Category: English

My adopted brother, whom I’ve had a crush on forever, has always been cold to me. I thought he just wasn’t the smiling type. Until one night, I heard his raspy voice calling someone’s name: “Sisi.” Heartbroken, I packed up my pet snake and moved out. Suddenly, floating text comments appeared before my eyes: [Girl, you are killing me! He wasn’t calling a girl’s name! Snakes make a ‘hissing’ sound!] [The Male Lead is never going to hiss again. He’s probably trying to poison himself mute right now.] [Did you seriously not notice that your pet snake and your brother never appear at the same time?] The day I moved out, a crack finally appeared in Ethan’s icy facade. He frowned slightly, lifting his eyelids. “Why?” I avoided his gaze, flustered. “I graduated. I can support myself now. It’s not good to keep living at home.” I was adopted by the Reed family. This reason should be reasonable enough. I really couldn’t say the truth. Hearing him call someone else’s name made me feel sad and awkward. I just wanted to run away. Ethan has always been a cold, self-restrained person. But that night, when he called “Sisi,” his voice was low and raspy. Like it was soaked in some deep emotion. Just thinking about it still shocks me. My suitcase was packed and sitting by the door. As expected, Ethan didn’t ask me to stay. He just opened the door to his study, dropping one sentence: “Don’t forget to take your pet.” He was cold to me, and cold to my pet. He never visited my little snake, let alone touched it. Now, he couldn’t wait to kick it out too. I was heartbroken. I grabbed the snake, terrarium and all, and left alone. The floating comments—like a livestream chat—appeared after I moved into my new apartment. I unpacked my stuff and collapsed on the sofa. My little white snake slowly crawled out of the open terrarium, climbing up my calf. Its cool scales pressed against my bare skin. Like always, I bent down and scooped it up. It climbed up my arm and settled on my shoulder. I started to suspect the mushrooms I fried for lunch weren’t fully cooked. Lines of text started popping up in front of my eyes. [Why did she move out?! My favorite trope of angsty tension under one roof is gone!] [Forget tension, the plot is about to hit the highway and you’re still driving a tricycle.] What are they babbling about? Highway? I just got my driver’s license; I’m not allowed on the highway yet. I looked down and started googling “What to do for mushroom poisoning.” I’ve heard of seeing little green men, but never floating text. While my mind wandered, I switched to my messages and saw Ethan pinned at the top. His profile picture was pure white. The messages stopped a day ago. Me: “Brother, I’m moving out.” Him (replying much later): “Okay.” So perfunctory. I got dumped before we even started dating. I buried my head in my knees, ready to cry my eyes out. I forgot the snake was still on my shoulder. It suddenly slipped into my collar, then stopped. Leaving a cold, slippery sensation. And… a snake tongue that didn’t retract in time. The snake seemed stunned too, freezing in place. My scalp tingled. I frantically fished it out. It still left a faint red mark. Emo mode paused. The text scrolled by rapidly. [Male Lead be like: Sorry, I type slow.] [Female Lead: Stop pretending.] [He wasn’t being perfunctory! You were playing with him at the time; he couldn’t free his hands. He typed that ‘Okay’ with his tail!] [Holy crap! Just joined the stream and it’s already this spicy.] [Ethan must be in heaven.] I understood the words, and my face instantly turned red. Is this snake… Ethan? He always wears gold-rimmed glasses. Is he a cobra? (Note: ‘Spectacled Cobra’ in Chinese/culture reference) Suspicion: Hallucinations from mushroom poisoning. I put the snake back in the terrarium and wanted to text my best friend. To tell her I might be tripping on mushrooms. My finger swiped, and I saw the messages I sent her last time. Me: “It’s over. I have no chance.” “Ethan seems to like someone!” “He even called her ‘Sisi’!” “Sob.” The comments seemed to be peeking at my screen. [Girl, you are killing me! He wasn’t calling a girl’s name! Snakes make a ‘hissing’ sound!] [The Male Lead is never going to hiss again. He’s probably trying to poison himself mute right now.] [Did you seriously not notice that your pet snake and your brother never appear at the same time?] Hey, didn’t I put on a privacy screen protector? I deleted the unsent text. I looked hesitantly at the terrarium by my feet. The white snake was wrapped around a grape vine, head raised, staring quietly at me. It and Ethan… really never appeared together. [Question Xu Xian, Understand Xu Xian, Become Xu Xian.] (Reference to the Legend of the White Snake, a man who fell in love with a snake demon) [Try this, feed Ethan some realgar wine. If he faints, he’s a snake. If not, he’s a snake demon.] I pursed my lips. I found Ethan’s number in my contacts and dialed it. The white snake’s eyes seemed to widen. Then, its tail started rattling. I don’t know the principle behind it, but… I understood. I hung up. That night, I was drawing on my tablet in my room. I actually received a message from Ethan first. “Forgot to tell you.” “The snake cousin gave you back then… it’s a rattlesnake.” [Male Lead trying to cover his tracks.] [What rattlesnake rattles with a ringtone sound?] My cousin gave me the snake. In high school, I was stressed and randomly wanted a pet snake. My cousin heard and brought one over. “Home-bred. Different from the ones you buy.” “Long life span, smart, obedient, clingy. Great emotional support.” “Knows to find food when hungry, knows to come home when it rains.” It was true. It understood all my commands. It was clingy, often wrapping around my calf. It slept with me at night. I thought I found the perfect snake. Turns out it was my brother. …It feels really weird. My secret crush and my favorite pet merged into one. Whatever. I can pretend I don’t know. I put down my pen and tablet, opening the door. The white snake had crawled out of the terrarium at some point and was waiting at the door. I hesitated, then squatted and held out my hand. It climbed onto my shoulder and shook its tail. The tail made a shhh-shhh sound, clear as day. [Male Lead trying SO hard to prove he isn’t himself.] [He doesn’t dare let her find out he’s a pervert.] [That is a Western Diamondback Rattlesnake. In the US, they bite more people than any other snake…] Maybe beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I felt like this snake looked a lot more handsome now. It leaned in, nuzzling my cheek with its nose affectionately. Tentatively, its tongue flicked the corner of my mouth. Leaving a cold, wet sensation. My breath hitched. I took it off, put it outside the door, and locked it quickly. [Male Lead got rejected just like that. But a snake is kinda hard to accept.] [Only in novels. If I saw a snake that big in my house, I’d move out overnight and leave the deed to the snake.] I threw myself onto the bed, burying my head in the quilt. My face was burning. It took a while to calm down. I texted my best friend. “Can you understand Xu Xian?” The comments were shocked. [???] [So you’re shy, not rejecting him?] Bestie: “???” “Is your latest obsession a snake-man character?” “If he’s hot, I totally get it.” I draw a lot of fan art. She probably misunderstood. I didn’t explain. Ethan’s human form is too handsome—cold and abstinent. His snake form is also special, iridescent scales, looking expensive. I just made the mistake every simp makes. I adjusted my mindset, opened the door again, and brought the snake back in. Petting time. The high-and-mighty Ethan was now at my mercy. I squeezed and petted him, taking revenge for his coldness. He didn’t resist at all. He even seemed excited, trembling slightly. [Which part of the snake corresponds to which part of the human?] [Look at him acting cheap. She hasn’t even used any tricks yet and he’s already surrendered.] I wanted to continue my revenge. But my hands were tired, and he wasn’t tired at all. I gave up and tossed him aside. Maybe the contact tonight was too intimate. I had a very… vivid dream. The snake repeated that accidental movement from the afternoon. Coiled on my chest. But not cold. Slightly hot. Scales rough, sliding over me slowly and gently. I couldn’t take it, grabbing the corner of the quilt, arching my back. The sensation blurred the line between dream and reality. So much so that when I opened my eyes, I was still dazed. The room was dim. I turned on the nightlight. The white snake was lying by the bed, motionless, sleeping soundly. So it really was a dream. Because the night was too hot, the first thing I did after waking up was shower. I have mild dermatographia; a touch leaves a red mark, but it usually fades fast. The mark from yesterday afternoon still hadn’t faded. Faintly red. Maybe I should get that treated. Wrapped in a towel, I pushed open the glass door. The snake was awake, coiled in a circle, sitting at the door. Staring at me intensely. When I first got the snake, I learned most are nocturnal. So I tried not to disturb it during the day. But my cousin said: “Don’t worry about him. He plays when he wants. He can adjust.” He sure can adjust. His schedule matches mine now. I clutched my towel, unable to squat down to pick him up. The snake and I stared at each other. [Ethan’s expression is killing me. Why so aggrieved?] [Your wifey won’t pick you up.] He paused for a moment, then slithered up on his own. Snake tail wrapping around my calf. The first time he climbed up from there. I hadn’t wiped the water off my body yet. The cold scales sliding against my skin… Tingling. Numbing. He wrapped tight. I could barely walk. I stumbled to the bedroom door and fell onto the bed, no time to read the comments. …… I grabbed the snake by the seven-inch point (neck), held him up, and threw him out. “Get out. I need to change.”

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The day my med school application madness hit its peak, my wealthy biological parents showed up. Turns out, I was the real heiress, switched at birth. The moment I stepped into their mansion, the fake heiress, Isabelle, started sobbing about how the shock of not being their real daughter was making it hard for her to breathe. My eyes lit up. “Hold still. I’ve dissected a frog. Let me have a look.” My new father frowned, warning me in a stern voice not to bully her. I ignored him, spun around, and slid to my knees in front of my new brother, grabbing his hand with feverish excitement. “Bro, you have to have a rich pre-med friend, right? Oh my god, please, I will literally worship the ground he walks on!” 1 Isabelle stood there, clutching the handle of her suitcase, her shoulders shaking with sobs. “Mom and Dad said what happened in the past has nothing to do with me, but I’m so scared my sister won’t forgive me! I should just go!” She said she was leaving, but her feet were glued to the marble floor. My mother wrapped a comforting arm around her, stroking her silky hair. “Isabelle, what are you talking about? You’ve lived in this house your whole life. You’re our precious daughter! No one is kicking you out.” My father’s expression darkened as he turned his intimidating gaze on me. “That small town you came from is a complete backwater. Isabelle couldn’t possibly live like that. Just think of her as your new little sister and try to be more accommodating.” I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Wow, a classist and a bigot. Is there a tumor pressing on your frontal lobe? You should really get that checked out.” My father, realizing his gaffe, froze. His face went rigid, and he didn’t say another word. Just then, I spotted a young man in a sharp suit walking in from the entryway. He had the same eyes as me. My focus shifted instantly. I scrambled over, a huge grin plastered on my face, and grabbed his hand. “Hi! You must be my brother, Liam, right?” Liam’s face soured, and he tried to yank his hand away. But I clung to it like a lifeline, letting him pull me into his chest rather than let go. His expression grew even darker. “Yes,” he bit out through clenched teeth. My smile only widened. “Bro, you have to have a rich pre-med friend from an Ivy League school, right?” To get into a top medical program, I would do anything. I didn’t care if my brother was biased. I needed to get in. The entire hall fell silent. Liam’s face was a thundercloud. He squeezed my hand hard, pushed me to the ground, and loomed over me. “You just got here and you’re already causing trouble. I’m warning you, drop the sleazy social climbing act.” Isabelle quickly suppressed a smirk, tapping her designer leather shoes anxiously. “Liam, how could you push her? It’s all my fault. Seeing me obviously makes her uncomfortable. Blame me, don’t be angry with her!” I blew on my scraped palm, flicking away a small piece of gravel embedded in the skin, and looked up at him. “You know, after that little push, I could say I’m dizzy, nauseous, and my limbs feel weak. Then I could stand up, spin around a few times, and collapse. I could probably sue you for a condo, you know that?” My mother rushed over to help me up, but her eyes were fixed on Isabelle. “Isabelle, honey, don’t overthink it. It has nothing to do with you. You’re Mommy’s good girl. If anyone says otherwise, I’ll rip their tongue out!” Then she shot a glare at Liam. “Why would you push your sister? Honestly, you’re all brawn and no brain! Go to the backyard and pull weeds. No dinner until you’re finished!” Liam’s eyes flickered with a hint of regret as he saw the blood beading on my hand. But at the mention of weeding, his face hardened, a vein throbbing in his forehead. “What? I barely touched her! Who knows if she’s…” Isabelle immediately stepped in front of him and took my hand in a gesture of faux intimacy. “Sister, it’s okay, Liam didn’t mean it. Let me blow on it, it’ll feel better…” I calmly pulled my hand away. “No thanks. Your spit would be more effective. At least saliva has some antibacterial properties. Your breath isn’t exactly magical, and frankly, I find it a little gross.” As a med student, my precision was impeccable. I mentally gave myself an A+. The concern on Isabelle’s face froze, and she was left speechless. Then, a thought struck me. I frowned at her. “By the way, you don’t have tuberculosis, do you? Mycobacterium tuberculosis can be transmitted through respiratory droplets.” I took a deep breath and forced a warm, sunny smile at Liam. “But hey, we’re family, right? Of course I don’t blame you… bro.” The last word hit him like a physical blow. His face flushed a deep red. He let out a sharp scoff, turned on his heel, and stalked off toward the backyard. 2 The dinner spread was magnificent. But I was so hungry I was seeing stars, and I still hadn’t had a single bite. “Isabelle is so sweet. She won’t eat because she’s worried about her brother still weeding the garden,” my mother cooed. “Honey, just start without him,” my father added. “We can’t have our baby girl starving! That brother of yours made a mistake, he deserves to be punished.” Isabelle smiled shyly, her cheeks blushing. “It’s okay, Mom and Dad, I can wait. Let’s all eat together when Liam gets back. He’d be so sad if he came back to a table of leftovers.” She shot me a triumphant glance, then leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dripping with pity. “Sister, what happened this afternoon was Liam’s fault. I apologize on his behalf. Can you please forgive him and let him come eat?” My blood sugar was already dangerously low. It had started with tingling in my hands and feet, then blurry vision, and now a ringing in my ears. I was so deep in my own world I couldn’t process any external information. My breathing grew shallow. I started talking to myself. “The body burns carbohydrates first for energy, then fat, then protein. I think I’m about to hit stage two.” My mother, who was also worried about her son but too proud to admit it, seized the opportunity to lecture me. “Ava, I know your brother was also in the wrong this afternoon, but you’re siblings. You can’t be so petty. Look at your sister, she’s so much more mature. I know you’ve had a hard life, and I understand, but that’s not Isabelle’s fault…” Finally, my brain performed a forced shutdown. A wave of dizziness washed over me, and I slumped sideways. As I fell, my hand conveniently knocked a bowl of lukewarm curry soup all over Isabelle. The unappetizing yellow liquid stained her limited-edition dress in ugly blotches. Her face turned green. “My new dress!” she shrieked. Liam had just walked in the door and saw me slide off the chair like a limp noodle. He sprinted over and caught me just before I hit the floor. He heard the shriek and instinctively looked up, only to see Isabelle recoiling from me in disgust, her brow furrowed as she stared down at her ruined dress. Sensing Liam’s gaze, she belatedly snapped back to reality, her face paling. “Liam… is Ava okay? The soup just burned me a little, but I’m fine, she’s more important!” Ignoring the mess on her clothes, she rushed over as if to help me. Liam’s flicker of suspicion vanished. He gave a distracted nod and lifted me into his arms, carrying me to my bedroom. My parents, startled by the sudden turn of events, followed anxiously upstairs. The dining room fell silent, leaving Isabelle alone, her fists clenched in rage, her beautiful, pitiful face twisted with resentment. When I woke up, I wasn’t staring at the moldy ceiling of the orphanage or the cramped walls of my dorm room. I was in a princess-style bedroom with a sparkling crystal chandelier. A teasing voice sounded from my side. “You’re awake?” “So, I hear you were asking for me.” 3 I turned my head. A man about my brother’s age was standing there, wearing a white lab coat. A jolt went through me. I shot up in bed. “Whoa, easy there! Don’t get too excited. I know I’m devastatingly handsome, but please, try to contain yourself.” “Did you graduate from King’s College of Medicine?” I asked, kneeling on the edge of the bed and staring at him with manic intensity. Miles Kent was silent for a moment, then looked up at the ceiling as if asking for divine intervention. “Can you please not call it that? It’s one of the top medical schools in the country.” The confirmation sent another jolt of excitement through me. “So, about my application…” Before I could finish, the door burst open. It was Isabelle, her voice edged with urgency. “Miles, you’re here!” She turned to me. “Ava, come down for dinner. Mom and Dad had the cook make a whole new meal. I wasn’t trying to be difficult earlier, I just wanted to wait for Liam…” Her eyes reddened as if she’d been deeply wronged. I tasted something sweet in my mouth—the glucose Miles must have given me—and gave a distracted nod. At the dinner table, a medium-rare steak was placed before each of us, flanked by a neat arrangement of knives and forks. Isabelle was exceptionally attentive, constantly refilling our parents’ glasses, earning their praise for being so filial. After sitting down, she gave a subtle smirk and looked at me with feigned concern. “Sister, why aren’t you eating? I had the chef make this steak especially for you. It’s perfect!” She gracefully cut a small piece with her knife and fork, but didn’t eat it. “Oh, sister, I’m so sorry. You probably don’t know how to use a knife and fork, do you? I can help you.” At her words, all eyes turned to me. One of the maids let out a small, derisive snort. My father’s face was stone, his eyes filled with disgust. I calmly pressed her hand down. “No need.” Was she kidding me? I aced my anatomy practical. I could isolate any nerve in the musculature of a cadaver on command. This little piece of beef was nothing. In seconds, it was cut into perfectly uniform cubes, neatly arranged on my plate. Isabelle’s nails dug into her palms, her smile strained. The rest of the meal was tasteless. My parents and Miles chatted amiably. I leaned closer to Isabelle. “Do you know what part of the cow this tenderloin comes from?” I whispered. “My guess is it’s equivalent to the psoas major in a human. Originating from the transverse processes and lateral aspects of the vertebral bodies from T12 to L5, extending down through the pelvis to insert on the lesser trochanter of the femur.” I continued, lightly tracing a line along her slender waist. “What do you think would happen if someone were to, say, stick a knife in right here?” Isabelle’s entire body went rigid. She started to tremble. When she didn’t respond, I kept going. “The books say this is a deep muscle group. If the person holding the knife had an unsteady hand, which nerve would they likely damage? Oh, right. The lumbar plexus.” The color drained from Isabelle’s face. She shot to her feet. Realizing her overreaction, she forced a stiff smile. “I’m… I’m full. I’m going to head up.” Everyone at the table stared. I spoke up, my voice light. “Where is she going? The guest hasn’t even finished eating. Don’t you think you spoil her a little too much, Mom and Dad?” My mother gave an awkward laugh, at a loss for words. My brother just kept his head down, lost in thought. After dinner, I went straight to my room. I’d heard the application review didn’t have a written test, but the professors would ask questions on the spot. I needed to review all the key concepts in internal medicine and surgery before the interview. 