Category: English

“Mom, the daughter you hid for 20 years is here to ask for the house.” I stood by the hospital bed, looking at my haggard mother. Her eyes dodged me, lips moved a few times. “Ethan, that is your sister…” Sister? I served her for 8 years. Changing Bedpans, quit my job, didn’t marry, no life. 8 years. She hid a daughter for 20 years, didn’t let me know a single phone call. Now, that “sister” is here. To split the Inheritance. … Chapter 1 When that woman stood at the door, I thought she had the wrong room. “Excuse me, is Linda Miller staying here?” I stunned a bit: “Who are you looking for?” “Linda Miller.” She said again, “I am her daughter.” I didn’t understand. “What did you say?” “Linda Miller’s daughter, Ruby.” She said calmly, “I came to see my mom.” Linda Miller is my mother’s name. I am Linda Miller’s only child. “You have the wrong room.” I said. She smiled, took out her phone from her bag, flipped to a photo. It was my mother. Mother when young, about forty years old, standing beside a little girl, seven or eight years old look. Mother’s hand, rested on that girl’s shoulder. Under the photo was a line of handwritten words. “Ruby 8th Birthday, Mom loves you forever.” My hand started shaking uncontrollably. “Who exactly are you?” She put away the phone, looked up at me: “Bro, my name is Ruby. My dad is Robert. 20 years ago, my mom was with my dad.” Bro. She called me Bro. I held the door frame, only felt the world spinning. “Impossible.” I said, “My mom impossible…” “Enough.” Mother’s voice came from the ward, “Ethan, let her in.” I turned back. Mother leaned on the bed, no surprise on her face. No surprise at all. She knew. She long knew this person would come. “Mom…” “Let her in.” Mother repeated, voice hoarse, “I have words to say to you guys.” That afternoon, I knew a secret hidden for 20 years. Mother had an affair when I was 10. The other party was Robert, her colleague at the time. They were together for three years. Had a daughter. Ruby. “I don’t know how to tell you.” Mother didn’t look at me, eyes staring out the window, “It’s been too long.” Too long? I am 32 this year. This matter hidden for 20 years. Does my dad know? “Your dad knows.” Mother seemed to guess my mind, “Later, I cut contact with that man. Your dad forgave me.” Forgave? I felt chest blocked by a giant stone, couldn’t breathe. “Then her?” I pointed at Ruby standing aside, “You cut contact, how is she still here?” “I cut with her dad.” Mother said, “But she is my daughter, I can’t ignore.” Can’t ignore. “These 20 years, you always caring for her?” Mother didn’t speak. Ruby answered for her: “Every month, Mom would send living expenses to my dad. My college tuition, was also Mom paid.” Every month. Living expenses. Tuition. I remembered something. Senior year of high school, I wanted to sign up for a Coding Bootcamp, one summer $2,000. Mother said too expensive, no need. I worked part-time myself, saved for three summers, then saved enough for exchange program fees. And she, every month sending living expenses to another man. Paying tuition for another child. “How much?” I asked. “What?” “How much did you give them every month?” Mother didn’t speak. Ruby said: “Two thousand.” Every month two thousand. 20 years. I calculated. $480,000. Plus college tuition, tens of thousands a year, four years at least $50,000. Added up, over $500,000. My $2,000 bootcamp, too expensive. She spent $500,000 on a secret daughter in 20 years, not expensive. “Mom.” I heard my own voice, dry and trembling, “These years, why didn’t you tell me?” “Tell you for what?” Mother finally looked at me, a trace of impatience in her eyes, “What use saying it out? Let you hate me?” Let me hate her. I clenched my fists. “I don’t hate you.” I said, “I just want to know, in your heart, what am I.” Mother didn’t answer. Ruby spoke: “Bro, let the past pass. Mom is not well now, let’s not make her worry.” Her tone calm, even carrying a few points of concern. As if she is the real child of this family. As if I am the extra person. “Why did you come?” I asked her. “See Mom.” She said, “Also meet Bro.” “And then?” She paused. “Mom said, want to settle the Inheritance matter.” Inheritance. Turns out came to split inheritance. Chapter 2 Mother’s illness was found four years ago. Late stage Breast Cancer. Doctor said, at most one year. I quit my job, focused on taking care of her at home. One year became two years, two years became three years. Now is the fourth year. In between Mother hospitalized six times, big small surgeries did three times, chemotherapy did more than ten courses. Every time, was me accompanying. Registration, queuing, paying fees, picking up medicine, delivering food, wiping body, changing bedpans. 3 AM, she shouted pain, I climbed up to massage her. 6 AM, she wanted porridge, I had to get up at 5 to cook. Four years. 