Category: English

A wealthy couple was at the orphanage, torn between adopting me and another girl, Lily. Suddenly, floating comments drifted across my vision: [They’re here to take Baby Lily home! Finally, the torture of the villainess begins!] [The comment above is right. I bet the villainess will try to act pitiful to steal the adoption chance from Lily.] [With her wild attitude, who would like her anyway?] I frowned in confusion. What the heck were these people talking about? Was I the “evil villainess” they were referring to? Before I could figure it out, a warm, hearty voice reached my ears. “Well, butter my biscuit! This little one is cute as a button!” I looked up to see a tall couple with thick Texan accents beaming down at me. “Hey there, sugar. Have you eaten? Auntie made some brisket noodles today, real tasty. Wanna come home with us and grab a bite?” 1 A couple decked out in Balenciaga was pacing back and forth between me and Lily. We were the top candidates, but we both had flaws. I wasn’t “kind” enough, and Lily wasn’t “smart” enough. After agonizing for ages, they still couldn’t decide. The comments floated by again: [What are they hesitating for? Just take Lily home already!] [This villainess is really good at pretending to be quiet. She’s usually snatching stuff from Lily left and right.] [Don’t worry guys, even if they pick the villainess, she’ll get sent back once her true colors show.] So, this world was just a giant melodramatic romance novel. Lily was the fragile, pure-hearted heroine with a tragic backstory, and I was the vicious villainess willing to do anything to climb the social ladder. I rolled my eyes. Since when was being spirited and clever considered “vicious”? Suddenly. Two tall shadows loomed over me. A couple the comments hadn’t mentioned at all stood before me. Their eyes were full of joy. “Well, I’ll be! Look at this little angel, ain’t she precious?” “Honey, look how skinny you are. What’d you have for lunch? Want to come home with Uncle and Auntie? We made brisket noodles.” Noodles?! According to the Director, my birth parents were from Texas. Mentioning brisket noodles… My DNA activated. Before the Balenciaga couple could even walk over. I spoke up first: “Texas born, Texas bred, when I die, I’ll be Texas dead! Howdy, y’all!” 2 For as long as I could remember, Lily and I were mortal enemies. Resources in the orphanage were scarce. To get enough to eat, I constantly sucked up to the Director. Even though the meals were barely enough to keep me full, I still got more than the other kids. Lily hated this behavior and naturally opposed me. I never went easy on her; if she wanted something, I snatched it. No wonder I was the “villain.” Turns out I was just her foil. According to the plot, my selfishness and evil were necessary to highlight her selflessness and kindness. And as the evil villainess, I was destined to be punished by the main couple and fall into an abyss while the audience cheered. Excuse me? Why? Sitting around waiting to die wasn’t my style. I had to twist the plot to save myself. I hopped into the Texan couple’s Ford pickup truck. Lily finally relaxed when she saw the determined look in my eyes. The comments started gloating: [Haha, the villainess is so unsophisticated. Bought off by a bowl of noodles.] [A leopard can’t change its spots. She snatched everything as a kid; no wonder she lights up at the sight of food now.] [I bet she won’t last a month with this couple before getting sent back.] I’d heard way worse in the orphanage. Seeing the scrolling comments, I just wagged my index finger. “Not a bowl. A bucket.” “Sugar, what did you say?” Through the rearview mirror, I met Auntie’s gaze. “Auntie, I said I missed your noodles so much I could eat a whole bucket.” Changing my voice to sound cute was exhausting. The comments said I’d be sent back? Heh. What if I fake being nice for a lifetime? Auntie was beaming because of my flattery. “Hahaha! Auntie will make you whatever you want. I promise you’ll eat till you drop.” “We’re family now, don’t be shy at the dinner table.” Uncle laughed heartily too. “Don’t worry about food in this house. You know ‘Old Zhao’s BBQ’ near the high school? That’s ours.” “By the way, I’m Zhao Jian, and your Auntie is Zhao Yanqiu. What’s your name, sugar?” My name is Stella Xu. Stella means star. I named myself. People always have a soft spot for things they name themselves. My eyes reddened slightly, wiping away a non-existent tear. “I don’t have a real name. They said my parents’ last name was Xu, so they just call me Little Xu.” 3 The moment I stepped into Uncle and Auntie’s house. The smell of slow-cooked brisket mixed with savory broth filled the air. In the orphanage, the Director cut corners on food, so we rarely saw meat. Even with all my tricks, the food I got was just enough to stop the hunger pangs. Brisket noodles, roast chicken, braised pork trotters… A table full of dazzling dishes. I instinctively reached out to grab some. My hand touched the chopsticks, and my brain snapped back to reality. “Girls must be quiet and elegant so your parents won’t hate you, and your future husband will want you.” That was what the Director drilled into us. I put down the chopsticks, crossed my hands on the table, and waited for Uncle and Auntie’s instructions. The next moment. Bang! Auntie slammed her chopsticks on the table. She looked at Uncle Zhao with feigned anger. “Zhao Jianqiang! What kind of food did you make? Look, our baby doesn’t even want to eat it!” “I told you to buy some fried chicken or pizza that young people like, but no, you had to be so confident in your cooking!” “Didn’t you say fried chicken was unhealthy…” Seeing Auntie misunderstand, I waved my hands frantically. “No, no, Uncle’s food smells amazing.” “I just thought the rules here were the same as the orphanage, where we have to say grace before eating.” “Is your Director a priest or something? Do you have to say ‘Amen’ before you dig in?” I burst out laughing at Uncle’s joke. “Alright, alright, stop teasing our girl. Let’s eat.” Afraid they’d misunderstand again, I quickly picked up a bowl as big as my face and buried my head in it, slurping loudly. I have to say, my fellow Texans really know how to cook. It was heavenly. Uncle and Auntie piled my plate high with brisket and chicken legs until it looked like a small mountain. My favorite was brisket. Every New Year, to get a few bites of brisket, I would wag my tail and beg the Director. I’d hypocritically praise his management and listen to his speeches with a look of adoration. The result was getting the brisket I craved and the disgust of everyone else. But so what? I got what I wanted, and other people’s stares couldn’t hurt me. Except for faking pity, I was never one to cry easily over external things. But when I bit into that piece of brisket Auntie made herself… Even though I tried my hardest to hold it back, tears streamed down my face like broken pearls. This happiness didn’t feel real. It turned out there were things in this world you didn’t have to fight for. 4 After lunch, they took me shopping at the mall. They bought me a pile of new clothes. Auntie said, “Our girl is so pretty, she needs to dress nicely so she won’t get bullied. Kids these days are mean.” Hearing Auntie use words like “pretty” and “nice,” I tightened my grip on the shopping bags. If Auntie knew the real me, would she still like me? Why overthink it? I already decided, worst case scenario, I’d fake it for a lifetime. I pushed down the anxiety in my heart. Forcing a smile, I spent the most wonderful and terrifying afternoon of my life. It was night when we got home. I curled up in the corner of the large, soft Simmons mattress. It was a habit from the orphanage. We slept on a large communal platform. Ten kids squeezed onto one bed. Curling up was the only way not to get squished. No privacy, let alone dignity. The new pajamas felt incredibly soft. The AC was set to the perfect temperature. The happy life almost made me forget I was the vicious villainess destined for hell. Until I heard Uncle and Auntie whispering. “Jianqiang, do you think the floating text I saw today was a hallucination?” “I saw it too. If we both saw it, it probably wasn’t a hallucination.” “Damn, see? I was right to buy our girl clothes. Look at how she was bullied in the orphanage wearing those rags.” “My daughter fought a war of words and stood against a hundred in the orphanage. She has the air of a general! Not bad, not bad, just like me.” Auntie pushed Uncle. “Stop joking around. Anyway, no one is allowed to bully our girl from now on. Anyone touches her, I’ll fight them.” With that, Auntie gently moved me to the middle of the bed and tucked me in. As their footsteps faded away. I silently glanced at the scrolling comments. [Can you guys come at me if you have a problem? Leave my parents alone.] [Do you not have parents? Have some empathy.] The retorts from the comments were weak. Totally harmless. I buried my face in the blanket, ignoring the boring chatter. Uncle and Auntie’s actions lingered in my mind. I never expected them to react like that to the comments. Did this prove they could accept the real me? Love is addictive and spoiling; once you have it, you don’t want to lose it. I was daydreaming again. Gentle and quiet were the kind of girls adults liked. The Director taught me that. He made me memorize it. 5 The comments said I’d be sent back in a month, tops. But a month flew by. Uncle and Auntie’s noodles were still delicious, and they still smiled at me just the same. They read the comments and worried someone was bullying me again. Auntie insisted Uncle teach me his secret martial art—Judo. I had always been domineering in the orphanage. Thanks to the comments, Uncle and Auntie thought someone dared to bully me. Uncle looked like a refined gentleman. Who knew he had moves? He executed a set of throws cleanly and winked at Auntie. “Back in the day, I beat everyone to win the beauty’s heart!” Uncle loved teasing Auntie until she blushed or scolded him. He wouldn’t stop grinning until she punched him. I reasonably suspected he was a masochist. But it was okay for boys to learn martial arts. For girls… wasn’t it weird? “Uncle, Auntie, don’t you think it’s unladylike for a girl to fight?” I asked timidly. Uncle frowned, looking serious. “Can elegance put food on the table? Can elegance make money? I only know that if a robber comes, staying elegant gets you robbed.” Auntie sighed with heartache. She squatted down and stroked my face. “Baby, who poisoned your mind with that nonsense?” “Boy or girl, you can be gentle and considerate, or lively and active. We love you because you are our child, nothing else.” For the first time, I felt enveloped by a thick, unconditional love. I used to think selfless love was a myth from heaven. Turns out, it’s just parental love. During the day, they went to work. I practiced the judo moves Uncle assigned me at home. At night when Auntie came back, I learned life lessons and English from her. The scheming Stella Xu from the orphanage seemed to disappear. Time flowed peacefully and happily. Soon, it was time for me to start middle school. Auntie stuffed a new set of stationery into my backpack. Then she asked, “Baby, Uncle and Auntie are too dumb to think of a good name even after all this time. Why don’t you pick one yourself?” Uncle chimed in. “Yeah! Your Auntie said the names I picked like ‘Rocky’ and ‘Sprout’ were too countrified.” “Zhao Jianqiang, naming is a big deal, stop messing around, okay?” “Daughter, any ideas?” “Let’s go with Stella Xu! I want to shine like the stars in the sky.” Even if I’m insignificant, I want to shine with all my might. “Good! Great name! Stella it is. We’ll do the paperwork tomorrow.” Auntie pulled me into a bear hug. Beside us were the sounds of Uncle clapping and laughing heartily.