4 After my little scare tactic, I thought Isabelle might back off for a few days. I had no idea she was about to go completely off the rails. I was oblivious to her careful plotting. The application system allowed for three choices. I only submitted one: King’s College. All or nothing. This was it. “Hi, Miles. It’s Ava. So, I’ve been having some recurrent tonsillitis. On examination: T 36.2, P 78, R 16… apical impulse is located in the fifth left intercostal space at the midclavicular line…” Miles sounded annoyed. “Just send me a picture of the case study.” “Okay, Miles!” My relentless academic questioning finally wore him down. He offered to take me out to dinner. As I was leaving, I ran into Isabelle. She was dressed to the nines, looking stunning, clearly on her way to meet someone. “Oh, are you going out too, sister? Be careful on the road. It would be a shame if something happened to you. Mom and Dad would be so sad, I think.” Her words struck me as odd. My gaze fell to her exposed back. “You know, you have an issue with your back.” “Your scapulae are protruding. The medical term is winged scapula.” Isabelle, furious, slammed her purse against her leg and stormed out to her car, her usually sweet voice stiff with anger. “Sorry, sister, I’m in a hurry. You’ll just have to let me go first. Didn’t Mom and Dad tell you to take care of me?” I rolled my eyes and headed for the subway station. As I passed through a narrow alley, a sudden sense of unease washed over me. Suddenly, a sharp blow struck the back of my neck. He missed his mark. But I didn’t want a second hit, so I let my eyes roll back and went limp, collapsing to the ground. Several pairs of hands stuffed me into a burlap sack and threw me into the trunk of a car. I opened my eyes, turned on my phone’s video recorder from inside the sack, and sent a quick text to Miles. “I’ve been kidnapped. You’ll have to eat dinner alone.” Miles: ? “The assailant was an amateur,” I typed. “He was probably aiming for my carotid sinus to induce syncope, but he hit my cervical spine instead. The carotid sinus, as you know, is located on both sides of the neck and contains a high concentration of baroreceptors. Impressive, right? Even under duress, my foundational knowledge is solid.” I heard the trunk open and quickly put my phone away. They pulled me out of the sack and threw me on the ground. A cloyingly sweet perfume filled the air. It was familiar. It was Isabelle’s. “Okay, untie her, then tie me up. And then you need to cut me,” Isabelle’s delicate voice instructed from above. As soon as the ropes were off, I discreetly angled my phone’s camera towards her. She was just as ruthless as her mother, the nanny who had switched us at birth. The bodyguard hesitated, unwilling to cut the now-bound Isabelle. “Useless!” she hissed. “If you don’t cut me, how am I supposed to frame that bitch Ava? The more pathetic I look, the more Mom, Dad, and Liam will pity me, and the more they’ll hate her!” When the bodyguard still didn’t move, she got up and stumbled into the knife herself. “…Ouch. Okay, Mom and Dad should be here soon. You can go now. I’ll wire you the money, every last cent.” Not long after the bodyguards left, my parents and Liam rushed in. “Isabelle! Oh, Isabelle, please be okay! If anything happens to you, what will I do?” my mother wailed. “Don’t be afraid, sweetie, Dad’s here to save you! Ava! Get out here!” I chose that moment to let out a faint groan, giving them a clue to my location. Isabelle was trembling, tied up, tears streaming down her face like a tragic heroine. “No… sister, please let me go. I’ll never try to compete with you for Mom and Dad’s love again. I’ll leave the family right now, I’ll get out of your sight, just please don’t kill me…” My mother saw her pitiful state and the blood, and all the color drained from her face. She lunged forward. “Isabelle! Mommy’s here! Are you okay? Oh my god, the blood…” My father aimed a kick at me. I dodged to the side. Missing me only made him angrier. “You monster! You psycho! How could you do this to your own sister? I should never have brought a venomous snake like you into this house!” I pulled out my phone, opened the video, and held it out for them to see. “Watch for yourselves. It’s not like you’d believe anything I say anyway.”

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I was the Ashton family’s showpiece daughter. My father drove my mother to her death and never once gave me a kind look. The one saving grace was my two childhood knights. They were the ones who pulled me from the rooftop ledge, who stopped my numb acts of self-harm. They were my antidote. But when I returned home from my studies abroad, everything had changed. They had found a new princess, and I was cast as the wicked witch who tormented her. I watched them shield my father’s stepdaughter, their eyes filled with a wariness once reserved for strangers. The antidote had become a lethal poison. My illness worsened. Finally, I decided to grant them their wish and disappear. 1 Today was my birthday. It was also the first anniversary of my return to the city. I scrolled numbly through my social media feed, watching the endless stream of birthday wishes Sean and Ian were posting for Molly. They were the boys I had grown up with, my closest friends. Now, it was as if I’d never existed. A bitter smile touched my lips. I wasn’t sure if it was the medication kicking in or my psychosomatic symptoms flaring up again, but the exhaustion was bone-deep. On a day meant for celebration, all I could feel was a creeping desire for it all to end. I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer. My illness was winning. After a moment of hesitation, I dialed my grandfather’s number overseas. “Grandpa, I’ve made up my mind. I’ll come back for the treatment.” A heavy sigh came from the other end. “Leah, my dear,” he said, his voice laced with pain, “Why would you say this on your birthday? Did they hurt you again?” His words were enough to make my eyes well up, but I fought back the tears, not wanting to worry him. “No, nothing like that.” “It’s okay, my sweet girl,” his loving voice soothed me. “I’m an old man now. I can’t do much about that bastard Julian, but I can make sure you get well. I’ll make the arrangements. In two weeks, I’ll have you here with me.” “As for those two boys…, people change, Leah. Don’t let them break your heart.” I nodded, though he couldn’t see, and after saying our goodbyes, I ended the call. Staring out at the city lights, I was lost in thought. People change. I knew that. But when I came home and saw the two friends I cherished most in the world ignoring me, choosing my father’s illegitimate daughter over me, believing her lies and looking at me with disgust… the pain was so sharp it stole the air from my lungs. The depth of my love for them was matched only by the depth of the wounds they inflicted. As a child, my father, Julian Ashton, had despised my mother, and by extension, me. His years of cold neglect had sent me spiraling into a deep depression. At its worst, I almost stepped off the roof of our penthouse. It was Sean and Ian who pulled me back, time and time again. They dragged me out, made me play, and slowly, carefully, drew me out of the shadows. Back then, they were my cure. Now, the medicine had turned to poison. Their distance, their coldness, had made me sicker than ever. My body was a knot of tension as I lay in bed. I took two extra sleeping pills, hoping for oblivion. Just as sleep was about to take me, my phone buzzed. I squinted at the screen. It was Sean. A flicker of hope, pathetic as it was, sparked in my chest. Maybe this was it. Maybe they remembered. Then his first words snuffed it out. “We’re at Molly’s birthday party. She mentioned it was your birthday too and was worried you’d be lonely, so she asked us to call.” The raucous sound of their celebration was a stark contrast to the crushing silence of my room. My last shred of hope shattered. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I didn’t have the strength. Sean waited a moment, then his voice, usually warm, was clipped with impatience. “Leah? Are you there? What’s with the silent treatment? Molly was being nice, worried you were all alone. Can you stop being so hostile to her all the time?” I could hear a soft murmur in the background, probably Molly telling him not to be so harsh. Sean huffed but fell silent, passing the phone to his brother. Ian’s cool, detached voice came through the line. “Happy birthday. We got you a gift, we’ll give it to you at the party tomorrow… If there’s nothing else, we’re going to hang up. The fireworks Molly wanted to see are about to start.” His tone was all business, softening only when he said Molly’s name, a hint of affection coloring the word. I ended the call, my hand falling limply to my side. I didn’t understand. I had only been away for a few years. How could the devotion that was once mine be given away so easily, so completely? I had tried to win them back. I had fought and cried, but nothing worked. It never earned me so much as a second glance. All I could do was retreat, defeated and alone. I wiped the tears from my face. I knew it was going to be another long, sleepless night. 2 Every year, Julian Ashton threw me a birthday gala. He called it a celebration, but I knew the truth. It was a performance, a way to market his public image as a doting father while parading me around for business connections. I’d drunk myself into stomach ulcers at these parties, all for the sake of his damn projects. But attendance was never optional. A stir at the entrance drew my attention. Molly, dressed in a magnificent ball gown fit for a princess, glided in, flanked by Ian and Sean. She blushed and hid behind Sean, feigning shyness, as if overwhelmed by the scene. I watched her, a cold amusement rising in me. If she was truly uncomfortable, would she have worn something so ostentatious? Would she have made such a grand entrance? Molly spotted me and hurried over, grasping my hand. Her lower lip jutted out in a pout. “Leah, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice thick with false contrition. “I know Dad threw this party just for you, but…” She shot a look at the two towering men beside her, a mix of shy blame and affection. “They insisted I come. They said since it’s my birthday too, I’m a guest of honor…” She clung to my arm, her words overflowing with apology and helplessness, as if terrified I might be upset. But I saw it clearly—the triumphant glint in her eyes. I let out a quiet, mirthless laugh. I had no energy to play along with her charade. I pulled my hand away without a word. That simple gesture seemed to ignite their fury. In the eyes of Ian and Sean, it was a declaration of war. Sean immediately stepped in front of a teary-eyed Molly, shielding her as if from a physical blow. Ian’s brow furrowed, his gaze landing on me, heavy with disappointment. “Leah, how could a few years abroad make you so selfish?” I looked at the two brothers, their faces set in hostile lines, and a profound weariness washed over me. To be publicly reprimanded at my own birthday party, simply for not responding to Molly’s act. I had endured this, in one form or another, countless times over the past year. I had argued. I had cried. I had pleaded. Nothing could win back a single kind glance from Ian or Sean. Now, I was just tired. I didn’t want to fight anymore. I turned to leave. But Ian’s hand shot out, his fingers closing around my arm. I looked at him, my exhaustion plain on my face. For a split second, his grip faltered, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Where do you think you’re going? Apologize to Molly!” Sean, ever the hothead, snapped before Ian could speak. I tried to pull my arm free, but his grip was like iron. I understood then. Ian, the cool, calculating one, felt the same way. The eyes of the room were on me, a mixture of pity and amusement. They all knew. The girl who was once the center of the Grant brothers’ world had lost everything. They were all waiting for the next act of my humiliation. A smirk pulled at my lips. “Why should I apologize?” “Molly grew up an orphan,” Ian said, his tone one of patient reason, as if explaining a simple concept to a child. “She never had a real birthday until your father adopted her. She’s never been to a party this grand. You’ve had parties like this your entire life. Is it really so hard to share just one with her?” His words were like little shards of glass embedding themselves in my heart. An orphan? They actually believed Julian’s ridiculous cover story! Molly wasn’t adopted. She was my half-sister, born to my father’s mistress less than a year after I was. The tension in the room was suffocating. Just as the whispers and mocking glances reached their peak, Julian finally made his appearance, rushing over to play peacemaker. “Ah, Ian, Sean! No need for all this!” he said, clapping them on the shoulders with sickening familiarity. “Molly is such a sensible girl. I was already planning to celebrate her birthday tonight as well!” He then turned to me, his voice taking on a tone of gentle chiding. “Leah! You need to stop being so willful. Molly is your sister, after all!” His words were earnest, but his meaning was clear: I was the selfish, spoiled heiress, and Molly was the blameless victim. The hypocrisy made me nauseous. I scanned the faces around me—my duplicitous father, my treacherous friends, his innocent-looking mistress’s daughter—and felt a wave of pathetic irony wash over me. With a final surge of strength, I ripped my arm from Ian’s grasp. “Fine. If you all want it so badly, then this party is for her. Let the entire night be for Molly Ashton.” If it’s for her, I thought with a bitter twist in my gut, at least she won’t have to spend the night poisoning herself with alcohol to please potential business partners. I laughed at my own dark humor and walked towards the exit without a backward glance. 3 “Leah! What about your present?” Sean caught up to me at the door, hesitating for a moment before holding out a gift box. I opened it. Inside lay a diamond necklace, clearly expensive. I was surprised. I’d assumed they’d just grabbed some token gift, not something so… thoughtful. I bit my lip, about to say something, when Molly appeared beside us. “You should take it, Leah,” she chirped, lifting the necklace from its velvet cushion and moving to fasten it around my neck. “They were so busy making my gift by hand that I had to pick this out for them.” She giggled. “It cost a fortune! But I figured you’re the type who likes expensive things. Not like me, I’m happy with childish little crafts. They spent so much time on my gift, you know.” The warmth that had begun to seep back into my chest instantly turned to ice. I stopped her hand before the clasp could close. “No, thank you,” I said, my voice flat. I mocked myself for my foolishness. Of course. It was just a thoughtless, outsourced gift. And I’d actually believed for a second that they had chosen it for me. They were too busy doting on their precious Molly to spare a moment for me. “I don’t wear necklaces. If you like it so much, you can have it.” I walked out into the night, not seeing the two men staring holes into my retreating back. Julian had never assigned me a driver, so I walked home alone under the cloak of darkness. As I passed the central plaza, I saw three children setting off sparklers. A little girl stood in the middle, her face lit up with pure joy, her eyes sparkling brighter than the fireworks. On either side of her, two boys held the sparklers aloft, their gazes fixed on her, their faces soft with adoration. I stopped, a small smile finding its way to my lips. But as I watched, the smile dissolved, and tears began to stream down my face. I remembered when my grades slipped, and the Ashton family staff whispered behind my back about how I was a disappointment. It was Ian who had patiently tutored me for hours until I understood. I remembered being bullied at school, hiding in a bathroom stall to cry because I had no one to stand up for me. It was Sean who found me, who hunted down the bullies and taught them a lesson, coming back bruised and bleeding but grinning and telling me it was nothing. Back then, everyone said that Ian and Sean Grant were my exclusive knights. And now? For Molly, they stood with Julian Ashton. They stood on the opposite side of a battlefield I never wanted to be on. I wiped my tears, the pain in my chest a physical, crushing weight. I didn’t understand how they, knowing everything I had been through, could so easily align themselves with the man who had caused it all. Or maybe… maybe it was all a lie? Maybe the salvation I thought I’d found was just a game for two bored, wealthy boys. And as soon as I was gone, Julian brought his real daughter home, and they finally found their true princess. “How nice…” I murmured, watching the children’s laughing silhouettes. With a bitter chuckle, I turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows. 4 The day I was set to leave, I went to the Grant’s home. The moment I stepped inside, Eleanor Grant pulled me into a warm embrace, her beautiful face etched with concern. “My dear child,” she sighed, leading me to the sofa. “I heard about what happened at the party. Those two idiots! I swear, when they get home, I’ll give them a piece of my mind for you!” I took her hand, managing a faint smile. “It’s alright, Eleanor… I don’t want to be a bother anymore. I’m leaving the country today.” “A bother? You could never be… What? You’re leaving?” “Yes… This time, I’m doing it for me.” I lowered my eyes, hiding the turmoil within. “And if all goes well, I won’t be coming back.” Eleanor was speechless for a long moment, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Is it the illness? Is it worse? Because of them?” I didn’t answer, only squeezed her hand. “I’ll miss you.” “Do they know?” I shook my head. Eleanor let out a long, pained sigh. “Of course not. Are you sure you don’t want to tell them? When you left for your studies, they were both miserable for months. Maybe this time…” Before I could respond, the front door swung open. Ian and Sean walked in, their arms laden with shopping bags. Trailing behind them, dressed to the nines, was Molly. “Mom, look who’s here!” Sean called out, his cheerful expression vanishing the moment he saw me. “What are you doing here?” Eleanor’s brow knitted in a sharp line. “I invited her. Is that a problem for you?” Sean pouted and shot me a dark look, but said nothing more. “Mom, Molly is here. You haven’t met her properly yet,” Ian said, stepping in to smooth things over. He guided Molly forward. “She’s been preparing for this visit all week. Look, all these are gifts she brought for you.” Molly