the storeroom was kicked open. Hands grabbed me, hauling me to my feet before a series of sharp, ringing slaps struck my face. The assault only stopped when my lip split and I could taste blood. Caspian’s personal assistant, Marcus, dragged me out by my legs, cursing under his breath. “The madam is hurt, and you have the nerve to sleep so soundly!” The salty sea air was thick with the scent of blood. A crimson trail snaked all the way to Caspian’s bedroom. He saw the bloody path I left on the floor and his brow furrowed in disgust. “Rosalind is hurt,” he commanded, his voice flat. “Heal her.” I lifted my eyes, first to Rosalind, her cheeks flushed and dewy, then to her swollen belly— CRACK! The back of his hand cracked across my face. He loomed over me. “I told you to heal her. Do you think a creature like you even deserves to look at her?” I immediately lowered my head. “I’m sorry.” Slowly, I crawled toward the bed. I learned then that Rosalind had woken in the night to feed the piranhas and one had nipped her finger. After all these years, I was used to her various “ailments.” I numbly opened my shirt, dug my own sharp nails into the flesh over my heart, and, through gritted teeth and a cold sweat, pulled out the glowing Coral Core to heal her. The room was silent, until Caspian’s voice cut through the air, cold as ice. “Playing the victim won’t work on me, Lira.” In his eyes, this was just an act. After all, a mermaid’s blood could also heal. But my blood no longer held that power. Rosalind stirred, letting out a soft cough, and Caspian was at her side in an instant, gathering her into his arms. “Does it still hurt?” She bit her lip, her gaze flicking to the open wound on my chest. “Darling, I don’t know why, but since I’ve been pregnant, the smell of blood just makes me so sick.” At her words, Caspian’s leg shot out, kicking me hard. “Get out. And stand guard.” I crawled out of the room, my body aching, as I heard his voice soften behind me. “Rosalind, my love, you haven’t been sleeping well. Is the baby keeping you up? Let me listen.” My heart, which I thought had turned to stone, clenched painfully. The wound on my chest, not yet healed, began to bleed anew. A maid appeared, dumping a bucket of foul, fishy water over me. Her face was a mask of disgust. “Filthy monster. Aren’t you supposed to heal? Why are you still bleeding all over the floor? It’s disgusting!” She threw a mop at me, the handle striking my forehead. I flinched, curling into myself. “Clean this up. Now. Or I’m telling Mr. Caspian.” For the rest of the night, I was on my hands and knees, scrubbing the floor. I listened to the sounds of their intimacy from within the room, and a single, hot tear fell from my eye. The memory of Caspian’s loathing was a phantom that haunted me, growing larger with every passing moment. Soon, I thought. Soon I’ll be free. The immortal mermaid could die. Three days left. By the time the last drop of blood was gone from the floor, my wound had finally sealed itself. A new day was dawning at the seaside estate. Caspian emerged from the bedroom, his neck dotted with fresh, red marks. He frowned at the blood-soaked mop. “Why was there so much blood?” I didn’t try to explain. I just bowed my head. “I’m sorry. I’ll dispose of this filth immediately.” Nearby, a maid was trimming flowers, her voice deliberately loud. “You won’t believe it, but that thing actually asked me how to make someone happy. Oh my god, is she trying to seduce Mr. Caspian?” “Heh, of course she is. Does a worthless creature like her actually dream of becoming the lady of the house? If it weren’t for her kind, Mr. Caspian’s parents would never have disappeared.” I tried to hurry away, but Caspian was faster. He kicked the cleaning supplies aside and dragged me to his laboratory. I was strapped into the electric chair, capable of delivering a hundred-thousand volts. The world swam before my eyes, and I fought back nausea. Caspian held the remote, his legs crossed, his expression dark. “I almost forgot. It’s been a month since our last session.” “Tell me,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “Where did they take my parents?” He hadn’t even pressed the button, but my hands were already clawing at the armrests, a frantic, reflexive terror taking over. My fingers were bloody before the first jolt hit. “I don’t know.” The words had barely left my lips before the current tore through my body. I screamed, my body convulsing violently as a hot liquid streamed down my legs. The first shock ended, but I couldn’t stop twitching. Caspian stood up, pacing, his jaw tight. He asked again. I spat out a mouthful of blood. Every organ in my body screamed in protest. “I won’t tell you.” I couldn’t. Their safety depended on it. This time, he didn’t press the button. Instead, he had Marcus bring out a small, velvet pouch. From it, he poured several shimmering pearls—Coral Cores I had hidden in a loose floorboard. My eyes widened in horror. My whole body trembled. “What are you doing?” “Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m doing.” A cruel smirk played on his lips. He tossed one of the Cores onto the floor and brought his heel down on it with a sickening crunch. He laughed at my blood-choked scream. “Was this your mother’s Coral Core? Or your father’s? I hear the only way to truly kill one of your kind is to crush the Core. Otherwise, you just keep coming back.” He ground the fragments under his shoe. “Such a resilient species… still not talking?” My nails had broken, exposing the white of the bone underneath. Tears of blood streamed from my eyes. “Caspian,” I whispered, my voice raw with hatred. “I hate you.” His response was a kiss that felt like he wanted to bite my tongue off. The kiss sent me spiraling. My body was so weak these days, I could almost forget how deeply we had once loved each other. Merfolk have always been drawn to humans, often taking human form to live and love among them. I was three when I first met Caspian. The first time he saw me, he looked up at his mother and asked, “Mommy, is this the bride you found for me?” His mother had laughed and tapped him gently on the head. Our families became close, spending all our time together. Then, when I was fifteen, a wave of persecution drove my people from the shores. We had to leave. But I would still sneak back onto land sometimes, just to see him. Once, when someone asked who I was, I was about to say I was his sister. But he cut in, his expression deadly serious. “She’s my girlfriend,” he declared. “And my future wife. Lira.” In that moment, my heart truly belonged to him. Years later, a deal was struck between a faction of merfolk and a group of elite human scientists. The liaisons for this exchange were my parents… and Caspian’s. And then, his parents vanished. I was the prime suspect. I knew he hated me for it. But I couldn’t tell him the truth. Years passed. Caspian became a top scientist in his own right. And I, for the sake of my people, had to get close to him again. So many times, I wanted to tell him everything. But I couldn’t. It didn’t matter anymore. Soon, the suffering would be over. Caspian’s fingers were setting fires on my skin. He suddenly stopped, staring at the blood on his hands. Only then did I realize that all the old wounds—from the cuttings, the bloodletting—were beginning to reopen. I let out a hollow, numb laugh. “I’m dying, Caspian.” He reacted as if I’d spoken a forbidden word. He looked like he’d gone mad. He scrambled for a bottle of pills and forced them into my mouth. His voice was like cracking ice. “Without my permission, you don’t get to die.” He unlocked my shackles, dragged me to a pool of medicinal solution, and forced my head under. I choked, water flooding my senses. His eyes were bloodshot, his breathing ragged and harsh, as if he were the one suffocating. I held my breath to keep from drowning in the solution. The lack of air made my face swell and turn purple. Only when the powerful healing agents in the pills took effect and my wounds stopped bleeding did he grab my hair and yank me out. I had barely caught my breath. When he shackled me again. He chained me to the bedpost like a dog. Rosalind, her eyes full of sultry invitation, leaned against his chest. Her gaze shifted to me, and it was filled with a strange, venomous glee. Her red lips moved, forming silent words only I could see. “Lira, I want you dead.” In a state of half-sleep, I felt a hand gently stroking my hair. A tear fell from their eye and landed on my lips. It was salty. “Lira,” a voice whispered, full of a pain I hadn’t heard in years. “If none of this had ever happened… how wonderful would that have been?” Was it Caspian? Was he… crying? I struggled to open my eyes, but there was no Caspian. It was Marcus, yanking on the chain, dragging me out into the estate’s courtyard. Merfolk hate the sun. For one on the verge of death, it was agony. Rosalind saw me and smiled sweetly. “Lira, are you hungry?” Caspian had his arm around her. When I didn’t answer, he kicked me. The blow landed squarely on a wound that was already on the verge of splitting open. Blood immediately soaked through the fabric of my dress. Caspian looked away, irritated, not sparing me a single glance. He just tossed a trench coat from a nearby lounge chair over me. “Rosalind gets faint at the sight of blood. Cover yourself!” A flicker of something crossed Rosalind’s eyes before she smiled again, tossing chunks of raw meat and muddy vegetables onto the ground in front of me. Her voice was as soft as silk. “Eat up, Lira.” For some reason, I looked up at Caspian. Why did I ever think he felt sorry for me? Expressionless, I bent down and began to gnaw on a dirty cabbage leaf, my fingers digging into the soil in humiliation. I heard Rosalind’s concerned voice. “Lira, why aren’t you eating the meat? You need meat to be healthy, you know.” Without thinking, I tore off a piece of the raw flesh. My sense of smell had degenerated so much I was almost numb to it. I didn’t know what kind of meat it was. “Is it good? It’s mermaid meat! Very nutritious!” I froze mid-chew and stared at her. Her smile widened, and my stomach heaved. “Ugh—” “Ah! My shoes!” I had vomited on the heel of her shoe. Marcus didn’t even need to be told. He grabbed me by the collar and slapped my tear-stained face. Caspian, who was notoriously germaphobic, knelt down and began to wipe Rosalind’s shoe with his own handkerchief. He was so gentle, so meticulous. He had never once, after using my body to vent his frustrations, even bothered to clean me. He was clearly furious. “Ungrateful bitch. If you don’t want to eat, we’ll feed this to the dogs!” Rosalind gave a weak, delicate smile. “Lira’s just not hungry. Don’t force her.” “Why don’t we let her join me while I paint? It can be her way of making up for this, what do you think?” Caspian sighed, a faint smile touching his lips. “You’re just too kind.” He shot me a cold look and was about to say something else when his phone rang. He murmured something loving to Rosalind, then leaned down and gently kissed her pregnant belly. For some reason, my nose began to sting. After he left, Rosalind’s expression turned to ice. “I don’t like people watching me paint. Go to the basement.” I said nothing and did as I was told. In the basement, a maid tossed several small buckets at my feet. Her voice was a derisive, pinched whine. “Hey. The madam needs more red for her painting, and there’s no red prettier than blood. Fill these three buckets. Now.” A rusty blade clattered on the floor in front of me. “Use this.” I hesitated, mumbling, “It’s rusty.” The maid spat. “Who do you think you are, a princess? Why would an unkillable monster like you deserve anything good?” She crossed her arms and watched me. I picked up the blade without another word and sliced open my wrist. Hot, crimson blood dripped into the bucket. By the time all three were full, I was shivering, my lips blue with cold. I leaned against the wall, my mind adrift. Two maids passed by, carrying laundry, their voices loud with gossip. “The madam’s paintings are so beautiful, aren’t they? It’s just a shame the materials are so hard to find. They had to kill several mermaids just to get a tiny bit of Coral Core powder.” “And some of the blood isn’t even pure. A monster is a monster. They’re not like us.” The hair on my body stood on end. I pushed myself up, using the wall for support. I staggered into the courtyard and was met with the sound of piercing shrieks. The ground at Rosalind’s feet was littered with the mangled bodies of merfolk. She had her foot on one of their tails, carving out a translucent Coral Core before crushing it in her fist. I felt my own heart shatter with it. Rosalind turned to me, silhouetted against the light, a malicious curve to her lips. “Lira, I learned something new today! Did you know every Coral Core is a different color?” “Such a shame I only want white ones. Why don’t you be a dear and help me? Dig out all their Cores for me—” My eyes locked on a small figure in a nearby water tank. My little brother. He was only ten. He hadn’t even learned to take human form yet. “Sister, help me!” he cried, banging on the glass, his tears turning to pearls as they fell. Rosalind pouted, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Oh, so he’s your brother? How cute! Why don’t we start with him?” Two guards seized my brother and dragged him before her, holding him down under her blade. I couldn’t control it anymore. I fell to my knees and slammed my forehead against the ground, over and over. “Madam, I’m begging you! Please, let my brother go!” “Use my Coral Core! Mine is white, I swear it!” Rosalind twirled the knife playfully. “But I’m in the mood for a surprise today. Isn’t this more fun?” “Little boy, today sister is going to open you up first, and then Lira—Ah! What are you doing?!” “Don’t you dare hurt my sister!” My brother, his eyes red with defiance, struggled with all his might and sank his teeth into Rosalind’s wrist. A second later, Caspian, who had just returned, sent him flying with a vicious kick. All his teeth were knocked out. He landed in a heap beside me. Caspian held Rosalind, comforting her, the rage in his eyes practically spilling over. “Lira! Your kind stole my parents, and now you try to harm my wife?” I shook my head, tears streaming down my face, shielding my brother’s broken body with my own. “I was wrong! Kill me, just kill me! Let my brother go, he’s just a child…” “Heh. Let him go? Fine.” Caspian’s burning gaze swept over us. “Tell me where my parents are, and I’ll let him go.” Those same words again. All the strength drained from my body. For the first time, I looked at Caspian with pure, undiluted hatred. “You don’t know anything. You don’t understand anything.” “I told you, when the time is right, you will understand everything. Why do you have to hurt my family?” Caspian, I hate you. God, how I hate you! He averted his gaze, refusing to meet my eyes. He bit the inside of his cheek and sneered. “Fine. If you won’t talk, then your brother can pay for your sins.” It happened so fast. Caspian’s hand moved in a blur, and the dagger was buried in my brother’s chest. I thought I heard something shatter. My brother’s small face, once so soft, was now cold and still. His Coral Core was gone. I just sat there, forgetting how to beg. Rosalind, clutching her belly, came over to “help” me up, only to collapse dramatically a few feet away. She sobbed, a pathetic, kitten-like sound. “Lira, they were just animals! My baby is a person! Are you trying to kill my child?” Caspian had never believed me. This time, I didn’t even bother to explain. “Yes,” I said, my voice dead. “I want to kill you both.” Caspian trembled with rage. He was about to strike me when he realized Rosalind’s water had broken. He shot me one last, venomous glare. “After the baby is born, I’ll deal with you.” I just smiled, a hollow, empty thing. You won’t get the chance. I’m almost dead. I was locked in the storeroom again, in the suffocating, sunless dark. I curled into a ball, feeling the warmth steadily leech from my body. The floorboards above me were alive with activity. They had set up a temporary delivery room for Rosalind. She screamed for a day and a night before the baby was finally born safely. Caspian, relieved, leaned against the doorframe, lighting a cigarette. Just then, Marcus rushed up, out of breath. “Mr. Caspian! Sir, there’s… there are people at the gate for you!” He raised an indifferent eyebrow. “Who?” “Your parents!” Caspian moved like a bolt of lightning. But when his parents saw him, their first reaction wasn’t a tearful embrace. It was frantic, desperate questioning. “Is Lira here? You have to get her to the sea! She’ll die without saltwater!” A cold dread gripped Caspian’s heart, but he feigned nonchalance. “She hurt Rosalind. I locked her in the storeroom. Dad, mermaids can’t die.” “Let’s not talk about her. Tell me, where have you been all these years?” His father looked as if he’d been struck by lightning. He raised his hand and slapped Caspian hard across the face. “Where is the storeroom? Take us there! Now!” Reluctantly, Caspian led the way and opened the decrepit door. “See, Dad? She’s fine.” His parents took one look inside and burst into tears. Caspian turned. He saw that half of my face had dissolved into seafoam. But in the next instant, he did something I never could have predicted.