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For my eighteenth birthday, my brother finally decided to throw me a party. When it was time for pictures, he shoved my face into the cake, completely ignoring the plastic support rods inside. My adopted sister, Luna, flashed her sweetest smile for the camera while the world through my left eye blurred into darkness. Later, while I was getting stitched up at the hospital, Luna posted two photos to her Instagram. One was her early acceptance letter to Northwood University. The other was a selfie of her and my brother, Ethan, at Disneyland. The caption read: 【My dream school and my favorite person, all mine on this special day. PS: My brother’s surprise was HILARIOUS!!!】 So that was it. My “birthday party” was just a surprise for Luna. This time, I didn’t throw a tantrum. I didn’t scream or cry. I simply liked the post and left a comment: 【From now on, every day will be special. Because he’s all yours, forever.】 Then I turned and accepted my own early admission offer from MIT. 1 “Zoe! What the hell was that comment? Luna’s coughing up blood because of you! Do you have any idea she just got her acceptance letter from Northwood today? You’ve ruined the best moment of her life! Get your ass back here and apologize, or don’t ever call me your brother again!” He hung up before I could say a word. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Luna getting into Northwood was the best moment of her life, but my eighteenth birthday meant nothing? Why… why did he trade my sight for her smile? I pressed a hand over my bandaged left eye, biting my lip to hold back the tears. The doctor said crying would only make the recovery worse. But the injustice of it all was a suffocating weight. Luna’s blood was fake. Mine was real. After Ethan had shoved my head into the cake, I could feel the warm stickiness of blood mixing with the frosting. But he just smiled, satisfied with the picture-perfect shot of Luna’s delighted face. He’d given me a careless glance and said, “Luna wants to go to Disneyland. Wash your face and order yourself some takeout.” Luna had giggled. “Sorry, sis, but that was just too funny!” I couldn’t fathom how someone could find joy in another’s pain. All I knew was that when the doctor told me I might never see out of my left eye again, my heart plummeted into an icy abyss. “An injury this severe,” the doctor asked gently, “where’s your family?” I froze. And I realized, in that sterile white room, that I didn’t have one anymore. My parents were firefighters. They died in the line of duty, saving Luna from a house fire. With their last breaths, they pushed her into my brother’s arms. From that day on, Ethan treated Luna like a sacred medal of honor, a living testament to our parents’ heroism. The fire had damaged her respiratory system, leaving her with a chronic condition. Once, during an argument, she happened to cough up blood, and from then on, I was forbidden from ever “bullying” my little sister. It was like she’d unlocked a new superpower. Any time I did something she didn’t like, she’d produce a dramatic mouthful of blood. I tried to tell Ethan she was using fake blood capsules. I even managed to steal one and show it to him. My reward was three days locked in the attic. He hated liars, he said. That day, the girl who had once craved her brother’s affection more than anything in the world looked at the doctor and shook her head. “I don’t have a family.” 2 I didn’t go home to apologize to Luna. Instead, I opened a bookmarked webpage on my phone and clicked ‘confirm’ on a notification I’d been hesitating over for weeks. It was the official acceptance of my early admission offer from MIT. For years, I had lived in fear of outshining Luna. A few years back, I’d accidentally scored a few points higher than her on a test. She came home and fell gravely ill, her bedsheets stained with blood. I spent three days locked in the attic, forced to write a ten-thousand-word apology letter. Only when I sobbed that I would never dare to steal her spotlight again did Ethan finally open the door. He sighed, his voice laced with disappointment. “She’s your sister, Zoe. Mom and Dad died to save her. You should let her have her moment.” Tears streamed down my face as I nodded. But I had. I had let her. If Luna scored a 90, I made damn sure I never got more than an 85. And still, Ethan’s world revolved entirely around her. Sometimes I wondered who his real sister was. But I never dared to ask. I was too afraid of the suffocating darkness of the attic, of the endless, soul-crushing apology letters. Now, it didn’t matter anymore. I was done with him. With my early admission secured, my high school classes were just a formality. The acceptance also came with a hefty scholarship. I collected the money, got permission from my teachers for an extended leave of absence, and bought a train ticket to Colorado. I had to escape that suffocating house. I had to see the wide-open sky. If I had no home, then the whole world would be my home. 3 I was somewhere deep in the Rocky Mountains when Ethan’s call came through. “What’s this about an extended leave? It was your fault to begin with, so why is it so hard for you to apologize to your sister? Zoe, who taught you to be so stubborn? I say two words to you and you run away from home? Let’s be real, do you even know where you stand? Did you get early admission like Luna? No. You’re not half the student she is, so what gives you the right to run off and give me attitude! You have three days. If you’re not back, then don’t ever bother coming back!” As always, he hung up before I could get a word in. A moment later, a text alert popped up on my screen. My bank account had been frozen. A bitter smile twisted my lips. He didn’t call to see if I was safe after all this time, he just cut off my money… Thank god the scholarship money was in a different account. I didn’t need his pathetic few hundred dollars. 4 Three days later, I didn’t go back. But Ethan didn’t call, or even text. I didn’t care. I headed north, making my way up to Chicago. For two solid weeks, I had zero contact with my family. I’d almost forgotten they existed until a call from Luna shattered the peace. “Oh, sister… where are you? We’re back from our trip, and Maria said you haven’t been home at all. Sister, it was my fault, please come back…” Her voice was frail and pitiful, as if she were genuinely worried about me. But if she really cared, how could she have laughed so gleefully while I was bleeding? Ethan’s voice cut in from the background. “Alright, Zoe, Luna has forgiven you. You can stop this little tantrum now.” A smirk played on my lips. “What did I do that requires her forgiveness?” There was a stunned silence on the other end. Ethan sighed heavily. “Look, I know you’re upset about the cake. But Luna getting into Northwood is a huge deal for her, one of the most important days of her life. You’re her older sister. Don’t be so petty. Let’s just move past this. I’ve unfrozen your card. Come home.” Right on cue, a notification popped up on my phone. He’d transferred me a thousand dollars. It wasn’t even enough for a train ticket home. I truly didn’t understand him. He’d drop tens of thousands on Luna without blinking, but with me, he was a penny-pincher. It wasn’t like our family couldn’t afford to treat us equally. He was just terrified I’d steal her thunder. “No, thank you, Ethan,” I said, my voice flat. “I won’t be needing your money anymore.” “You—!” “Oh, and I’m already on my way back. I’ll be there tonight. Don’t worry about me, I’m just staying one night and then I’m gone.” The line was quiet for a moment before Ethan sighed again, his tone softening. “Zoe, it was my fault. I’m sorry. Please don’t take it out on Luna. I’ll pick you up at the station tonight. We can have a proper family dinner, my treat. A real birthday celebration for you, okay?” Before I could refuse, he pressed on. “I’m heading to the station now. I’ll wait for you at the exit.” And he hung up. I sighed, canceling the shuttle bus ticket I’d just booked. 5 The train pulled in at 5:30 PM. I scanned the crowd at the exit, but Ethan was nowhere in sight. A text came through: 【Something came up. I’ll be a little late.】 I found a bench and sat down. I waited until the sky was pitch black, but he never showed. My calls went straight to voicemail. The last bus home had left two hours ago. With no other choice, I started walking toward a nearby hotel. The streetlights cast long, eerie shadows on the dark pavement. I heard footsteps behind me, quickening their pace. I glanced over my shoulder, but saw nothing. I walked faster. The footsteps behind me matched my pace. I spun around, and a figure darted into the darkness just beyond the reach of the streetlight. My heart hammered against my ribs. I picked up my speed, fumbling for my phone and dialing Ethan’s number again. Still no answer. I held the silent phone to my ear and raised my voice, feigning a conversation. “Hey, Ethan! I’m almost there, can you come down and meet me?” The footsteps behind me suddenly broke into a run. I whipped my head around to see a dark shape sprinting toward me. I bolted. But the gap between us closed with terrifying speed. In the reflection of a storefront window, I could see a hand reaching for me, inches from grabbing my jacket. I saw a person walking in the distance and screamed with every ounce of air in my lungs. “Honey! Help me!” The footsteps behind me faltered. The man in the distance hesitated for a second, then strode quickly toward me. I didn’t think twice; I ran straight into his arms. “Honey! Thank God you’re here!” The figure behind us walked past, pretending to be a casual pedestrian, glancing around aimlessly. When our eyes met for a fleeting second, I saw a flash of raw, bitter hatred in his cold, unsettling eyes. A hand rested gently on my waist, and a calm, steady voice murmured in my ear, “It’s okay. You’re safe. Let’s go.” He pulled me closer, steering me in the opposite direction of the man. My pulse was a frantic drum against my temples. I was just about to let out a sigh of relief when a chill ran down my spine. I looked up at the handsome, composed face of the man holding me, and my stomach clenched. In the dead of night, what were the chances he just happened to be right here? 6 I shoved him away, my phone gripped tightly in my hand. He looked surprised for a moment as my thumb hovered over the emergency call button. “You don’t trust me?” He chuckled softly, a sound that made my hand tremble, and my phone clattered to the pavement. I bent down to grab it, but his hand was already there, covering mine. He picked it up, looked me in the eye, and calmly dialed 911. “Hello? West 51st Street. There’s a man harassing a young woman here.” After he hung up, he gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his voice a low murmur. “What happened to ‘honey’?” I was too stunned to speak. He smiled, a slow, easy grin. “The name’s Leo.” 7 Leo and I spent the rest of the night at the police station. By the time I got home the next day, the police had already arrested my attacker. They found a butcher knife and a set of dismemberment tools in his possession. I had been terrifyingly close to becoming a statistic. My hands were still trembling as I pushed open the front door. The familiar aroma of home-cooked porridge filled the air. It wasn’t the scent of our housekeeper’s cooking, which meant… Sure enough, there was Ethan in the kitchen, wearing a cartoon apron, setting a bowl of hot porridge in front of Luna. They were laughing and talking, having seemingly forgotten they’d ever promised to pick someone up. He noticed me and frowned. “Where have you been? You couldn’t find your own way back just because I didn’t pick you up? And what’s with the bandage? Take that ridiculous thing off!” I ignored him, walked to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and chugged it down, trying to wash away the exhaustion. As I walked past him toward the stairs, I didn’t even give him a second glance. “Zoe.” His hand clamped down on my shoulder. I turned. He was still frowning, his expression awkward, as if the words were being dragged from him against his will. “Look… Luna was so worried about you yesterday, she coughed up blood right before we were supposed to leave. I had to take care of her.” I nodded, my voice devoid of emotion. “Okay.” His eyes widened slightly. In the past, I was always the one to back down first. From writing apology letters as a child to begging for his forgiveness as a teen. Any time he offered the slightest olive branch, I would be overjoyed, rushing to forgive him for everything. He was used to a single conciliatory glance from him sending me into a flood of grateful tears. My simple, flat “okay” threw him completely off balance. It even seemed to make him… angry. But before he could scowl any deeper, I pinched the bridge of my nose, feigning impatience. “If that’s all, I’m going to bed. It’s been a long couple of days.” He just stared, speechless. I walked around him, went upstairs, and opened my bedroom door. The sight that greeted me was one of utter devastation. 8 My practice exams were shredded into confetti, marked with angry red X’s and scattered across the floor. My notes from three years of high school were ripped to pieces, drenched in red ink. Carved into my now-empty desk, over and over again, were the words SLUT and DIE. I picked up a fragment of a page. The childish, looping handwriting of the insults was unmistakably Luna’s. “Zoe…” Ethan said from behind me, his voice filled with shock as he took in the wreckage. I turned to look at him, my expression cold as ice. Downstairs, Luna was just finishing her last spoonful of porridge. She placed a fake blood capsule in her mouth, bit down, and then crumpled to the floor with a pained frown. “Ethan… I… it hurts so much…” My gaze remained fixed on Luna, and Ethan’s brows immediately furrowed in my direction. “Stop making a scene the second you’re back!” he snapped at me. He rushed down the stairs and scooped Luna into his arms, his voice softening to a gentle murmur. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m taking you to the hospital right now. Don’t be scared.” Then he looked up at me, standing at the top of the stairs, and shot me a look of pure venom. It was always the same. Even though no one else in the house would ever do something like this, the moment Luna coughed up blood, nothing else mattered. The old me would have probably cried and screamed, desperately trying to explain. But now, I just turned back to my ruined room, quietly cleaned up the mess, and collapsed onto my bed, falling into a deep, exhausted sleep. I didn’t let either of them affect me in the slightest. 9 The next day, Luna shared a news article on her social media. It was about a high school senior who had lost all her study notes right before final exams. Her comment: 【Losing something so important… I bet her exam scores are going to be a disaster, right?】 I glanced at the bag of shredded paper in my trash can and let out a cynical laugh. Before I could even type out a reply, my bedroom door was kicked open. Ethan stood there, his face contorted with rage. “When did you learn to frame people? Luna told me she never set foot in your room, and Maria wouldn’t dare touch your things. Did you really think I wouldn’t see through this pathetic attempt to set up your own sister? If it weren’t for you, she wouldn’t have gotten so worked up trying to explain herself that she coughed up blood again!” Over his shoulder, I could see Luna, her eyes red-rimmed and brimming with tears, the perfect picture of wounded innocence. I scoffed. “I framed her? I just got back last night. How could I have framed her? And look at the carving on that desk. It’s hideous. I have much better handwriting than that.” “Sister…” Luna’s voice trembled as tears spilled down her cheeks. “I know you were hurt on your birthday, but you can’t just hire someone to do this and then throw such horrible accusations at me!” Her words fueled Ethan’s fury. He grabbed my arm, his eyes filled with a level of disappointment and disgust I had never seen before. “And to think I actually felt sorry for you, being out there all alone. I wanted to welcome you home, to make things right. But you just had to push it, didn’t you? You even stooped low enough to go after Luna! People like you should just die out there and never come back!” He shoved me hard. “Get out! And don’t ever let me see you again!” I stumbled backward, barely catching the banister to keep from tumbling down the stairs. I steadied myself and looked back at him one last time. “You almost got your wish.” If it hadn’t been for Leo. Ethan froze. I didn’t say another word. I turned and walked down the stairs. Behind me, I heard Luna’s syrupy voice. “Ethan, don’t you think that was a little harsh?” And his, cold and dismissive. “Don’t worry. She’ll come crawling back in a few days. And when she does, don’t you dare go soft on her. It’s time someone knocked that attitude out of her. The real world isn’t going to baby her like I do.” I looked down as Maria, our housekeeper, pushed my suitcase toward the door. She had hastily packed my things. Her voice was full of apology. “I’m so sorry, Miss Zoe. Mr. Ethan told me to clear out all of your belongings.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Baby me? When had he ever done that?