1460 days. I haven’t slept a complete sleep. My dad is old, health also not good, can’t help much. Relatives symbolically came to see few times, sent some fruits, said few “hard work”, then disappeared. All things, are me alone carrying. I am 32 this year. Age should marry, I have no partner. Age should work, I have no income. Age should enjoy, I gnaw bread in hospital corridor. I am not without resentment. But she is my mother. I thought, I am her only child. I thought, everything I did, she would remember. Now I know, she remembers, is another person. A daughter she hid for 20 years. “Mom.” That night, I sat by the bed, “These four years, who was taking care of you?” Mother closed eyes, didn’t speak. “Is me.” I answered myself, “From you found illness start, is me quit job, is me changing bedpans, is me accompanying you surgery, is me whole night whole night not sleep.” “I know.” She said. “Then her?” I pointed at door, “These four years, where was she?” Mother opened eyes, looked at me. “She didn’t know I was sick.” “You didn’t tell her?” “No.” “Why?” “She is still young, has her own life.” Mother said, “I don’t want to delay her.” Don’t want to delay her. Me? I am also young, I also have my own career. When I quit, what did you say? You said: “You are my son, taking care of me is should be.” Should be. “Then me?” I asked, “Have you thought about delaying me?” Mother didn’t speak. “I am 32.” I continued, “My classmates all married, some kids in elementary school. Me? I have no partner, no savings, no job. These four years, I have nothing.” “You will have.” Mother said, “When I go, you are free.” When she goes. I am free. I suddenly laughed out. “Mom, do you know what you are saying?” She didn’t speak. “You said when you go, I am free.” I stood up, “Then what are these four years? These four years I paid, what count in your eyes?” “I remember.” Mother said. “You remember?” I pointed outside door, “You remember me, or remember her?” Mother looked at me, there was something in her eyes. Not guilt. Is annoyance. “Ethan, can you not make noise?” Make noise. I took care of her four years, no complaint. She hid a secret daughter for 20 years, I ask a sentence, is “making noise”. “Good.” I took a deep breath, “I don’t make noise. You tell me, that Ruby came for what?” “She came to see me.” “She came for inheritance.” I said, “Right or not?” Mother didn’t speak. “Right or not?” “…She is my daughter.” Mother finally opened mouth, “My things, leave to her, have what problem?” Her things. Leave to her daughter. Have what problem. I stood there, felt whole body ice cold. “Mom, then me?” “You are son.” Mother said, “Son later want to bear own small family, these things leave to daughter, is to let her have a guarantee later.” Chapter 3 That night, I returned home, saw Ruby standing in living room. She was looking around, looking at sofa, TV, family photo on wall. “Bro.” She turned around, smiled a bit, “This house quite big.” 1200 square feet. This is Mother’s only real estate. Back then bought spent $400k. Now this location, at least worth $1.5 Million. “What are you looking at?” I asked. “Nothing, just casual looking.” Her tone natural, “This house Mom bought right?” “Yes.” “Who’s name on House Deed?” I stunned a bit. “Written my mom’s name.” “Oh.” She nodded, “That’s good.” That’s good? What meaning? “Bro, I tell you truth.” Ruby sat down on sofa, crossed legs, “Mom’s meaning is, after she goes, this house belongs to me.” I felt someone stabbed a knife in my heart. “What?” “Mom said, house give me.” She repeated, “Also those her 401k, savings, add up about $700k, also give me.” $700k. Plus house $1.5 Million. Total over $2 Million. My mother’s entire life savings. All give her. “You are joking?” I said. “No.” Ruby took out a paper from bag, “This is Mom’s Will, notarized by lawyer. You can look.” I took that paper. Will. Written clearly on it. “I, Linda Miller, voluntarily leave all assets under my name, including one real estate, savings and investments, to daughter Ruby.” Daughter Ruby. Not son Ethan Miller. I flipped the will, saw Mother’s signature, and red fingerprint. Date was three months ago. Three months ago, I was still in hospital accompanying her chemotherapy. She while letting me serve, while secretly wrote will, gave everything to secret daughter. “Bro, don’t be angry.” Ruby said, “Mom said, you taking care of her these years, very hard. She left a little money for you, $10,000, count as thanking you.” $10,000. I took care of her four years, quit job, lost partner, delayed life. She gave me $10,000. Another secret daughter never took care of her, get $2 Million. “Bro?” Ruby looked at me, “Are you okay?” I laughed. “I am okay.” I returned the will to her. “You want house, right?” “Mom’s meaning is…” “I ask you.” I interrupted her, “You want house, right?” She paused: “Right.” “Good.” I stood up, “I move out tomorrow.” Ruby stunned. “Bro, don’t be like this, I didn’t mean that…” “You mean exactly that.” I looked at her, “You come here, is for this house. Right?” She didn’t speak. “I ask you.” I said, “These 20 years, how many times you saw my mom?” “…Not many.” “How many?” “Five six times ba.” “Me?” I said, “I lived with her 32 years. I served her four years. You five six times, I 1460 days.” Ruby opened mouth, didn’t say words. “But she gave everything to you.” I said, “Do you know why?” “…Why?” “Because you are daughter she born with cheating man.” I laughed, “In her eyes, daughter needs be pained more, son should carry himself. I took care four years, not as good as your one sentence ‘Mom’.” I didn’t finish. I couldn’t say down. “Bro, Mom her generation…” “Don’t call me Bro.” I said, “I have no sister.” Chapter 4 I went to find Mother. “Mom, that will you wrote?” Mother leaned on bed head, looking at me. “Yes.” “Why?” “I said.” Her tone calm, “She is my daughter.” “Am I not