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This was the seventh time I’d tried to save the tortured, self-loathing male lead. And for the seventh time, he jumped off the roof. Before he died, he arranged everything perfectly. He considered everyone, even his former bullies. Xavier even left a note absolving them of any guilt to prevent them from getting canceled on social media after his death. Just like the six times before, Xavier left gently. He tried to take care of everyone until the very end. So, at the funeral, everyone mourned him. They were regretful, heartbroken, devastated. Everyone except me. Because this time, I was pregnant. I had knelt on the ground, begging Xavier not to give up, begging him not to leave me and our child. But Xavier just gave me that sad, beautiful smile and said, “I’m sorry.” Then I lost my husband, and my child lost his father. I asked the System: Can I stop saving the male lead? I’m done. The System ignored me and booted up the eighth loop. I opened my eyes and found myself back in the high school classroom. I looked over at the corner. There was Xavier, the pathetic little outcast, drenched in dirty mop water thrown by the school bullies. I stood up. I saw the faint glimmer of hope in his eyes as he looked at me. Then, I walked right past him. I walked straight up to his stepbrother—the bully leading the pack—and looked into the boy’s malicious eyes. “Kill me.” I stared him down. “Or get me the hell out of here.” 1 Xander’s expression froze. Then, he let out an exaggerated, mocking laugh. “Gwen, did you sleep your brain away during lunch? ‘Kill you’? What are you, some kind of emo drama queen?” I didn’t say anything. I just watched him quietly. Gradually, Xander stopped laughing. He looked into my eyes, then abruptly looked away, unsettled. “…Shit. You’re freaking me out.” I kept staring at him stubbornly. Because I knew Xander could do it. In the future, Xavier’s stepbrother would become a murderer. Right now, though, High School Xander just kicked over the mop bucket his friend was holding. “This vibe is cursed. Show’s over. Everyone get lost!” Before leaving, Xander glanced back at me a few times. His brows furrowed, like he wanted to say something but held back. In the corner, that figure was curled up in a ball. High school Xavier was skinny. His skeletal frame looked even more fragile wrapped in the soaked uniform. Dirty water dripped from his black hair, sliding down his sharp brow bone and crashing onto the floor, drop by drop. He just looked up at me like that, his dark, wet eyes unblinking. His pupils constricted slightly, like he’d just seen a ghost. Memories hit me like a tidal wave. Every loop started with this scene. Usually, I would rush over immediately. I’d spread my arms and shield Xavier. I’d scream at Xander and his goons to back off. “Tch—Gwen, playing the saint again?” Xander would sneer. “Hey Xavier, look at you. Hiding behind a woman? Pathetic.” And when I finally chased them away and turned around… Xavier would always look up at me with those dark eyes. Like a puppy left out in the rain. It made my heart ache and swell at the same time. Then I would carefully help him up, whisper comforting words, and take him to the sink to clean up… But this time was different. My gaze lingered on Xavier’s dark eyes for half a second. I saw the expectation he hadn’t had time to hide, the confusion about why I wasn’t moving. And the lingering, shattered shimmer of tears. Then, I lifted my foot. And I stepped around him. I didn’t pause. I walked straight back to my desk and sat down. I took out the textbook for the next period and smoothed it out in front of me. I didn’t look back. Finally, the warning bell rang through the school. In the corner, the figure moved. Xavier’s upturned head slowly, inch by inch, dropped down. 2 Class started. Xavier returned to his seat in the back row. The wet uniform clung to his back, outlining his shoulder blades. From the teacher’s podium, you could see his shoulders shaking slightly. But the teacher said nothing. Because Xavier and Xander… they were technically family now. The homeroom teacher had tried calling the parents before—Xavier’s father, who was also Xander’s stepfather. The father’s attitude was to turn a blind eye, clearly favoring his stepson, Xander. The result? Xander’s bullying didn’t stop; it got worse. Since then, no teacher bothered. In the adult world, difficult problems are easily filed away as “family matters.” Right now, I was staring at my textbook, but I couldn’t read a word. Originally, I accepted the System’s contract on my hospital bed to come to this world. The System promised that if I completed the mission, my illness in the real world would be cured. I thought saving a gentle boy would be easy. For the first three loops, I stayed by Xavier’s side as a friend. I blocked the bullies, listened to his fears, and shared every bit of happiness I could find. I naively thought friendship was enough to pull Xavier out of the abyss. But at the end of every loop, all I got was a cold funeral invitation. And a handwritten letter: [Gwen, you were my best friend. Thank you. Please be happy.] So clean. So gentle. He thought of everyone else, but forgot to leave a way out for himself. In the fourth loop, I realized my feelings for Xavier weren’t just pity. I fell in love with the boy who would give me his only umbrella in the rain and run home soaking wet. The boy who remembered my period, carried spare pads, and silently carried my heavy books. I loved his kindness toward a cruel world. I even loved his bone-deep insecurity and sensitivity. From then on, I gave it everything. I used all my love, my optimism, my passion. I tried to light a bonfire in his dark world that would never go out. I confessed. We dated. We moved in together. Xavier would sit by the bed watching me sleep, kissing me gently when I woke up. He loved hugging me from behind, burying his face in my neck, whispering: “Gwen… meeting you was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me.” I thought he was healed. I thought this time, we could grow old together. But his death always came without warning. One day, Xavier would be wearing the bunny apron I chose, face flushed from the steam in the kitchen, asking, “Gwen, do you want steamed fish or braised fish tomorrow?” The next day, I’d find an empty bottle of sleeping pills beside his cold body. One night, we’d be cuddling, his warm breath on my neck. The next morning, the space beside me would be empty, and the smell of blood would drift from the bathroom. Beside his body, there was always a small wooden box. The first time I saw it, Xavier took out a yellowed piece of paper. One glance, and the color drained from his face. I asked him what it was. He immediately put the paper back, gave me a reassuring smile, and said it was nothing. The next day, he turned on the gas in a sealed room. Since then, I desperately tried to find that box. I wanted to know what was written on that paper, what words had the power to push him to death again and again. But I never found it. Until the seventh time. The last time. We had come so far. We were married. Xavier smiled genuinely more and more often. That afternoon, I came back from the hospital, hugging the ultrasound report, wanting to surprise him. And then I saw it. Xavier was standing by the window, holding that piece of paper I knew too well. The joy froze on my face. It took everything I had not to scream, rush over, snatch the paper, and tear it to shreds. “Xavier…” My voice trembled. “I’m… pregnant. Do you want to see our baby?” Xavier looked so pale by the window, like a flicker of light in the snow, ready to melt away. He turned, backlit by the sun, wearing that familiar, tragic smile. “Yeah. In a bit.” My world collapsed. “Xavier!!” I shook the report frantically, tears streaming down my face. “Isn’t this enough?! Don’t you look forward to our baby? What is on that paper? Even if it’s a curse, so what? I’m here! I’m here! We can start over!” In that moment, the fragile air around him shattered. He rushed over and hugged me, apologizing over and over. He held me so tight, as if trying to embed me into his bones. But the next day, he still jumped from the roof of that building. I loved him, saved him, pulled him out of the abyss time and time again. And every time, he chose to jump back in. My effort, my endurance… it was all for nothing. RIIING— The harsh bell snapped me out of my memories. SLAM! A hand slammed onto my desk, making my pencil case jump. A shadow fell over me. I looked up and saw Xander. One hand in his pocket, leaning forward, looking down at me. Two buttons of his uniform were undone, showing his collarbones. His hair was getting long, black strands falling into his eyes. “Hey, Gwen.” His voice was lazy, carrying a rogue-ish edge. “That stuff you said before class… ‘take me away’… what did that mean?” Xander paused, then smirked, revealing sharp canine teeth. “You don’t… have a crush on me, do you?” 3 Xander burst into loud, mocking laughter. “Trying to get my attention with that? Pretty unique. I almost bought it. But your acting is seriously—” “Yeah.” I said. Xander’s laughter choked off into a cough. He straightened up immediately. “Cough! You… you said ‘yeah’?” I didn’t look away. Yeah. I give up. I don’t want to save Xavier anymore. I just want to be free from this endless loop. “If I say I like you, will you kill me later?” “…” Xander froze. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. A few seconds later, a flush crept up his neck, burning his ears and spreading to his cheeks. The classroom went silent. Everyone was staring, eyes wide with gossip. Only from the back row came the screech of a chair being dragged. Xavier, who had been hanging his head, now buried his face completely in his arms. His uniform was half-dry, the muscles in his back tight and trembling. “You…” Xander took half a step back. He finally found his voice, but it was loud and cracked. “Are you f*cking crazy?! You’re just a kid, why—why are you always talking about death! You think it’s edgy? There’s a limit to being an emo teenager!” His friend next to him burst out laughing at Xander’s flustered state. Xander snapped like a cat whose tail got stepped on and kicked his friend in the shin. “Laugh at your mom! Shut up!” He was humiliated. I looked at this loud, blustering boy. But in my mind, I saw a different image. Years later. An afternoon. Adult Xander, being escorted out of an apartment building by two officers. Hands cuffed behind his back, stained with dark, drying blood. The onlookers whispered one word: Murderer. The last time I saw Xander, he smiled at me through the police car window. “…Hey! Why are you spacing out?” Present-day Xander poked my forehead. He looked fierce, but his touch was light. “What is your deal? Is this how people confess these days?” He pulled his hand back and ruffled his own hair aggressively, making it even messier. “Say something!” Suddenly, a harsh screech came from the back of the room. The sound of a chair hitting the floor. Everyone turned to look. Xavier was standing up, leaning forward, hand still pushing the desk. His chair was toppled over behind him. Meeting my eyes, Xavier froze, like a kicked dog. Then he panicked, bending down clumsily to pick up the chair. He kept his head down the whole time, hair hiding his face. Once the chair was upright, he didn’t look at anyone. He turned and rushed out of the classroom. “…” Seeing this, the blush on Xander’s face faded. He stared coldly at Xavier’s retreating back and spat out one word: “Freak.” 4 Lunchtime. The cafeteria was a chaotic din. Xander slammed his tray down on the table, jerking his chin at the student sitting next to me. “Move.” The student didn’t argue and scrambled away. Xander sat down heavily. “Hey, Emo Girl. You planning to keep that depressed face all day?” He stabbed at a green pepper on his tray but kept glancing at me. “I’m telling you, the gym rep from the other class? He gave one of our guys a bloody nose last week. Yesterday after school, I cornered him. Guess what? He peed his pants. Hilarious, right?” He kept talking, moving a spare rib from his tray to mine. “Eat. Lunch lady had a shaky hand today, gave me extra meat.” I didn’t touch the rib. I didn’t look at him. Xander tapped his tray with his chopsticks. “What’s with the face? Food sucks? Or do you lose your appetite looking at me?” Xander talked until his mouth was dry. My tray was empty. I wiped my mouth, stood up, and picked up my tray to leave. “Hey! You’re done already? That rib…” Xander tried to talk with his mouth full. I didn’t look back, walking toward the return window. Just as I got close, a figure stood up from a nearby table and followed me. Head down, back slightly hunched, shoulders drawn in. His uniform still had water stains. Xavier. I could feel him behind me. Not too close, not too far. Step for step. Suddenly, a sneaker shot out from the side, blocking Xavier’s path. Xavier was caught off guard. He pitched forward, about to face-plant onto the greasy floor. The students around him were already laughing. Subconsciously, I shot my arm out to catch him— It was pure muscle memory from seven lifetimes of protecting him. My hand hovered for a second. The exhaustion of futility washed over me, and I started to pull back. But a hand grabbed my wrist faster. It was cold, bony, and gripping tight. Xavier used my meager support to steady himself. The students waiting for the show booed in disappointment. I stared at the person in front of me. Xavier was still holding my wrist. He looked up. Those pitch-black eyes were terrifyingly bright. Like he was overwhelmed by an undeserved favor. Xavier’s lips moved. Very softly, very slowly, he choked out words that were almost drowned by the noise: “…Thank… you…” At that moment, Xander rushed over with his unfinished tray. “What the hell are you doing?” His eyes locked onto Xavier’s hand on my wrist. His face went black. “Let go!” Xavier didn’t let go. He stood his ground, unmoving, staring straight at me. The look in his eyes was heavy. “Gwen… Gwen.” He whispered my name. Raspy. Trembling. “I… I think I have… a lot of new memories.” “In the future… we have a baby, don’t we?”