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There was a strange food stall on my way home from work. It opened at 11 PM every night and closed at midnight. But the owner never sold anything. That night, I tried to buy some braised beef, but I was refused. Later, I fell asleep in my bed, only to wake up tied to a chair in front of that very stall. The owner said someone had stolen food when she wasn’t looking. If we didn’t find the thief, everyone who visited the stall tonight would die. 1 I was completely bewildered when I woke up tied to a chair in front of the food stall. I distinctly remembered going to bed. Why was I suddenly here? I wasn’t the only one confused. Several other people were tied up next to me. “What the hell is this?! Killing people over stolen food? Are you insane?” A guy with bleached blond hair shouted what we were all thinking. The stall owner walked up to him, her expression dark. “You’re so agitated. Did you steal my food?” “Your food is trash! Let me go, or I won’t be polite!” The blond guy cursed, and the others started chiming in. “Yeah, it’s just some braised meat! Tying us up is ridiculous!” “Exactly! I don’t care who ate it, I’ll pay for it! How expensive can it be? I’m in the middle of a multi-million dollar deal! If I lose it, can you afford to compensate me?” A middle-aged man wearing a thick gold chain struggled against the black ropes binding him. “Right! Kidnapping us in the middle of the night over a snack? You’re sick!” “Let us go, or I’m calling the police!” While they shouted insults at the owner, I stayed silent. The owner’s cold gaze swept over us, sending a chill down my spine. These people weren’t using their brains. We were all in different places, doing different things, and suddenly we were all tied up here at the same time. Could this owner be a normal human? I had always felt this stall was weird. It only opened for one hour, late at night. I never saw any customers, just an old lady fussing over her pots. I’ve walked this route for two years. I only saw it when I worked late. I only knew it closed at midnight because I passed by after a late team dinner once. Tonight, I was starving after overtime and just wanted a late-night snack. The owner told me she wasn’t selling, so I left. Who could have predicted this? The owner listened to their complaints without saying a word. Suddenly, I felt the black ropes tighten around me. “Ah! It hurts!” Everyone started screaming. The ropes constricted tighter and tighter, threatening to crush us. “Are you still noisy?” The owner asked. Everyone shook their heads frantically, terrified into silence. The next second, the ropes loosened slightly. I gasped for air. “Answer me. Who stole my food?” No one dared to speak. We looked at the owner with fear in our eyes. Except for the blond guy, who still had a death wish. “Killing people over a snack? Don’t let her scare you! She’s just an old lady, how can she kill us? The ropes probably have some mechanism in the chairs!” The owner walked up to him, her face grim. “You’ve been unusually agitated from the start. It must be you.” “I didn’t…” Before he could finish, his eyes went wide, and he went limp. 2 The owner’s hand sliced open the blond guy’s stomach and reached inside, rummaging around in his stomach. Blood dripped everywhere. “Ahhh! Grandma, I’m scared!” A five-year-old boy to my right screamed. His grandmother quickly covered his eyes. I almost threw up, turning my head away in horror. The owner pulled her hand out of the guy’s body, holding something. “You stole my food. This piece of braised beef is proof.” The blond guy was dead as a doornail. He couldn’t argue. The owner tossed the beef back into the pot. We looked at each other, terrified. When she turned around again, I mustered up the courage to speak. “Boss, you found the thief. Can you let us go now?” “No.” I was confused. “Why?” The owner’s face darkened. “I only found one piece of beef. Other food is missing too. Someone else among you stole from me!” Her sudden rage made us tremble. “What will it take for you to let us go?” The man with the gold chain asked. The owner glanced at him. “Find the thief. Then the rest can go.” “How do we find them?! Are you going to gut us one by one?!” The Gold Chain Boss suddenly shut up, realizing that might be exactly what she planned. “No! Please let me go! I didn’t steal anything, I beg you!” A girl in a white dress started sobbing, pleading with the owner. The owner was unmoved. “It’s 3 AM. You have one hour. The thief must confess before 4 AM, or everyone dies!” She ignored us and went back to sit at her stall, staring at us. “Who ate it?! Step forward! Don’t kill us all!” The Gold Chain Boss roared. Others joined in. “Yeah, whoever did it, own up! We’re innocent!” No one stepped forward. Confessing meant getting gutted. The thief wouldn’t dare. Shouting wouldn’t solve anything. “Stop arguing! This isn’t helping!” I shouted. The Gold Chain Boss snapped back, “You got a better idea?” “I do.” I looked up, and everyone’s eyes fell on me. “The thief won’t confess. Instead of waiting to die, we should find them ourselves.” “How?” I looked around. “Everyone recount what happened when you were at the stall. We vote for the most suspicious person and let the owner check their stomach.” “Right! If she finds the food, the rest of us live!” The Gold Chain Boss laughed. But the girl in the white dress disagreed. “But we’re sending someone to their death. We’d be accomplices to murder.” “Accomplices?! If that person hadn’t stolen, we wouldn’t be here! It’s their fault! If you don’t agree, I’m voting for you first! I’m innocent, and I don’t want to die!” The Gold Chain Boss was fierce. The girl turned red with fear. Others agreed. “Yeah, if you don’t agree, we vote for you.” “I’m voting for you too. Better you than me.” “In chaos, kill the saint first. I vote for you.” Everyone ganged up on her. The girl cried, “It’s not me! I didn’t steal!” 3 “Wait!” I interrupted. “We can’t vote blindly.” The Gold Chain Boss sneered at me. “Playing hero? Should we vote for you instead?” “That’s not what I mean. Listen to me.” I looked at everyone. “If I’m right, the owner can’t kill indiscriminately. What’s the difference between us voting randomly and her gutting us one by one? She could just kill us all, but she gave us time to find the real thief. That means killing innocents carries a penalty for her.” I swallowed hard, watching the owner. She didn’t get angry, so I continued. “With the blond guy, he was acting suspicious, so she was 80% sure before she killed him. Now, if we vote randomly and she kills an innocent, she might stop caring and just kill us all to find the food.” 4 AM was the deadline. If she didn’t find the thief by then, she would be punished. That punishment must be worse than the penalty for killing innocents. So she gave us an hour. If we find the thief, she avoids punishment. If we fail, she has to kill everyone to find the food. This hour is our only chance. “You have a point. If we guess wrong, she might just wipe us out.” The Gold Chain Boss agreed. I nodded. “Let’s go one by one. Tell us what happened at the stall. We find the real thief!” Besides the Gold Chain Boss and the white dress girl, there was a grandmother holding a boy, and a young couple. Everyone looked at each other, hesitant to start. I had nothing to hide, so I went first. “I take this road home from work every day. I worked late tonight and was hungry, so I stopped to buy some food. The owner said she wasn’t selling, so I left. I was there for less than a minute.” The owner spoke up. “When you asked, I didn’t look up. I didn’t see what you did during that minute.” “What about the others?” Everyone here was a suspect. I didn’t rush to clear my name. I wanted to see who was more suspicious. Following my lead, others started talking. The Gold Chain Boss said, “I was at the KTV nearby for a meeting. My driver had a stomach ache and went to the bathroom, so he parked on the roadside. I saw the stall and wanted some food. The owner refused. I cursed a bit, she ignored me, so I kicked the stool next to the stall and left.” The owner said slowly, “After you kicked the stool, I turned to fix it. I couldn’t see what you did when my back was turned.” So, the Gold Chain Boss was very suspicious. Rich boss meets disrespectful stall owner, curses, gets ignored, kicks a stool, and steals a bite while the owner is distracted. The logic held up. Others thought so too, looking at him suspiciously. The Boss got angry. “What are you looking at? She said no, so I didn’t eat! I kicked the stool out of anger, but I didn’t steal!” 4 The girl in the white dress spoke next. “I was shopping. saw the stall on my way home. I wanted to try it, but no one was there. I waited a bit, no one came, so I left.” Everyone looked at the owner. Such important food, and she left the stall unattended? The owner didn’t care. “I went next door to get some noodles. She saw the empty stall and approached. She’s a suspect.” The girl had never met the owner, yet the owner knew she was there. This owner definitely wasn’t normal. Maybe not even human! Now, only the couple and the grandma-grandson pair were left. The boyfriend said, “We were on a date, walking around. My girlfriend wanted food, so we stopped. The owner refused. My girlfriend was upset, so I tried to persuade the owner. She still refused, so we left.” The owner stared at the boy. “You came inside to bug me for a long time. While we talked, your girlfriend wasn’t in my line of sight.” The girlfriend retorted, “I just stood there watching you talk! I did nothing!” The owner looked away, seemingly unconvinced. Finally, the grandma and grandson. The boy was buried in his grandma’s arms, terrified by the blond guy’s death. The grandma trembled. “I live nearby. Took my grandson for a walk. He wanted the food. I asked, she refused. He really wanted it, so I begged her. She wouldn’t sell, so we left.” The owner looked at the boy this time. “While I was talking to you, your grandson was running around. He left my sight multiple times.” “My grandson is a good boy! He wouldn’t steal!” The boy peeked out. “I didn’t steal.” “See? Children don’t lie.” The grandma swore up and down. The owner fell silent. She was waiting for us to choose. Right now, the Gold Chain Boss seemed the most suspicious. He tried to force a sale, got rejected, kicked a stool. He had the strongest motive. I looked at him. He noticed and roared, “It wasn’t me! I was mad she wouldn’t sell! I offered money and she refused! I kicked the stool because I lost face! I’m rich, I don’t need to steal food!” “Who knows? Maybe you just had to have a taste?” Others nodded. The Boss panicked. “Really not me! Don’t frame a good person!” “Vote and find out!” The white dress girl, remembering his threat earlier, pointed at him. “I vote for him!” “Me too!” The boyfriend joined in. His girlfriend echoed, “I vote whoever babe votes for.” I slowly raised my hand and pointed at the Boss. The grandma and grandson did the same. The Boss was so scared he peed himself. “It’s not me! You’re wrong!” No one cared about his screams. We all hoped it was him so we could go home. The owner stood up and walked towards him.

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Two years after the divorce, I ran into my ex-wife at City Hall. She wasn’t alone. She was with her childhood sweetheart, and our daughter. They looked like the perfect, enviable family. My daughter spotted me and ran over excitedly, wrapping her arms around my legs. “Daddy! Lily missed you so much.” I calmly extracted my leg from her grip and looked at Chloe. “Here to get your marriage license? Congrats. Wishing you a lifetime of happiness and another kid soon.” She smiled unnaturally. “I’m here to file for divorce.” Then, scanning the folder in my hand, she asked urgently, “Are you getting married?” I flicked the document in my hand. “Just getting an Affidavit of Single Status.” 1. I never expected to see Chloe again, especially not at City Hall. I was walking out with my fresh paperwork when I bumped into her. She was walking with her head down. She looked shocked for a moment, then stared straight at me. “How have you been these past two years?” I didn’t have a fetish for catching up with my ex-wife—especially not when the metaphorical horns on my head hadn’t fully faded yet. “I’m fine,” I said dismissively, trying to walk past her. She chased after me, grabbing my sleeve. “Are you getting married?” The woman was baffling. Why was she so pressed about my marital status? Seeing my impatience, Chloe let go of my cuff. She scrambled for a topic. “We haven’t seen each other in two years.” That was true. The last time we met was right here, two years ago. That day, we ended a three-year marriage. I traded full custody of our daughter and walked away with zero assets just to get that divorce decree. Back then, she had asked me at the entrance, “When are you coming back to pack your things?” I looked at the sky, then at her. “Right now.” I only took the keys to my old family property and the only photo I had with my father. As I was leaving, Chloe, holding our daughter’s hand, stared at me. “Leave the house keys.” I didn’t stop opening the door. “They’re on the table,” I muttered. Behind me, her voice rose in frustration. “You’re the one who insisted on divorcing! Wes has no family or friends, and he’s diagnosed with depression. What is wrong with me spending more time with him? Why do you have to be so petty?” “Even Lily knows he needs companionship and warmth.” I turned back to see my daughter nodding vigorously, and Chloe looking at me with utter disappointment. Facing the accusing stares of both big and small, I rolled my wheelchair away as fast as I could. Wes had no family or friends? Well, neither did I. My only family had been her and our daughter. I looked at the photo of my father. At least I didn’t have to compete with Wes anymore. My wife and daughter weren’t mine anymore anyway. 2. Wes was Chloe’s childhood sweetheart. They grew up together. Wes’s father was the driver for Chloe’s family. When Chloe was seven, she accidentally started a car, and the driver sacrificed his life to save her. Since then, to repay the debt of life, Wes became like another child in the Zhao household, eating and living alongside Chloe. In adolescence, hormones hit. The handsome boy and the pretty heiress became an unspoken couple. They crossed the line. When it was discovered, Wes was sent abroad to study. They maintained a long-distance emotional affair for years. Then the pandemic hit. The economy crashed, and Chloe’s family business went into debt. That was when I found Chloe, drunk and nearly passed out on the roadside, saving her from being taken advantage of. I stayed by her side through the corporate winter, welcoming the economic recovery—and eventually, our daughter, Lily. On Lily’s second birthday, Wes suddenly reappeared. He gazed deeply at Chloe, talking about how much he missed her, the pain of getting COVID, and the hardships of returning to the States. That day was also our third wedding anniversary. Chloe cried in Wes’s arms until she shook. What followed was a cliché script. Everything I had became his. Chloe took Wes for a full body checkup. His post-COVID symptoms lingered, and he was diagnosed with severe depression. Conveniently, Chloe also “discovered” scars on his wrists. “Liam,” she told me, “the doctor says patients with self-harm tendencies can’t be left alone. He needs love and warmth.” I asked, unwilling to give up, “So?” “He has no other family. I want to move him into our house so I can take care of him.” “I don’t have any other family either.” Chloe’s face changed instantly. “How can you be so selfish? He’s sick. He needs company. You’re not sick.” She practically implied that refusing to let her ex-lover move in made me a monster who had wronged the entire world. Seeing this, I didn’t fight it. For months, I busied myself with company business while Chloe stayed home taking care of Wes and our daughter. I became the intruder in my own home. One day, while working at a site, a tire fell from a rack and crushed my lower leg. As I was loaded into the ambulance, I had only one thought: Good. Now I need to be taken care of, too. 3. My injury was sudden, but not fatal. Chloe didn’t give me much of her time. By the time I was discharged, she had only visited twice, never staying longer than thirty minutes. It was just a fracture, but bones take a hundred days to heal. I began my recovery under the same roof as Wes. The difference was, he lived upstairs next to the master bedroom, and I was in the guest room downstairs. Chloe said it was because of my leg—stairs were inconvenient. “Liam, you don’t mind, do you? He’s close by so I can care for him easily. It saves you the trouble of climbing up and down.” “I don’t mind.” Out of basic humanity, saving a life is a good deed. As long as she didn’t “care” for him right into bed, I didn’t care. Wes would come downstairs every day to see me, specifically when Chloe was around. One day, talking about his condition, Wes mentioned that the antidepressants were making him gain weight. He acted depressed about it, immediately hooking Chloe’s limited attention. She hurriedly grabbed Wes and took Lily out for exercise. They looked exactly like a happy family of three. At dinner, I stared at the table full of takeout Chloe had ordered. I couldn’t eat any of it. It was all Wes’s favorite—Sichuan food. Heavy spice. Exactly what I wasn’t supposed to eat with my medication and inflammation. Chloe ate happily. “Liam, why aren’t you eating? This place Wes picked is delicious.” “The doctor said I can’t eat spicy or stimulating foods.” Chloe paused for a second. “I just wanted Wes to eat more so he’d get better faster. You only have a fracture. A little bit shouldn’t hurt, right?” I gripped my chopsticks, looking at Wes’s provocative smirk. “Right. It doesn’t matter.” 4. Out of masculine pride, I ate that table of spicy food. Even though I drank gallons of water afterward, the wound became inflamed, triggering a high fever. This time, Chloe came to the hospital. But before my fever even broke, Wes followed us there. His “depression” flared up. He slashed his wrist. When Chloe rushed to Wes’s VIP room, she forgot to take Lily. In my feverish haze, I heard the little girl’s milky voice making a wish. At first, I felt comforted—regardless of the wife, the daughter was mine. “I wish Daddy would die from the fever. Then Uncle Wes can be my Daddy.” Someone asked her why she wanted to switch dads. “Uncle Wes is clean, handsome, and smells good.” The daughter I had cherished in the palm of my hand since birth thought I was dirty and smelly, and wanted to call someone else father. Chloe took Lily to the VIP suite to keep Wes company. I stayed in the regular ward with a hired nurse. From the doctors to the other patients’ families, everyone thought they were the family of three. Wes sent me a photo with a caption: “You’re just a smelly mechanic. What do you have to compete with me?” In the photo, Chloe was wearing pajamas, sleeping soundly in Wes’s arms. On Wes’s other side was Lily, fast asleep. I stared at that photo all night. I confirmed it repeatedly—that was the bed I had run all over the city to buy for our wedding. When the sun came up, I finally woke up. Before I could bring up divorce, Chloe stormed in. Wes’s mother had somehow gotten the news and went to his ward to demand money. Wes was “triggered,” and his condition worsened. Chloe came to interrogate me. I picked up the evidence she threw in my face in front of the whole ward—printed WeChat transfer records. Money I had sent to Wes’s mother. “You knew Wes needs peace and quiet! Why did you bring that woman here? Now he wants to kill himself. Are you happy?” Chloe was emotional, slapping my cast-covered leg as she screamed. “I just took care of him for a bit! I wasn’t going to divorce you! Why can’t you just understand me?” I knew talking was useless. She wouldn’t believe me anyway. I pulled out the divorce agreement I had already printed. “Let’s divorce. Now you can take care of him forever.”