offered a shy smile and was about to speak, but Eleanor cut her off. “That won’t be necessary. She is not welcome in my home.” “Mom!” Ian’s voice was sharp. “Don’t you ‘Mom’ me!” Eleanor stood, pulling me closer to her side. “Have I or have I not told you two that you are not to hurt Leah?” Molly took a step forward, her eyes welling up as if she’d been dealt a mortal blow. “Mrs. Grant, you’ve misunderstood! They were just trying to protect me…” she choked out, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry, it’s all my fault… I shouldn’t have made Leah upset… If you’re going to blame someone, please, blame me…” Tears streamed down her face, the perfect picture of a brave, tragic heroine. It worked. Ian’s expression softened instantly. He wrapped an arm around her, turning to his mother with a hard edge to his voice. “Mom! Can you please stop defending her unconditionally for once?” Eleanor stared at him, stunned, clearly unable to believe her composed, responsible eldest son would ever speak to her that way. “Ian, you disappoint me more than I can say!” “For a stepdaughter, you’ve hurt the girl who grew up with you, and now you raise your voice to your own mother!” “So what if she’s a stepdaughter?” Sean retorted. Looking at their stubborn, unyielding faces, Eleanor looked like she was about to faint from sheer rage. I quickly rubbed her back, trying to soothe her. “Leah is leaving today!” Eleanor finally burst out, pointing a trembling finger at her sons. She had said it. I knew she was still clinging to the hope that our bond meant something to them. And wasn’t a part of me, a stupid, foolish part, hoping for the same thing? I looked at them, a secret prayer in my heart. Their response was a cold sneer. “Mom, you don’t have to resort to threats like that,” Ian said calmly. “Leah is waiting to inherit the Ashton fortune. She’s not going anywhere.” “Besides,” Sean added, “even if she leaves, what does that have to do with us?” My heart, which I thought couldn’t break any further, splintered into dust. I looked at the two of them, the boys I once loved, as if they were complete strangers. My voice was a raw whisper. “It was me… I lied to Mrs. Grant. I’m sorry… I’m begging you, please, just go. Don’t upset your mother anymore…” Ian’s gaze on me was deep and unreadable. He didn’t say another word, simply turned and led Molly out of the house. Sean glanced back over his shoulder, a flicker of conflict on his face, as if he wanted to say something. But in the end, he followed them, leaving without a word. Eleanor watched them go, a single, heavy sigh escaping her lips. “Leah,” she said, her voice heavy with sorrow. “You’re doing the right thing. I won’t stop you anymore.” “Go. Be free.” 5 It’s been a month since I left. Today is Christmas, and the streets are thronged with people. Across the crowded square, I saw them. The two people I thought I would never have to see again. The smile fell from my face. Without a second’s hesitation, I turned and ran. I didn’t get two steps before a hand closed around my wrist. I whipped around to find Ian’s cool, sculpted face just inches from mine. His clothes were disheveled, his usual perfect composure completely gone. Before I could react, Sean was there too, blocking my path. He looked just as haggard. His hair, which he was usually so meticulous about, was a mess. I was confused, but my overriding instinct was to flee. I had no idea why they were here, but I knew one thing for certain: nothing good could come of this. “What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice dripping with ice. “I’m on the other side of the world. I’m no threat to your precious Molly.” Their faces tightened at my words, but for the first time, they didn’t argue back. “Leah, come home with us.” I laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “Come home? To what? To be your personal punching bag?” Sean’s head drooped. The explosive temper was gone, replaced by a pleading tone I’d never heard from him before. “Leah… we messed up. We neglected you… we didn’t mean for any of it to happen. You can’t just disappear.” I found the notion so absurd I wanted to scream. They didn’t mean it? So I was just collateral damage? I deserved to be targeted, to be ostracized, to become a villain in their eyes for simply existing? I didn’t want to talk to them anymore. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ethan Vance waving at me from a short distance away. He reached my side in a few strides and gently but firmly pried my hand from Ian’s grasp. Ethan was the psychologist my grandfather had found for me. He knew my story. He knew these two men were the source of my illness. Without a word, he took my hand and started to lead me away. Sean blocked his path, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Dr. Vance? How do you know Leah?” I froze. They knew Ethan? Ian must have seen the confusion on my face. “The Vance and Grant families have business dealings,” he explained, his deep eyes boring into mine. “He’s a renowned psychologist… Leah, how do you know him?” The implication dawned on Sean, and his gaze snapped to me, sharp and intense. “But you’re better now, aren’t you?” “Better?” I scoffed. “Did I ever say that? You two never gave a damn about my health. Why are you asking now?” “But… your father and Molly both said you were fine… They said that’s why you went abroad, to get away from us.” A wave of exhaustion crashed over me. Because Molly said it, they believed it. Just like that. “Then you can go on believing I’m fine.” Ignoring their pleas, I turned my back on them, my face a cold mask, and let Ethan lead me away. I had no idea that walking away this time would be the biggest turning point of my life. 6 I was in a car accident. I woke up to the sterile white ceiling of a hospital room and the anxious face of my grandfather. The doctor said I’d sustained a head injury and might have some memory loss. But as I searched my mind, everything seemed more or less intact. Except for two people. Their shadows haunted every corner of my memory, but for the life of me, I couldn’t picture their faces. My grandfather sighed, patting my hand. “If you can’t remember, then don’t try,” he said gently. “It’s for the best, my dear.” I didn’t understand, but I did as he said. One day, while walking in the hospital garden, a man suddenly appeared in front of me. He looked frantic, his eyes wide as he stared at me. Unsettled, I turned to walk away. But my path was blocked by another man who looked almost identical to the first. They stood on either side of me, their eyes mirroring the same profound, heart-wrenching pain. “Leah…” I frowned. “Who are you? How do you know my name?” They started to explain, but my grandfather rushed down, pulling me behind him and shielding me from their approach. I could only watch as they pleaded with him, their voices desperate. They said “I’m sorry” over and over, their eyes growing red. But my grandfather was resolute. He sent them away. When I asked him who they were, his expression grew grim. He took my hand and said, “My dear child, it’s better not to know. They aren’t important.” After that, I started seeing them everywhere. They would find ways to see me when my grandfather wasn’t around. Every morning, a new bouquet of fresh flowers would be at my bedside. They tried everything to win my favor, but whenever I saw them, an inexplicable sadness would wash over me. I finally told them about it, asking them to please stop coming. But the calmer one, the one called Ian, his eyes immediately turned red. The other one, Sean, just broke down, grabbing my hand and apologizing relentlessly. “Leah… we were wrong. We’ve already made those people pay for what they did. Please, don’t… don’t do this to yourself because of us…” I didn’t know what they were sorry for. I didn’t know who they’d made “pay.” But my heart began to throb with a familiar, agonizing pain, and tears I couldn’t control began to fall. 7 There was someone else who visited me often during my recovery. His name was Ethan Vance. I remembered he was my psychologist. But I’d forgotten why I was so sick in the first place. I only had a vague feeling that it had something to do with those two men… Whenever I tried to remember them, a sharp pain would shoot through my head. Ethan would gently tell me not to force it. He was endlessly patient, guiding me through my physical therapy and filling the quiet hours with fascinating stories. He pulled me back from the brink of despair again and again. The feeling was so familiar, as if I’d experienced it a thousand times before in my childhood… I couldn’t place it, and simply attributed it to his kind nature. Over that month in the hospital, we grew closer. That feeling of familiar comfort, combined with his gentle care, made me realize I was falling in love with him. I told him so, directly. His face flushed a deep red, but he met my gaze without flinching. I knew. He felt the same way. On my last day in the hospital, in the privacy of my room, we shared our first kiss. I buried my face in his chest, shy and giddy. When I glanced up, my happiness froze. Two men were standing in the doorway. They were holding bouquets of flowers, their eyes crimson. And they were staring right at us. It was Ian and Sean. I will never forget the raw, devastating anguish in their eyes. It washed over me like a tidal wave. And there it was again. That crushing pain, flooding my heart. Ethan held me close, murmuring comforting words as he slipped a pill into my mouth. I don’t know what he said to them. Their expressions were tortured, almost savage, but after a long look at my pale, trembling form, they turned and left. I was discharged from the hospital. My physical recovery was going well. Except for the missing pieces of my memory, everything was slowly returning to normal. But for some reason, I constantly had the feeling that I was being watched. I tried to ignore it, telling myself I was just being paranoid. Until one evening, after a date with Ethan, the world went black. I collapsed, and when I woke up, I was in a strange house.

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Uncle Rick had racked up a massive gambling debt. My mom put three crumpled balls of paper on the table and told us, her three children, to draw lots. “To be fair, whoever draws the paper with ink on it takes on all of Uncle Rick’s debt.” “Big sister goes first, little brother goes last. Don’t blame anyone if you pick it. It’s just fate.” At that exact moment, I saw a stream of text scrolling across the sky, like comments on a livestream: [Girl, don’t do it! Every single paper in that box has ink on it! Whoever draws first is doomed!] [Your mom is secretly livestreaming this from the corner to make sure you can’t back out later! There are already hundreds of thousands of people watching!] [She knows you can’t pay it back. She’s already called the black market organ harvesters. They’re waiting outside. Whoever draws is dead meat!] Whoever draws, dies? I smiled. I stopped my little sister, Penny, who was reaching out out of curiosity, and shoved the box directly in front of my brother, Tyler. “Tyler’s the boy. He should go first.” Then, I grabbed my mom’s arm and pulled her closer. “Mom, why don’t you draw one, too?” 1 The loan sharks had just left, and Mom immediately whipped out the paper balls for the draw. My brother Tyler’s chubby hand reached out first. “I wanna go first!” Mom, who usually spoiled him rotten, actually slapped his hand away. Hard. “No rules! We go by age. Oldest to youngest. It’s all about luck, stop grabbing!” I sneered internally. Then, more text floated across my vision. [She never thinks of her daughter when there are good things, but the second there’s debt, she pushes her to the front!] [She’s dying to sell her daughter for cash. She probably plans to use the leftovers to buy a house for her precious son.] [This isn’t just about money. It’s murder.] “Nora, you’re the oldest. You draw,” Mom commanded. Uncle Rick and Aunt Pam, who had been wailing moments ago, stopped crying. They stared at me with hungry eyes. “Hurry up! Or those thugs will come back! Niece, do you want to see your uncle beaten to death?” “Stop stalling. You’re a pretty girl; money comes faster for you than for a boy.” Penny reached her hand out, curious. I blocked her, hiding the cold look in my eyes, and forcibly shoved Tyler’s hand into the box. “Tyler is the man of the house one day. He should go first!” Before Mom could react, I shoved the box into her arms. “Mom, you grab one too. Uncle Rick is your brother. You have more life experience; surely you have more ways to make money than us.” The box seemed to burn her skin. She threw it away without thinking. Then, she snatched the paper Tyler had grabbed, tore it to shreds, and screamed at me. “You little ungrateful wretch! Playing games with me? Don’t want to draw? Fine! If you won’t draw, then it’s you! You’re paying your uncle’s debt!” [It’s over. Is she really going to sell her daughter just like that?] [Those organ harvesters are brutal. They’ll strip her for parts until there’s nothing left.] Sell me? I subtly scanned the room, looking for the hidden phone. Once I spotted the camera lens peeking out from a pile of clutter, I stood up, threw open the window, and started wailing at the top of my lungs. If hundreds of thousands of people were watching, surely they wouldn’t beat me to death on camera. “Mom! What do I do?! I want to help Uncle Rick, but I’m a fresh college grad! I barely make $2,500 a month! Uncle gambled away $200,000! How am I supposed to pay that?!” “Uncle Rick, it’s not that I don’t want to help, I literally can’t!” Mom sneered from the side. “Crying is useless. This is your fate.” But Uncle Rick rushed over to cover my mouth. “Shut up! Are you trying to call the debt collectors back?!” I glanced at the yard. The thugs were already turning back. I smiled. Too late, Uncle. Here they come. 2 The lead thug kicked the door open. Our flimsy front door, already hanging by a thread, crashed to the floor. “Are you playing games with us? Trying to fool us?” “You want a little girl to pay the debt? On $2,500 a month? I’d be waiting until the next century!” “Figure it out now, or I break your legs! Let’s see if you can gamble in a wheelchair! You don’t have money? Then stop acting like a big shot!” Uncle Rick’s knees buckled. Most people have a backbone. My uncle was a jellyfish. He dropped to his knees. “Big bro, please! Just give me a little more time. I’ll find the money, I swear!” The thug kicked him square in the shoulder. Aunt Pam screamed. Rick rolled over, scrambling back up with a face full of snot and tears. “Bro, listen, I’m working on it! I don’t have cash, but I have people! Look, my sister has three kids!” [Wow. Shameless.] I pinched my thigh hard, forcing tears to stream down my face. I wailed, “I’ll work hard to pay it back! If I don’t eat or drink for the next 27 years, I can pay off the principal! Please, just wait!” “What?!” The thug was furious. “27 years? Are you mocking me? I’m not waiting that long. Pay up now!” Uncle Rick started cursing at me. Aunt Pam joined in, sobbing, “Sister, control your kid! Is she trying to get my husband killed?” Mom was frantic. She took off her slipper and raised it to hit me. Penny threw herself over me. “Mommy, don’t hit Nora! Please!” I looked at my little sister, my heart aching. Other kids get love. We were born to be blood bags. I pushed Penny aside and threw myself at Mom’s legs, hugging them tight. “Mom! It’s my fault I’m useless! But we can’t let Uncle Rick die!” “He’s your baby brother! You have to help him!” Uncle Rick and Aunt Pam’s heads snapped toward us. They saw a new lifeline. “Sis! Nora is right. She’s too young to make real money, but you can!” “You guys own this house, you must have savings! Please, help us first!” Now, it was Mom’s turn to panic. 3 Uncle and Auntie played the family card hard, and I piled on the moral blackmail. “Mom, you always told us that we have to support our family no matter what. You said siblings are our backbone.” “Isn’t Uncle Rick your backbone? Are you just going to watch him die?” “If something happens to him, how will you face Grandma and Grandpa in the afterlife?” Mom’s face turned from green to purple. “Shut your mouth!” With a massive debt looming over her head, she forgot about the livestream. She raised her arm and smacked my back twice, hard. Years of farm work gave her a heavy hand; my back burned with pain. Penny cried and tried to stop her, but Mom shoved her to the ground. I clenched my fists and endured it. Born into this hellhole, I had no choice. I had to save myself. And I was going to take Penny with me. “I’m sorry, Mom! I won’t say anything else!” I sobbed. Then I looked at Uncle Rick. “I’m sorry, Uncle. We really can’t help. Mom has her own family to feed. She can’t save you.” Rick exploded. “Wang Xiuhua! I am your brother!” Mom’s face was red, but she stayed silent. The thugs saw that Rick wasn’t going to pay up anytime soon. The leader walked into the kitchen and came back with a meat cleaver. “No money today? I take a hand. Next week? I take a leg!!” I grabbed Penny, burying her face in my chest. “Penny, close your eyes. Don’t look.” Mom didn’t want the debt, but seeing the knife, she panicked and rushed forward to stop them. Aunt Pam grew a spine and joined the fray. The room erupted into chaos. Our furniture was smashed to pieces. In the scuffle, Mom got shoved hard and hit the back of her head on the floor. The floating comments rejoiced: [So satisfying! Karma comes fast!] [But the girl isn’t safe yet. The organ traffickers are still waiting outside!] I looked at Tyler, the family’s “Golden Child.” The person who loved him most was groaning on the floor in pain, but he was standing on a chair, cheering, “Yeah! Get him! Fight!” I silently pitied my mother for raising such a monster. But I grabbed his arm. [Go outside and find Dad! Now!] He curled his lip. “No way. Let them fight. If one dies, the rest go to jail. Cool.” [Wow. Just wow.] [Open your eyes, Mom! This is your precious son!] I suppressed the chill in my eyes. “This house is your inheritance, Tyler. If someone dies in here, the property value drops to zero! Go get Dad, now!” Only when his future assets were threatened did his expression change. Mom was still in the middle of the brawl, totally unaware. I watched the door intently. A few minutes later, the comments updated. [Oh snap.] [The Golden Child just got snatched.] [Mom dug her own grave. Her precious baby boy got taken by the traffickers she hired. Good luck explaining that to her husband!] I took a deep breath and called my dad. 4 By the time Dad got back, the thugs had trashed the place. Uncle and Auntie tried to beg for money again, but Dad chased them out with the meat cleaver. When I picked up the phone that was still livestreaming, the comments were going wild. [That man looks terrifying. Is he going to hit the kids? Someone call the cops!] [This woman is awful, but she doesn’t deserve to die. This family is a horror show. We don’t even know the address to send help!] I ended the stream. Mom and Dad? They fight, they break things, they make up. It wasn’t worth the police yet. Dad’s cursing filled the room. “Wang Xiuhua! You lost my son for that piece of trash brother of yours?!” “What? My son? Where is he?” Mom’s wailing and Dad’s screaming echoed. Penny shrank into my arms, looking at me with terrified eyes. “Sister, is Daddy going to hit us?” Seeing the bruises on her arm, I hugged her tighter. In this house, beatings were as common as dinner. “No. I’ll protect you.” The noise next door died down. Then, Dad kicked our door open. Bam! “You two useless girls! Why are you just sitting there? Go find your brother!” We scrambled out like we’d been granted amnesty. I took Penny to the river in the next village and we sat there all afternoon. We didn’t head back until it was pitch black. “Sister, if we don’t find him, will Mom and Dad be mad?” They would be furious. But right now, Dad had someone he hated more than us. He wouldn’t have time for us.