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My dad was a high school dropout with a rap sheet. My mom was a wild child with a temper. They had me when they were barely legal. They didn’t care much about my upbringing, until one day, they realized something was wrong. Very wrong. Dad: “She’s in sixth grade and hasn’t cut class once. Do you think she’s sick?” Mom: “Look what I found under her bed! A Principal’s Honor Roll certificate! It’s disgusting. What are we going to do?” That day, they dragged me out of the house for a “corruption tour”—hair dye, tattoos, and internet cafes. They were determined to set me on the “right” path: the path of delinquency. 1. Jax saw me putting on my backpack and stopped me. “Where are you going this early?” “School,” I said. “It’s Saturday, kid.” “Finals are coming up. My study group is meeting at the library.” Jax, who was nursing a hangover on the couch, rubbed his eyes. “Wait. Just… wait.” He sat up, looking at me like I was a stranger. Then he craned his neck and yelled, “Roxy! Roxy, get your ass out here!” Roxy stumbled out of the bedroom. She’d been out all night; her smoky eyeliner was smeared halfway down her cheek. “Stop screaming, my head is splitting,” she groaned, kicking a beer can out of the way. “Your daughter,” Jax pointed a shaking finger at me. “She’s going to school. On a Saturday. Voluntarily.” Roxy pulled off a false eyelash. “You handle it.” “I’m serious!” I sighed. “Can I go now?” Roxy waved a hand. “Whatever. Go be a nerd.” When I got home that afternoon, they were both sitting in the living room. Awake. This was rare. Usually, our schedules were like ships passing in the night. I went to school while they slept; they went out to party when I did my homework. Seeing them both sober and staring at me was unsettling. I walked past them, head down, and went straight to my room. My stuff had been tossed. Books on the floor, drawers open. Outside, I heard Jax’s voice, surprisingly serious. “I called the school. She was actually there. It’s freaky.” “I thought she was sneaking out to see a boy,” Roxy sounded disappointed. “I tore her room apart looking for love letters. When I was her age, my diary was full of names…” “Which names?” Jax asked. “Focus, idiot. The point is, I found this instead.” Paper rustled. “Is that… what I think it is?” Jax’s voice trembled. “Yeah,” Roxy sighed. “A certificate. Not for ‘Most Improved’ or ‘Perfect Attendance.’ It’s for ‘Academic Excellence.’ Straight A’s. She’s hiding this filth in our house.” Silence. “We failed her,” Roxy sniffled. “I expected her to be rebellious, but… rebelling by being a model citizen? I didn’t see that coming.” 2. I wasn’t listening anymore. I was looking around my trashed room with a weird sense of satisfaction. My friend Sarah always complained that her parents took her door off the hinges so they could watch her. I used to be jealous. My parents never came in here. I could have built a bomb in here and they wouldn’t have noticed. But today? They raided my room. They cared. I walked out, trying to hide a smile. “You guys went through my stuff?” They exchanged a guilty look. Jax pointed at Roxy. “Her idea.” Smack. Roxy hit his arm. “You liar!” “It’s okay,” I said. “Just… try not to mess up my filing system next time.” “There won’t be a next time,” Roxy said quickly. “No, please,” I said. “Feel free to invade my privacy.” They looked at me like I had grown a second head. “Go change,” Roxy commanded, recovering her composure. “We’re going out. You need fixing.” 3. And so began the strangest family outing in history. First stop: The Hair Salon. The owner knew Roxy. “Back again, Rox? Want to go purple this time?” “Not me,” she pushed me forward. “Her. Fix this.” The guy looked at my natural, un-styled hair. “She’s just a kid.” “Exactly. Give her some color.” I sat in the chair. “I want to choose.” Roxy hesitated. “Fine. But pick something edgy. Orange? Neon green?” I looked at the color chart. Then I looked at myself in the mirror. “I want… Midnight Black.” “That’s just black,” Jax said. “No,” I said solemnly. “It represents the darkness of my soul. It’s the color of the void. It’s misunderstood. It’s… deep.” Jax’s eyes widened. He nudged Roxy. “Whoa. She’s got the emo poetry down. That’s my girl.” Half an hour later, I walked out with a trim and slightly shinier black hair. “Is it rebellious?” they asked the stylist while paying. “Uh, sure,” the stylist shrugged. “Very goth.” 4. Next stop: The Tattoo Parlor. The walls were covered in flash art—skulls, snakes, daggers. “Old Mike, new client,” Roxy announced. Mike looked up from his sketchpad. “She’s twelve.” “She’s mature for her age,” Jax said. He rolled up his sleeve to show a faded dragon. “Show her the good stuff.” Roxy showed off her wrist—a string of numbers. “My parents’ death dates. Don’t copy that.” Then she showed her bicep. The characters for ‘New Beginning.’ “My ex’s name was Newman. When we broke up, I added ‘Beginning’ to cover it.” I tried not to laugh. “I know what I want,” I said. “Yeah? Something fierce?” Jax grinned. “I want a quote.” “Nice,” Old Mike prepped his gun. ” What is it? ‘Born to Die’? ‘Only God Can Judge Me’?” “No,” I said. “‘I Love Mom and Dad’.” Jax and Roxy froze. Old Mike put the gun down. “I’m not tattooing a kid, and I’m definitely not tattooing that.” Roxy grabbed my arm. “Let’s go. You’re embarrassing me. You’re too soft.” “Wait,” I said. “If I can’t get a tattoo, take me to the arcade.” 5. We ended up at a gaming center. Jax and Roxy were in their element. They flanked me, booting up League of Legends and Overwatch. “Okay, kid, pick your poison. Which one is cooler?” I sat at the middle computer. I opened Microsoft Word. “Look at this,” I said, typing rapidly. “See how fast I can type the essay I memorized? And look at the formatting options! The gradient text effects! It’s thrilling!” They stared at my screen. “Is this… a simulator?” Jax asked. “It’s a productivity tool,” I beamed. They watched me format a document for twenty minutes in silence. “I think she’s broken,” Roxy whispered to Jax.

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The wealthiest man in the state claimed I was his biological child. But the moment I was brought home, the nightmare began. My “mother” accused me of trying to seduce my own father, calling me a homewrecker and a slut. My fake sister, the girl I was swapped with at birth, spread rumors that I’d had an abortion and was a sugar baby for old men. My cousin, acting the white knight, pulled the fake sister into a protective hug and roared at me with righteous indignation: “I only recognize Anna as my sister! If you pull any more of these trashy stunts, get the hell out of the Sterling family!” I looked at them, watching their passionate performance with a detached, almost amused expression. Wait a minute. Who told you guys I was a girl? I’m a biological male. A pure-blooded dude. Did you guys skip the gender check when you looked at the DNA test?! 1 The moment I stepped into the Sterling estate, Madeline wasted no time putting me in my place. “You’re Xavier?” I nodded, opening my mouth to call her “Mom,” but she cut me off with a sharp wave of her manicured hand. “Don’t call me Mom yet. Let me make one thing clear: now that you’ve entered this house, you follow the rules. Anna is younger than you, which makes you the big sister. You are not to compete with her for anything. You will not fight for affection, and you certainly will not bully her. Do you understand?” I tightened my grip on the strap of my worn-out canvas backpack. A fire ignited in my chest, but I kept my voice low. “Why am I the older sister? We were switched on the same day. And besides, I…” “Enough with the excuses!” She raised her voice, causing the maids dusting the antique vases in the living room to freeze. “I said you’re the older sister, so you are! Anna grew up by my side; she’s delicate and used to the best. If you let her suffer even a tiny bit of grievance, I won’t let you off the hook.” Just then, a guy in designer athleisure wear jogged down the grand staircase. It was my cousin, Hunter. Chewing gum loudly, he sauntered over to Madeline, eyeing me with open disdain. “So this is the ‘real heiress’ dragged back from the boonies? Let me warn you—Anna is the treasure of the Sterling family. If you touch a hair on her head, you might walk in, but you’ll be carried out.” I stared into Hunter’s eyes and asked, “I’m a Sterling too. Why protect only her? And where is my father? I’ve been back for a while now; why haven’t I seen him?” Madeline rolled her eyes, turning back toward the plush velvet sofa. “Your father is busy running an empire. Do you think he has time for you? Don’t get arrogant just because we let you in. A country bumpkin like you should be grateful just to have a roof over your head.” Hunter sneered, echoing her sentiment. “Exactly. Don’t think just because you have the bloodline, you’re suddenly a princess. In our eyes, you aren’t worth a single one of Anna’s fingernails.” I bit my lower lip, recalling the information I’d paid a private investigator to dig up before I came here. Arthur Sterling, my biological father, was obsessed with male heirs. Because Madeline couldn’t produce a son, they had taken in Hunter, the son of Arthur’s younger brother, treating him as a semi-heir. Since they had all assumed I was a girl, I decided to keep the charade going. I wanted to see just how deep the bias in this family ran. I lowered my head, feigning submission. “I understand, Mom. Hunter. I won’t fight with Anna.” Madeline nodded, satisfied. She waved a dismissive hand. “Mrs. Higgins, take her to the guest room at the end of the second-floor hall. Don’t let her wander around and be an eyesore.” As the housekeeper led me away, I heard Hunter mutter behind me, “Country trash has no backbone. Folded after two sentences.” 2 I had been living in the Sterling mansion for a week, and I still hadn’t met my biological father. One morning, I bumped into Madeline in the dining room. She was meticulously peeling a hard-boiled egg for Anna. “Mom, will Dad be back today?” I asked. Madeline’s hand paused. She looked up with blatant impatience. “Your father is negotiating a merger. He doesn’t have time for you. You’re just a girl; what does it matter if he sees you or not?” Anna looked up from her plate, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Yeah, big sis. Daddy is so busy. Don’t be a burden. If you need something, just tell Mommy.” I frowned. “But he’s my father. It’s strange that I haven’t seen his face since I arrived, isn’t it?” Madeline slammed the egg down on the plate. Her face darkened. “What is wrong with you? I said he’s busy! Are you trying to start trouble?” I didn’t give up. Over the next few days, whenever I saw Madeline, I asked about Dad. Arthur Sterling was the king of this castle. My future depended on surviving under his rule. I needed to know what kind of man he was—whether he liked me or not—to plan my next move. But there was no news. On the third night, Madeline was in the living room applying a luxury face mask. I approached her. “Is Dad not coming home again? I heard the company has a major project. I studied some finance; maybe I could help.” Madeline ripped the mask off her face. Her eyes were venomous. “Help? I think you have other intentions! Every day it’s ‘Dad this’ and ‘Dad that.’ You’re desperate to see him. Tell me, are you trying to seduce him?” I stood frozen, unable to believe my ears. “Excuse me? He is my father. How could I seduce him? Are you insane?” “Am I insane?” Madeline let out a cold, sharp laugh, standing up to tower over me. “I think you’re the crazy one! You come from nowhere, learned god-knows-what in the gutter, and now you want to use cheap tricks to climb the ladder? You think because he has money and power, you can charm him? Let me tell you something—not a chance! The Sterling fortune is not for a little slut like you to covet!” I was shaking with rage. “If you’re sick in the head, go to a hospital. Don’t project your filth onto me! I’m his child. What is wrong with wanting to meet him? You’re so paranoid you suspect your own child? You call yourself a mother?” “You dare talk back to me?” Madeline’s face turned crimson. She raised her hand to slap me. Instinctively, I dodged. Her hand hit empty air, which only fueled her fury. “Fine! Not only are you twisted, but you’re also rebellious! When your father comes back, I’ll make sure he teaches you a lesson. You’ll learn who the mistress of this house really is!” I scoffed. “Go ahead and tell him. I’d love to see if my father is as irrational as you. And stop calling yourself the ‘mistress of the house.’ If you were actually secure in your position, you wouldn’t be terrified of your husband leaving you, and you wouldn’t need to bully me to feel important.” Madeline was struck dumb. She pointed a trembling finger at me, choking on her words, before finally shrieking, “Get out! Go back to your room and don’t come out!” I turned and walked away, my heart turning to ice. So this was my biological mother? To say something so vile… It seemed that in this house, I could only rely on myself. 3 Since our argument, Madeline began targeting me openly. She would start dinner without me. The driver who took me to school was dismissed on some flimsy excuse, forcing me to take the crowded public bus. My allowance was cut to zero—I couldn’t even buy pens. I didn’t care. The bus was crowded, but it got me to school. I had savings from my past life in the countryside. I could skip breakfast or buy a cheap bagel at the cafeteria. But I didn’t expect Anna to start her own campaign. One morning, I walked into the classroom to find Anna standing by my desk, holding a shredded designer dress. She was sobbing to the surrounding crowd. “I just bought this yesterday… Mom spent thousands on it… and this morning Xavier tore it apart because she said she hated looking at me…” The classmates turned to me, their eyes filled with disgust. I frowned and walked over. “Are you delusional? When did I touch your dress?” Anna cried harder. “I’m sorry, big sis. I know you hate me, but this was a gift from Mom… If you want to vent, hit me, curse at me… but don’t ruin Mom’s gift…” I was about to argue when I heard the whispers. “I didn’t know Xavier was that kind of person.” “It’s just jealousy. Typical trashy behavior.” “I heard that back in the country, she was a sugar baby for some old guy. She even had an abortion. No wonder she’s so vicious.” I froze. These rumors were beyond ridiculous. I just had somewhat delicate features. How could they fabricate something so disgusting? I’m a man, for God’s sake! Abortion? Are you kidding me? I was shaking with anger, ready to confront them, when I caught a glimpse of a smirk flashing across Anna’s tear-stained face. I understood instantly. She was the source. Over the next few days, the rumors grew nastier. People pointed fingers. Someone threw trash in my locker. I endured it. Until one morning, I opened my desk to find a dead rat and a handful of cockroaches inside. That was the breaking point. I grabbed a plastic bag, scooped up the dead rat and the roaches, walked over to Anna’s pristine desk, and dumped the bag right in front of her. “Anna, your pranks are pathetic. Can’t you come up with something original?” Seeing the contents of the bag, Anna’s face went pale. She let out a piercing scream. “Ahh! A rat! Roaches!” She jumped up, tears instantly flowing, and ran out of the classroom. The class was stunned. They stared at the bag in my hand, terrified into silence.