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My roommate, my brother, always went for the sweet, girl-next-door type. I was always drawn to the strong, sophisticated woman. We used to joke that we’d never end up as rivals in love. But three years after my girlfriend vanished, I saw her again. She was at my roommate’s wedding. She was the bride. I was the best man. A friend clapped me on the back, laughing as he recounted their love story. “Her company went bankrupt back then, and she was about to jump off a roof. I was the one who saved her. I heard some other guy was clinging to her at the time, but I took her abroad to start fresh.” “Pretty smooth, right, Liam?” Leo was still talking, beaming, but I couldn’t hear a word. My mind went white. Three years. Over a thousand days and nights. The love of my life had been hidden away for three whole years by the man I saw every single day. 1 I listened to my friend’s words, my legs feeling like they were about to give out. A tremor started in my hands and spread through my whole body. Leo noticed my pale face and quickly helped me into the bridal lounge, his voice laced with concern. “Liam, what’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?” For three years, I had searched for Ava. I’d traveled to countless cities, questioned hundreds of people, plastered up missing person posters, filed police reports, and scoured the internet. Even her own family had given up, convinced she was truly gone. I was the only one who believed she was still alive, the only one who never stopped looking. I don’t know how many nights I spent standing on the edge of a rooftop, contemplating an end to the crushing despair. And now, it was all a joke. I looked down at the network of faded white scars that crisscrossed my forearms. A bitter sting filled my eyes, and my heart felt like it was being shredded. Leo sighed. “You’re thinking about her again, aren’t you? Let it go, man. It’s been too long. You need to move on. You could find a great girl, just like I did, and start over.” “I’ll get everyone together soon,” he added, trying to cheer me up. “I’ll have Ava introduce you to some of her friends.” Just as he finished speaking, Ava walked in. She was wearing a magnificent wedding gown, her figure as stunning as it was three years ago. The only thing that had changed was the way she looked at me. Before, her eyes held only me. Now, she gave me a fleeting glance before turning to adjust Leo’s suit. Her bridesmaids followed behind her—the same friends who used to call me their brother-in-law. I remembered it all so clearly. When they saw me, their eyes were filled with unspoken words, a flicker of pity and guilt. A moment ago, I might have been able to delude myself into thinking she’d lost her memory in the fall. But every one of her friends standing there was a silent testament to the truth. She hadn’t forgotten. She remembered everything. She just didn’t love me anymore. Leo gazed at Ava with pure adoration. “Honey, tell your friends not to leave tonight. We’ll have a big party, celebrate properly.” He shot me a meaningful look. Ava gave a noncommittal nod, her eyes fixed on Leo. She never looked at me again. It was as if we were complete strangers. I slowly closed my eyes, the feeling of a giant hand squeezing my heart, crushing it, then tossing it into a fire. The pain… it was unbearable. I stumbled into the bathroom, my back sliding down the cool tile wall as a wave of agony washed over me. My chest heaved with a pain so deep it felt physical, and a choked sob escaped my lips. “Ava, how could you leave me…?” 2 As I walked out of the bathroom, I overheard one of her friends asking her in a hushed tone, “Ava, are you sure about this? You really don’t love Liam anymore?” Her reply was flat, devoid of emotion. “He’s just some broken relic from the past. You can have him if you want.” “…” The ceremony began. Leo, sensing my state, found someone else to stand in for me at the last minute. Ava watched with a serene expression as Leo knelt before her, waiting for him to slide the ring onto her finger. I stood in the furthest corner, watching her smile and say, “I do.” A bitter jealousy surged through me. I wanted to rush the stage, to stop them, to scream at Leo and ask him why he’d stolen my girlfriend. Why did he hide her away? Why did he let me search for three agonizing years? And I wanted to ask Ava why she was pretending not to know me. Why didn’t she come find me when she returned? Why did everyone keep this secret from me? I wanted to burn the whole wedding to the ground. But I didn’t. I just sat in my corner and, after they exchanged their vows, I was the first to applaud. I clapped so hard that people nearby turned to stare. I didn’t care. I just held Ava’s gaze when she looked out at the crowd. Our eyes met. My nose stung, and the tears I’d been holding back finally broke free. Ava’s expression flickered for a fraction of a second before her gaze slid away, her dark eyes as cold and empty as ice. My fingernails dug into my palms. I think I was going insane. I pulled out my phone and sent her a text. [Ava, I don’t wish you a happy marriage.] [I hope you never find the one you love. I hope you spend the rest of your life searching!] The moment I hit send, I felt like a fool. The man she loved was already her husband. My curse was meaningless. I left before the reception ended. If I stayed any longer, I was afraid I’d lose control completely. Over a year ago, after another long stretch with no news of Ava, I had tried to kill myself. But I failed. My neighbor found me and I was rushed to the hospital. When I woke up, Ava’s mother was holding my hand, her face streaked with tears, begging me to live. For her daughter. But a world without Ava was just darkness. It was too much to bear. We had grown up together, started dating right after middle school. We were just about to pick a date to get married after graduating from college. Then her company collapsed, leaving her with a mountain of debt. She couldn’t take it. She jumped. And then she was gone. I went to the police station countless times, questioned every single person who was there that day. The story was always the same. No one saw her. Now she was back. But she didn’t love me anymore. 3 I fell into a restless sleep. When I woke up, I checked my phone. Besides a string of missed calls from Leo and a comforting message from Ava’s mom, there was one other notification that stood out. A single, cold reply from her. [Get lost.] A bitter laugh escaped my lips. The connection I had clung to so desperately was nothing more than a joke to her. Suddenly, my gaze fell upon my wrist. A thin red thread was tied around it, a gift from Ava three years ago. The color had long since faded, but I could never bring myself to take it off. Before our engagement, she had gone to a temple on a mountain. She had climbed ten thousand steps to get this one precious thread from a master artisan. She’d been in a car accident on the way back, but she had protected the thread, holding it tight against her chest. The first thing she did when she woke up in the hospital was tie it around my wrist. “Liam,” she had said, her voice full of earnest love, “I found our destiny. We’ll be together forever.” Her clear, serious voice still echoed in my ears, but everything was different now. My eyes burned. I yanked the red thread from my wrist, threw it in the toilet, and flushed. In seconds, it was gone. Ava, from this moment on, we walk different paths. After a long, hard cry, a strange clarity settled over me. I resigned from the orchestra. The paperwork would take a week. I booked a flight to leave the city for good, one week from today. That day happened to be the tenth anniversary of the day Ava and I started dating. Fitting. Where it began, it would also end. I shut myself away for seven days. Other than leaving to handle my resignation, I spoke to no one. My phone was off. On the day I was set to leave, Leo showed up at my door with Ava in tow. He rushed in and hugged me, then tried to drag me to the hospital. I knew what he was afraid of. I pulled my arm away, my expression blank. “I’m fine, thanks,” I said, my voice polite but distant. I didn’t know how to face him. Should I hate him? Should I wish him well? I knew I couldn’t do either, so my instinct was to push him away. He didn’t seem to mind my sudden coldness, assuming I was just in a bad mood. Leo let out a heavy sigh of relief. “Can you please answer your phone from now on? Do you have any idea how worried I was?” “We came to get you. It’s your birthday, did you forget? We’re throwing you a party tonight, introduce you to some new people.” “And you can’t say no. No is not an option!” His expression was stern, his tone leaving no room for argument. He was always so cheerful and warm-hearted. It was easy to see why people liked him. Easy to see why Ava would fall in love with him. I looked past him to the woman standing in the doorway. Her gaze was frigid, her eyes like frozen pools, as if she were looking at a stranger. I don’t know if it was my inability to refuse his concern, or some selfish part of me that wanted to see her one last time. It was still early. I let them in. This apartment was supposed to be our marital home. After she disappeared, I had decorated it exactly to her tastes. The furniture, the layout—everything was just as she would have wanted it. Leo’s eyes widened. “Wow, Liam, your taste is… something else. Why is everything so dark? It’s kind of depressing.” “It’s all black and dark gray. Not a single pop of color.” Because there was no color left in my world. “My ex-girlfriend liked it this way,” I said quietly. “So I decorated it for her.” 4 Leo clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “You should have your own style, man. Why do you have to listen to her on everything?” “With our place, my wife lets me handle all the design choices. It looks great. I even make her sleep on pink bedsheets every night.” I didn’t say anything, my mind drifting back to three years ago, when we first lived together. I had loved the color pink, bought everything in pink. Even her underwear. She never wore it. The sheets, too. She would rather sleep on the floor than in the bed. I finally gave in and bought dark gray sheets, and only then did she come back to bed. I let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “Really? And she doesn’t just sleep on the floor?” Leo snorted, glancing at Ava. “She wouldn’t dare.” “Even her underwear is pink now.” Ava’s lips twitched. She gently tapped his head, a silent plea for him to stop. “What’s wrong with pink sheets?” he continued, oblivious. “If your girlfriend refuses to sleep with you over something like that, it just means she doesn’t love you enough.” “And to think you spent all those years looking for her. What a bitch.” After a long silence, I nodded slowly. “Yeah. You’re right.” “Maybe she really didn’t love me enough.” The moment I said it, I felt Ava’s gaze sharpen, raking over me. Her voice was cold. “In that case, Mr. Evans, you should know when to back off.” “Don’t disturb other people’s lives. And if you can, it would be best if she never had to see you again.” “Your self-pity is just pathetic to everyone else.” Her words were direct and brutal. Self-pity… so that’s all it was… My eyes turned red, and my voice trembled. “Are you so familiar with her because you’re just the same?” “You like to disappear, to make people wait, to crush every last bit of their hope without so much as an apology. And then you have the nerve to call their pain self-pity. All I ever wanted was an explanation. Do my three years just count for nothing?” Ava’s brow furrowed in anger. “No one asked you to wait. Love and hate are choices. You chose to wait, so you have to bear the consequences!” “Or what? You think just because you waited three years, she owes you something? That she should be grateful and marry you?” Her words were merciless, absolute. I stood there, stunned. The last flicker of hope in my heart was extinguished. Tears streamed down my face. Every word she spoke was a knife, twisting in my gut. She was right. Love and hate are choices. No one forced me. No one asked me to wait. The outcome was mine, and mine alone, to bear. A love that had once felt so unbreakable had become a hollow lie. “Fine,” I choked out. “I’ll make sure she never sees me again.” Leo, sensing things were escalating, quickly stepped in, pulling Ava into another room. I heard his warning, his voice just loud enough for me to hear. “Are you trying to get punched? You know Liam has depression, and you’re still talking to him like that?” “Stop provoking him. Do you hear me?” Ava’s cold laugh drifted back, dripping with scorn. “He’s just putting on a show.” I stood there, numb, for a long time. After a while, Ava left on her own. I couldn’t stop myself from asking Leo, “Where is she going?” “She hasn’t been back in the country for over a year, right? She has a lot of work to catch up on at the office.” I froze. “Ava came back a year ago?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. Why didn’t I know? “Yeah. To plan our wedding.” My mouth fell open. The light in my eyes died. My mind, numb and slow, could only process one phrase, over and over. She came back. She came back. An icy chill spread through me. I wanted to scream, but the words were lodged in my throat. Leo’s casual remark was like a slap across the face. “Come on, let’s go! My wife’s done for the day. Go change, we’re heading to the club.” He grabbed my arm, trying to pull me out the door. “You go ahead. I’ll clean up and meet you there.” “Okay, but be quick!” He left without a second thought. As I watched his car drive away, I took out my phone and made a call. “I’ve decided to come home. Please arrange for me to meet my fiancée.” An excited voice came from the other end. “Brother! You’re finally willing to come back! The family has been so worried about you being in Northwood all alone. We just want you home…” The dam inside me broke. Tears streamed down my face. I took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll come home. And I’ll try to get to know the woman you’ve chosen for me. I won’t make you worry anymore.” My sister, Grace, was overjoyed. “Oh, Liam, that’s wonderful! Just tell me when you want to meet her, and I’ll set it up.” “Whenever. I’ve booked a flight for tonight. I’m coming home today.” I grabbed my suitcase and left for the airport. Before the plane took off, I blocked everyone connected to Ava. I turned off my phone. As I watched the lights of Northwood shrink below, I made a silent promise. Goodbye, Ava. Forever.