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The System told me to capture the Male Lead’s heart. Halfway through the romance arc, the System deleted the Male Lead. Casually, he said, “Whoops, my hand slipped.” Me: “…” Later, he took over the Male Lead’s body. He unbuttoned his shirt, leaning back and inviting me to sit on his lap. “Come on. Use all those tricks I taught you. Seduce me. Conquer me…” 1 The System has been acting weird lately. He stopped teaching me how to romance the Male Lead, Julian. My affection score with Julian is stuck at 60 and won’t budge. Seeing that Julian’s “white moonlight”—his first love, Sophie—is about to return from abroad, I decided to take drastic measures. Like, seducing him. This afternoon, I went to Julian’s penthouse. I ditched the innocent girl persona and went full femme fatale, using the tricks the System taught me. Wearing a red slip dress, I snuggled into Julian’s arms. On the sofa, I toyed with his tie, looking at him with dewy eyes. “Julian, forget about Sophie. Be with me, okay?” Sophie is Julian’s first love, returning tomorrow. Even though he likes me now, the power of a first love is unpredictable. To prevent them from rekindling their flame, I had to act before she landed. Julian stared at me, his eyes darkening. After a long silence, a husky voice broke the air: “Maybe.” “But… asking me to forget her? In what capacity are you making this request?” I noticed his gaze lingering on my chest for several seconds, his Adam’s apple bobbing. I blushed. “Girlfriend?” Then I hooked my arms around his neck and whispered in his ear. “Julian, be my boyfriend, okay?” Julian chuckled low in his throat. Clearly, my words pleased him. “Beg me. “Beg me, and I’ll say yes.” His eyes were dark as he gripped my waist. He squeezed so hard tears welled up in my eyes. I bit my lip, crying beautifully. “Please. I’m begging you.” A woman’s tears are a man’s aphrodisiac. The harder you cry, the more excited they get. The System taught me that. Sure enough, the desire in Julian’s eyes burned brighter. He threw me onto the bed, his voice raspy. “You asked for this.” Seeing him about to take off his clothes, I quickly warned the System in my head. [Don’t look!] A cold sneer echoed in my mind. What did he mean by that? Disdain? Good. They say the first time boosts affection points significantly. Watching a half-naked Julian, I was fantasizing about how many points I’d get tomorrow. Suddenly—THUD. He collapsed on the floor, lifeless. Me: ? After processing what happened, I stared at the scene in disbelief. I backed away, my voice trembling. [Sys… System? [What happened to the Male Lead?!] Silence. Then, a casual voice: [My hand slipped.] 2 The System’s name is Cypher. He taught me how to romance the Male Lead step-by-step for years. Because of a “slip of the hand,” he took over the Male Lead’s position, playing the role of Julian. His explanation: The Male Lead is gone, someone has to fill in. So, he filled in. Now, I have to romance him. I sat in the corner of the CEO’s office, nervously clutching my dress, afraid to speak. Reason being: I was terrified. Yesterday, with a wave of his hand, Julian’s body turned into pixels and vanished into thin air. If I make him angry, will he delete me too? … Soon, Cypher finished his work. He tossed the file onto the desk. He looked up lazily, seemingly bored. “Start.” Start what? It was obvious. There are many ways to increase affection points, and physical intimacy is the most effective. I hesitated for two seconds, looking at his perfect lips, and made up my mind. I put my hands on his shoulders, closed my eyes, and kissed him. He didn’t refuse, but he didn’t cooperate either. His lips were cold. I kissed him clumsily, struggling. After kissing for what felt like half an hour, there was still no notification of increased affection. Confused, I opened my eyes and crashed into Cypher’s gaze. Wicked, mocking, smiling. Like a hunter, watching my antics quietly. He hadn’t closed his eyes the whole time. Realizing this, my blood ran cold. We stared at each other, and I didn’t know if I should continue. He pushed me away, wiping the blood from his lip where I’d bitten him. His tone was lazy: “Aria, I’m not Julian. “What worked on him won’t work on me. “Go back and think it over before trying again.” 3 I thought about it for days. Cypher doesn’t like aggressive women. He probably likes the innocent type. I put on a white knee-length dress and went to find him at a gala. The gala was bustling with people and clinking glasses. I didn’t need to look hard. He was a natural protagonist. Standing in the crowd, his noble and elegant aura was impossible to ignore. I was about to approach him when I was blocked. It was Sophie, fresh off the plane. She held a glass of wine in her right hand, swirling it gently. She walked up to me, a malicious sneer on her lips. “Aria, Julian is mine.” I didn’t care whose Julian was, but seeing the glass about to slip from her hand, and her grabbing my arm while leaning back… I instantly realized she was framing me. This angle was a blind spot for cameras. With just her word, I’d never clear my name. In a crisis, I instinctively looked for Cypher, because he always helped me before. Luckily, when I looked over, he happened to look my way. Unluckily, he looked at me with amusement, a smile of indifference on his lips. My heart went cold. I suddenly remembered Cypher telling me that when he took over the Male Lead, he inherited Julian’s affection points. Julian’s affection for Sophie was 65. For me, 60. Cypher is a System. He exists to execute rules. Since his programming, rules are everything. So in this situation, I guess… he probably won’t help me. … I had to save myself. In a flash, before Sophie’s glass hit the floor, I yanked her toward me. And I threw myself down with the momentum. Glass shattered. Shards pierced my calf. Broken skin, embedded in flesh. It hurt. “Ah—” People gasped. Many turned to look. 4 I hit the ground hard, landing right on the broken glass. Red wine mixed with blood, staining my dress. Shards cut my leg like countless razor blades, burning with pain. Blood flowed like a stream down to my ankle, dripping onto the floor. More and more people looked over. The guests here were either rich or powerful—corporate tycoons or industry upstarts. I saw fear, disdain, and condemnation for Sophie’s actions on their faces. Good. If I had been a second late, I would be the one facing this. After all, Sophie is the heiress of the Su Group. Framed for harming her? My current identity couldn’t handle that charge. Cypher walked over. His voice was cold. “What happened?” I had to admit, his acting was impeccable. If I didn’t know he wasn’t Julian, I wouldn’t have noticed the switch. Seeing him, people scrambled to explain. Accusing glares stabbed at Sophie like knives. Sophie panicked, stepping back in confusion. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t do it. “It was you! You framed me! You did it on purpose! “Julian, believe me, I didn’t push her!” She grabbed Cypher’s sleeve, teary-eyed and pitiable. Cypher looked at me calmly. I don’t know why, maybe intuition. I felt he wasn’t happy right now. His eyes were bottomless pools of cold darkness. Afraid he’d side with Sophie, I bit my pale lip, my wet eyes reddening, looking at him with grievance. “Julian, don’t blame Sophie. She probably didn’t mean it. “I just lost my balance. Don’t worry about me. “I… I can get up.” I frowned in pain, trying to stand, but my leg gave out, and I fell back down. Glass dug deeper into the wounds, blood flowing freely. The pain made tears roll down my cheeks. Cypher scoffed, a mocking smile appearing. His voice was unhurried. “Aria. “You’re really smart.” He brushed off Sophie’s hand and picked me up. ? I froze for a second. He praised me? And held me? Did his affection for me surpass Sophie’s? I felt a burst of joy. But the next second, my face froze. [Cypher Affection -5.]

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I spent seven years chasing Joey Williams. He spent seven years rejecting me. Everyone said Tessa Hart loved Joey to the bone. They also said Joey had a visceral, almost biological, aversion to Tessa. What they didn’t know was that for those seven years, in the privacy of my bed, Joey Williams loved me like his life depended on it. But the second his pants were back on, I was just his pathetic little puppy again. Five years after we split, Joey and I ended up at the same table at our high school reunion. The class president, a face I hadn’t seen in years, leaned in and whispered, “Tessa, are you still after Joey?” “I saw in the news he’s still single,” she nudged me. “This is your chance. Go for it!” I was about to shut her down when a new wave of excitement swept through the room. A man in a tailored suit, radiating an air of cool prestige, moved through the chorus of greetings and compliments and sat down in the empty chair beside me. “Tessa. It’s been a long time.” “Have you been well these last five years?” I offered a small, empty smile, my eyes downcast. “I’ve been great. Anything’s great, without you.” 1. The spoon in Joey’s hand clattered to the floor. The sharp sound cut through the chatter, and for a split second, his perpetually stoic mask shattered. As a waiter hurried over to replace the silverware, he leaned in close, his voice a low whisper. “Tessa…” I physically shifted my chair, creating a full arm’s length of distance between us. The light in his handsome, almond-shaped eyes dimmed. “I’ll give you a ride home after,” he said, his voice tight. “Not necessary.” I refused without a second thought. “It’s raining. You can’t ride your bike-share home in this.” The downpour outside was getting heavier. He was right, I couldn’t. I’d have to call for a car. “If you had just taken the money back then, your life wouldn’t be like this.” I wasn’t sure if he meant the severance package or the abortion money. He owed me for so much more than just one or the other. Five abortions, to be exact. A knot of irritation tightened in my stomach. I followed his gaze down to a dark smudge on the cuff of my pants. I’d forgotten. On my way here, a black Maybach had sped through a puddle, splashing dirty water all over me. So that was Joey’s car. He’d upgraded again. He must have had too much cash on the books and needed a new tax write-off. “I brought a raincoat. Don’t trouble yourself.” His eyes swept over me, a deep sigh escaping his lips. “Tessa, why do you always have to be so stubborn?” “Joey.” A syrupy sweet voice cut him off. Every head in the room turned toward the door. A woman stood there in a chic, pale grey power suit, her makeup accentuating her sharp, model-esque features. People exchanged curious glances, wondering who she was. Only I didn’t look up. I just kept eating. I’d slept in and woken up starving, and our class president’s frantic calls had dragged me here before I’d even had a chance to grab a bite. “Tessa?” The woman, Lily, gasped with theatrical surprise, grabbing my hand. Her grip was limp. “What are you doing here? Joey told me it was his high school reunion, but I never thought you’d actually show up!” I forced a tight smile and gently pulled my hand away. “And you are?” our class president finally asked, voicing the question on everyone’s mind. All eyes shifted to Joey. “My fiancée, Lily,” he said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. So, a man like Joey was capable of publicly claiming someone. My seven-year underground romance and three-year secret marriage—ten years of my life, completely unacknowledged—suddenly felt like a colossal joke. A beat of stunned silence, then someone broke it with a “Congratulations!” and the room erupted in a fresh wave of chatter. Lily slid into the seat next to Joey, and they received the room’s good wishes like a newly married couple. “I’m late, so I really should do three shots to make up for it,” she announced brightly. “But Joey won’t let me drink right now, so I’ll toast you all with this instead.” Lily knew how to work a room. Even with Joey sitting there like a statue, she single-handedly charmed everyone, her glass held high. The atmosphere crackled back to life. In minutes, she had them all eating out of the palm of her hand. “By the way,” she said, her eyes scanning the table with a playful glint. “I heard someone in this class chased Joey for seven years straight. Who was it? I’m just so curious who could possibly have that much patience.” I kept my head down, the smile gone from my face. The room went silent. No one dared to look at me, probably afraid I’d flip the table. I’d always had a notoriously short fuse, and I held a grudge like it was my job. The only person who had ever been able to handle me was Joey. It was why no other girl had dared to even talk to him during the years I was chasing him. “She didn’t come today,” the class president said, kindly covering for me. “Oh? What a shame,” Lily sighed with mock disappointment. “I was hoping to give her a wedding invitation…” She finished with a giggle, collapsing dramatically into Joey’s arms. The class president stared daggers at her. “That woman is a real piece of work, isn’t she?” she muttered to me. I watched her channel her rage into devouring a chicken wing and had to stifle a laugh, pushing a glass of water toward her so she wouldn’t choke. She grabbed my arm, her voice a fierce whisper. “Tessa, my ship has officially sunk! Is there really no chance for you and Joey?!” She glared at Lily, and I couldn’t help but smirk. “It’s not like we were never together.” The class president’s jaw unhinged. I think her pupils actually dilated. I turned my head and looked directly at Joey, seeking confirmation. “Isn’t that right, Joey?” His brow twitched. He gave a curt nod. “ARE YOU SERIOUS?!” The class president shot to her feet, practically vibrating with the scandalous gossip. The whole room exploded. For seven years, everyone had assumed Joey despised me, that he found my very presence repulsive. Lily’s practiced smile froze on her face. She never expected me to reveal our secret history, and she certainly never expected Joey to confirm it. “Oh, so Tessa was your ex-girlfriend, Joey!” she recovered, her voice sharp. “Well, then I should thank you, Tessa. Thank you for stepping aside and giving me a chance with him.” She picked up two glasses—one with orange juice, one with hard liquor—and walked over. I pushed the liquor away, my expression turning cold. “Sorry, I can’t drink.” “What do you mean, you can’t drink?” she insisted, pushing the glass back toward me. “I remember when you were the sales director at the company. You could drink anyone under the table. You’re the one who taught me how to hold my liquor, remember?” Senior year of college, Joey had founded his own tech startup. I’d turned down a cushy job my family had arranged for me and went to work for him instead. In those early days, we were barely surviving. Joey was too proud to beg, too arrogant to schmooze for a deal. So I did it for him. Every contract, every partnership, every round of funding—I secured them all at the bottom of a bottle. And back then, Joey was grateful. So grateful that he asked me to marry him. Our seven-year underground romance gave way to a three-year secret marriage. In those days, Joey would make me hangover soup, hold me when I was drunk and rambling, and soothe me to sleep. Even when we had no money, he never forgot an anniversary, always scraping together enough for some extravagant gift. He gave me everything except a name. He never called me his wife in public. But it was enough. I convinced myself that, in his own way, he loved me. The company took off. Joey’s talent was undeniable, and he quickly made a name for himself. We started hiring. Lily was one of my first recruits. “I don’t like you being out there, in the spotlight,” Joey had said. “Find someone to do the drinking for you.” So I stepped back. Lily was fearless, a natural. She dove headfirst into the boozy world of business deals. I taught her everything I knew: how to pour the drinks, how to build a tolerance, how to close a deal over a dinner that reeked of alcohol. She was a fast learner. She was also beautiful, bubbly, and charming, and she started landing major contracts, one after another. Joey adored her. It was an open, undisguised affection. He showered her with bonuses, but also with personal gifts—expensive clothes, designer bags, jewelry. They became inseparable at the office, their closeness bordering on inappropriate. I fought with him about it, again and again. Every argument ended the same way: with him storming out. “Tessa, don’t project your own filthy thoughts onto others.” “Tessa, if you keep this up, there’s no reason for us to be together.” That relationship, built on my sacrifice, nearly destroyed me. Staring at the crystal-clear liquor in front of me, I looked up at Lily. “Then didn’t I also teach you never to push a drink on a woman?” I put down my chopsticks, took the glass, and poured its contents into Joey’s empty one. “Joey,” I said, my voice dripping with ice, “if you can’t control your woman, don’t bring her out in public to embarrass herself.” The color drained from his face. He grabbed Lily’s arm, pulling her back. “That’s enough.” “Sit down and eat,” he said, his voice low and sharp. “If you won’t eat, the baby needs to.” His words fell like stones into the sudden silence. The food on the table suddenly tasted like ash. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. “Excuse me,” I mumbled, pushing my chair back. “I need to use the restroom.” The moment I stepped outside, a gust of cold, damp wind cut through my coat. I shivered, the nausea subsiding slightly. A baby. They were having a baby. Joey, the man who claimed to hate children, was having a baby with another woman. In our ten years together, I had been pregnant with his child five times. Every single time, he made me get an abortion. The excuse was always the same: his career was just taking off, and besides, he just didn’t like kids. Each time, he would shower me with gifts to “make me feel better.” He’d say we were still young, that we should enjoy our time together. And because I loved him so desperately, I always let him convince me. The drinking and the constant morning-after pills had wrecked my body. The fifth time I got pregnant, the doctor gave me a stark warning: if I terminated this one, I might never be able to have children again. On our third wedding anniversary, I cooked an elaborate meal. I was going to tell him. I wanted to keep this baby. But he never came home. Instead, I found him. In his office. On the couch. Entangled with Lily. “Tessa! Who said you could come in without knocking?!” he yelled, scrambling for clothes to cover her. “Get out!” Lily just stared at me, her eyes wide and innocent like a startled deer. That day, I fled. I even remembered to close the door behind me. When Joey finally came home, the apartment was destroyed. Food and cake were smeared on the floor. I had torn up every photo of us, smashed everything I could get my hands on. He calmly navigated the wreckage and sat down in front of me. I was the first to speak. I asked him when it started. “You don’t want to know.” “Tessa, can’t you just be happy being Mrs. Williams at home?” His voice was cold, each word a shard of ice in my heart. I went crazy. I started to call Lily, right in front of him. He snatched my phone and smashed it against the wall. “Are you insane? She doesn’t know anything!” The air froze. I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. “Doesn’t she, Joey? Really?” We had a secret marriage, yes. But anyone with eyes could see how close we were. Lily had asked me about him dozens of times. She would have to be an idiot not to know. “I never told her,” he said, the words falling from his lips with chilling indifference. In that moment, I swear I could hear my heart cracking. “Tessa, I’m warning you. If you go after her, we’re getting a divorce.” For three years, every time I’d gotten upset about Lily, he had threatened me with divorce. And every single time, I had backed down. But not that time. “Fine, Joey,” I said. “Let’s get a divorce.” He made the terms impossible, demanding I leave with nothing, trying to force me to stay. I didn’t even argue. I just signed the papers. Back then, there was no mandatory cooling-off period. We had our divorce decree in hand that same day. Standing outside the city hall, he warned me through gritted teeth not to regret it. He was so sure I’d come crawling back. But I never did. In five years, I had barely even thought of him. If the class president hadn’t begged me to come to this reunion, I never would have seen him again. A weight settled on my shoulders. A black suit jacket, carrying a familiar, cold scent. Joey. “Tessa, it’s been five years,” he said, his voice thick with something I couldn’t name. “I never thought you’d actually be able to stay away.” Without a word, I shrugged the jacket off and handed it back to him. “Stay away? Or come back as your mistress?” I sneered. “Have you no shame, Joey? Is cheating an addiction for you?” His face hardened. He grabbed my wrist, his other hand yanking up the hem of my shirt. The pale skin of my stomach was covered in a fine web of silvery lines. “Tessa,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “Five years ago… did you have my baby?” The wind was howling, and his words were almost lost in it. My vision blurred, and suddenly I was back in those awful days after our divorce, homeless and alone. I’d left with nothing. I was pregnant, and so ashamed I couldn’t even face my family. Three years as a housewife had left my resume empty. I had no money for an abortion, so I tried desperate, old-fashioned methods to induce a miscarriage. Jump rope, herbal remedies, starving myself for days. But the baby clung to life with a stubbornness that mirrored my own. And in the end, I couldn’t do it. I became the ultimate fool: a woman determined to give birth to her cheating ex-husband’s child. I lived in a tiny basement apartment, worked part-time at a diner, and did everything I could to nourish the small life growing inside me. I talked to him every day, telling him about my life. I bought him tiny clothes and even found a second-hand crib. I gave him the best of everything I had. I thought everything would be okay. But one night, I woke up in a pool of blood. “Your placenta has dropped, it’s almost completely covering the cervix,” the doctor said, her voice clinical and detached. “You need to be admitted for observation, or you will lose this baby.” Her words were like hammer blows to my heart. The cost of hospitalization was astronomical. I couldn’t afford it. The pain, the bleeding, the sheer terror of it all, made me think of him. Lying in that hospital bed, I finally broke. I called Joey. The phone rang for what felt like an eternity. When he finally picked up, his voice was rough and breathless. “Hello? Who is this?” And then I heard it. A soft, feminine moan in the background. My hand started to tremble. I fumbled with the phone, hanging up before he could say another word. The memory clawed at me, tearing at my nerves. I blinked, and Joey’s face swam back into focus. He was gripping my arm, his knuckles white. “Tessa, the baby! Where is my child?” I yanked my arm free. “Joey, if you’re sick, go see a doctor. And stop watching so many trashy soap operas. I’m not stupid enough to give birth to my cheating husband’s child!” He didn’t believe me. He pointed at my stomach. “Then where did these stretch marks come from? You never had them before.” I scowled, my patience gone. “You’re insane.” I turned to leave, but Lily’s voice stopped me. “Tessa, let us give you a ride,” she called out, hurrying over with my purse in her hand. “It’s so late, you’ll never get a cab in this rain.” My neck stiff, I nodded. The moment we were in the car, Lily started chattering about her latest OB-GYN appointment. Joey gave one-word answers, his eyes fixed on me in the rearview mirror. “This is our first, you know,” Lily said, smiling at me. “Joey is so protective. He found the best maternity hospital in the city for me. If you ever need a recommendation, I can give you their number.” Her smile was sickly sweet. “Oh, I just realized, I don’t even know where you live now, Tessa!” “The Westgate.” Lily’s mouth fell open. “The Westgate on Westview Drive? That’s the most expensive real estate in the city! How are you living there?” Joey’s eyebrows shot up, his expression a mixture of shock and disbelief. “Tessa, you’re not just saying that to save face, are you?” she pressed. I cut her off. “You’re right. I’m a nanny there.” Lily let out a little snort of laughter. Joey’s expression relaxed into one of understanding. Of course. The air in the car felt thick, poisoned. I couldn’t breathe. “Excuse me,” Lily said suddenly, “the morning sickness has been terrible lately. I’m just going to open a window.” There was a screech of tires. The car swerved violently, and I instinctively wrapped my arms around my stomach to brace for impact. Lily wasn’t so lucky; she hit her head on the window, letting out a yelp. She turned to Joey, her face crumpled, ready to whine for sympathy, but his attention was elsewhere. He was staring at me. His eyes were cloudy, unreadable. “You’re married?” he asked, his voice low. I shifted in my seat and nodded. “Yep. Got married right after the divorce.” He was speechless. The silence in the car was heavy, suffocating. Even Lily’s whimpering faded away. She was smarter than I had been. She knew when to be quiet. I used to keep pushing, even when Joey’s face was a thundercloud of rage. “To whom?” he finally gritted out, his eyes burning with a cold fire. I just looked at him, saying nothing. A car horn blared behind us. Defeated, Joey slammed his foot on the gas. The car shot forward, and we were at the gates of The Westgate in minutes. “Stay here,” he ordered Lily. He unbuckled his seatbelt and dragged me out of the car. “Tessa, go inside and quit your job. Right now.” “I will raise my child. You don’t need to demean yourself with a job as a nanny.” Demean myself. The word stung. “A nanny is nothing,” I said, my voice flat. “I’ve done worse. I’ve sold shots in clubs, washed dishes in restaurant kitchens. I even got paid to be a professional mourner at a stranger’s wake once. Do you want to hear more, Joey?” A vein throbbed in his temple. “That’s enough!” he roared. “What’s the matter, Joey? Putting on a show?” My sarcastic tone finally broke him. He dropped his head, his voice low and ragged. “Tessa… I just want to make it up to you.” He told me that after I’d left the reunion, people had started talking about me. “Class president, how did you even get in touch with Tessa?” someone had asked. “She changed her number, all her social media is dead.” “Ran into her at the farmer’s market,” she’d said, wiping her greasy fingers on a napkin. “She was there in her pajamas. I just invited her on the spot.” The table had buzzed with speculation. Maybe her family had lost their fortune. Maybe she’d fallen in with a bad crowd. Then someone had lowered their voice. “You don’t think she got dumped by some guy and left with nothing, do you?” And then another voice, even quieter. “I think I saw her, actually. At the hospital where I work. She was coming in for prenatal checkups.” “She was always alone. Looked like she hadn’t eaten in a week, just completely malnourished. And every time I saw her, she was wearing the same clothes, stained and… dirty…” Joey’s head had snapped up. He’d walked over to the speaker, his presence silencing the entire table. “When?” The man had stammered, confused. “When… when did you see Tessa getting these checkups?” “Five years ago,” he’d finally managed. “In the winter, I think… I don’t really remember the details…” Joey said it felt like the world had tilted on its axis. He’d followed me out without a second thought, not even hearing Lily when she called his name. Now, standing in the rain, his hand trembled at his side. “Tessa.” He hadn’t called me that since Lily came into the picture. “I saw the ultrasound report. Before our anniversary. I saw it.” I stared at him, speechless. He had known. He had known I was pregnant when he slept with Lily. He had known when he threatened me with divorce. He had known when he forced me to leave with nothing. “I just… I never thought you’d actually go through with it…” he stammered, his eyes pleading, searching for an excuse, for absolution. “Joey,” I said, my voice steady. “I’m telling you for the last time. I did not have your child.” He didn’t believe me. He reached for me again, his mouth opening to argue. “Mommy!” A tiny figure burst through the lobby doors, running toward me with a happy shriek. “Mommy, why didn’t you answer my phone?” “Poppy missed you so much today…” My daughter’s soft cheek rubbed against mine as I swept her up into my arms. “Tessa, the child is right here! Are you still going to lie to me?” Joey’s voice was triumphant. “She’s not your daughter, Joey. She’s only four.” “You’re lying!” he insisted, reaching for the child in my arms. I sidestepped him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a familiar figure walking slowly out of the building. My heart skipped a beat. “I don’t have time for this, Joey. I’m telling you for the last time: this child has nothing to do with you.” I turned and walked quickly toward the lobby. The security guard stepped forward, blocking Joey from following. “Mommy, who was that scary man?” my daughter whispered. “Am I not Daddy’s girl?” “Of course you’re Daddy’s girl!” I said, pulling her close. Distracted, I walked straight into a solid chest. “Running while you’re holding Poppy?” a deep voice chided gently. “Have you forgotten you’re pregnant?” Ethan took my daughter from my arms and flicked my forehead playfully. I looped my arm through his, leaning against him with a happy sigh. “Zhang Ma told me you went to your reunion today,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Why didn’t you have Charles drive you?” His gaze flickered toward the tall figure still arguing with the guard at the gate, and his expression sharpened. “It was close, so I just went myself,” I said, quickly changing the subject with a pout. “Honey, I’m so tired…” Ethan just smiled and quickened his pace, letting the subject drop. The day had been exhausting. I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow. Later, after putting our daughter to bed, Ethan came into our room to find me sprawled across the bed. He chuckled softly and pulled the covers over me. He stood by the window for a long time, bathed in moonlight, and made a call. “I want a list of everyone who attended my wife’s reunion today. Full background checks. Male and female.” He looked back at my sleeping form, a rare, soft smile on his lips. “Tessa,” he whispered to the quiet room. “You know you can trust me.” The only answer was the sound of my soft, even breathing.