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1 The golden boy they adopted said I stole his precious necklace. My sister, my own flesh and blood, went ballistic. She didn’t just drag me to court; she hired the best lawyer to make sure he won. I got three years. Branded a thief. Before they took me away, her lawyer tried to reason with her. “Just scare him a little, that’s enough,” he’d said. “A real prison sentence will ruin your brother’s life!” My sister’s face was a mask of stone. “Stealing isn’t a small thing. He needs to learn a hard lesson.” “As for his future?” she added, her voice unwavering. “I’ll be his safety net.” Three years later, I walked out of those gates. She was waiting, her eyes bloodshot as she reached for me. “You see your mistake now, don’t you?” she asked. “Come on. Let’s go home.” But I just took a quiet step back, letting her hand fall through empty air. I had a new sister now. I met her on the inside. She told me she believed me. … My sister, Pathy, froze, a flicker of disbelief in her eyes as I dodged her touch. But she didn’t pull her hand back. Instead, it shot out again, faster this time, her fingers wrapping around my wrist with a grip of iron. “Patrick, why are you avoiding me? Did someone hurt you in there?” Her voice was thick, like it was being pushed through cotton. I tried to pull my hand away, once, twice, but her grip was too tight. I gave up. “No,” I said, my voice flat. She let out a breath she’d been holding. “Good,” she whispered, squeezing my hand tighter. “That’s good. I read things online, that it’s… not a place for people. I’m so glad you weren’t bullied…” Watching the relief flood her face, the way her eyes grew redder by the second, a bitter, mocking laugh echoed in my head. The one who moved heaven and earth to put me in here… wasn’t that you, Pathy? What good was this concern now? She forced a bright smile, tugging me toward a sleek black car like a peace offering. “You always loved a good party, right? I’ve planned a huge welcome-home celebration for you.” “Come on,” she said again. “Let’s go home.” I glanced back at the prison, its grey walls stark against the sky. Nina. That was my new sister’s name. She’d been framed for financial fraud and had another month left on her sentence. We’d made a pact. In one month, I’d be back here, waiting at this very gate to pick her up. We were going to build a life together. But Dad’s old photos and his signet ring were still in that house. I needed them. So, I let Pathy lead me to the car. On the drive, she ran her hand over my shaved head, a gesture that was half a caress, half a warning. “Patrick, no more stealing. You understand? This was your lesson.” My fingers curled into a fist. For three years, I’d used the prison guards to pass her countless messages. I didn’t steal Ethan’s necklace. He framed me. She never believed it. So this time, I didn’t bother explaining. I just nodded like a good boy and played along. “I know.” A satisfied smile spread across her face. When she pushed open the front door, a party popper exploded with a loud BANG!, showering us in a blizzard of colored streamers. Ethan, the boy I hadn’t seen in three years, stood there holding the empty tube, his eyes crinkling with a joyful smile. “Welcome home, big brother!” He laid the affection on thick, his eyes practically overflowing with feigned adoration. He looked nothing like the boy whose face had been twisted with jealousy and venom when he’d accused me of theft. I ignored him, brushing past his shoulder as I walked inside. His smile faltered. He looked to Pathy, a wounded, awkward plea in his eyes. “Why is he ignoring me? Is he… is he still mad at me?” Pathy patted his head, her voice dripping with indulgence. “Patrick just got out, he’s probably not used to things yet. It’s not your fault.” I was already in my old bedroom, pulling open the drawer under my bed. Dad’s photos and his ring were still there. A wave of relief washed over me. Pathy appeared at the doorway. “Patrick,” she called softly, “come out and eat. You’re so thin I can see your ribs.” I slid the drawer shut and followed her out. At dinner, Ethan kept prodding, his questions laced with a false innocence. “So, what was it like in there, bro? I heard it’s really rough, is that true?” “It’s not rough,” I said, my voice monotone. “You read books and newspapers every day. After dinner, you go back to your dorm.” “Oh. Well, that sounds alright, then. Not as bad as I imagined.” A shadow of disappointment flickered across his face. Pathy placed a peeled shrimp on my plate. “Now that you’re out, let’s not talk about that place anymore,” she said with a light laugh. “Just think of it as an experience. Put it behind you.” Ethan’s eyes darkened, and he fell silent. A moment later, as if remembering something, he jumped up and ran to his room. He came back with a small, exquisitely wrapped box and held it out to me. “This is for you, big brother. A welcome home present!” I didn’t take it. I just kept eating. He didn’t seem to mind. With a grin, he opened the box himself. A luxury watch lay nestled on a velvet cushion, its face gleaming under the dining room lights. I saw it, and my pupils shrank to pinpricks. The blood in my veins turned to ice. It felt like I’d been plunged into a frozen lake. Ethan pushed the box closer, his face twisting into a grotesque, chilling grin. “What’s wrong, brother? Isn’t this your favorite watch? You loved it so much you had to steal it.” “Now I’m giving it to you,” he hissed, his voice a venomous whisper. “Aren’t you happy?” That watch. The “pearl necklace” was a lie to the press. It had been a watch. A gift from Pathy to Ethan. And it was the very reason I’d spent three years behind bars. 2 After Dad died on the battlefield, Mom took his survivor benefits and vanished, leaving me and Pathy to fend for ourselves. She dropped out of high school, working God knows how many dead-end jobs before she finally scraped together enough to start her own company. The moment she made real money, she adopted Ethan, another boy who’d lost his father, and brought him into our home. I was against it from the start, but Pathy pleaded with me. “Ethan is just as lost as we were, Patrick. At least you have me. He has nothing.” “Just be generous,” she’d said. “It’s only one more plate at the table.” But it was never just one more plate. She treated him better than she’d ever treated me. It was like she was trying to raise a brother all over again, showering him with all the things she couldn’t give me when we were poor. Toys, designer clothes, luxury watches. Anything Ethan wanted, he got. In just two years, she’d spent millions on him. That was the money she bled for. How many nights had she been forced to go to client dinners, drinking until she was sick, only to come back to the table and drink more? I hated seeing her waste her hard-earned money like that. I was always telling her to cut back. And for that, Ethan hated me. He hid the watch under my pillow and then ran to Pathy, crying his eyes out, telling her I’d stolen it. Pathy exploded. She made me kneel in the pouring rain, demanding I confess. “How could Dad’s son be a thief? He was a soldier! I’ve built my life on honesty!” she’d screamed, her voice raw with rage. “Who are you learning this from? That mother who took the money and ran?” “Have I ever let you go hungry? Have you ever needed anything? Why would you steal?” I was burning up with a fever, crying, swearing I didn’t do it, but she wouldn’t listen. The next day, she hired the best lawyer in the city and took me to court. My own sister. Standing on the witness stand, fighting for Ethan, testifying against me. The verdict was three years. I was officially a thief. Before the sentencing, friends, family, even her own lawyer, begged her not to go through with it. I was her brother. Three years in prison would destroy my future. But she was relentless. She was willing to push everyone away to see me locked up. “Patrick won’t be destroyed,” she’d insisted. “I work this hard for him. Even if he is ruined, I can support him for the rest of his life.” “But he stole,” she’d said, her voice like ice. “He has to learn his lesson.” Every month for three years, she came to visit me. Every month, she’d ask if I was ready to admit I was wrong. And every time, I refused to see her. I’d just have the guard pass on the same message. “I didn’t steal anything.” After she’d leave, the guard would shake his head with a sigh. “Your sister doesn’t believe you, kid.” Disappointment, repeated over and over, slowly curdled into a cold, hard despair. I felt like the entire world had abandoned me. I used to have Pathy’s love, at least. Now, I had nothing. Seeing that watch again, something inside me snapped. I swept my arm across the table, sending the box flying. It hit the floor with a loud crack. Ethan stared, stunned into silence. Pathy’s face instantly darkened. “Ethan was being kind, giving you a gift! He’s forgiven you, and this is how you act?” I sat there, trembling, my face pale as a ghost. She grabbed my arm, trying to haul me to my feet. “You think because you’re out you can throw a tantrum? Pick up that watch and apologize to Ethan, now!” Apologize? Never. I shoved her away, hard, and bolted out the door. The night air was bitingly cold, but it was nothing compared to the storm of grief and betrayal churning in my chest. I never should have come back. If it wasn’t for Dad’s things, I wouldn’t have set foot in this house. I was done being framed. I was done being hurt. Pathy caught up to me in seconds, her fingers digging into my wrist. Her brows were knitted together in a tight, angry line. “Where do you think you’re going? You spent three years in prison and you still haven’t learned to control your temper?” I couldn’t take it anymore. I ripped my arm from her grasp, my eyes burning with unshed tears. “That watch… was that a peace offering or a poisoned arrow, Pathy? Can you honestly not see the difference?” “I’m your brother!” I yelled, my voice cracking. “You already sent me to hell once, what more do you want from me?” “I’m doing this for your own good!” she shot back, her voice turning cold. “If you do the crime, you do the time. How else are you going to learn? Am I supposed to just stand by and watch you throw your life away?” Her words slammed into my heart like a sledgehammer, leaving a gaping hole. When had I ever stolen anything? What reason could I possibly have to steal a watch from Ethan? Why couldn’t she just think for one damn second? Why wouldn’t she ever, ever believe me? Tears of frustration finally spilled over, hot against my cold cheeks. The despair of the last three years crashed over me like a tidal wave. I gave up trying to explain. She looked at my shaved head, and her voice softened, as if admitting defeat. “Patrick, everything I do, I do it with you in mind. Yes, you spent three years in jail, but I’ve paved the way for you.” “My company… it’s all going to be yours one day. This was just a small punishment. It’s nothing in the long run.” “Come home with me,” she pleaded. “Stop running away.” She took my hand again, leading me back toward the house. I followed numbly, the fight gone out of me. I didn’t say another word. When we walked back in, Ethan’s eyes widened in surprise. He clearly hadn’t expected Pathy to bring me back after all that. I just felt drained, exhausted to my very soul. I retreated to my bedroom and didn’t come out. Late that night, my door creaked open. It was Ethan. My eyes snapped open in the darkness, but I stayed perfectly still. He thought I was asleep. I watched him feel around under my pillow, his movements furtive as he slipped something beneath it. I didn’t move. I didn’t say a word. He was so predictable, pulling the same trick the day I got back. This time, I wanted to see. I had to know if Pathy would finally choose to believe me. The next morning, just as I expected, he was in the living room, crying to Pathy that I had stolen his new watch—the replacement for the one I’d supposedly taken before. “Pathy, if he liked it, he just had to ask! I even offered him the old one yesterday, and he threw it on the floor!” he wailed. “Is he just… a kleptomaniac?” Pathy’s face was a thundercloud as she stared at me. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” My heart plummeted into a black abyss. Her words were a final, brutal sword stroke, severing the last thread of family that tied us together. A humorless smile twisted my lips. “No,” I said. “I guess I can’t.” CRACK! The sound of her hand connecting with my cheek echoed in the silent room. The anger and disappointment in her eyes were about to spill over. “How could I have a brother like you!” I was silent for a moment, my cheek stinging. Then, I let out a cold, hollow laugh. “I don’t know,” I said, my voice dripping with ice. “How could I have a sister like you?” “You—!” She pointed a trembling finger at me, too furious to speak. Before her second slap could land, I dropped to my knees. I bowed my head to the floor, one final gesture. “Thank you for raising me after you dropped out of school,” I said, my voice empty. “From now on, I don’t have a sister.” With that, I stood up, pulled the box with Dad’s things from under the bed, and turned to leave. Her face was grim as she snatched the box from my hands. “These were Dad’s. You have no right to take them!” Fine. Let her have them. I just nodded, accepting my fate, and walked toward the door. “You’re an ex-con!” she yelled at my back, her voice tight with rage. “What can you do without me? Starve?” I didn’t stop. I didn’t even slow down. “Don’t worry about me.” 3 I left the house and sat on a bench in the neighborhood park all day. This time, Pathy didn’t come after me. She must have finally washed her hands of me, disgusted and disappointed beyond repair. I had no money, so I started looking for a job, any job that offered food and board. But the moment they heard I’d been in prison, the answer was always no. My only option was a construction site. The foreman looked me up and down, his brow furrowed. “You’re all skin and bones. This is hard labor. You sure you can handle it?” I put on my most eager smile. “Give me a shot, sir. I might be thin, but I’m stronger than I look.” He was still hesitant, but I didn’t wait for permission. I grabbed a wheelbarrow and started working, moving with a speed and efficiency that surprised him. Finally, he nodded. “Alright, you’re on. Food and a bunk are included. Hundred bucks a day.” “One thing, though,” he added. “This is a short-term project. We’ll be done in a month.” I beamed. A month was perfect. By then, Nina would be out, and I’d have a place to go. I worked on that site for over three weeks. When Pathy found me, she was so shocked she almost didn’t recognize me. My hair had grown out into a messy, unkempt mop. My clothes were caked in a permanent layer of dust that puffed off me with every step. She stood at a distance, just watching, her eyes slowly turning red. Finally, she ran over and grabbed my wrist. “What are you doing here? Patrick, do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you?” “Come on, let’s go home. You can’t be doing this kind of work!” I shook her off and hefted a stack of bricks onto my shoulder, pretending I didn’t know her. Her lips tightened into a thin line. She didn’t try to persuade me again. Instead, she turned and marched over to the foreman. I couldn’t hear what she said. A few minutes later, the foreman walked over, his face grim. “Patrick, why didn’t you tell me you did time for theft? We can’t have thieves on this site. You’re fired.” “And don’t expect any pay,” he grunted. “Get lost.” Panic seized me. “Please, sir, give me a chance,” I begged. “I was framed, I swear. I’ve never stolen anything in my life. I won’t cause any trouble!” “That’s your sister, right?” he sneered, jerking his head toward Pathy. “You expect me to believe she’d lie about that?” “We don’t hire dishonest people. Now beat it!” he barked, giving me a hard shove. I stumbled backward, losing my balance, and fell straight into Pathy’s arms. She held me steady. A triumphant smile played on her lips as she pressed a phone into my hand. “See? You can’t survive anywhere else. The only place for you is with me.” “Patrick, we’re family. The path I’ve made for you is the only one that works.” She reached up and ruffled my messy hair, not even flinching at the dust that came off on her hand. Her smile was genuine now as she took my arm. “Come on. Let’s go home. And don’t you ever make me look for you again.” I didn’t move. She turned, confused by my resistance. Her eyes met mine, and she saw the absolute, glacial coldness there. “Pathy,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet. “What do I have to do for you to just let me go?” She didn’t seem to grasp that she’d done anything wrong. Her smile vanished. “What are you talking about, ‘let you go’? Haven’t I been good to you?” “I’ve spent the last three weeks searching for you! I’ve ignored my company, do you know how much money I’ve lost?” Without another word, she yanked me toward her car. I was bundled inside, taken back to that house one more time. On the way, she took a call, and after dropping me off, she raced to her office, ordering Ethan to make sure I didn’t run off again. The moment she was gone, Ethan’s face transformed. “You idiot!” he sneered. “I can’t believe she brought you back again. After all that, she still cares about you?” I fought the urge to punch him, my voice tight with a rage I’d held in for three years. “Why? Why did you frame me? I was always decent to you, wasn’t I?” He let out a cold laugh, his eyes filled with pure malice. “Because you told Pathy to stop spending money on me.” “She made it perfectly clear years ago. The company goes to you. Not me.” “You have this amazing sister to fall back on, and you couldn’t even stand to see her spend a little money on me,” he spat. “Why should you have everything?” My hands clenched into fists. “Do you have any idea how she earned that money? She never went to college. The executives at her company look down on her. She has to work twice as hard just to stay afloat.” “Those old sharks force her into business dinners, and she has to drink until she’s puking blood! And you? You ask for millions like it’s nothing. She’s my sister, of course I care! What’s wrong with asking her to spend less on you?” “So what? It’s not like she’s earning it for me,” Ethan scoffed, admiring his expensive sneakers. “If she drinks herself to death, I still get nothing. The only way I get a piece of the pie is if you’re out of the picture.” I stared at him, a chill spreading through my entire body. I always thought he framed me because he wanted Pathy all to himself. I never imagined it was only ever about the money. “You’re a real snake,” I bit out, heading for my room. He laughed behind me. “I framed you once, I can do it again. And again.” “Just wait, Patrick,” he called out. “I’ll get you thrown out of here for good!”

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David returned from his business trip and slid a velvet box across the marble table. Inside nestled a pink diamond. My fingertips trembled slightly, but I kept my voice casual. “You’ve always only bid on top-tier Pigeon Blood rubies. Since when did you develop a taste for pink diamonds?” The hand loosening his tie froze. He snatched the box back, forcing a laugh. “Wrong one. That’s for Phillip. He asked me to pick up an engagement ring for his girlfriend.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead, his tone dripping with practiced tenderness. “Only the finest rubies are worthy of you, Evelyn. I’ll make it up to you next time.” A knot of unease tightened in my stomach. The next day, I bumped into Phillip’s girlfriend at a charity gala. Feigning casual conversation, I smiled. “Congratulations, I hear bells are ringing. You must save me a glass of champagne at the wedding.” She froze, her face draining of color. “Evelyn… Phillip and I broke up five months ago.” 1 The smile on my face stiffened into a mask. My heart missed a beat. I was reaching for my phone to demand an explanation from David when a girl in a simple white cotton dress walked into the high-end restaurant. She looked woefully out of place among the designer suits and silk gowns, her voice barely a whisper. “Hello, I’m here to pick up Mr. Sterling’s lunch order.” Mr. Sterling. David. I instinctively looked over. Our eyes met, and panic flashed through hers. She quickly averted her gaze and stammered to the waiter, “Actually, never mind. I’m the new intern at Sterling Corp. Mr. Sterling just messaged me with another task. Please deliver the lunch directly to the office tower.” Clutching her phone like a lifeline, she turned and hurried toward the exit. I stared at her retreating figure. She was quick on her feet, I’ll give her that. Claiming to be an intern. But she made a fatal mistake. David never hired female secretaries or personal assistants. And why would a regular intern be picking up his personal lunch? More importantly—why did she look at me with recognition? Realization hit me cold and hard. I grabbed my bag and followed her. She sensed me behind her, her pace quickening to a near run. Luck wasn’t on her side; not a single taxi was stopping. I stood right behind her, watching the sweat mat the baby hairs at her temples. finally, she couldn’t take the pressure. She spun around, biting her lip. “Excuse me, do you need a cab too? If you’re in a rush, you can take the first one.” She couldn’t even meet my eyes. I curved my lips into a faint smile, my gaze dropping to her hand. There it was. A top-tier Pigeon Blood ruby ring, a vintage design from the British Royal collection. It was exactly my taste. Back in university, David had sworn he would buy every ruby in the world for me. He said I was his sun, the most vibrant treasure in his life. And this girl? There was no way she could afford a piece like that on an intern’s salary. Noticing my stare, she hid her hand behind her back. “Staring is rude. If you don’t stop, I’ll call the police!” She was trying to muster anger to cover her fear. I laughed softly. “My apologies. I just have a weakness for rubies. Seeing a Royal collection piece in the wild… I got mesmerized.” I stepped closer. “I followed you because I recognized that ring from a recent London auction. Which family are you from? I don’t recall seeing you at the debutante balls.” She forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. “I am… I…” She couldn’t get the words out. “I’m Evelyn Sterling. David Sterling’s wife. I’d love to make a new friend.” I extended my hand. Cornered, she had no choice. Her hand trembled as she took mine. “Daisy. Daisy Brooks.” Got her. I nodded politely, turned on my heel, and hailed the black town car that had just pulled up. The moment the heavy door clicked shut, my face dropped. I dialed my best friend, Harper. “I need a background check. Name is Daisy Brooks. Likely a fresh college grad.” “Also, pull David’s credit card statements from his trip to London. I want to know exactly what he bought at that charity auction.” Harper sounded groggy on the other end, woken from her beauty sleep. “Evie? What happened?” I pressed my lips together, tasting bitterness. “I think David is keeping a pet student on the side.” Two hours later, the dossier landed in my inbox. David’s paper trail was meticulous. Daisy Brooks was a scholarship student funded by my charity foundation. David had invested in a “startup studio” for her. Every penny went through corporate accounts, handled by the foundation’s staff. On paper, they had zero contact. Just a benevolent donor and a lucky recipient. And the ruby ring? The records showed it was won by a foreign buyer, not David. But my grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles turned white. The one thing she lied about was being a Sterling Corp intern. I texted Harper again: “Check the annual investment amount. And find out if she has any other sponsors.” I stared out the window at the concrete jungle of New York. There are no coincidences in this world. David, if I find out you’ve actually betrayed me… I will take fifteen years of history and five years of marriage and grind them into dust with my own hands. 2 That evening, David came home with my favorite strawberry tart from the French bakery downtown. He pulled me into a hug, burying his face in my neck. “Darling, staying up late working on designs again? You work too hard. Maybe you should skip the competition this year.” He sounded so genuinely concerned. But as he kissed my hair, I caught his eyes drifting toward my computer screen. My heart plummeted. “Why?” I looked up, feigning innocence, my finger tracing the innovative setting on the digital blueprint. “The ‘Solaris’ collection has been my baby for six months. You used to say I was radiant as the dawn. This collection is my fifth-anniversary gift to you.” David’s arm tightened around me. “I’m just worried about your health. You’ve been feeling under the weather lately. Awards don’t matter. You matter.” He kissed my forehead. His breath was warm, but beneath his expensive cologne, I caught it—the faint, cloying scent of gardenias. The same cheap perfume Daisy wore. Worried about my health? Bullshit. I gently pushed him away, picking up a spoon. The sweet cream tasted like ash in my mouth. “Well, if you’re that worried… I suppose I don’t have to enter under my own name…” He missed the sarcasm entirely. His eyes lit up with relief. “Exactly. Once you’re rested, we can try for a baby. Evelyn, we’ve been married five years. It’s time we had a family.” He glanced at my screen one last time before heading to the shower. I stared at the single bite taken out of the tart, a dull ache spreading through my chest. The next morning, Harper sent another file. “Daisy has no other backers. Sterling Corp gives her a stipend of $150k a year.” “But here’s the kicker: She’s registered for the ‘A-List Design Awards.’ Her studio doesn’t have the capital or resources to produce a full high-jewelry set. If something fishy is going on, David will make a move soon.” I put a tracker on David’s movements. Three days later, during his lunch break, he went to my private vault where I stored my raw gemstones. Then, he drove straight to Daisy’s shabby studio apartment. When I checked the vault later, a raw, uncut ruby the size of an infant’s fist was gone. Along with a set of rare yellow diamonds. He wasn’t just giving her the ring that was meant for me. He was tearing up the pavement of my road to pave hers. The last shred of hope in my heart withered and died. I sent the photos to Harper and told her to prep the lawyers. Harper was livid. “That little rat. She can’t design to save her life—I’ve seen her portfolio. It’s trash compared to yours. Evie, we are going to destroy her at the awards. We’ll make sure she never works in this town again.” A sudden, sickening thought struck me. I stood up so fast my chair tipped over. I grabbed my keys and raced home. The villa was silent. I crept toward my home office. The door was ajar. No one was there. My computer was cold, but the ergonomic chair was adjusted to a different height. I sat down and booted up the system. Ruby and yellow diamonds… Exact matches for the materials needed for the first piece in my “Solaris” collection. I frowned. Was I being paranoid? Then my eyes swept across the desk and locked onto something that made my blood freeze. The silver frame holding a photo of David and me had been knocked face down. And right there, on the polished mahogany desk where the frame used to stand, was a smudge. A handprint. Small. Delicate. Fingers curled inward, as if gripping the edge of the desk in… ecstasy. I stared at the mark. I scrubbed at it with my sleeve, but it felt like it was burned into the wood. They were here. On my desk. Stealing my designs, laughing at me, faking love, and fucking right on top of my work. My stomach violently rebelled. I stumbled into the en-suite bathroom, collapsing in front of the toilet, heaving until there was nothing left but bitter bile. I splashed freezing water on my face, staring at the ghost in the mirror, forcing myself to wake up.