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This year, I scored a 600 on the SATs. So, I took a knife and held my entire high school hostage. Why? Because this is my third time taking the test, and every single time, my score has been swapped. Over a thousand students and teachers are locked in the auditorium with me. The doors are sealed shut. I shouted my demands to the police outside: “You have 30 minutes to bring me the person who swapped my test. For every minute over the deadline, I kill one person.” Countless parents collapsed outside, kneeling on the pavement, screaming that I was taking my anger out on the innocent, begging me to let their children go. I didn’t blink. I pressed the blade against a student’s throat. “One minute has already passed. I only want the person who stole my score.” I know they’re here. The person who stole my future is in this school. 1 Three minutes ago, the principal was still looking down his nose at me, graciously offering to let me repeat my senior year for free—for the fourth time. I took out my knife and stabbed him in the arm. When I pulled it out, warm blood sprayed all over him. The principal screamed, clutching his wound and cursing me out. “Sarah, have you lost your mind? I told you, no one swapped your test! We showed you the exam booklet! It has your name and your student ID!” “I’ve already called the police! Unless you want to rot in prison, let us go!” I toyed with the knife, my expression cold. “When I walked in here today, I didn’t plan on walking out alive.” “Taking you all down with me? That’s a fair trade.” Outside the sealed doors, a voice boomed from a megaphone. I recognized it immediately—Officer Miller. “Sarah, don’t do anything rash! We’re already investigating your claim about the swapped test. Let the hostages go first, and we promise we’ll find the truth.” I scoffed. Did he really think I was that stupid? This year was my third time taking the SATs. I’ve always been a straight-A student. Top of my class since kindergarten. Everyone expected me to be valedictorian, to get a perfect score. But when the results came back the first time? 1000. I thought I choked. I chose to repeat the year without hesitation. Second time? 900. I wasn’t willing to accept that. I took it a third time. This time, I memorized every answer I put down. I checked them against the answer key released later. I calculated my score. It should have been near perfect. 1580 at least. But when the results came out? Six. Hundred. I couldn’t even get into community college with that. I couldn’t understand it. Until I demanded to see my exam booklet. The handwriting wasn’t mine. The answers weren’t mine. That wasn’t my test. I went to the police. But the investigation went nowhere. It just… disappeared. I yelled at the security camera, “I want to see the person who swapped my test. If I don’t see them in 30 minutes, I kill one person every minute after that.” Hearing the dead seriousness in my voice, Officer Miller’s tone darkened. “Sarah, I know you’re upset about failing. But this is a major accusation. We can’t solve it in a day.” “That’s a ‘you’ problem,” I said coldly. “I only care about results.” Miller choked. He tried a different angle. “These are your classmates and teachers in there. Do you really have the heart to hurt them?” I sneered. “Whether they live or die isn’t up to me. It’s up to you. You have 25 minutes left.” 2 News spread fast. Parents were gathering outside the school gates. Hearing my ultimatum over the megaphone, they were losing it. “Don’t do this! My kid didn’t do anything to you! Don’t hurt him!” “What are the police doing?! Why aren’t you storming in there?! If anything happens to my daughter, I’ll sue you all!” Officer Miller looked pained. He rushed toward the auditorium doors. But I’d prepared. The doors and windows were sealed with heavy steel plates. Not even a fly could get in. The only way in was if I opened the door myself. Seeing Miller wasting time banging on the steel, I reminded him, “23 minutes.” Miller’s face fell. He started barking orders into his radio, then turned back to try and talk me down. “Sarah. When you filed the report, we investigated. The handwriting on the test matched yours. No one can swap a test perfectly without a trace.” He hesitated. His implication was clear: That 600 score IS yours. Seeing I didn’t respond, he continued, “I know your family is struggling. I promise you, we will set up a scholarship fund for you. We’ll pay for your tutoring until you get into college.” Hearing this, the desperate parents outside started shouting too. “I’ll pay for your tuition! Just don’t hurt my kid!” “I’ll hire the best private tutors for you! You’ll get in next year for sure! Just let my son go!” “I run a prep school! I’ll give you free classes!” Hearing these offers, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted. But then I remembered—if I couldn’t find the person swapping the tests, it wouldn’t matter if I took the SATs a hundred times. They’d just swap it again. My heart turned to ice. I took a deep breath and shouted at the camera, “I don’t want your money! I want the person who stole my score!” Miller cursed under his breath. “There is no person! Who are we supposed to find?!” “Are you going to kill all these people over a delusion?” I laughed coldly. “The one killing them is you. Find the person, and I let them go.” SATs are secure. The chain of custody is tight. The person who could swap a test isn’t some random nobody. I couldn’t find them on my own. I needed the police. Miller was furious and helpless. I ignored him and turned my gaze back to the auditorium. My eyes landed on the principal. “Principal Henderson. If you tell me who swapped my test, I’ll let you walk out of here right now. Deal?” A flicker of temptation crossed Henderson’s face, but he shook his head quickly. “No one swapped your test, Sarah. Stop this madness.” I didn’t blink. I was just calculating where to cut him to make him talk. Just as I raised the knife, a voice came from outside. “Sarah… baby, please stop. It’s okay if you don’t go to college. Mom and Dad will take care of you forever.” It was my parents. My blood boiled. I couldn’t believe Miller dragged them here from the hospital. Five years ago, my dad was diagnosed with cancer. Three years later, Mom got kidney failure. We sold everything we had to keep them alive. I needed to get into a top university. I needed a good job to pay their medical bills. My parents rambled on, crying and begging. When I didn’t answer, they looked nervously at Miller. Miller encouraged them, “Keep talking. You have to talk her out. If she kills someone, her life is over.” My parents nodded and opened their mouths again. But then they saw me dragging a half-conscious student to the door. Through the crack in the steel plates, Miller saw me press the knife against the girl’s neck. His pupils shrank. Fear washed over his face. “What are you doing?! Don’t!” I looked at him dead in the eye. “You have time to fetch my sick parents, but no time to find the culprit? Guess you don’t care about these hostages.” Before Miller could react, I plunged the knife into the student’s chest. 3 I twisted the blade in the wound. She screamed. Blood poured down her chest, pooling on the floor and seeping under the door to the outside. Seeing the blood, the crowd outside exploded. “She killed her! Oh my god, she’s crazy! Help!” “Dammit! What are the cops doing?! Go in there! She’s killing them!” “Break the door down! There’s hundreds of us and one of her!” I smiled a twisted smile, staring right at Miller. “I drugged the water supply hours ago. They can barely lift a finger. You want to bet who’s faster? Your breach team, or my knife?” Miller’s face was red with rage. “You dare threaten a police officer? You really are insane!” I didn’t flinch. I pulled the knife out and stabbed again. And again. Into her stomach. Her screams went from piercing to a gurgle, then silence. Miller turned pale. “Fuck!” “Stop! Don’t hurt her! We’ll find the person! We’ll find them!” I pulled the knife out and looked through the crack. “15 minutes left. If you don’t have the culprit by then, she bleeds out.” “She’s the first. But she won’t be the last.” Miller had been hoping I was bluffing. Now that hope was gone. He took a deep breath. “We will find the person. But she needs medical attention now. Can you let her go?” “No,” I said flatly. “If you don’t find the person, you watch her die.” Miller was sweating. He consulted with the SWAT team about breaching. The expert shook his head. “She’s too smart. She fortified the place. Like she said, the moment we breach, the hostages die.” Miller slammed his fist on the table, eyes bloodshot. Too many hostages. One wrong move and it’s a massacre. His orders were to protect the hostages at all costs. As for Sarah… shoot to kill if necessary. Miller wanted to take the shot, but I was using the hostages as shields. Parents who saw the carnage were trying to rush the police line. A huge man grabbed Miller by the collar. “My daughter is in there with that psycho! And you’re just standing here?! If anything happens to her, I will end you!” “You guys have guns! Go in there and trade places with my kid!” Looking at the parents who wanted to tie up the cops and offer them as tribute, Miller felt a chill in his heart. He forced himself to calm down, reassuring them he would get the kids out. Just then, my voice rang out again. “Ten minutes.” 4 Miller met my cold gaze and muttered, “Lunatic.” I smirked. “You people made me this way. If you don’t find the person who stole my life, I’ll show you what a real lunatic looks like.” Miller stopped hoping for mercy. He turned to the forensics team. “Anything?!” The tech looked miserable. “We reviewed all the surveillance footage from the testing center. Nothing. The chain of custody is unbroken. That test is hers.” “She just can’t accept that she failed three times. She’s delusional.” Miller knew that was the most likely explanation. But right now, with a knife at a kid’s throat, “you’re delusional” wasn’t going to cut it. “Are you sure? Nothing weird? No gaps?” The tech shook his head, then paused. “Well… there is a blind spot in the hallway camera when the tests were being moved to the secure office. Just thirty seconds. But… no one can swap a test in thirty seconds, right?” Miller’s face hardened. “This is life or death. Check it again. Start from that blind spot.” I looked at the timer on my phone. Three minutes left. I dragged five students and two teachers to the door. Through the crack, the crowd could see everything. “Three minutes left. Who should go next?” I ran the dull side of the knife across their throats, one by one. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. A few parents recognized their kids and collapsed, kowtowing on the asphalt. “Please! Kill me instead! Let my baby go!” “I’ll give you anything! Money! Anything!” “You want to go to college? I’ll buy a building for Harvard! Just let him go!” I didn’t blink. “Two minutes.” A furious dad jumped up. “Bitch! If you touch a hair on my kid’s head, I will haunt you from hell!” “Useless cops! Do something! She’s going to kill them all!” My tone didn’t change. “One minute. Officer Miller, you disappoint me.” Miller was frantic. “Wait! Don’t! We have a lead! We’re almost there!” “Three. Two. One.” I flipped the knife and drove it into a boy’s chest. He convulsed for a second and went still. His mother fainted instantly. The crowd erupted. Curses and screams washed over me like a tidal wave. Miller’s eyes were crimson. “Sarah! How dare you!” I pulled the knife out, wiping it on the boy’s shirt. “Now, I kill one person every minute until you bring me the culprit.” I stood over another student, counting down ten seconds in my head. Just as I raised the knife, a siren wailed. A police cruiser screeched to a halt. Miller’s face lit up. “Sarah! We found him! We found the guy who swapped your tests for the last three years!” “This time, you can go to your dream college!” A lump formed in my throat. Three years. Finally. Miller dragged a man out of the car. He was handcuffed, a black hood over his head. My palms were sweating against the door handle. I stared at the hooded figure, heart pounding. Impossible. How could it be him? Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I looked at the text message. My blood ran cold.