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I was tipping a male model on a group stream, but my finger slipped, and I accidentally sent a Yacht to his teammate. The model didn’t show any emotion on screen. But then, the guy who had been ignoring me for a month DMs me for the first time. [Send me 52 Carnivals right now as compensation, or I’m unfollowing you to punish you, sis.] I was stunned. A minute later, I got a DM from his teammate. [Thank you, sis. It’s my first time receiving a Yacht. I’ll always remember you. /heart] Oh. So tipping can get you emotional value. Guess I’ll chase the sensible one then. Later, when the model saw me casually drop 520 Carnivals on his teammate, he lost it, screaming for a refund, insisting I clicked the wrong person. 1 When I got Jax’s DM, I felt a bit uncomfortable. But then I thought about it. I did send the gift to the wrong person first, affecting his spotlight. Plus, I usually only tipped Jax in this stream. Suddenly sending a Sports Car to his rival? Understandable he’d be upset. Male gods have tempers, right? Just as I was about to send him ten Yachts as compensation, a new notification popped up. [System Notification: KU-Zayne followed you.] Then a DM from this account popped up. KU-Zayne: [Thank you, sis. It’s my first time receiving a Yacht. I’ll always remember you. /heart] I paused for a few seconds, clicked on the profile to enlarge the avatar, and barely matched it to the filtered face in the stream. Zayne. Seems like the guy I accidentally gifted. Looking closely, his face isn’t inferior to Jax’s. The stream makeup was obviously bad; he looks cleaner and more refined in person. But there’s no helping it. Zayne has only been here a few days and always stands in the back row. In a group stream of ten, seeing two-thirds of his face on screen is considered good. But he doesn’t seem to know the tip was a mistake. His words were… quite sincere. It’s just a Yacht. No need to explain and disappoint him. I didn’t plan to reply. Just as I was about to exit, he sent another message. KU-Zayne: [Sis, I will work even harder on my dancing. I won’t let your encouragement down!] Uh, kind of a pitiful little transparent guy. Thanking me multiple times for one Yacht. I replied with a polite [Fighting!], planning to go back to the stream to tip Jax. But suddenly, my phone started blowing up with notifications. All from Jax. KU-Jax: [?] [Sis, didn’t you see my message?] [Why haven’t you tipped me yet?] [What’s the meaning of this?] [So, sis, you tipped someone else on purpose to make me mad?] [Fine.] [I get it.] I was confused. Sent a [?] back. Received a red exclamation mark. ? Excuse me? He blocked me?! Anger flared in my chest. I’ve been chasing him and tipping him for two months, spending at least ten thousand dollars. And just because of one mistake, he gives me attitude? Fine. If you look down on me so much, plenty of others won’t. Sister is done playing. Just as I was angrily closing the app, I glanced at the pitiful handsome guy’s message again. My finger paused. I’ve been ruthless my whole life. But I have a soft spot for humble, hardworking, handsome guys. Even if he’s faking it, at least he’s willing to put in the effort for me. So, I stormed back into the livestream. 2 As soon as I returned to the stream. The host specifically greeted me. “Our Jax’s number one Yacht Sister is back! Oh my, Jax is secure tonight.” This group stream team was only formed two months ago. Still growing. Not many die-hard fans, so I rank pretty high on the tipping list. And I have OCD. Every time I tip, it’s only Yachts. Easy to remember. Hearing the host mention my name, Jax’s mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. But in a flash, he returned to his usual aloof self. Just then, a beautiful avatar entered the stream and immediately dropped a Sports Car for him. [Little brother is so handsome, hit me right in the heart. Love it.] The host thanked her as usual and read out the comment. Jax smiled shyly. After finishing his dance move, as if to spite me, he rarely made a heart with his hands and personally thanked her. “Thanks to the beauty for the Sports Car. Please continue to support me!” The chat went wild. [Holy crap, never seen Jax so shy and enthusiastic.] [First time seeing Jax make a heart. Rich sisters, send more cars! Nice! Love to see it!] [Miss is so generous. Looking at her profile, she’s a real beauty.] [A real rich heiress. Is Jax moved?] Perhaps seeing Jax in such a good mood, many old fans followed with gifts. Bouquets and hot air balloons popped up on the screen non-stop. Very lively. Jax couldn’t hide his smile, interacting with extra cooperation. Hearts and thanks never stopped. Even the host wondered: “What good thing happened to Jax tonight? Such a good mood?” I felt even more stifled. Usually, I drop a $100 Yacht, and I’ve never seen him react like this. No matter how many I send, it’s just a faint smile. A newbie sends a small gift, and he gives such emotional feedback. Then what are my Yachts? In a rage, I clicked the gift bar and sent another Yacht directly to that Zayne guy. “Thanks to my Yacht Sister for sending Jax…” The word “Yacht” hadn’t even fully left his mouth when the host’s habitual thank-you speech stuck. Realizing what happened, he quickly corrected himself: “Oh, sorry, misread that. The Yacht was for Zayne.” Hearing this, the whole team clearly froze for two seconds, tilting their heads to look at Zayne in the back row. Zayne was in disbelief, walking forward confusedly. And Jax, who was standing in the center, was even more shocked than Zayne. 3 Staring at the monitor for a few seconds to confirm, Jax reluctantly moved aside. Zayne stood in the center, visibly panicked. Recovering, he bowed deeply to the screen in gratitude. Just as he opened his mouth to say “Thank you, sis.” I sent another Yacht. Zayne was about to dance, but seeing the new Yacht, he bowed again to thank me. When he stood up, I sent another one. For a moment, on screen, the Yachts didn’t stop coming. Zayne was bewildered. Jax’s face was ugly beyond belief. He looked around anxiously, looking like he wanted to rush out of the screen and grab me to question me. The host excitedly announced the tips, voice getting louder each time. The chat refreshed rapidly. [Holy crap, Yacht Sis is flexing her power again!] [That’s my Yacht Sis.] [Wait, isn’t this wrong?] [Did she click the wrong person?] [Sis, stop, wrong person!] [Yacht Sis only tips our Jax. Why tip the newbie? System error?] [No, forced push for the newbie? Sis, go complain to the platform about rigging!] […] Even the host, after excitedly saying thanks a dozen times, couldn’t help but mutter, “Is it a mistake…” Zayne bowed in thanks over and over, tears flashing in his eyes. Seeing I had no intention of stopping, he anxiously tried to persuade me: “Sis, stop sending, it’s enough, really enough.” “Thank you so much, sis. I will continue to work hard!” As soon as he finished speaking, I dropped 52 Yachts in one breath. I like this feeling of give and take. So much more comfortable than tipping that fake aloof Jax who PUAs me. Sister drops cold hard cash just to feel good. Besides, Zayne stood in the center for so long, I looked carefully. Ignoring the lazy makeup, his facial features are really good. Especially those long legs, dancing like they want to claim a life. Other streamers wear lifts; his soles are thin slices. Even so, he’s half a head taller than Jax. No wonder he was banished to the back. Seeing so many Yachts, but none for him, Jax’s face hit rock bottom. Unable to hold back, he flipped out on the spot. He pushed Zayne, who was standing in the center, aside and walked out of the frame dissatisfied. Even through the screen, you could hear him leave a hasty word to the host before disappearing. “The system must be glitching. Sister’s Yachts for me went to someone else. I’ll go communicate.” Ten seconds after Jax left. I received a new message on my phone screen. KU-Jax: [Sis, look clearly before you tip. You clicked the wrong person, you know? F*ck] 4 The message stayed for only two seconds before being quickly recalled by the sender. Huh, wasn’t I blocked? Added me back himself? Thought he had some backbone. Just as I finished sighing, a pile of new messages popped up in the chat box. KU-Jax: [Sis, pay attention when clicking gifts. Sent them all to someone else.] [Why don’t you ask official support for a refund?] [Forget it, it’s fine if you can’t.] [Tip me again. Slowly, look clearly before clicking!] [?] [Why aren’t you replying? Sis isn’t mad, is she?] [Sorry, I got a little jealous seeing Sis tip someone else earlier. Spoke a bit fast, don’t overthink it.] [Sis, it’s a deal then. Come back to the livestream immediately.] Tsk tsk. Known Jax for so long, this is the first time he’s actively sent so many words. Too bad it’s too late. Your sister has lost interest. I didn’t reply, didn’t block. Just left him hanging, then closed the app. I originally watched their group stream to research the market. The group planned to acquire their KU Media company. Unexpectedly, I watched a few glances of this flop group’s stream and got a bit hooked. After a couple of times, I was attracted to Jax’s type. He really fits my aesthetic. High nose bridge, smooth face, especially the thin muscles revealed inadvertently. Jax is different from other streamers. Aloof, but… teases just right. A little tsundere too. Not like those who have a little beauty and have “empty your wallet” written all over their faces. At first, I was bored. Every time I scrolled past, I’d drop him a Yacht. He’d just smile and thank me. Not like my assistant said, that in this kind of flop stream, a $1.50 gift gets a follow back. Two days later, I sent 10 Yachts at once. He DM’d me a thank you that night. A few days later, I clicked in and saw him losing a PK (Player Kill/Battle) so bad he was about to cry. I dropped 100 Yachts on the spot to help him win. Only then did he finally follow me back. After following, he remained aloof. Except for saying a sentence or two more when complaining about poor performance, high pressure, and hinting for gifts, he basically didn’t chat much. I didn’t care. Life is dull. Admiring handsome guys on the internet to relieve boredom. Each takes what they need. Sister doesn’t lack this small money anyway. But I didn’t expect that the easier I was to talk to and the less I asked for, the less he cared about my feelings. Last month, just because I was too busy with a business trip and didn’t go online for three days, he gave me the cold shoulder for a month. Acted like he was sure I wouldn’t stop liking him. Throwing tantrums at the drop of a hat. Loving someone means giving without asking for return. But I don’t love him. Why should I spend money and take this crap? This one is insensible? Change to another. The next one will definitely be more obedient.

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I lay in a hospital bed covered in blood after a car accident. My father muttered, “Money loser, we’re broke…” Then he picked up his phone, excitedly praising my brother: “Great job, son! First place in the class gaming tournament? Dad’s coming home to celebrate!” When he left me alone in the hospital, I wasn’t surprised. I even laughed at myself for the flicker of hope I felt when I first saw him, thinking he might actually be worried about me. Under the angry yet sympathetic gazes of the medical staff, I didn’t feel helpless or sad. I was just thinking about how to get the doctor to give me more anesthesia for the surgery. Because it hurt so much. Just then, an elegant couple walked into the ward, led by the hospital director. They said I was their daughter, switched at birth. Compared to their excitement and joy, I seemed rather calm. I only asked one question. “Will you pay for my surgery?” “Will you pay for my college tuition?” After getting affirmative answers, I called them directly. “Mom, Dad.” It didn’t matter if they truly loved me. I didn’t ask about the girl who was switched. When Grandpa Joe was still alive, he told me that in this life, you can only rely on yourself to be invincible. So all I have to do is live well. Use them as a stepping stone to climb up. 1 The surgery went well. I was transferred to a VIP room for post-op observation and recovery. These were the most comfortable and quiet days I could remember. It was in this hospital room that I learned my biological father was William Sterling, chairman of the famous Sterling Group in this state, and my mother was Eleanor Vance, the eldest daughter of Vance Electronics. Turns out, two months ago, when I worked part-time as a greeter at a Sterling Group event, I was earning my own family’s money. What was the theme of that banquet? Oh, right, it was to celebrate the 18th birthday of the Sterling Group’s only daughter. It was so grand that financial news and entertainment news across the state were scrambling to report it. As an outdoor greeter, I wasn’t even qualified to enter the venue, shivering in the early spring wind. After Grandpa passed away, no one remembered my birthday, let alone a coming-of-age ceremony. Peeking through the cracks at the fragrant clothes, shadows, clinking glasses, and blessings inside. At that time, I thought, look at her, loved by thousands, and look at me, peeking at the princess’s happiness like a rat in the sewer. Worlds apart. That day was also my unnoticed 18th birthday. When I got home that night, I faced: “Where the hell have you been? Don’t you know to come home and cook?” “Your brother is about to take his high school entrance exams. What if he starves?” “Money loser. We should have given you away when you were born, saved us money.” Hearing this, I sneered in my heart. They wouldn’t have been willing to give me away. When I was born, the area where we lived was being demolished for redevelopment. To get an extra apartment allocation based on headcount, they registered me. And if it weren’t for Grandpa insisting, my name on the birth certificate wouldn’t be Grace, it would have been “Asset.” But I wouldn’t argue back because that would make them angrier, and my adoptive father would hit me. I’d suffer too much. That’s the experience I’ve summed up over the years. Don’t speak, just do the work silently, and it will pass. At that time, my only hope was the SATs, to test into a college far, far away. Knock, knock. A gentle knock sounded. My biological parents walked in, followed by a tall, handsome young man in a suit. “Grace, this is your brother. We came together to pick you up.” As I guessed, this was the crown prince of the Sterling Group, Liam Sterling. I had long heard that this prince spoiled his only sister excessively, giving her the moon if she asked for stars. Of course, that sister wasn’t me. Watching him stride over, looking reserved, his gentle tone slightly stiff. “Grace, I’m your brother.” I looked up, smiled slightly, and said softly, “Brother.” When I was bullied by classmates, seeing other brothers protecting their siblings, I also longed for a brother. Liam was stunned for a moment when he heard me call him, then relaxed. “Mom, Dad, and I discussed it and felt it’s better to visit your adoptive parents’ home.” “We investigated what happened back then. It was an accident.” “They raised you after all. And about Bella… she’s still abroad…” I looked at their guilty faces, their eyes dodging mine but full of love. For the sake of this love, I tentatively said, “They treat me bad…” “Grace,” I was interrupted by Liam before I could finish. “Your adoptive family isn’t exactly poor based on my investigation. Raising you for eighteen years deserves gratitude.” Seeing the slightly disapproving looks from my parents behind him, I fell silent. So this love wasn’t just for me. It was more for the daughter they had loved for eighteen years. Judging me as ungrateful and vain based on an unfinished sentence. Fine. “Okay, let’s go now.” 2 With their surprised expressions, I got out of bed holding my bandaged left arm and left the room. Since the love isn’t exclusive, I’ll use your guilt to fill the gap. It was lunchtime when we arrived at the Zhou house. I unlocked the door and went in first. The family of three, eating fish and meat, paused when they saw my sudden intrusion, then continued eating as if nothing happened. “Just in time. Go wash the clothes in the bathroom.” “Mom, I told you she has secret money. Look, she got out of the hospital fine without us giving her a cent.” “Damn girl, always out. Who knows how you earn that money? Disgusting.” I stood there, a look of horror on my face, shrinking back in fear. Seeing me stand still, my adoptive father’s face darkened. “What are you standing there for? Didn’t you hear your mother tell you to wash clothes?” I whispered fearfully, lifting my arm slightly. “I… I just got out of the hospital. My injury hasn’t healed. I can’t hand wash. Can I use the machine?” As soon as I finished, my adoptive mother’s harsh voice followed. “Does the machine run for free? Don’t you have another hand?” “I…” Seeing I wanted to speak again, my adoptive father’s temper flared. He threw his empty bowl and walked towards me under the gloating gazes of my adoptive mother and brother, Tyler. Raising his hand to hit me. I quickly squatted down, holding my head, chanting non-stop. “I was wrong, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have talked back.” “I won’t dare again. Dad, don’t hit me, don’t hit me. I’ll wash the clothes right now, by hand.” As expected, the slap didn’t land on me. Liam, who came in a step later, grabbed my adoptive father’s arm and pushed him aside. My parents surrounded me to comfort me, eyes full of heartache and guilt. Seeing the sudden intruders, my adoptive mother quickly got up to support my adoptive father. She screeched, “Who are you people?” Seeing my parents comforting me, she realized and cursed at me. “Bitch, bringing outsiders home to bully your parents, huh?” “Raising you is worse than raising a dog. Should have thrown you in the river to drown.” Next came money loser, slut, uneducated—whatever was ugliest, my adoptive parents said it. I was confused. They didn’t know I wasn’t biological yet. Why could they insult and beat a daughter so extremely, yet spoil a son so extremely? Especially incomprehensible was my adoptive mother. She was a woman once too. Why did she become the executioner hurting her younger “self”? I thought she was bound by old-fashioned thinking and had no choice. Later, I realized she was just bad. Narrow-minded. If she suffered, her daughter must suffer too. Even double the suffering. When I was little, I got good grades and awards, longing for her love and praise, but got ignored and mocked. From childhood to adulthood, the nastiest words came from my adoptive mother first. Now I’m immune to these curses. I can ignore them and do my own thing. But my biological parents looked terrible, and my brother clenched his fists in anger. Oh well, I achieved the desired effect, exceeded expectations even. Next, I didn’t need to do anything. I just had to be scared. This feeling of having family protecting me in front was nice. I once longed for it. Now? It’s optional. It’s no longer a necessity for my life. And this love was calculated. I don’t think it will belong to me completely in the future. There’s still a Sterling family princess they raised for eighteen years. Hearing I wasn’t their biological daughter, my adoptive mother wanted to make a scene, but my adoptive father sized up my parents and quickly started negotiating terms. My brother rubbed my hair and said gently, “Go pack your things with Mom.” “Dad and I will handle this.” I nodded timidly and went to my room under Mom’s pitying gaze. 3 The renovated storage room. One side for junk, one side for my bed, an old wardrobe, and a desk. That was it. I saw Mom’s red eyes, pretended not to see, and packed. When she saw me stuffing faded jeans and jackets into the worn suitcase. She couldn’t hold it back anymore. She walked over and threw everything in my hands onto the narrow bed. Her voice choked. “Grace, no more. Leave these. Mom will buy you new ones.” I looked up in confusion. “But these aren’t worn out yet. I can still wear them.” Mom’s lips trembled, unable to speak. She hugged me, tears wetting my shoulder. My shirt was wet. When I changed, I was wearing a sports bra, and I heard sobbing behind me again. “Grace, what happened here?” Mom pointed at the burns on my back and arms. Before I could speak, the door opened. Father and Liam stood there looking at my scars. The air went silent. My adoptive father followed, squeezing in when he saw no movement. Yelling loudly, “What are you doing? Hurry up and leave, then send the money.” Then seeing me, he froze for a second, then got angry. “Damn girl, what are you looking at? Didn’t you do that yourself?” Then he reached to grab me. I flinched slightly and spoke with difficulty. “Yes, I did it myself by accident.” My brother stepped forward, pushed him out of the room, and roared, “Behave if you want the money! Is my sister someone you can shout at?” Father’s eyes were red too. “Grace has suffered.” I shook my head and didn’t speak. In the car back, I was still thinking. It went smoothly. At least with my biological parents’ help, I can completely get rid of this rotten family. My silent contemplation was mistaken for shock. “Grace, it’s our fault. We shouldn’t have brought you there.” “It’s our fault. If we found you earlier, you wouldn’t have suffered so much.” “Grace, don’t worry, Brother will get revenge for you.” “From now on, with Mom and Dad here, no one dares to bully you again.” Looking at the unconcealed guilt and love in their red eyes, it would be a lie to say I wasn’t touched at all. But only a little. Revenge? I can take it myself later. Suffering? It’s all in the past. The car stopped. Standing before the “Jade Palace No. 1” I had only heard about in gossip at banquets. For the first time, I felt the extreme gap in this world so directly. I lowered my eyes. I’m a little tempted. I am one of the heirs to this boundless wealth and power. “Sir, Madam, you’re back.” The butler led the servants out to greet us. Seeing me surrounded, he hesitated. “This is the Second Miss. Take good care of her from now on.” Father said as he led me inside. The surrounding servants bowed and said yes. As soon as I entered the hall, I looked up and saw the girl standing by the stairs. The girl I swapped lives with for eighteen years. 4 She was beautiful. Exquisitely noble, raised on money and power. Now she looked like a broken doll, eyes red and swollen. The moment she saw us enter, tears fell like pearls. Truly pitiful and lovable. Her voice trembled as she pointed at me. “Mom, Dad, are the rumors outside true? Are you abandoning me now that you brought her back?” Hearing this, Father frowned and scolded. “Bella, no manners. This is your sister’s home. Of course we bring her back.” Bella looked incredulous. “Dad, you yelled at me?” Then she turned and ran upstairs, shouting with a sob. “Fine, I’m not biological anyway! I’ll leave now! I won’t be an eyesore!” Father opened his mouth but said nothing, grunting and heading to the study. My brother looked at me apologetically. “Bella is spoiled. Grace, don’t mind her. I’ll go check on her.” Then he ran to comfort Bella. Seeing Mom looking back anxiously, I spoke sensibly. “Mom, go comfort Sister too.” Mom paused. “Grace, you’re a good child. Mom will go check, be right back.” She turned and hugged me, then went to comfort Bella too. The family that was just fussing over me instantly surrounded another girl. Leaving me standing alone in the hall. Worthy of the golden branch and jade leaf pampered for eighteen years. Deep feelings, hard to let go. I understand. I lowered my head. Does it matter? No hope, no disappointment? But my heart was uncomfortable. The butler stepped forward. “Second Miss, your room is this way. Let me show you.” “Thanks.” The mother who said she’d be “right back” didn’t show up all afternoon. I didn’t have the mind to think about this family affection for now. I couldn’t pin my future life on these relatives. So at dinner, seeing only Father at the table, I ate quietly without throwing a tantrum. After eating, I spoke. “Dad, can I get a tutor? The SATs are in a month.” “I’m afraid I won’t adapt if I go to school now. can I study at home with a tutor?” Father was stunned, then nodded. “Just tell Butler Li. He’ll arrange it.” “Good child, ask for whatever you need. If Dad isn’t here, find Butler Li.” I smiled shyly. “Thank you, Dad.” Seeing my obedience, Father sighed in relief, patted my shoulder hesitantly, and went to the study. After washing up with the maid’s help, just as I was about to lie down, there was a knock. Opening the door, it was Mom. “Grace, Bella has a bad temper. Please bear with her.” “You just arrived. Want to take a walk with Mom, get familiar?” I nodded and went out in my pajamas. Bella was still standing at the stairs, eyes still red, but I saw the smugness and provocation in her eyes clearly. I nodded and smiled at her. “Sister came out too?” Mom turned to look. “Why are you out? Go back to sleep. Your eyes are swollen like walnuts.” Bella quickly composed herself, smiled obediently, and went back to her room. The night breeze blew gently, bringing a hint of coolness. Jade Palace No. 1 lived up to its name. “Grace, Mom wants to discuss something with you.”