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My sister invited me to her wedding, but when I arrived, I saw a familiar face. The same man who, this morning, kissed me goodbye and left for work. Now, I’m watching him recite his vows and exchange rings with her. My sister, elegantly clinging to his arm, reminded me: “I asked Liam to take care of you before, but now, Elara, it’s time you found a boyfriend of your own.” I glanced at Liam. He smiled softly at my sister, offering not a single word of explanation. Whatever. I don’t want him anymore. Even if he comes crawling back to our apartment door later, calling me “baby,” I don’t want him anymore. 1 When Liam left this morning, he kissed my cheek. He reminded me, just like always: “Leftovers are in the fridge. Heat them up when you wake up. Remember to eat.” So when I saw Liam’s face at the wedding, my first reaction wasn’t anger. It was confusion. As the officiant read the vows, Liam stared intently at my sister, leaving me only his profile. There was a tiny mole at the corner of his eye. Countless times, when he flaked on me for work and made me angry, he would whine and cuddle up to me. “Let me kiss the mole by your eye. Don’t be mad, I know you like it.” I couldn’t be mistaken. But why was it Liam? After being brought back to the Vanderbilt family, I rarely appeared in public. I never claimed to be a Vanderbilt. I never coveted anything that wasn’t mine. I couldn’t choose my birth, but I tried my hardest to avoid the family drama. But why is my boyfriend involved with my sister? Suddenly, my older brother, Ethan, gripped my wrist. The officiant was asking Liam: “Do you take Sophia Vanderbilt to be your lawfully wedded wife…” Ethan’s voice dropped into my ear simultaneously. “Forgot to tell you. Liam and Sophia are childhood sweethearts. We’ve spoiled Sophia, so she does whatever she wants.” “I apologize on her behalf.” The “little sister” he referred to wasn’t me. It was Liam’s bride, Sophia. The elegant Miss Vanderbilt. Ethan always did whatever he pleased. Being this polite wasn’t out of respect; it was out of disdain. I deliberately ignored Ethan’s words, staring fixedly at Liam. He didn’t even glance at me. He only looked at my sister, his gaze tender and devoted, answering firmly: “I do.” I couldn’t ignore his words. My heart twinged with pain, and tears rolled down involuntarily. Ethan released my wrist. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him wiping his hand with a handkerchief. His disdainful voice floated over lightly. “Elara? You really are delusional.” 2 “Sophia, come here. Let your brother see how beautiful you look.” Sophia lifted her skirt and trotted over, Liam carefully guarding her from behind. “Ethan, is it pretty? Liam spent months picking it out.” Sophia had tiny diamonds at the corners of her eyes. When she moved, they sparkled in sync with the crystals on her dress. She was beautiful. Ethan returned to his usual nonchalant self. “Of course my sister is beautiful. You’d look good even without that brat Liam picking it out.” His tone was familiar. He smiled gently at Sophia and Liam. Liam wore a faint smile, a look I had never seen on him. “Ethan, we still have to toast the guests. Sophia and I will go find Mother first. We’ll catch up later.” Throughout the exchange, I didn’t get a chance to say a single word. No one even spared me a glance. The contempt was obvious. Just like the day I first arrived at the Vanderbilt estate. My mother knelt on the ground, begging: “She’s your daughter, you can’t just ignore her…” The family sat on the sofa, busy with their own things, even discussing an interesting news story, as if they didn’t see us standing at the door. Simple indifference crushed us completely. Just like now. I suddenly lost the will to argue. I didn’t care how Liam became my sister’s husband. I just wanted to get away from the Vanderbilts, go back to my crappy apartment, and cry my eyes out. Tomorrow morning, I’ll still be Elara, the girl with zero connection to the Vanderbilt fortune. 3 “Ethan, I’m leaving then.” I tried to keep my expression composed. “Don’t go. Why leave? Liam took care of you for so long, you should say hi.” “Sophia is willful. She insisted Liam take care of you. You didn’t misunderstand anything, did you?” Misunderstand what? That Liam clung to me saying “I love you”? That he whined he only liked me? Wasn’t this all a game you were in on? Only I was the fool being played. After revealing the truth, you still have the nerve to check on the fool’s mental state? You people are bored out of your minds. I adjusted my emotions and lifted my chin. “I didn’t misunderstand.” “Ethan, if you had told me earlier that Liam was someone Sophia hired to take care of me, I would have treated him better.” “At least I wouldn’t have made him squeeze into a rental apartment with me.” Ethan probably didn’t expect me to switch gears so fast. He froze for a moment. Behind me, Sophia’s voice rang out: “Elara, come here. Let your brother-in-law and I toast you.” She walked towards me with a wine glass. Beside her, Mrs. Vanderbilt glanced at me with disdain and turned away. Sophia stood in front of me. Liam reminded her, “Drink less, or your stomach will hurt later.” Watching this display of deep affection, I thought: Wow, you people are great actors. The man who was begging for kisses this morning could switch roles in less than three hours and care for another woman. Disgusting. I raised my glass. “Wishing my sister and brother-in-law a hundred years of happiness and many children.” Sophia smiled and clinked glasses with me. I couldn’t stay a second longer. I turned to leave. She reminded me from behind. “Elara, those plushies and watches you gave Liam were really cheap, so I threw them away. Don’t blame me.” I stopped. I remembered when I was with Liam, he loved rituals. He would whine for gifts on every holiday, big or small. I didn’t have much money. I used my part-time wages to buy him small gifts. Scarves, flowers, watches. I picked each one carefully, hoping to see him happy. But the gifts I gave him always disappeared the next day. He lied to me, saying he treasured them and put them away for safekeeping. Turns out, this was the reason. That woman didn’t teach me much, but I remember when she was at her peak, she told me: “The more down and out you are, the more dignified you must appear.” Even though she couldn’t keep it up herself, I remembered those words. Being stabbed in the wound like this, I dug my nails into my palm and feigned calmness. “Just cheap trinkets. Toss them if you want.” I walked forward on trembling legs, not looking back at their expressions. 4 Back home, I started packing Liam’s things. From the bedsheets he picked out to his toothbrush and rings. I gathered a lot of stuff, packing them into three bags to throw out. The apartment complex had a nice environment, lots of gardens and trees. Outside the window, the silk trees were in full bloom. When we looked at apartments in the spring, Liam fell in love with this place because of the tall silk tree out front. But the rent was high. I had to take double the freelance work to afford it, on top of my lab work. In the end, he hugged me and pouted, blinking pitifully. I gave in and agreed. There was no elevator. I dragged the bags down the stairs. The silk tree out front was blooming vigorously, looking like a pink cotton candy cloud from afar. It was hot. My back was soaked with sweat. The heavy bags left red marks on my palms. I was agitated. With a yank, one bag ripped. Clothes tumbled down the stairs. I stared at the clothes rolling down to the next floor. I blinked, emotions swirling, but just dragged my stiff body back upstairs to get a thicker bag. While I was squatting on the stairs picking up clothes, the neighbor grandma came home. Seeing me, she greeted warmly, “Elara, cleaning up? I see Liam’s clothes are still good. Don’t spoil him too much.” Even the neighbor I met only a few times knew I spoiled Liam. I paid the rent. I paid for meals. I bought his clothes. If he whined a little, I abandoned my principles. Maybe because I lacked love growing up, when I caught someone, I spoiled them desperately, regardless of their intentions. My throat tightened. I wiped my face with my arm, composing myself before answering. “Grandma, I know. I won’t anymore.” After throwing everything in the dumpster, I threw myself onto the bed and forced my eyes shut. When I opened them again, the room was pitch black. I found my phone and called my senior from the lab. “Sarah, can I still move into the campus dorms?” After that, I texted the landlord: “I’m moving out.” I buried my head in the pillow, muttering uncontrollably. “It’s okay. Just treat Liam like a dream.” “I am still me. An ordinary girl who got into the lab on her own merit.” “My mom was wrong. I need to stay away from the Vanderbilts. I have nothing to do with them. Nothing.” …

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After my husband died, I started seeing his soul, lingering in the air above. While I was sorting through his belongings, I heard him say, “Thank God she hasn’t found the deed to the apartment I gave Iris.” My hand, clutching his things, froze. I didn’t say a word. I turned, called my lawyer, and using our proof of shared marital assets, I reclaimed the property he had secretly gifted away. The day the apartment was legally returned to me, his soul paced frantically around the living room. But a second later, I heard him let out a sigh of relief. “At least I had the foresight to have her foster my son with Iris. With her personality, she’ll definitely take good care of him. It’s the least I could do to provide for them.” Again, I remained silent. That very day, I contacted the orphanage and sent the boy I had adopted back. They had no idea how hard I had worked for my money. There was no way I was letting his bastard son get a single cent of what was mine. 1 The moment I rushed to the doors of the emergency room, I was yanked aside with brutal force. It was Milton’s aunt. Her eyes were bloodshot as she shrieked, “Judy, you damn jinx! If you weren’t so shallow and materialistic, always pressuring Milton to buy you this and that, would he have gotten into an accident on his way to pick up your anniversary gift?” My mother-in-law lunged forward, grabbing my arm and twisting it viciously. “Milton was such a good, simple man before he married you! He worked himself to the bone for this family, and you still weren’t satisfied! You and your stupid anniversary gift—it cost him his life!” The rest of his relatives swarmed around me, their words a torrent of blame, each one a sharp stone cast in my direction. I opened my mouth, wanting to explain that I had only mentioned in passing that our anniversary was coming up, that I never pressured him to buy me anything. But the words caught in my throat, strangled before they could form. It was my son, Leo’s, reaction that truly suffocated me. He tugged at my sleeve, shaking it wildly. “You’re a bad mommy! Daddy’s dead because you wanted a present! I don’t have a daddy anymore!” A child’s words are the most honest, and the most cutting. Guilt coiled around my throat like a wild vine, choking the air from my lungs. He was right. If I hadn’t mentioned the anniversary, Milton wouldn’t have been out at that exact time. He wouldn’t have been in that car crash. Tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision. And that’s when I saw it—a shimmering, translucent form floating near the ceiling of the ER. It was Milton’s soul. At first, I thought it was a hallucination, a cruel trick of my grief-stricken mind. But then his voice drifted down, and I knew it was real. “Thank God Judy doesn’t know I was on my way to buy a cake for Iris when I crashed.” “Iris is so timid. If she knew I died because of her, the poor girl would blame herself forever…” His voice was a weightless whisper, but it hit me like a bolt of lightning, freezing the blood in my veins. My tears stopped abruptly. My gaze locked onto his spectral form. Iris. Of course, I knew her. She was the junior from his college, the one who’d joined his company a couple of years after graduation. Milton mentioned her often, describing her as a sweet, naive girl from a poor family who was working incredibly hard. He’d said it was only natural for him to look out for her, a gesture of alumni solidarity. He told me not to overthink it. And he’d been true to his word, never crossing any visible lines with her. But I never imagined he could be so devoted to another woman behind my back. “If Iris hadn’t said she was craving that mango mousse from the West End bakery, I wouldn’t have been in such a hurry, wouldn’t have run that red light…” Milton’s soul drifted aimlessly, his voice thick with regret, but not once did he mention my name. “Good thing Mom and Dad are covering for me, telling everyone I was out getting an anniversary gift for Judy. Knowing her temper, she’d go after Iris and make the poor girl’s life hell.” “I died so suddenly, I didn’t get to leave Iris much. But at least I bought her that apartment when she first started. Now, even with me gone, she won’t be without a place to stay in this big city.” Hearing that, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. Let’s see how he planned to protect his precious little girl from beyond the grave. The day after the funeral, I called my lawyer. I gave him the address of the apartment Milton had mentioned, along with every piece of information I had on Iris. “Also, I need you to draft a statement. Say that Iris took advantage of my husband’s sympathies, that she lied about her family’s financial hardship to fraudulently obtain the property.” “My husband was a kind man and made the decision without consulting me. Now that he’s gone, as his legal spouse, I have every right to reclaim our shared marital assets.” The lawyer looked surprised, but he prepared the documents exactly as I’d requested. Three days later, I showed up at Iris’s doorstep with my lawyer and a team of movers. When the door opened, I froze for a second. Iris was wearing a cream-colored lounge set. The style, the cut, the details—it was identical to the one Milton had brought back for me as a “gift” from a business trip. Even the necklace she wore was the same as mine. So that’s how it was. He had split his love in two, one piece for me, and one for his college junior. The moment Iris saw me, panic flashed across her face. She instinctively pulled her collar tighter. “Judy? What are you doing here?” I didn’t answer. My lawyer stepped forward and handed her the papers. “Ms. Iris,” he said formally, “according to the law, this property is a shared marital asset of Mrs. Judy and the late Mr. Milton. Mr. Milton’s unilateral gift is legally invalid. Mrs. Judy is now demanding the return of the property. We ask for your cooperation in vacating the premises.” The color drained from Iris’s face. She turned to me, her voice trembling. “Judy, Milton gave this to me. You can’t just… you can’t make me leave.” A cold smile touched my lips. “Tell me, Iris, what exactly was your relationship with my husband?” Her body went rigid, her eyes darting away, unable to meet my gaze. “Judy… I… I was just his junior from college. We were just friends.” “Friends?” I repeated, the word dripping with sarcasm. “What kind of friendship is worth a three-million-dollar downtown apartment?” Iris glanced at the lawyer behind me, her lips trembling. It took her a moment to force out the words. “He… Milton said I was a recent graduate, that it was hard starting out. He wanted me to have a place to land on my feet…” Before she could finish, I saw Milton’s ghost spinning in agitation. He was muttering frantically, trying to coach her. “Iris, don’t be an idiot! Just say I was letting you stay here, that it was out of kindness between alumni!” He floated toward her, trying to tap her shoulder as a