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Good news: I’m living with the biggest pop star in the country. Bad news: I’m his dog. Worse news: I’m a Beagle. The reigning pop princess tried to pet my floppy ears. So I lifted my leg and peed orange juice all over her designer dress. The Male Lead, Julian, was having a depressive episode late at night. So I shredded his pants into confetti. Netizens commented: “Who said Julian had a bad temper? He’s practically a saint.” “I declare Julian the most patient man on Earth.” The System told me to “capture his heart.” Capture? Not happening. I am the Beagle King, and I’m here to wreck the world. 1 I was doom-scrolling late at night, thirsting over hot guys. My fingers flew across the keyboard in the comments section: “Daddy, let me be your dog!” When I opened my eyes, my wish had come true. I had transmigrated into a book. As the top pop star’s dog. Biologically speaking. “Host, soul transfer complete… wait.” The System suddenly popped up, its electronic voice tinged with confusion: “Why is the camera angle so low? Why are you crawling on the floor?” Me: “…” Open your eyes and look. “Oh my god! Host, why are you a dog?!” The System let out a scream like a dying pig: “Boohoo! Sorry Host, there was a glitch in the vessel matching process.” “It’s over! You’re a loud, floppy-eared donkey-dog! How are you supposed to romance the Male Lead now? He’s doomed! This world is going to collapse!” It kept rambling until my brain hurt. I took a deep breath and let out a long, resounding “AROOOOOOO!” That shut the noisy System up. It told me the Male Lead of this world is named Julian, a top-tier idol. But he was set up by the industry bigwigs. Because he refused to sleep his way to the top, the internet is now flooded with fake scandals about him. He’s on the verge of turning into a villain, which threatens the stability of this world. “Host, if you save him and raise his affection level to 100%, you can return to your original world and receive a reward of 15 million dollars!” The System rubbed its virtual hands together greedily: “Please work hard to capture the Male Lead’s heart so you can become human again soon!” I ignored it. I was busy admiring myself in the mirror. Pink paw pads pressing against the glass. A wet black nose, big brown ears, and puppy-dog eyes. I was still a puppy in my prime. My tail wagged involuntarily. Being human is exhausting! Work, stress, bills. As the Beagle King, I am chaos incarnate. I’m going to wreck this world! 2 It was early morning when I arrived. The living room was pitch black. Just as I was about to dig into the sofa to check for snacks, the System screamed: “Host! Spare the sofa! The Male Lead is sitting right there!” I looked up. A tall figure sat alone in the darkness. Wine bottles littered the coffee table. His long, bony fingers gripped a glass, mechanically bringing it to his lips. I trotted over immediately. The System was hopeful: “Yes, Host! Use your cuteness to heal him!” I kicked off with my back legs, jumped onto the coffee table, and swiped with my snout. Crash. All the wine glasses fell like bowling pins. The Beagle is hungry! The human only cares about drinking! Beagle good, human bad. Julian snapped out of his trance. He reached out and patted my head: “Sorry, Goody. I’ll get you some food.” So my name is Goody. (Note: ‘Guai Guai’ implies obedient/good/well-behaved) Nice. I am a good boy. He fumbled to turn on the lights. He stumbled over to pour me some kibble. He had dark circles under his eyes, messy hair, but was still undeniably handsome. Faint red scars were visible on his arms. Julian brought over a special doggy dining set and squatted down in front of me. He took out a little carrot hair tie and gently tied my long ears back so they wouldn’t get messy. Julian looked like he hadn’t eaten in days, he was so thin. But my food was gourmet. Kibble mixed with fresh chicken breast and topped with delicious freeze-dried treats. I chowed down happily. Julian silently cleaned up the broken glass. When the living room was clean, he looked exhausted. He didn’t drink anymore. He kissed my head and stumbled into the bedroom. 3 Morning sunlight poured over me like melted honey, turning my fur gold. After a good night’s sleep, I had fully embraced my Beagle identity. I shook my body and let out the first song of the morning: “Arooooooo~” Then I did laps around the apartment. Tap tap tap tap went my paws on the floor. Julian wasn’t awake yet. I jumped on the dining table, searched, found nothing. Beagle hungry. I trotted to Julian’s bedroom. The door was open, so I slipped inside. The System sounded the alarm like a rubber chicken being squeezed: “Host! Save the Male Lead!” Julian was preparing to cosplay a hanging ornament. Seriously, this guy. I launched myself into the air—”AROOO!”—and bit precisely onto the cuff of his loose pajama pants. Riiip. The fabric tore. He swayed, trying to shake me off in a panic but afraid of hurting me. He had to let go of the rope and jump off the chair. His pants were weak. In seconds, I shredded them into strips of cloth. He didn’t get mad. He slumped into the chair, staring at me blankly. I shook my head, spitting out the fabric. I walked up and gently nudged his leg with my furry head. Wagging my tail, I let out a soft, whiny “aroo”. The System freaked out: “Host, are you still in there?! Did the dog take over? Why are you so gentle!” I magnanimously offered my pink paw: “He is my loyal servant, after all. I’m a smart Beagle; sometimes servants need rewards.” Julian stared at my wet puppy eyes in surprise. Ripples appeared in his dead eyes. His eyes reddened, and huge tears rolled down. He picked me up and buried his face in my soft belly. Hot tears soaked my clean fur: “I’m sorry… I made you worry.” I wagged my tail and patted his shoulder. I didn’t struggle. 4 After a while, Julian calmed down. I kicked him in the face and landed smoothly on the floor. Julian smiled: “Goody, Daddy’s sorry. I can’t take you out to play right now.” I held my head high. It’s fine, we can play inside. I zoomed out of the bedroom, leaped onto the sofa, and happily started chewing a throw pillow. Papers were scattered all over the sofa. “Abuser,” “Die,” “Quit the industry”… and even nastier words were written on them. Hate mail. Whatever. Paper is for shredding. I, the Beagle King, will serve as the shredder. After dealing with the sofa, I eyed the funeral wreaths by the door with Julian’s name on them. Idiot, why bring this bad luck inside? Leave it to the Beagle. I pounced, biting and clawing. The bamboo frames were tough, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I diligently dismantled the wreaths, muttering “aroo aroo” curses at the haters. When Julian came into the living room, it was a disaster zone. Satisfying. I barked majestically at him. Seeing this, Julian’s eyes reddened again. He cried out my name and tried to hug me. I disgusted-ly blocked his mouth with my paw. Julian: “Goody, you need a bath. Your paws stink.”

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Victoria is pregnant. The father isn’t me. It’s her assistant. At our ninth anniversary gala, she brought him home, parading him around like a prize. Her voice was cool, detached, as she issued her orders to me. “Felix is a picky eater. From now on, his three meals a day must be prepared personally by you. No repeated dishes.” She didn’t stop there. “And he’s a light sleeper. Your breathing is too loud. Pack your things and move to the guest room.” I didn’t say a word. I simply gripped the handle of the suitcase I had packed hours ago and walked calmly toward the front door. The butler tried to step in, his face etched with worry, but Victoria let out a cold, mocking laugh. “Let him go. He’ll be back crawling like a dog within three days. He has nowhere else.” Hearing this, the guests erupted in laughter. Right in front of my face, they placed bets. Ten million dollars on the table. They bet that before the sun rose, I’d be banging on the door, weeping and begging Victoria to let me back in. But they didn’t know the truth. They didn’t see the Maybach waiting just outside the iron gates. This time, I was actually leaving. 1 Just as I was about to step out of the villa, Victoria’s voice cut through the air. “Sam, leave the Peace Bracelet. Felix has been having nightmares lately.” That bracelet was the only heirloom my parents left me. It was my life. Seeing my eyes redden, the woman I had loved for nine years looked at me with bored indifference. “Name your price.” How much was a marriage worth? A marriage where I was treated like mud for nine years? I was too tired to calculate it. I only remembered the last time I refused a demand—when I wouldn’t give my ski goggles to Felix. Her bodyguards stripped me to my underwear and left me halfway up the freezing mountain. I slid the Peace Bracelet off my wrist and placed it onto Felix’s arm. “I wish the three of you happiness,” I said, my voice hollow. “And peace.” Hearing this unexpected blessing, Victoria softened, offering me a rare, condescending olive branch. “Sam, as long as you’re obedient, my child will be your child too.” The moment the words left her lips, the bracelet slipped from Felix’s wrist. Crash. It shattered against the marble floor. A tiny shard scratched Felix’s leg. A microscopic cut. Victoria rushed over, panic in her eyes. She screamed at the butler to call the family doctor, acting as if Felix had been shot. The guests watched me with amusement, enjoying the show. It was funny. Even I found it hilarious. Last night, when I had a heart attack, Victoria was busy taking Felix to see a meteor shower. Even as I foamed at the mouth and collapsed, she stepped over my body without breaking stride. Before I lost consciousness, I heard her tell the housekeeper, “Disinfect the living room. Felix is coming home tomorrow; I don’t want him smelling anything foul.” I gripped my suitcase handle, turning to leave again. Victoria’s hand clamped around my wrist. Her face was ice. “Apologize.” “Wha—” Before I could finish, she shoved me. I fell hard, landing on my knees in front of Felix. My knee landed on a shard of jade, staining the white floor crimson. Seeing the blood, Victoria released me, her eyes filled with disgust. “You used a cheap trick to break Felix’s bracelet and hurt him. Shouldn’t you say sorry?” Since marrying Victoria Snook, “I’m sorry” had become my catchphrase. The soup is too bland? I’m sorry. I texted you while you were drunk? I’m sorry. I accidentally saw Felix’s sexts to you? I’m sincerely sorry. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper. I straightened my back. I bowed ninety degrees to Felix. I apologized three times. Then, I looked at Victoria with dead eyes. “Is that enough?” Staring at the blood trickling from the corner of my mouth, her chest heaved slightly. “Sam, your grandfather isn’t here to protect you. Who are you putting on this pathetic act for? It’s disgusting.” Before I could answer, the doctor arrived. Victoria shoved me aside, practically carrying Felix to the sofa. While her entire world revolved around him, I walked out the door. Beep-beep. Two sharp honks came from the silver car outside the gates. I quickened my pace. But before the iron gates could open, two massive bodyguards materialized from the shadows, dragging me back into the villa. 2 In the study, Victoria had me tied to a chair. She ordered a nurse to insert a needle—thick as a child’s finger—into my arm. Through the half-open door, I heard the doctor pleading with her. “Ms. Snook, although both Mr. Sam and your assistant have the rare RH-Null blood type, Mr. Sam has a history of heart failure. Forcing a transfusion now could induce acute shock. We should go to the hospital and get a proper blood bank for Felix…” “Don’t lecture me,” Victoria’s voice was frosty. “Your only job is to make Felix healthy. I know what I’m doing.” I heard her footsteps approaching. I closed my eyes. “Does it hurt?” Her voice carried a rare, twisted note of comfort. “Just bear it. It’ll be over soon.” I turned my head away. I didn’t have the energy to speak to her. After they drained 800ml of my blood, my lips turned purple. Suddenly, Felix coughed in the master bedroom. Hearing it, Victoria immediately grabbed the doctor’s hand, stopping him from removing the needle. She ordered him to double the draw. The doctor, sweating profusely, warned her I would die. She hesitated for two seconds. “Felix comes first.” “But…” I interrupted the doctor, my voice a rasp. “Draw it. Just let me leave when you’re done.” Victoria looked at my pale, lifeless face. Anger flashed in her eyes. She opened her mouth to ask if I was done throwing a tantrum, if I was really going to run away over something so trivial. “Vicky…” Felix’s weak voice drifted from the other room. She abandoned me instantly. 3 Two days later. I woke up in a hospital bed, recovering from severe shock. Victoria was there, reviewing documents. We stared at each other in silence. She expressionlessly brought a bowl of porridge to my lips. I turned my head. “I can do it myself.” She watched me eat half the bowl in silence. “Are you uncomfortable anywhere?” I ignored the question. “Please give me my phone.” My tone was distant, unfamiliar. It took her a moment to process it before she signaled the butler to hand it over. Seeing the string of missed calls, she asked abruptly, “Who called you?” She never used to ask questions. A flicker of annoyance crossed my eyes. “No one you know.” She unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, looking down at me with cold arrogance. “Sam, how long are you going to keep up this dog-like temper? I give you an inch, and you want a mile?” In the past, I would have apologized. I would have groveled. Now, I just pointed at her vibrating phone. “Felix is calling.” Her eyes softened instantly. She walked out to the corridor to answer it. The moment she left, my phone rang. I picked up. before I could speak, a frantic voice on the other end shouted. “You said you were coming! Sam, did you regret it?” “I didn’t regret it. There was… an accident.” “An accident? Are you hurt? No, I’m flying back personally…” “No,” I cut her off gently. “Just give me a few more days.” Victoria returned just as I hung up. Seeing the faint smile on my lips—a smile she hadn’t seen in years—she felt a strange tightness in her chest. But she had just promised Felix they would go shopping for cribs. She didn’t have time to interrogate me. She assumed it was my cousin, the only friend I had left after nine years of isolation. She grabbed her files. “Sam, something came up at the company. I’ll come back tomorrow.” Tomorrow came and went. Then the day after. She never showed up. Instead, our mutual “friends” bombarded me with videos. Victoria and Felix at banquets. Victoria and Felix at dinners. She was parading him around like a love-struck teenager. On the day I was discharged, she posted a photo grid on social media. Sunset. A hot air balloon. Her and Felix, locked in a deep kiss. I commented under the post: [Wishing the two of you a long life and an early birth.] Ten minutes later, she called. I didn’t answer. Thirty minutes later, I was walking out of the hospital alone when I saw them at the OBGYN department. The nurse was gushing over them. “Mrs. Snook, your husband treats you so well! He warms the ultrasound gel with his hands before we use it. I’ve never seen such devotion.” The other pregnant women in the waiting room looked on with envy. I subconsciously remembered our child. The one she aborted without telling me. Back then, Felix had sent me a voice note: “Ms. Snook lost a bet to me in a video game. I guess she can only have my babies now?” Before I could reply, Victoria called me herself. She screamed at me for being petty and stupid. “Sam, you spineless waste. What right do you have to demand I bear your child? If I’m going to ruin my body, it’ll be for someone with superior genes!” I shook the memory away and tried to bypass them. But Victoria saw me. She walked over, her face darkening. “Why are you standing there like an idiot?” I lowered my eyes. “I wasn’t stalking you. It’s a coincidence. Sorry to disturb.” “Wait.” As she called out, jealousy flashed in Felix’s eyes. He tightened his grip on her waist and smiled at me. “Mr. Sam! I owe you my life for that blood transfusion. Without you, I’d still be dizzy. Vicky, let’s take Mr. Sam home with us, okay?” Victoria looked at him with adoration. “My kind-hearted Felix. Whatever you say.” I didn’t refuse. I needed to get my passport.