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The day I discovered I wasn’t a true Sterling—the day the lie of my life unraveled—was the day I stopped fighting. No more frantic calls to check his whereabouts, no more hysterical accusations. I became the quiet, obedient wife Nate Sterling had always wanted. My father’s warning echoed in my mind, cold and sharp. “Other heiresses have their families to fall back on after a divorce. You? An imposter? What will you have left?” So, I behaved. Even when I found a half-empty packet of morning-after pills in his coat pocket, I pretended I saw nothing. After all, when you’re fighting for survival, who has the energy for heartbreak? But when Nate saw me playing dumb, his expression didn’t soften with relief. It hardened into something I couldn’t read. 1 As I took Nate’s blazer from him, a small box tumbled out and clattered onto the hardwood floor. My gaze flickered to it for a single, searing second before I looked away. It was a box of emergency contraception. “You dropped something,” I said, my voice carefully neutral as if I hadn’t seen the words on the packaging. “I’ll go start the laundry.” I tried to turn away, but his hand shot out, his fingers closing around my wrist like a steel trap. I looked back. Nate was tall, his presence always commanding. He had a strong brow and a straight nose, framed by impossibly long lashes. From this angle, looking up at his sharp profile, he was pure intimidation. A knot of familiar anxiety tightened in my stomach. “These pills belong to Jessica,” he began, his voice low. “She’s been under a lot of pressure with the new project, and it’s messed with her cycle. Her doctor prescribed them.” He let out a tired sigh, the usual sharpness in his eyes clouded with exhaustion. “We were out with clients last night. The dress she was wearing didn’t have pockets, so she asked me to hold them for her. I just got so busy I forgot to give them back.” He met my eyes, his grip on my wrist loosening slightly. “There’s nothing going on between us. I swear.” It was the most he’d explained himself to me in years. It had to be because of the divorce papers I’d thrown at him a few weeks ago. When I remained silent, he pulled out his phone. “If you don’t believe me, I can ask her for the prescription records.” A faint smile touched my lips. “Don’t be silly. It’s such a small thing, there’s no need to bother her.” Nate froze, his eyes searching my face. “Then just now, you were…?” I knew what he was asking. I offered the perfect explanation. “I was just wondering if I should run them over to her now. We wouldn’t want to delay her treatment.” I added a thoughtful pause. “But it’s so late. It’s probably better if you give them to her tomorrow. I’ll go put the clothes in the wash.” Without waiting for a response, I slipped from his grasp and hurried away. That was close. I almost let the mask slip. My father’s words were a constant mantra: In a world of wealth and power, feelings are a liability. Profit is everything. Instead of worrying if he loves you, you should be worrying about what happens to a fake heiress like you if he leaves you. But as I turned my back, I didn’t see the shadow that fell across Nate’s face, his expression turning dark and unreadable. 2 I was deep asleep when the bed dipped beside me. Nate slid under the covers, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me tight against his chest. His warm breath ghosted over the back of my neck. “Our fifth anniversary is coming up,” he murmured. “I’ll take you to see the Northern Lights. In Iceland. Like you’ve always wanted.” My body went rigid. He’d made the same promise for our last anniversary. He’d canceled at the last minute for Jessica. “We’ll see,” I mumbled into my pillow. The arms around my waist tightened instantly, painfully. I let out a small hiss and instinctively tried to pull away. “Why?” His voice was a low growl, pinning me in place. “You always wanted to see the auroras with me. You said kissing the person you love under the Northern Lights was the most romantic thing in the world.” My eyes were closed, my voice barely a whisper. “You’re the one who said we shouldn’t waste time on pointless things like that.” I faked a yawn. “Besides, the anniversary is still a few days away. Let’s talk about it later. I’m so tired, Nate. I need to sleep.” I let my breathing even out, pretending to drift off. The truth was, I’d already seen the Northern Lights. I booked the ticket the night I found out I was a fraud. A trip like that costs a small fortune, upwards of thirty thousand dollars. I figured I’d better enjoy the Sterling money while I still could. As for the heartbreak? That could wait. 3 When I woke up the next morning, Nate was already gone. I checked my phone. A message from him was waiting. Meds are on the counter. Don’t forget to take them. I have a congenital heart condition. Back when I was still the prized Sterling heiress, no one wanted to marry me. The disease was a death sentence; I could drop dead at any moment. Marriages in our circle were business transactions, and what good was a merger if one of the assets was fatally flawed? A widower was damaged goods on the marriage market. But Nate had wanted me. And even though I was an heiress, my family wasn’t exactly a united front. My father, for all his social standing, had an entire soccer team’s worth of illegitimate children scattered around. When my family realized my only value—a strategic marriage—was compromised by my health, they couldn’t even be bothered to pay for my treatment. The rich aren’t generous by nature. They are lavish with those who benefit them and ruthlessly selfish with those who don’t. But Nate didn’t care about my condition. He fought his parents, ignored the gossip, and married me in the most extravagant wedding the city had ever seen. The first thing he did after we were married was find me the best cardiac specialist in the country. Two years ago, I finally had a transplant. I was slowly, carefully, recovering. Everything was supposed to be perfect. But somewhere in the last five years, everything had changed. Nate started coming home later and later. His shirts smelled of a perfume that wasn’t mine. His phone was suddenly off-limits. I told myself to endure it. My father was a misogynist who believed women had no place in business, so I’d never learned how to manage a company. I couldn’t help Nate with his work. All I could do was be a supportive wife. Don’t worry about it, I’d tell myself. It’s just work. Then, his childhood friend, Jessica, returned from overseas. And started working at his company. Nate admired her. He praised her sharp business acumen, her cool, strategic mind. He was a man of few compliments, but he would praise her openly, repeatedly, in front of everyone. Slowly, the whispers started. Jessica Hayes and Nate Sterling. They’re the real power couple. Rumor had it they were supposed to have an arranged marriage years ago, but it was suddenly called off. She went abroad to chase her dreams; he stayed to build his empire. My friends warned me to be careful. I told them they were just friends, colleagues. It was impossible to avoid each other at work. Then Nate’s actions made a fool of me. This was a man so ruthless with his time that when I was burning up with a fever from COVID, he told me to “hang in there” until he closed a deal before taking me to the hospital. Yet when Jessica let out a single sneeze in a meeting, he walked away from a ten-million-dollar contract to personally drive her to the clinic. It kept happening. During the day, his time belonged to his work; he told me not to distract him with too many texts or calls. After work, his time belonged to Jessica; he told me he needed his personal space, that I couldn’t control his friendships. Every time he chose her over me, I wanted to scream, to talk it out, to make him understand. But there was no talking. He never gave me the chance. One night, I refused to let him leave. I stood my ground and told him how much his relationship with Jessica hurt me, how many lines they had crossed. I thought maybe, finally, we could fix this. His response was a cold splash of water on my hope. “We’re just friends,” he said, his tone flat. “If something was going to happen between us, it would have happened long ago. It wouldn’t have waited for you.” That shut me up. He was right. In every conceivable way, Jessica was better than me. I fell silent and let him walk out the door to go to her. Then came the party. A gathering with the other corporate wives. One of them, with a malicious glint in her eye, showed me a photo on her phone. Under the soft glow of a streetlight, Nate was holding a drunk Jessica in his arms. In his other hand, he carried her high heels. 4 Nate hated drinking. He hated the way alcohol made people lose control, and he despised drunk people. For his last birthday, everyone wanted to toast him. He couldn’t refuse them all, so as his wife, I drank for him. Glass after glass. But my tolerance is terrible. The mix of red wine and whiskey sent me reeling. I spent half the night hugging the toilet, so drunk I couldn’t even lift a finger. I remember weakly asking him to help me to the shower. Nate had just frowned, looking down at me with disdain. “You wreak of alcohol,” he’d said. “It’s disgusting. I’ll have the maid help you.” But the man in the photo showed no disgust. His eyes were soft, his movements gentle, as if he were holding the most precious treasure in the world. The Sterlings and the Hayes were both powerful families. The photo went viral in our circles. Overnight, Nate and Jessica became the star-crossed lovers reunited, and I became the city’s biggest joke. It was noon the next day when Nate finally came home. “Where were you last night?” I heard myself ask, my voice numb. He didn’t seem to notice the iciness in my tone as he shrugged off his jacket. “Working late.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. “Working late? At Jessica’s place?” He stopped, his brow furrowing. “What are you on about now?” I held up my phone, the photo burning on the screen. My eyes were red-rimmed with unshed tears. “You’re the one who’s lost his mind! You hate the smell of alcohol, remember? But you looked pretty happy holding her!” My voice cracked. “You don’t hate the smell of alcohol. You just hate it on me.” “If you don’t love me, Nate, why did you ever marry me?!” My rage boiled over. I grabbed the nearest thing—a ceramic mug on the table—and hurled it against the wall. It was the mug we’d made together on our honeymoon. Nate, who always preferred minimalist, monochrome designs, had treasured that garish, colorful thing. He’d used it every day, ignoring the smirks from his staff who whispered he was being childish. 5 The sound of shattering porcelain echoed in the silent room. I barely registered it. “It’s only been a few years, Nate! Couldn’t you wait a little longer? If you’re tired of me, just divorce me! What’s the point of all these lies?!” He ignored me, his attention fixed on his phone, thumbs flying across the screen as he replied to a message. Only when he was done did he look up, his expression chillingly calm. “So? Is this what your interrogation is about? You’re making a scene over something this small?” “Small?” The word was a strangled gasp. “What else would you call it?” His voice grew sharper, his eyes filled with a weary annoyance. “Bonnie, every single one of our fights comes from your insecurity and your lack of trust in me. If that’s the case, what is there left for me to explain?” My hands clenched into fists. The anger I’d been swallowing for months erupted. I twisted the diamond ring off my finger and threw it at him. “Then get out! Let’s get a divorce!” The ring hit the floor and rolled under the sofa. Nate’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Then, without another word, he turned and slammed the door behind him. I collapsed onto the sofa and cried for a long time. When the tears finally stopped, I started to pack a suitcase. As I moved the sofa cushions, my hand brushed against a piece of paper. It was a sketch. A drawing of me, smiling brightly. Around the neck of my portrait was a necklace I had never seen before. A sudden thought struck me. I pulled up the security camera feed on my tablet. 3:00 AM. Nate had come back. My heart skipped a beat. He came back? And I never even knew? On the screen, I watched him walk into the living room and see me asleep on the sofa. He moved quietly, fetching a blanket and draping it gently over me. I expected him to go upstairs and shower—he was a neat freak, always needing to wash away the outside world the moment he got home. Instead, he pulled a chair over and sat beside me. He took a sketchpad and pencil from his briefcase and began to draw. He drew for two hours. Just as he finished, the me-on-the-screen shifted in my sleep. Nate jumped, thinking I was waking up, and quickly hid the drawing under the cushion. When he saw I was still asleep, he visibly relaxed, then finally went upstairs to shower. But he didn’t go to our bedroom. He left the house again, heading back to work. So he had come back. He had been here. I just didn’t know. I stared at the drawing in my hand, a wave of guilt and confusion washing over me. Since our marriage, Nate’s father had dumped the entire Sterling empire on his shoulders. He was constantly overwhelmed, running on four or five hours of sleep a night. And yet, he had used two of those precious hours for me. To design something I’d once mentioned in passing. I remembered saying it jokingly when we got married: “It’s a shame you gave up design. I was hoping you’d make me a necklace one day.” 6 My fingers tightened around the sketch. After a long moment of hesitation, I found his number in my blocked list and unblocked it. I’m sorry. I was wrong. Nate, can we please talk? I don’t want to fight like this anymore. But he didn’t reply. I told myself he was just busy at work and put my phone away. I carefully gathered the broken pieces of the mug and began painstakingly gluing them back together. Then I went to the kitchen and cooked all his favorite dishes. Midnight came and went. Nate didn’t come home. He didn’t reply to my text. Fearing a repeat of the night before, where he’d come and gone while I slept, I made myself a cup of black coffee and sat on the sofa, forcing myself to stay awake. But the sun rose on an empty house. Nate never came back. Exhausted, I finally gave up and went to bed. When I woke up, it was already afternoon. I immediately checked the security footage, my heart pounding with anticipation. I watched for three hours. The footage showed nothing. From the moment he’d slammed the door yesterday to now, he had not returned. A deep, numbing cold spread through my chest. I decided to go to his office. The receptionist stopped me at the front desk. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Sterling, but I can’t let you up without an appointment.” I stared at her, bewildered. “You know who I am. Why do I need an appointment?” She looked genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s Mr. Sterling’s policy. Everyone needs an appointment. That includes you.” She was just doing her job; I couldn’t blame her. As I turned to leave, I overheard two employees whispering nearby. “So that’s his wife? She’s got nothing on Ms. Hayes.” “I know, right? She’s his wife, but she needs an appointment to see him!” “Seriously. Meanwhile, Ms. Hayes can walk into his office without even knocking.” My feet froze to the floor. The dull ache in my chest sharpened into a piercing pain that made it hard to breathe. It was all so ridiculously humiliating. I had walked right into it. It wasn’t my imagination. It wasn’t a misunderstanding. Nate’s feelings for Jessica were real. So obvious that even his employees could see it. “Excuse me,” I said, my voice steady. The two women stiffened, turning around slowly. “Mrs. Sterling? Can we help you?” Their smiles were plastered on. I didn’t comment on their gossip. I glanced at their name tags—one read “Megan,” the other “Laura.” “Actually, yes,” I said softly. “I was hoping you could do me a favor. Could you give your boss a message for me?” “What is it?” Laura asked, her curiosity piqued. I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my voice from trembling, to keep the tears from falling. “Just tell him I want a divorce. And that he needs to come home tonight to sign the papers.” 7 The lobby fell into a sudden, dead silence. The two employees stared at me, their jaws slack with shock. Without waiting for their reaction, I turned and walked away. After calling my lawyer to draft the divorce agreement, I went home and started packing. There was too much to take, so I only packed a few essential clothes and personal items. Nate came home at four o’clock. I handed him the papers. “Sign it.” He paused for only a second before picking up a pen and scrawling his signature on the line. “Fine,” was all he said. Not a single word more. Compared to my agonizing struggle, he was as cold and detached as a stranger. With the papers signed, we went to the courthouse. But there was a mandatory 30-day “cooling-off” period before the divorce was final. If either of us changed our minds in that time, the process would be voided. To prevent myself from having a moment of weakness and running back to him, I moved out of our home and went back to my parents’ house. My mother thought it was just another fight and offered a few placating words. When she realized I was serious, she tried to talk me out of it. “The Sterlings are at the top of their game right now, Bonnie. Are you really going to let another woman walk in and take everything you have?” I didn’t listen. My mind was made up. There was no going back for me and Nate. Because I hated him. I hated his arrogance, his coldness, his deception. But my hatred didn’t last long. A few days later, a bombshell dropped that sent my world into a black hole. I was not my parents’ biological daughter. 8 The year I was born, a massive earthquake had struck the region. In the chaos, my birth parents were killed. The real Sterling daughter also died in the disaster. And I, an orphan, was mistakenly identified as their child and rescued. My world shattered. But the most devastating blow was the swift, absolute cruelty of my adoptive parents. They showed no mercy. They cut off all my credit cards, threw me out of the house with nothing but the clothes on my back, and publicly announced that I was not a true Sterling. Penniless, I wandered the streets that night. I was looking for a cheap motel when a group of drunk men cornered me in a dark alley. Their leering eyes and slurred taunts closed in on me. I screamed and fought, adrenaline coursing through me, and managed to break free and run. Shaking and terrified, my first instinct was to call Nate. The call connected, but it wasn’t his voice that answered. It was a woman’s, light and cheerful. “Nate’s asleep right now. May I ask who’s calling?”