reminder, but his hand passed right through her. He could only stomp his spectral feet in frustration. “Say it! Don’t give her any ammunition! That apartment is your security; you can’t let her take it back!” I ignored him, my eyes fixed on Iris. “My husband told me you came from a poor family with nowhere to go. Funny, because my research shows your parents just finished building a new detached house back in your hometown.” “Ms. Iris,” I said, my voice low but carrying clearly to the curious neighbors who had started to gather, “preying on someone’s kindness isn’t a very good look.” Her face flushed crimson, then turned deathly pale. She opened her mouth to argue, but I cut her off. “We have already prepared the necessary documents regarding your fraudulent acquisition of this property from my husband. If you cooperate and move out, we will not press charges.” “However, if you refuse, we will proceed with legal action. At that point, you will not only have to return the apartment, but you will also face the legal consequences.” Milton’s ghost was in a frenzy, trying to rush at me to protect Iris, but he passed through our bodies again and again. Helpless, he could only scream at me. “Judy, stop it! You can’t do this to Iris!” He stopped mid-scream, his soul freezing in mid-air. A flicker of cunning hope crossed his face. “Besides, I almost forgot, Leo is still with her. He’s my son with Iris. Everything the family has will be his one day…” I felt like I’d been rooted to the spot, unable to process anything. The boy I had adopted from an orphanage with Milton, the child I had doted on for five years, treating him as my very own… was their biological son? A flood of memories rushed into my mind, uncontrolled and agonizing. Helping Leo with his homework. He would cry over a simple math problem, and even after I patiently explained it five times, he’d rip the page from his workbook, whining, “I don’t understand when you explain it!” Then Milton would come home, recite a formula once, and Leo would instantly get it. He’d throw himself into Milton’s arms, then turn to shoot me a smug look. “Daddy’s a hundred times smarter than you.” Reading him bedtime stories. He’d often jolt awake, complaining, “Mommy, your voice is ugly.” But on the rare occasions Milton read to him, even if it was something utterly boring, Leo would drift off into a peaceful sleep. A humorless laugh escaped me. All my affection, all my patience—it was all a one-sided fantasy. The child I’d poured my heart into for five years already had a mother. No wonder nothing I ever did was good enough for him. Nothing I did ever seemed right. “Iris was so clever, raising Leo right under Judy’s nose,” Milton’s ghost mused, his tone dripping with self-satisfaction as he floated in the air. “That woman, Judy, she’s a real softy. After raising Leo for five years, she’s already attached. She’ll never remarry now.” “When she gets old, the house, the cars, the savings—won’t it all go to Leo?” “And then, Leo can bring Iris to live with him. Mother and son, reunited. I can finally rest in peace.” He drifted back and forth, his voice growing lighter. “So what if she takes the apartment back for now? All of it will end up being Leo’s anyway. Judy is just an outsider. At best, she’s just holding onto it for him for a few more years.” Iris’s face was now a mask of fury, the fragile, pitiful act gone. “Judy, do you really have to be this cruel?” she snapped. “Milton’s barely gone, and you’re already kicking me out! It’s just an apartment! Do you have to be so petty?” “Aren’t you afraid of what Leo will think? The last time I took him out for candy, he told me he likes me more. Does your son ever say that to you?” Her words, meant to wound, instead sparked an idea. She was right. The most important thing now was to deal with Leo. I glanced at her flushed face, ignoring her taunts, and turned to my lawyer. “Proceed as planned. If the apartment isn’t empty in three days, file the suit.” Iris was stunned, her bravado deflating instantly, but she still managed to crane her neck and yell, “You wouldn’t dare! When Leo asks about me, what are you going to tell him?” I didn’t even bother to look at her. I walked straight downstairs and dialed the number for the orphanage. “Hello, is this the Sunbeam Orphanage? This is Judy, Leo’s adoptive mother.” “There’s been a new development. I’ve recently located Leo’s biological mother. According to regulations, I can no longer continue as his guardian. I’ll be bringing him in this afternoon to finalize the paperwork.” I was clutching the orphanage’s transfer certificate. As I bent down to take Leo’s hand, my mother-in-law grabbed my arm in a death grip. “You raised him for five years, and you’re just going to send him away? Judy, what is wrong with you?” she shrieked. “Milton is barely cold in his grave, and you’re already trying to get rid of your baggage so you can remarry, aren’t you?” My father-in-law’s face was dark with anger. “This is ridiculous! Leo may not be your biological son, but he is the future of this family. You dare lay a hand on him, and you’ll see what happens.” Leo exchanged a look with his grandfather, then threw himself onto the sofa, wailing. “I don’t want to go! This is my home! Why do I have to leave? You’re a mean mommy, I hate you! I want Grandpa! I want Grandma!” He kicked his legs and scrambled behind my mother-in-law, his sobs ragged and breathless. Before, seeing him like this would have sent me into a panic. I would have held him, cooed reassurances, and knelt down to gently tell him, “It’s all Mommy’s fault.” But now, all I felt was that the child in front of me was loud. Annoying. I rubbed my temples, ignoring Leo’s tear-streaked face and my in-laws’ glares. I scanned the room and stated flatly, “The paperwork is getting filed today. This is not up for discussion.” My mother-in-law released my arm and threw herself in front of Leo, shielding him like a mother hen protecting her chick. It was clear she was ready for a fight. “Let’s see who dares touch my precious grandson today.” My father-in-law frowned, probably sensing my resolve. For the first time, he put on a stern face and scolded Leo. “Leo, did you do something to make your mother angry?” “Get over here and kneel down. Beg her not to send you away.” Leo hesitated, then bit his lip and dropped to his knees with a thud. “Mommy, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have made you angry. I won’t rip my homework anymore, and I won’t say your voice is ugly. Please don’t send me away, okay?” Thinking back on everything I’d done for him, I could have accepted three full kowtows from him, let alone this pathetic kneeling. I didn’t bend down to help him up. Instead, I took a step back, avoiding his outstretched hand, and looked directly at my in-laws. “This child is leaving today. Period.” Milton’s ghost, floating above, could no longer contain himself. He lunged at me like a madman, his transparent fists passing through me again and again.

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The day I was welcomed back into the family, my fiancé, the one I’d been betrothed to since birth, was already planning his wedding to the fake heiress. My new parents shielded her behind them. “We are a prominent family, and Jane was raised by us to be a proper lady!” “You’ve spent twenty years as a street urchin. You’re not fit for high society. Know your place.” My supposed fiancé, Byron, pulled the fake heiress into his arms. “The Vance family has no need for a classless country bumpkin. And I could never love a social climber desperate to latch onto wealth.” The fake heiress, Jane, dropped to her knees at my feet. “I know this was all meant to be yours, sister, but Byron and I are truly in love! Please, I’m begging you, let us be happy!” Hold on. I’m a guy. What the hell do I need a fiancé for? Did any of these people even glance at my file before bringing me here? Although… My eyes drifted to Jane. She did look rather pitifully beautiful… 1 I watched Jane’s tears stream down her face like a tragic heroine’s, saw the defensive glares from my parents and my “fiancé,” and quickly waved my hands. “Look, I know I have long hair, but that’s purely for artistic reasons. My gender is—” “What’s wrong with long hair?” Byron cut me off, his voice sharp. “Long or short, you have no right to set foot in the Vance family home.” “No, that’s not what I meant. I have long hair, but I’m—” “Enough!” My parents thrust a thick binder into my hands. “We don’t have time for your excuses. When the poor suddenly strike it rich, the first thing they do is try to steal what isn’t theirs. Memorize these rules. I’ll be quizzing you at eight tonight.” The document, thicker than a textbook, landed heavily in my lap. I flipped through it. Mr. Sterling takes his morning coffee with three sugars, served at precisely 113 degrees Fahrenheit. Mrs. Sterling’s sandwiches must have the crusts cut off, no mayonnaise. Jane begins her dance practice at dawn. Her practice clothes and towel must be folded into perfect rectangles and placed side-by-side on the bench. Before the housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, begins cooking, the vegetables must be washed and chopped within thirty minutes to not disrupt her workflow. I held up the binder. “So, I’m supposed to wait on Mrs. Gable too?” “You’re new here. Twenty years on the streets have made you wild. You must learn the rules,” my mother said icily. “The Sterlings are a family of standing. Just because you’re our child doesn’t mean you can run wild.” “If you can’t learn the rules, you don’t deserve to call us Mom and Dad.” I pointed at Jane. “Then why doesn’t she have to do any of this?” “Julian!” Byron’s voice was a low growl as he stepped in front of Jane. “Are you suggesting my fiancée should act like a servant?” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “So you do know this is a list of chores for a servant!” With a flick of my wrist, I sent the binder flying. Pages fluttered through the air like morbid confetti. “If you didn’t want me back, just say so! Who are you trying to humiliate with all these rules? The Sterling family? I don’t want any part of it!” I turned to leave. A flash of panic crossed my parents’ faces. Humiliating me was one thing. Kicking out their long-lost child the day he returned would be a scandal they couldn’t afford. “Julian! Come back! We were just joking!” “You don’t have to learn the rules! Just come back!” I was about to stop when a hand grabbed mine. I turned. Jane was looking up at me, her eyes shimmering with tears. My gaze dropped to our intertwined hands, and for a second, my heart skipped a beat. “Sister… if anyone should leave, it’s me. I know you must hate me.” “It’s fine, I understand. I know that the life I have was stolen from you. I’ll go!” “Wait, wait,” I said, trying to pull my hand away. “Don’t call me sister. I’m—” “I know…” she interrupted, her voice choked with sobs. “You resent me. You won’t accept me as your sister. But don’t worry, I won’t fight you for Mom, Dad, or Byron…” With that, she covered her mouth and ran for the door. I moved to stop her, but a heavy shoulder slammed into me, sending me stumbling. My head narrowly missed the corner of a table. Byron had already caught Jane, pulling her into a comforting embrace while my parents rushed to her side, cooing softly. “Don’t stop me! Let me go, sob…” Jane struggled, but every movement seemed to press her deeper into Byron’s chest. Finally, the three of them were clinging to each other in a tearful group hug. “It’s all his fault!” my mother cried. “If he had never come back, our sweet Jane would never have been hurt!” Hearing her words, I rubbed my bruised knee. This entire family was certifiably insane. But… My eyes narrowed. Walking away now would be letting them off too easy. A prominent family, they said? Fine. This family fortune? I’m coming for it. 2 The next day, the Sterlings laid out their terms. They would accept me. “However, to the public, Jane will remain the true Sterling heiress. You will be our adoptive son.” “Jane has been suffering ever since you arrived. Consider this compensation for her pain.” I didn’t argue. Blood is blood. A piece of paper couldn’t change that. When the time came, they’d have to give me my due. Whether I was the “true heir” or not… what did it matter? Jane, Byron, and I all attended the same university. In the science lab, I borrowed a classmate’s hand mirror and studied my reflection. Long hair, a slender face. Though my features had a masculine edge, I was often mistaken for a woman with a strong, striking look. A phone appeared in my peripheral vision. “Hey beautiful, can I get your number?” I replied on instinct. “Dude, I’m a guy.” The guy stared at me for a moment, surprised. He didn’t lower his phone. “Works for me.” “Get lost!” I touched my neck. Was my Adam’s apple really that unnoticeable? Maybe I should stop wearing turtlenecks. Later, heading to the restroom, another hand reached out. Without looking up, I said, “Not interested.” The next thing I knew, I was being dragged into the men’s room. “You’re that little bitch causing trouble for Jane, aren’t you? Asking for numbers? Who the hell do you think you are?” My chin was forced up. A few guys leered at me with nasty grins. “You’re not bad-looking, I’ll give you that. But some things are way out of your league, bitch. Get the camera ready. We’re gonna film this freak’s every move!” It clicked. They were going to take compromising photos. Even though I’m a guy, I don’t let anyone push me around. My fist shattered the phone’s camera lens. My next blow connected with the leader’s nose. A sickening crunch echoed in the tiled room. “Holy shit! This bitch is strong!” I grabbed his collar. “You picked the wrong guy to mess with!” “Damn, for a girl, she can really fight!” “Get her! What are you waiting for?!” I kicked one of them down and made a break for it, but there were too many of them. Another guy blocked the door. An arm wrapped around my neck, and I was hauled back. “You bitch, you dare hit me!” A fist slammed into my face. I tasted blood instantly. I didn’t back down, gritting my teeth and fighting back with everything I had. But they overwhelmed me, pinning me against the cold, tiled wall. “Rip her clothes off!” My turtleneck was torn at the collar as three or four pairs of hands clawed at me. The new phone’s camera was pointed right at my body. Just as they were about to rip the shirt from my chest, a furious voice roared from the doorway. “Stop!” 3 I was pinned to the wall, a forearm crushing my throat. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth, and my eyes were red with fury. When Byron walked in, that’s the sight that greeted him: me, cornered and bloodied, but still fighting like a cornered wolf. “M-Mr. Vance…” the guys stammered, their bravado vanishing instantly. “Who told you to do this?” Byron’s voice was dangerously low. “Uh… we were just trying to stand up for Jane…” “I’ll deal with him my own way. It has nothing to do with you.” “Yes, sir…” With a sigh of impatience, Byron’s cold gaze landed on me. “Get a handle on yourself. Stop embarrassing Jane out in public.” “You’re insane!” I spat, wiping the blood from my mouth, which only smeared it across my cheek. He frowned, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “I’m the one who got jumped! If anyone needs to get a handle on themselves, it’s you and Jane!” Shoving past him, I slammed my shoulder into his, repaying him for the shove he’d given me yesterday. Muttering “freaking psycho” under my breath, I went to the sink to clean my wounds. As I was splashing cold water on my face, a tube of antiseptic cream was placed quietly on the counter beside me. I looked up. Byron glanced at me, his eyes unreadable. “Don’t get the wrong idea,” he said flatly. “I just don’t want you running to my aunt and uncle with some sob story to make Jane look bad.” Then he turned and walked out. My mouth twitched. Yep. A whole family of psychos. 