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1 When the story ended, I, the designated villainess, lost everything. My own brother had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. My fate was to be tormented until I died. But I refused to let them control even the way I died. At the fairytale wedding of the story’s beloved heroine, in front of all the glittering guests, I threw myself into the sea. And just like that, Port Sterling lost its most outrageously wicked heiress. In her place, a small-time food vendor appeared on the streets of Riverbend, hawking braised meats from a cart. Until three years later, when a man stopped in front of my stall. He asked me if I wanted to go back and burn it all to the ground. … I kept my head down, my knife moving deftly as I sliced beef on the cutting board. An old regular, one of my best customers, kept shooting glances at the man standing silently before my cart. Finally, his curiosity got the better of him and he leaned in. “Bea,” he whispered, “who’s this guy? You know friends this rich, why are you out here selling braised pork knuckles?” My knife came down with a final, clean chop. I lifted my head, my gaze skipping over the old man and landing on Caleb Thorne, my voice even. “Oh, him?” “He used to be one of our house staff.” The old man let out a short, barking laugh, as if I’d told the funniest joke he’d ever heard. “Get outta here! The way you pinch every penny, you? A high-society lady?” “A real heiress wouldn’t last a day out here,” he said, picking up his bag with a grin. “She’d be crying for her daddy by lunchtime.” He walked away, still chuckling. I pulled off my disposable gloves and smiled too. He was right. I was Bea, the woman who’d been selling braised meats on this street for two years. Not Beatrice Parish, the arrogant, couture-clad heiress of Port Sterling. My smile faded. I put my hands on my hips and called out to the lingering customers. “Alright, show’s over, folks! Come and get it! Last three pork knuckles for the day! When they’re gone, I’m gone!” I sold the last one, packed it up, and watched the crowd disperse. Only then did a voice, tight with emotion, break the silence. “Beatrice.” “Are you going to hide in this place and sling food for the rest of your life?” I didn’t turn around. I just kept scrubbing the heavy pot under the faucet, the scouring pad scraping against the metal. He was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was trembling. “Bea, your brother… Larry is looking for you, too. If you want to go back, I’ll help you this time. I swear it.” I shut off the water. The sudden silence was deafening. “Help me?” I turned, hoisting the clean pot onto the cart with a loud clang. “Caleb, is there anything left on me that you could possibly want?” He’d said he would help me once before. The result was him helping my brother drive the final, most vicious knife into my back. 2 Three years ago, after the heroine, Clara, got into a minor car accident, my brother and my childhood sweetheart jointly cornered me, leaving me with no way out. My father, on his deathbed, secretly pressed a card and a small USB drive into my hand. “Beatrice, go,” he’d rasped. “Go now! To Switzerland. There’s enough money there for you to live comfortably for the rest of your life… Don’t ever come back!” It was my only escape route in a world that had turned against me. I told no one. I only called Caleb. The one person I thought would leave a window open for me, even if the rest of the world wanted me dead. When I handed him the plane ticket, I didn’t notice the conflict warring in his eyes. It wasn’t until my limbs grew weak and my vision blurred that a cold dread washed over me. In the last second before I lost consciousness, I saw him pull the USB drive from my pocket. “Bea,” he’d said, his voice devoid of all warmth. “People have to pay for their mistakes.” When I woke up, I was in a psychiatric hospital. Later, on a newspaper I was allowed to read once a week, I saw the engagement announcement for Clara and Victor. The article gushed about the bride’s staggering dowry, a fortune that would secure her place in high society. The amount they quoted was, to the dollar, the exact sum my father had left for me. How absurdly tragic. My father’s last act of love for me had become the glittering centerpiece of her wedding. And now, the architect of my ruin was standing before me, his voice choked with emotion. “Bea, why do you have to be so stubborn!” “Three years ago, you threw yourself into the sea right in front of us! Have you ever thought about how the people you left behind have been living?!” “Or are you so unafraid of death that you’re somehow afraid to go back with me?” I gave him a long, cool look. His eyes were red with frustration. I thought for a moment. “I’ll apologize to Clara,” I said. Caleb, his eyes still fixed on me, flinched. “What?” I smiled. “For ruining her wedding three years ago. I sincerely regret it. But please, assure her that her brilliant, happy life will no longer be troubled by my existence.” “And you can rest easy, too. I swear on my father’s grave, I will never, ever interfere with your perfect little happy ending.” So please, just leave me alone. Don’t stand here with your false sincerity, talking about taking me back to reclaim what’s mine. He was just mad that I’d ruined the wedding of his precious goddess, Clara, and this was his new, twisted way of messing with me. Caleb stood frozen, staring at me, his mouth opening and closing but no words coming out. I took the opportunity to hop on my tricycle cart and pedal away as fast as I could. In the small rearview mirror, I saw him clutch his chest and slowly sink to his knees, his face as white as a sheet. I pushed harder on the pedals. After all, I didn’t have any money for him to scam out of me this time. 3 I had no idea what had gone wrong with Clara and her little fan club. But I, the villainess, had survived. And Caleb, the original arch-villain, had somehow switched sides to join the heroes. The entire plot must have become a complete mess. Sure enough, the day after Caleb showed up, my brother, Larry, appeared downstairs from my apartment. When I came down, he was holding the tarp covering my tricycle between two fingers, as if touching something foul. The sight of my shabby little cart seemed to physically revolt him; his knuckles were white. He heard my footsteps and stiffened before slowly turning around. The moment he saw me, his eyes widened in shock. He scanned me from head to toe, over and over again. I stood there, letting him take in my worn clothes, my cheap shoes, my entire pathetic existence. After a long moment, he looked away, unable to meet my eyes. His voice was hoarse. “You really are alive…” “Thanks to you,” I replied calmly. “Sorry to disappoint you by not dying in that asylum.” My words hit their mark. His chest heaved. “Do you have to talk to me like this?” “I’m… I’m your brother, Bea…” Brother. I hadn’t used that word in a long, long time. When we were kids, I followed Larry around like a little shadow, constantly chirping his name. He loved it, always swinging me up onto his shoulders and taking me out to play. Back then, he was the brother I loved and trusted most in the world. That’s why, when I “awakened” at eighteen and realized he was the story’s devoted second male lead, destined to lock me away, I ran to him in a panic. He’d just laughed and tapped my forehead, telling me I’d been reading too many stupid novels. He said he would abandon himself before he ever abandoned me. I believed him. But then Clara appeared. And Larry forgot his promise. Suddenly, I was spoiled. I was unreasonable. A dress I loved? He’d say it would look purer on Clara. A concert I wanted to go to? Clara was afraid of loud noises. I told him again and again that I had never, ever done anything to hurt Clara, but he never once believed me. He would just hold her close and look at me with an expression so foreign it made me tremble. “Beatrice, all the disgusting things you do… don’t you feel any shame?” “I don’t have a sister like you. Get out!” In that moment, I knew. The brother who had loved me was gone forever. All that was left was the character from the story, the man who only had eyes for the heroine. And now this man was standing here, telling me he was my brother. What kind of brother was he? The thought slipped out. I actually asked him. I can’t describe the way his composure shattered. He looked at me, his face a mask of pain. “Bea, three years ago, I never thought you would actually try to die. I was too—” “Is something wrong with Clara again?” I cut him off. Larry stared at me blankly for a few seconds. “What?” For both of them to show up out of the blue, acting like this… the only reason I could think of was Clara. I chose my words carefully, my guard up. “Was she kidnapped again? Or hit by another car?” “You don’t have to come all this way to lecture me. Whatever happened to her has nothing to do with me.” “I’m at the East Gate Market every afternoon and evening. I haven’t missed a single day. Go ask the other vendors if you don’t believe me.” “Besides,” I added, gesturing to myself, “look at me. I obviously don’t have the money to hire a hitman. So whatever happened to Clara, it wasn’t me.” I said it all in one calm, even breath. Larry just stood there, completely still. I frowned. “Is there anything else?” He snapped out of his trance, shaking his head. “No, it’s not because of Clara.” “I just… I just heard you were alive—” “Oh, so this is a preemptive strike? Worried I’ll come back for revenge?” “Yes, Caleb came to see me yesterday. Said he’d help me ‘burn it all down.’ But I know he was just messing with me. I turned him down.” “You can ask the market vendors—” “No!” Larry’s voice cracked. “Bea, I just came to see my sister!” “I really… I just wanted to see my sister…” The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Then, I let out a snort of laughter. The look on Larry’s face became even more frantic, more pathetic. “Sorry,” I said, waving a hand. “It was just… a really funny joke.” I met his bloodshot eyes again. “Looking at you now, anyone who didn’t know better would think you were the one who got locked in an asylum three years ago.” Larry tried to smile, to mirror my casual posture. But the expression he managed was uglier than crying. His lips twitched, and he finally bowed his head, unable to look at me any longer. “Bea, come home.” “Just… for Dad’s sake.” I froze, my hand on the cart. Larry’s voice was thick with emotion. “When Dad was dying… he was holding my hand, and the only name he said was yours.” “He wouldn’t close his eyes. He begged me to protect you… he just kept begging me…” “I—” “Shut up!” “Just shut your mouth!” I lost control. I grabbed whatever was on my cart and started hurling it at him. He didn’t move, didn’t even try to dodge as a jar of spices struck his forehead, leaving a dark red welt. “You have no right to talk about my father!” “Larry, you’re a monster! An animal!” “I begged you! I got on my knees and begged you!” “I said I was wrong, that you could kill me, just let me out to see him one last time!” “I bashed my head on the floor until it was covered in blood! But you still said no! You said if Dad knew what I’d done, the shock would kill him!” But all along, when I thought the entire world had abandoned me, my father was thinking of me in his final moments. I clawed at my own hair, a wave of agony washing over me. The tears I never shed—not when they gave me electroshock, not when they strapped me down and forced pills down my throat—came pouring out now. Larry remained crouched on the ground, his shoulders shaking violently, his voice shattered. “I was possessed… Clara said if you got out, you’d try to take her down with you… that you’d ruin Dad’s reputation… I believed her… God, I actually believed her…” “So you let me miss his last moments?” I rushed at him, grabbing the collar of his shirt, forcing him to look into my tear-filled eyes. “You let me hear the news of his death in a psychiatric ward! You wouldn’t even let me go to his funeral!” “Larry, what kind of brother are you!” “I’m begging you, all of you! Just have some mercy! I don’t have a father, I don’t have a brother! I have nothing left! I can’t hurt Clara anymore!” “So why are you showing up in my life again?!” “I was lucky not to die three years ago! Do I have to actually die in front of you before you’ll finally be satisfied?!” Larry let me shake him, tears streaming down his face. “I know… I know you hate me…” “Bea, come back to the family. I’ll give everything back to you…” “I’ll atone for what I did. I’ll listen to Dad. I’ll protect you…” I slapped him. A vicious, resounding crack that echoed in the quiet alley. His head snapped to the side, a red handprint already blooming on his cheek. “My brother,” I said, my voice dead, “died a long time ago.” My quiet life was shattered. Caleb and Larry were like a curse, bringing nothing but trouble. I was taken from my own apartment. When I came to, I was tied to a pillar on a beach. Tied to another pillar not far from me was Clara. Seeing I was awake, she gave me a brilliant smile. “Beatrice. I can’t believe you’re still alive.” “But that’s okay. Since you didn’t die then, we can play a little game now.” “Right about now, your brother, your childhood sweetheart, and your little lapdog should all be getting a text message saying we’ve been kidnapped together.” “But very soon, they’ll also receive ‘proof’ that you were the one who orchestrated my kidnapping.” “So, let’s guess. This time, who do you think will win?” “The loser,” she said, her smile widening, “gets to die. How does that sound?” The icy seawater washed over my ankles, sending a violent shiver through my body. I knew I would lose. In any contest against Clara, I was always the loser. But I couldn’t die! Dad’s last wish was for me to live. I couldn’t die. As I struggled against the ropes, three cars screeched to a halt on the beach. The doors flew open almost simultaneously. Larry was the first one out. His face was chalk-white, and he was so frantic he’d lost a shoe. His panicked gaze darted between me and Clara. Right behind him were Caleb and the story’s male lead, Victor. They all looked equally terrified. Clara immediately began to sob. “Save Bea first,” she cried weakly. “Don’t worry about me…” I said nothing, twisting my wrists against the coarse rope. The tide was coming in fast, the saltwater already up to our chests. The raw, chafed skin on my wrists screamed in agony. But I couldn’t stop. I wasn’t the heroine. No one was coming to save me. But in the next second: “Save Bea!” “Get Bea first!”