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The day before my best friend Sierra Rhodes’ wedding, I was kicked out of the bridal party group chat. “We’re full up on bridesmaids, and with your recent breakup, you’re too much of a bad luck charm. Best you sit this one out, sweetie.” I stared at the message, then at the six-figure contract I’d personally fronted for her bespoke, over-the-top dream wedding, and a laugh bubbled up—a cold, sharp thing. I had spent the better part of a year pulling strings and calling in every favor I had for her. And this was my reward: being called a “bad luck charm.” She seemed to have completely forgotten that I was the true general contractor and silent financial backer of this entire event. The celebrity caterers, the platinum-tier MC, the vintage Rolls-Royce motorcade—all of them had signed contracts with my name on the line, doing me and my father a professional courtesy. I was the legal contact, the on-site director, and the one who had paid all the deposits. This entire wedding, from conception to execution, was inextricably linked to me, not to her, the bride. I didn’t panic. I didn’t rage. Instead, I quietly took screenshots of every remaining contract—the final payment terms for the catering, photography, and the car service—and dropped them into our wider circle group chat. An hour later, over a dozen vendors announced a service suspension for the next day, citing a complete inability to contact the new “Head of Client Relations.” That night, she showed up on my doorstep in her custom-made silk robe, weeping, begging me to make the wedding continue. 1 It was close to eleven P.M. when my phone screen flashed violently on the nightstand. I picked it up and saw a gray system notification—a stark, icy block of text staring back at me. “You have been removed by group admin ‘Sierra Rhodes’ from the chat ‘The Phoenix Brigade.’” I stared at the line of text, my mind a complete blank for a few suspended seconds. This was the core bridal party group. Tomorrow was her huge, high-society wedding. I tapped the chat, and the app confirmed: “You are no longer a member of this group.” Immediately, my friend Lexi Shaw’s private messages started flooding in. A cascade of stunned question marks hit my screen. “???????????????” “Aubrey Miller! What the hell is going on? Am I seeing this right?” “Sierra just kicked you—the Maid of Honor—out? The day before the wedding?” I took a deep, shaky breath. My chest was tight, and my fingers trembled slightly as I typed. I replied to Lexi: “It’s real. Just happened.” Lexi’s voice call popped up instantly. I hit “Decline.” I didn’t want to talk, not a single word. Her voice message followed, her tone high-pitched with outrage, impossible to contain. “Is she insane, Aubrey! This isn’t even using you up and throwing you away—it’s warp speed betrayal!” “No! I’m going into the group now! She can’t just kick you out! She has to explain this!” I typed a reply, calm despite the internal chaos, each word feeling like it cost me a piece of my soul. “Lexi, don’t. It won’t help.” Lexi couldn’t process it. “Why? You’re just going to take this massive insult?” “She kicked me out because she wants to cut off communication.” “She chose the night before the wedding because she knew I’d have no time to react.” “This wasn’t a mistake. This was premeditated.” Silence on Lexi’s end. A minute later, she sent a screenshot. It was the bridal party chat, showing a new announcement Sierra had posted. “@Everyone, Little change of plans, girls, sorry!” “Ethan’s cousin absolutely insisted on being a bridesmaid, and with family pressure, I couldn’t say no.” “The spots are full. And well, you all know Aubrey just went through that breakup, and her vibe is a little… off right now.” “A wedding is a joyous occasion. I didn’t want her to feel worse or bring any bad juju, so I just told her to rest up, okay?” “See you all at the hotel tomorrow. Love you all!” Below the announcement, a few other bridesmaids had already chimed in: “Got it!” and “So thoughtful of you, Sierra!” Lexi’s next voice message was shaking with pure fury. “Aubrey, did you see that? She replaced you with her future husband’s cousin! And she called you bad luck for being newly single! How dare she say that after everything you’ve done?” “Every single detail of this wedding—whose hands built it? Whose money paid the deposits?” “You fronted over fifty thousand dollars for the planning alone! She hasn’t paid you back a penny!” “She used you for your connections, squeezed you dry, and is now kicking you to the curb without even bothering to come up with a decent lie!” The words Lexi sent buzzed in my head. For her “Gilded Age Grandeur” themed wedding, I had spent half a year of my life and burned through every favor I owed. The archival-quality Ming Dynasty-inspired gown she had to have? I pulled strings with a museum curator friend. The fleet of vintage Hongqi cars? I had my father leverage his exclusive business association connections to secure them. The top-tier wedding planning firm, The Imperial Events Collective? I used a personal favor with the CEO just to skip the waitlist. Now, the wedding was ready. The curtain was about to rise. And I, the orchestrator, was tossed aside for being “newly single” and a “bad luck charm.” I saved the screenshot of the ice-cold system notification and the one of Sierra’s sickeningly false public announcement. Then, I tossed my phone aside and buried my face in my pillow. 2 Lexi’s voice messages continued to ping, her anger a hotter flame than my own. “I can’t let this stand! Aubrey, you’re seriously going to let her get away with this?” “She’s doing this because you’re hurting and she thinks you’re an easy target!” “After all you sacrificed for her, she isn’t just ungrateful, she’s actively stepping on you!” “You have to confront her! You can’t let her walk down the aisle in peace!” I reached out from under the comforter, found my phone, and leaned against the headboard. The initial shock and raw sting had subsided, replaced by a deep, bone-chilling calm. I typed my reply to Lexi: “She removed me so I couldn’t confront her.” “If I call her now, she’ll hide behind that fake ‘I was just looking out for you’ narrative.” “Showing up and making a scene will only make me look like a hysterical joke and give her exactly what she wants.” Lexi was frustrated. “Then what? Just let her win? The thought of her getting her happy ending makes me sick!” I stared at the dim light on the ceiling, a slight, humorless smile touching my lips. “Lexi, we are absolutely not letting this go.” Lexi replied instantly: “Okay, what’s the plan? Tell me! I’m in!” I didn’t reply. I didn’t call Sierra to demand an explanation, and I didn’t reach out to her fiancé, Ethan Blackwood, to cry about my hurt feelings. I simply opened my laptop and found the dedicated folder I had created for her wedding. Inside was the culmination of six months of meticulous work. Contracts for over a dozen vendors: planning, photography, the designer gown, the vintage motorcade, the venue… Every single one listed my name and my contact information as the primary client representative. Every contract had the final payment date clearly stamped: The day before the wedding. That is, tonight. I had paid over fifty thousand dollars in deposits, and the remaining balance—just over a hundred thousand dollars—was stipulated in the contracts to be settled by the couple on the eve of the event. I took crystal-clear screenshots of the most critical page of each contract: the Client Representative and the Payment Clause. Then, I opened a group chat called “The Inner Circle.” This was the main chat for our entire social group—hundreds of our closest friends and acquaintances. Crucially, the groom, Ethan Blackwood, and his mother, Linnea, were prominent members of this group. One by one, I sent the dozen-plus contract screenshots. Slowly. Deliberately. After the final screenshot, I typed a caption, my words cool and utterly detached. “Good evening, everyone. Apologies for the interruption. Regarding Sierra Rhodes and Ethan Blackwood’s wedding scheduled for tomorrow: The above are the contracts for all vendors I was managing as the lead coordinator.” “To date, I have personally paid the deposits totaling $50,888. All outstanding final balances were due tonight by 10 P.M.” “I’ve just been informed by the bride that I am no longer involved in any wedding arrangements. Could the new coordinator please contact the vendors immediately to avoid any disruption tomorrow?” “@SierraRhodes @EthanBlackwood. Wishing you both a wonderful wedding.” After sending the message, I muted the chat. A year ago, Sierra had cried to me that her biggest dream was an extravagant, buzz-worthy wedding. She said Ethan’s family had the money but didn’t want to be too ostentatious. It was me, her “best friend,” who had taken the entire burden on. I’d told her: “Don’t worry about the money or the connections. I’ll handle it. You just focus on being the most beautiful bride.” Now, she was about to be the most beautiful bride. And I was the “bad luck charm” she had discarded. Lexi’s private message was instantaneous: “AUBREY! You posted it in the main group?! You absolute legend!” “I saw it! The chat just exploded! Ethan’s mom’s face must be white as a ghost right now!” Lexi added: “My guess is his mother, Linnea, was the one who hated that you were recently single and thought you were bad luck. Sierra threw you under the bus to score points with her in-laws!” “That woman will do anything to marry into that family!” I smiled slightly, not replying. Sierra’s good fortune was about to take a sharp turn. I closed my eyes, pulled the covers up, and went to sleep. 3 The next morning, I woke to a barrage of urgent phone calls from unknown numbers. I ignored the first few. But one kept calling relentlessly. I finally answered, staying silent. A panicked male voice came through the speaker: “Hello? Is this Ms. Miller? It’s Derek Kim from The Imperial Events Collective!” I gave a simple, flat “Yes.” Mr. Kim sounded on the verge of tears. “Ms. Miller, what in the world is going on? Our entire team is waiting at the venue, and we can’t get hold of the bride or groom!” “After your message last night, we called Mr. Blackwood. He said he’d handle it, but now he’s not answering!” “The final contract balance—thirty-eight thousand dollars—is still unpaid! We can’t set up the ballroom! Is this wedding still happening?” My tone was perfectly calm. “Mr. Kim, I am no longer the coordinator. You need to contact the couple directly.” “But we can’t! They’re not answering calls or texts! Ms. Miller, we took this job as a personal favor to you! You can’t just walk away!” I cut him off. “I apologize, Mr. Kim. I’m just an uninvolved guest now.” “The contract clearly states that the final payment is the responsibility of the couple. If they are in breach, you need to follow your legal protocol.” I hung up. The second and third calls immediately followed. “Hello? Ms. Miller? It’s Leo from the photo team! We’re supposed to start the getting-ready shots at five! We don’t even know which suite the bride is in!” “Aubrey! It’s Frank from the car team! Those vintage Rolls-Royces your dad secured—the drivers are waiting! We haven’t been paid the final sixteen thousand, and we can’t start the engines!” “Ms. Miller…” I declined every call, one after the other, and finally set my phone to reject all unknown numbers. Lexi was sending me a live-feed “broadcast” from The Inner Circle chat. The group was in utter chaos. Mr. Kim posted an all-caps message, tagging the couple. “@EthanBlackwood @SierraRhodes. Is the wedding proceeding today? Our staff and equipment are waiting outside the venue. We will be forced to pull out and leave the premises in thirty minutes!” Leo, the photographer, was equally frantic: “@SierraRhodes! Bride! If you don’t appear, your morning robe, first look, and leaving-the-suite photos will all be canceled!” Frank, the car team leader, was blunt: “@EthanBlackwood, Mr. Blackwood, when will the final payment be settled? If we miss the designated start time, who is accountable for the liability?” A dozen vendors were blowing up the chat. Sierra and Ethan, however, had completely vanished, not a single word of response. The friends and relatives in the chat were completely bewildered. “What is going on? The couple can’t be reached on their wedding day?” “Aubrey’s contracts show over a hundred thousand is unpaid? I thought the Blackwoods were rolling in cash!” “I heard Aubrey was kicked out of the bridal party, and she’s not coordinating anymore.” “Why would they kick out the one person running the show? That’s insane!” Finally, Ethan’s mother, Linnea Blackwood—the woman I called Auntie Lin—chimed in. She posted an overly cheerful, awkward emoji. “Oh, don’t worry, everyone! The kids are just being young and had a little spat last night. Their phones must be off!” “The money is absolutely not an issue! I’m heading to the venue now to sort it out! Please, everyone just wait a few minutes!” She thought she could solve everything just by showing up. She thought that simply throwing money at the problem would reset everything. Lexi messaged me: “Aubrey, Ethan’s mom is trying to spin this. She’s trying to save face.” I replied with two words: “Delusional.” The heart of this wedding was never the money. It was me. It was all the favors, relationships, and trust I had leveraged. Mr. Kim replied to Linnea immediately in the group chat: “Mrs. Blackwood, with all due respect, the money is secondary. Our team only recognizes Ms. Miller as the lead client. All logistics, details, and design specifications were negotiated directly with her.” “We cannot guarantee the final result with an impromptu change in leadership. We will not be liable for any issues that arise!” Leo backed him up: “Exactly! We follow Ms. Miller’s direction. She knew every key moment and shot list!” Frank was even more direct: “Mrs. Blackwood, those vintage cars were secured based on a personal favor to Mr. Miller. Now that Ms. Miller has stepped away, our drivers are refusing to proceed. They don’t want the risk.” Linnea was completely blindsided, and then, immediately enraged. “It’s just money! Just do the job! I’ll make sure you are all paid handsomely!”

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