4 When I got back to the Sterling mansion, a dinner party was in full swing. The Vance family were the guests of honor. For someone living on a six-hundred-dollar-a-month allowance, the high-society chatter held zero interest for me. I was focused on the food. That is, until something fell out of my pocket. Before I could react, Jane had already bent down to pick it up. “Sister…” she said, holding up the used tube of antiseptic cream, her smile strained. “I never knew you were so resourceful. Yesterday you were disowning the family, and today you’ve already managed to get a gift from my fiancé?” I kept chewing. How could such a pretty girl be so relentlessly passive-aggressive? “I forgot to throw it out,” I said honestly. After I’d used it, I couldn’t find a trash can and just shoved it in my pocket. “You can’t even come up with a better excuse than that, sister?” Her hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, stopping my fork midway to my mouth. I sighed. “Look, miss, I promise you, on my life, I will never, ever fight you over a man.” She waved the cream in my face, her laugh dripping with scorn. “I know your type. These little games, stirring up drama—it’s what people from the gutter do best, isn’t it? But do you really think your pathetic little tricks will actually win Byron over? Let’s make a bet, shall we? Let’s see who he saves—you, or me?” Before I could process her words, she yanked me with surprising force. “Hey! What are you doing?!” “Ah! Sister, why are you pushing me?!” Tangled together, we both tumbled into the ornamental lake. I tried to break the surface for air, but she was pinning me down, making a show of flailing and choking. “Help me! Byron!” “Jane!” Byron’s panicked voice cut through the chaos, followed by a loud splash. I choked on a mouthful of water. “Byron! You—” A wave crashed over my head. Byron shoved me aside without a second glance, scooping Jane into his arms. He carried her back to the shore without looking back, leaving me alone in the dark water. I thrashed, trying to stay afloat. On the bank, Jane was already weaving her story. “I… I don’t know what happened. I just picked up the tube of cream for my sister, and she pushed me into the water…” Byron’s eyes fell on the used antiseptic cream, and his expression turned thunderous. “Julian! I knew it! Your act this afternoon was just to get sympathy! The moment no one’s watching, you attack Jane?” He gritted his teeth. “You really are despicable!” My parents rushed to Jane’s side, their faces streaked with tears. “Julian! We took you in out of the kindness of our hearts, and this is how you treat our daughter?!” “It’s true what they say. Twenty years without proper raising… you’re nothing but gutter-trash, your mind filled with jealousy and spite!” The party guests stared, their whispers like hissing snakes. “That adoptive son is so ungrateful! The Sterlings really took in a viper!” “You can’t wash the filth off someone from the streets. Poverty breeds a twisted soul.” Jane dabbed at her eyes, but she shot a quick, triumphant glance in my direction. Her smirk said it all. See? He chose me. Psycho. It’s not like I can’t swim. 5 By the time I dragged myself out of the lake, Byron had already carried Jane inside the villa, my parents trailing anxiously behind him. As I stood there dripping, the guests’ whispers followed me. “That adoptive son is quite striking, though. Almost androgynous.” “It’s often the case. Masculine women and feminine men tend to be the most beautiful.” “A shame he has such a dark heart.” …What is wrong with these high-society types? They’re all as crazy as the Sterlings. The cuts on my face stung from the lake water. Cursing under my breath, I headed back to my room. The moment I opened the door, Jane was there, her eyes red-rimmed as she grabbed my hand. “Julian, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to push you in. I’m just so scared of losing them. Without them, I have nowhere to go. Please don’t hate me…” My voice was ice. “You’re so scared of being abandoned that you’ll sacrifice an innocent person without a second thought?” “Julian…” Her eyes welled up again. I cut her off. “Save it. There’s no one here to watch your performance.” I actually used to find her charming. How could she be this kind of person? “And one more thing. Stay out of my room.” I pushed her out and locked the door behind her. After tending to my wounds and taking a hot shower, I slept soundly until morning. I had barely opened my eyes when I heard Jane’s frantic cries from outside. “My dress can’t be gone! I left it right on my desk, ready for my birthday today!” Jane’s dress is missing? My bedroom door burst open. Jane stood there, her eyes swollen from crying, and then she pointed dramatically at my closet. “Ah! Is that…?” I turned. A sliver of red fabric was visible, peeking out from the closet door. Byron stormed into the room and yanked the closet open. A magnificent, diamond-encrusted couture gown tumbled out. Jane gasped, covering her mouth. “Julian… did you… did you steal my dress?” 6 So that’s why Jane was in my room last night. It wasn’t an apology. She was planting the dress and I caught her before she could leave. “How could you!” My mother shoved me back onto the bed. “Jealousy is one thing, we can almost understand that. But to think you’d resort to stealing! How did we ever give birth to such a worthless son!” My jaw dropped. “Worthless son?” Even if I was a guy, is that something a parent should ever say to their child? “Call the police! Call them now! We can’t let him get away with this!” “Mom!” Jane rushed to her side. “It’s okay. Julian has probably never seen such a beautiful dress before. He was just momentarily tempted. I forgive him!” “Never seen one so he can just steal it?!” my father roared. “This is a matter of principle!” “But… Dad, that dress is worth over a million dollars. If you call the police, he’ll go to jail.” “Then let him go to jail!” my mother shrieked, her eyes blazing with hatred. “If he doesn’t learn a hard lesson, he’ll never change!” Byron glanced at me, his expression unreadable. The wail of sirens grew louder outside. I pinched the bridge of my nose. This was getting ridiculous. 7 I thought I could just explain myself in court and this would all be over. I was wrong. On the day of the trial, my lawyer was replaced. The one who had prepared my entire defense was swapped out for someone my parents had hired. This new lawyer was famous for one thing: saying absolutely nothing. As I stared in disbelief at the lengths they would go to, I saw them sitting with the lawyer they’d hired for Jane—Mr. Davies, the man who’d supposedly give Disney’s legal team a run for their money. He had never lost a case. My parents looked at me, their faces hard as stone. “Julian, it’s time you took responsibility for your actions.” After Mr. Davies delivered a long, eloquent prosecution, it was my lawyer’s turn. I looked at him, waiting. He cleared his throat and spoke in a calm, measured tone. “No objections.” A smug smile touched my mother’s lips. “In that case,” the judge began, “this court finds the defendant, Julian Sterling, guilty of theft…”

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Late at night, I stumbled upon a live stream titled “Murder Time.” The streamer said, “Let me give you a preview of tonight’s victim: 31 years old, lives in a suburban villa, last name Sun.” My blood ran cold. Those details matched me perfectly. At that exact moment, a voice echoed from downstairs: “Face ID failed.” 1 At 2 AM, I was wired from too much coffee earlier in the day. I was doom-scrolling on my phone when a weird live stream caught my eye. The streamer’s ID was “ChickenLittle_WhoDiesToday.” When I clicked in, there were already fifty or sixty thousand people watching. [Chicken is finally live again! I’ve been waiting forever. My life is so boring without your streams!] [Gifts for Lord Chicken! I wonder which unlucky bastard he’s targeted today!] [Got my snacks, lying in bed, ready for the show!] I knew this guy. He was a serial killer who had recently gone viral. It was the apocalypse; with no new movies or TV shows, live streams had become the main form of entertainment. But people were bored with the usual content. So, a wave of streams featuring murder, looting, and gang fights emerged. And this “Chicken Little” was the most successful of them all. He managed to evade the police every time, and no one could even trace his IP. As usual, Chicken appeared on camera wearing a mask. “First, a preview of today’s victim: female, 31 years old, located in the suburban villa district. If you fit this description, you’d better hide. If I find you…” A high-pitched, maniacal laugh pierced through my speakers. Goosebumps erupted all over my skin. Just as I was about to turn off my phone and sleep, I received a text message. [You saw it, didn’t you? You’re today’s victim. In thirty minutes, you’ll be a ghost under Chicken’s knife. If you don’t want to die, listen to me.] My drowsiness vanished instantly. Chicken had played this game before—telling the victim he was coming for them, enjoying the cat-and-mouse chase. I hurriedly clicked back into the live stream to check. Chicken had already arrived at the entrance of a residential area. The words “Morning Glory Estates” appeared on the screen. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. That wasn’t my neighborhood; I was still a thirty-minute drive away. [Are you crazy? Don’t play such boring jokes!] I angrily typed out a reply. Thanks to this prank, I was wide awake, so I decided to keep watching the stream. But just as I lay back down, a familiar electronic voice drifted up from downstairs. “Face ID failed.” 2 My feet turned to ice. I sprinted to the security door at the top of the stairs and locked it. Theft was rampant these days, so I had installed a separate security door for the second floor just to be safe. The person downstairs was still trying. “Face ID failed.” I tried to calm myself. That lock would automatically freeze after three failed attempts. No one could open it. But the next second… “Unlock successful.” How?! Did he know my passcode?! I gripped my phone, terrified to make a sound. It buzzed again. [Now do you believe me?] But… in the live stream, Chicken was still at the gate of Morning Glory Estates. Other viewers were asking the same question. [Chicken’s stream looks like a recording!] [I get it! He’s tricking the victim into thinking he’s at Morning Glory, but he’s actually somewhere else!] [I live in Morning Glory, I almost jumped out the window just now.] [So exciting! When will Chicken show us the victim?] Faint footsteps echoed from downstairs. It really was me. Today’s unlucky bastard was me. The second-floor security door could buy me some time. I had sealed the windows ages ago, so jumping wasn’t an option. I lived in the suburbs; even if the police came, it would take over an hour. I had to survive this hour on my own. I called the police first, then rushed to my bedroom and put on my Bluetooth headset. I didn’t know when Chicken would start streaming from inside my house, but hearing it was better than being in the dark. After doing all this, I texted the mysterious person back. [Believe what? Stop spouting nonsense!] For all I knew, this person could be Chicken himself, toying with me. I couldn’t trust him. Soon, another message came through. I froze in terror. It was a screenshot of a news article dated June 5, 2025. Today was only June 2. The headline read: [Viral Serial Killer “Chicken Little” Finally Arrested: Confessed to 7 Murders, Caught Alive at Final Crime Scene] The photo was of my living room. And there was another photo—of me, lying in a pool of blood. I swallowed hard, my hands trembling uncontrollably. Should I trust him? 3 Chicken’s voice came through my headset. “I’m inside the victim’s house. Let me give you a tour.” The camera angle shifted, focusing on my family portrait. It really was my house! “Look at how luxurious her life is.” He panned the camera to my kitchen fridge and pantry. [What the hell! She has fresh pork! Kill her, Chicken!] [Is that Vitamin Water?! Chicken, I want that!] [Look at all those meds! Do it, Chicken! I need those! I’ll pay high prices!] Part of Chicken’s popularity came from his Robin Hood persona—he claimed to rob the rich to help the poor. He auctioned off the victims’ belongings to his viewers, earning money from both donations and sales. “Don’t rush, everyone. Maybe the victim is watching my stream right now.” He looked up toward the second floor and shouted. “My little sweetie, I’ll give you ten minutes to hide. After ten minutes, I’m coming for you.” He wore a black hoodie and a mask, his eyes staring straight at me through the screen. Seeing his determined look, I thought about the news article again. Why was I killed? And how was Chicken caught? Why was he caught after I died? Another text message. [Calm down and listen. Chicken has the key to your second floor, so that door won’t stop him. You have ten minutes to hide. [The master bedroom only has a wardrobe and a vanity, and the bed frame is solid. There’s nowhere to hide, so I don’t recommend it. [I remember the bed in the guest room is hollow. You should hide inside the bed base.] [Who are you?] I asked, fighting back fear. He knew I would be killed, and he knew the layout of my house perfectly. I switched back to Chicken’s stream. He was leisurely pouring himself a glass of red wine in the kitchen. My expensive wine! I hadn’t even opened it yet, and he was wasting it. [I’m your boyfriend.] Boyfriend? I almost laughed. I’ve been single for 30 years. 4 [Don’t misunderstand. I’m your boyfriend in a parallel universe. Our timeline is a week ahead of yours. My girlfriend—you—was killed by Chicken. I contacted you by accident. I just want you to live, for her sake.] Parallel universe? That sounded ridiculous. [By the way, I’m a cop, so I know all the details of the case. You must be wondering why you died but Chicken got caught. [In my timeline, you didn’t hide. You fought Chicken head-on. You injured him severely, but he killed you. Because of his injuries, he couldn’t escape.] That sounded like something I would do. In this dog-eat-dog world, a single woman like me couldn’t survive without being tough. “Five minutes left. You better be hiding well.” Even though I didn’t fully trust this guy, he was right about the layout. My master bedroom had zero hiding spots. The guest room not only had a hollow bed base, but I had also hidden a knife in there. “Two minutes left. I wonder if my little sweetie is ready.” Chicken finished the wine and spoke again. [Chicken looked so cool drinking that wine! But why does he keep calling her ‘little sweetie’?] [Yeah! Maybe he likes her looks, that’s why he’s giving her a chance to hide.] [OMG, is Chicken going to livestream… you know… spicy stuff? So exciting.] I cursed under my breath. These netizens were just here for the show. They didn’t care about human life at all! I retrieved the knife from the guest room and carefully lifted the mattress. After hiding, I dimmed my phone screen to the lowest setting. [Are you hidden?] the stranger asked again. [Yes.] After typing that, I scrutinized the news screenshot again. The photo… something felt off. Footsteps were getting closer. Strangely, he didn’t go to the master bedroom first. He walked straight toward the guest room. Wouldn’t a normal person check the master bedroom first?! Unless… I clamped my hand over my mouth, terrified to make a sound. Creak. The guest room door opened. Black boots appeared in my line of sight through the crack in the bed base. I was sweating profusely. “Let’s see what today’s little sweetie looks like.” He squatted down and slowly reached for the mattress.

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