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1 I made the mistake of eating a slice of cake the intern had baked for my wife, Claire. Claire frowned, disgusted. She dragged me to the hospital and forced the doctors to pump my stomach three times. The procedure was so violent it destroyed my stomach lining. To save my life, they had to perform a partial gastrectomy—removing two-thirds of my stomach. Now, I survived on liquid diets. Within weeks, I was nothing but skin and bones. Claire didn’t care. I watched her hand-feed steak to Rob, the intern, wiping sauce from his lip with her thumb. When I asked her, eyes red and stinging, why she treated me this way, she looked at me with pure disdain. “You ate the cake Rob made for me with his own hands. Consider this a lesson.” So, Rob was that important to her. And I was nothing. Fine. If that’s how it is, I’ll leave. I’ll let them have each other. … After the surgery, my body was a wreck. Because I couldn’t absorb nutrients properly, dizzy spells became my new normal. I hadn’t even fully recovered, yet I was alone in the office, working overtime to fix a critical error in the company’s data. Suddenly, the incision site in my abdomen began to throb with blinding pain. I scrambled for the painkillers on my desk, shaking the bottle. Empty. The office was a tomb. Even security had clocked out for the night. Desperate and sweating, I called Claire. She hung up on me three times. On the fourth try, she finally answered. “Claire… I… my stomach is burning. Please, can you bring me the prescription painkillers from the house?” I was gasping for air, trying to talk through the agony. Claire let out a sharp tsk. “You are unbelievable.” It was an emergency. The pharmacies were closed. “Claire, please. Just this once.” There was a two-second silence. Then, Rob’s voice floated through the speaker, bright and mocking. “Liam, come on. Why are you such a buzzkill? You had to pick my birthday dinner to bother Claire?” “And the stomach thing? Your surgery was days ago. Can’t you come up with a better excuse for attention?” I gritted my teeth. “Claire, I’m only here working overtime to save your company’s biggest project. I just need the medicine. That’s it.” I knew the answer before she spoke, but a pathetic part of me still hoped. I remembered when we first started dating. She had a high fever, 104 degrees. I ran through a thunderstorm to get her medicine, nearly getting hit by a car in the process. I never complained. I just wanted her to be okay. Claire took the phone back. Her voice was ice. “Rob is alone in this city. He has no family. He shouldn’t spend his birthday alone.” “He’s just a kid, Liam. I’m celebrating with him. Your scar hurts a little? Grow up. It’s not life-threatening.” “But… it really hurts,” I whispered. Cold sweat had soaked through my dress shirt. “Figure it out yourself. Stop being a burden.” Click. The line went dead. Another call with my wife, another knife in my back. The pain was so intense I started dry heaving, clutching the trash can, but nothing came out except bile. The room spun. Still, I forced myself to sit up. I hit ‘Save’ on the project proposal. This file was my life’s blood—the result of months of grueling research. The moment the progress bar hit 100%, my body gave out. I collapsed onto the office floor and blacked out. I don’t know how long I lay there. When I opened my eyes, morning sunlight was harsh against my face. The pain had dulled to a throb. I reached for my phone to call an ambulance, but a notification from Rob popped up on my feed. Received the best gift ever. Thank you, Claire! <3 The photo showed a brand new Porsche 911. Value: at least $200,000. I remembered asking for a sensible sedan last year for my commute. Claire refused, citing "budget cuts" and "frugality." I still didn't have my own car. Yet she handed a luxury sports car to an intern like it was candy. No one liked or commented on Rob’s post. It was obvious he had set the privacy settings so only I would see it. I closed the app, laughing bitterly at myself. Immediately, a message from Rob arrived. "Did you see it, Liam?" "Everything I want, I get. I honestly pity you. You've been wagging your tail around Claire for so long, but you're less than a dog to her." "It’s embarrassing. If I were you, I’d crawl into a hole and die." Rage flared in my chest, but I pushed it down. I didn't have the energy to fight a boy toy. The priority was the project. This new drug formulation was my ticket out. The bonus alone would be enough to sustain me for years after I filed for divorce. I pulled myself into my chair and woke up my computer. My desktop was empty. The file—my proposal, my data, my research—was gone. Panic set in. I searched every drive, every folder. Nothing. Wiped clean. Ding. A message from Claire. "Meeting in five minutes. Major announcement." My head was pounding. A bad feeling settled in my gut, heavier than the missing piece of my stomach. Claire walked into the conference room five minutes later. Rob was right beside her, holding a thick leather-bound folder. He looked at me, his eyes dancing with malicious triumph. "Let’s give a round of applause for Rob," Claire announced, her voice projecting authority. "After three months of tireless work, he has finalized the proposal for the new synthetic drug." "I’ve reviewed his data. It’s flawless. Once the FDA approves this, we go straight to production." "Congratulations, Rob. Hard work pays off." Applause erupted. Rob stood up, bowing theatrically, soaking in the praise. My ears were ringing. A high-pitched whine drowned out the clapping. Rob began his presentation. He was reading my words. Explaining my formulas. That was my work. My life. I fought through the nausea and slammed my hand on the table. "That is my proposal!" The room went silent. The executives stared at me. Claire frowned, looking at me like I was a stain on the carpet. "Sit down, Liam. You’re making a scene." Rob, the thief, didn't even flinch. He played the victim instantly. "Just because you say it's yours doesn't make it true, Liam." "Mr. Sterling, I know you're senior to me, but you can't bully a rookie just because you're older." "I spent three months not sleeping, losing my hair over this data, and you just want to claim it?" He sniffled, his eyes glistening. "Claire, I’m just a fresh graduate. I know I don't have his status, but he can't just erase my hard work!" Claire immediately softened. She reached out and wiped a tear from his cheek in front of the entire board. It was intimate. Disgusting. The executives turned on me. "Liam, that’s low. Trying to steal credit from a kid?" "I thought you had integrity. Clearly, I was wrong." "Jealousy is an ugly look on you." I looked around the room. Accusing eyes everywhere. No one saw the dark circles under my eyes, the weight I’d lost for this company. My throat tickled, and I hacked out a dry cough. Claire glanced at me, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. "Does no one see what I’ve done?" I rasped, my voice breaking. "No one wanted this project. I took it. I built it from nothing. And now you let him steal it?" "If it's yours," Rob challenged, "prove it." "Where are your drafts? Your search history? Your download logs? Even a timestamp on your computer?" He knew. He knew my computer had been wiped. "I sent a draft to Claire," I said, desperate. I looked at my wife. "Claire, last week. I emailed you the preliminary data. Check your inbox. Prove to them it’s mine." Claire looked at me. Then she looked away. The room waited. Finally, she spoke. "I do have a draft in my inbox." I exhaled. Thank God. "But," she continued, her voice flat, "that draft came from Rob. Not you." "What?" I stood up, swaying. "That’s a lie! You asked to see my progress! I sent it to you!" Rob smirked. "Stop lying, Liam. It’s pathetic. Claire already confirmed it." "Show us a screenshot then," he goaded. "Unless you don't have one?" I didn't. My phone had been remotely wiped and reset while I was passed out. My laptop was clean. I looked at Claire, pleading with my eyes. Five years of marriage. Doesn't that mean anything? Claire didn't flinch. She drove the final nail into the coffin. "The timestamps confirm Rob is the author." "Rob was top of his class at university. I entrusted this project to him secretly months ago. He delivered." "As for Liam... I suspect he is jealous of Rob's natural talent. He’s refusing to accept that he’s been surpassed." In three sentences, she branded me a plagiarist and a failure. "Claire," I whispered, ignoring the room. "Do you care so little about our marriage?" She turned her cold gaze on me. "Mr. Sterling looks tired. Since your stomach still hurts, take a leave of absence. Indefinitely." "But... my drug..." "The drug? Rob will handle the production phase. You aren't needed." I collapsed back into my chair. Defeated. The meeting ended. They all left for a celebratory lunch at a five-star hotel. They fawned over Rob like he was the messiah of pharmaceuticals. I sat alone in the empty conference room all afternoon, stomach cramping, trying not to vomit air. That night, I dragged myself home. Claire wasn't there. My phone pinged. A message from an unknown number. "Pick me up. Room 3023, The Ritz." It was Claire's tone. I drove to the hotel, exhausted. I walked down the plush corridor to room 3023. Before I could knock, I heard it. "You're so beautiful, Claire..." Rob’s voice. Followed by giggles and the unmistakable sounds of skin on skin. My hand froze in mid-air. I stood there for an eternity until the sounds died down. Then, I forced myself to ring the doorbell. Rob opened the door. He was wearing nothing but a towel. Behind him, clothes were scattered across the floor—a trail of infidelity leading to the bed. "Oh, Liam. You’re here," he said casually. "Claire had too much wine. I was just taking care of her." The rage I felt was so potent I thought my stitches would burst. I wanted to smash his face in. "Shh," he put a finger to his lips. "She finally fell asleep. Don't wake her." I looked past him. Claire was sleeping soundly in the king-sized bed. "Come outside," I hissed. We went to the hotel bar downstairs. It was empty. "You sent the message, didn't you?" I asked. "And you wiped my computer." Rob took a sip of water, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Guilty. But you missed the point." "What point?" He laughed. A cruel, barking sound. "You’re so slow. Didn't you realize? Claire allowed all of it." "The theft, the wiping of the data... she orchestrated it. She told me the day I was hired that she’d give me a flagship project to launch my career." My blood ran cold. It had been a setup from the start. "Why?" I choked out. "Why do this to me?" "Why? Look in a mirror," Rob sneered. "Claire only married you because you looked like her first love. The one who died." "But now I’m here. I’m younger, better. You’re just a fading copy of a dead man. You have no value." "Well, except one value: doing the grunt work so I could put my name on it." I felt like I had been gutted all over again. I knew I resembled her ex, but hearing it weaponized like this was agonizing. "You stole the file," I said, my voice shaking, "but you didn't steal the core algorithm. The encryption key is in my head. We’ll see who wins." Rob laughed again, hugging his chest. "The core tech? Liam, you are so naive. Claire knew you’d say that." He tossed a manila envelope onto the table. "Take a look. We have everything. Your passwords, your encryption keys, your private backups. Claire lived with you for years. She knows your habits better than you do." I opened the folder with trembling hands. It was all there. Every safeguard I had built was dismantled. Just then, footsteps approached. Claire walked into the bar, looking refreshed. I looked up at her, heartbreak washing over me. "Claire... this was my life's work." She couldn't meet my eyes. She looked at the floor, then hardened her expression. "It’s for the good of the company, Liam." "Rob is the future. He has the charisma to sell this. You don't." "It gives him a head start in the industry." I let out a broken laugh. "For Rob. Everything is for Rob. Five years of marriage... am I worth less than dust to you?" "What am I to you, Claire?" She stopped pretending. She shrugged. "It’s just a patent, Liam. Haven't I given you three years of my youth? Isn't that payment enough?" "If you're going to be difficult, I'll pay you off. But the project belongs to Rob. Don't fight me on this." Rob waved his hand dismissively. "Claire, send him away. He’s depressing to look at." Claire pulled a bank card from her purse and flicked it at me. It hit my chest and clattered to the floor. "Severance. Take it and leave the company. Your presence makes Rob uncomfortable." I bent down and picked up the card. It felt heavy. "One last question," I said softly. "Are you really throwing away everything we had?" "Yes." Her voice was razor-sharp. "From the moment Rob walked in, you became obsolete. You were just a placeholder." That broke the last chain binding me to her. "Fine. I’ll go." I walked out of the hotel into the cold night air. I had lost my job, my wife, my health, and my creation. But as I stood on the curb, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a business card I had kept hidden for months. I dialed the number. "Ms. Vanguard? It’s Liam Sterling. I’m ready to join you."

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