your son?” “You are.” She said, “But son wants to stand tall, can’t always think about family assets. Daughter different, need assets to depend on.” “Stand tall?” I asked, “Then what about these four years? I served you four years, count what?” “I know you worked hard.” Mother said, “I left $10,000 for you.” “$10,000.” I repeated. “Not enough?” “Mom, your meaning is, my four years, worth $10,000?” Mother frowned: “Ethan, how you become like this? Open mouth close mouth is money.” I became like this. Open mouth close mouth is money. “Mom, not me open mouth close mouth is money.” I said, “Is you open mouth close mouth is your that daughter.” “She is my daughter, I can’t ignore her.” “Then me?” “You are also my son.” Mother said, “I raised you 32 years, eat wear use, which item less yours?” Raised me 32 years. “Mom, I went out work at 18.” I said, “My college tuition, I loaned myself. After I work, every month still send money home. You raised me how many years?” Mother didn’t speak. “Do you know how much you send that man every month? $2,000.” I said, “When I was senior high, want enroll a bootcamp, $2,000, you said too expensive.” “That is two different things.” “Where is two different things?” “He alone bringing her, not easy.” Mother said, “You different, you have Dad.” I have Dad. So I deserve it. “Mom, do you really feel you not wrong?” Mother looked at me, eyes carrying a trace of sorrow. “Ethan, I am old. I don’t have many days. I just want to arrange after matters well.” After matters. “Your after matters, is give everything to that secret daughter?” “Don’t say her like that.” Mother said, “She is your sister.” Sister. “I have no sister.” “Ethan!” “I said, I have no sister.” I looked at her, “I also have no mother.” Mother’s face changed. “What did you say?” “From today.” I stood up, “We are clear.” “Ethan Miller!” “Don’t you want give house to her?” I said, “I move out tomorrow. Don’t you want give money to her? $10,000 I also don’t want. From today, you dead or alive, no relation with me.” Mother’s face flushed red. “You… you dare! You dare ignore me!” “Have you ignored me?” I turned, walked out. “Ethan Miller! You stand there for me!” “You go find your daughter.” I didn’t look back, “This life, don’t meet again.”

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My mother, Viola Miller, operated on a single, ruthless tenet: Only the strong survive. I learned that lesson young. At four, she looked me dead in the eye and told me I was an orphan she’d “taken in”—and that I’d be promptly shipped back if I failed to be compliant. I mastered the art of observation before I learned to tie my shoes. When I was ten, she used her connections to intentionally fail me, making me the oldest, most openly ridiculed student in my elementary school class. “This is an exercise,” she’d explained with a wave of her hand. “It’s about building your capacity to withstand the judgment of others.” At sixteen, Mom announced she had late-stage cancer. I quit school and took any job I could find to pay for her treatment. I worked myself ragged, almost collapsed at my station. But when I woke up, she declared the cancer was just a joke—another test. The final straw came at twenty-five, when she deliberately overlooked my younger brother, Preston, seducing my girlfriend. When I slapped them both, she merely frowned. “Losing control over something so trivial? Your inner strength is still lacking, Jaxon.” Then, as compensation, she announced she was making her signature dish—out of the emotional support dog I had secretly kept for ten years. She smiled, holding a forkful of meat toward me. “Smell good?” “I bet you’ll be the one who eats the most,” she challenged. “Wanna wager?” I didn’t just lose it this time. On New Year’s Eve, I leveled the house. 1 The lingering scent of the holiday feast hadn’t faded, but the dining room was already a catastrophe. Dishes lay smashed across the floor; my mother’s signature meal was now garbage. Chairs and tables were missing limbs, and even the TV and sofa hadn’t been spared. The extended family stood stunned. Opposite me, Preston stared blankly at the new, expensive trousers he’d pestered Mom into buying—now shredded rags. His handsome face twisted into a mask of fury. “Jaxon! Are you completely insane?!” The sight of his contorted features was suddenly menacing. It was hard to believe that just a minute ago, he’d been all smiles, smugly spitting out a bone. “Ugh, what do you feed it? The meat’s too lean. No flavor. Dog meat needs a little fat to really be good!” I scoffed, dropping my gaze, entirely deaf to his rant. That only stoked his anger. He turned to Mom, clutching her arm and whining, “Mom, look at him!” Viola didn’t speak. She only patted Preston’s hand gently in a gesture of comfort. Then, she turned to me, her eyes flat and cold, holding a look of absolute disdain. “Just because I cooked a dog, you ruin a perfectly good holiday dinner?” “You’ve never thrown a tantrum this big before. Have your wings finally hardened, darling? Ready to rebel?” Her indifferent tone made my breakdown seem pathological, out of place. Of course, she had done this before. To develop my “inner strength,” my mother had a habit of killing, cooking, or getting rid of every single pet I ever managed to cherish. In fifth grade, my teacher gave us pets to foster responsibility. I chose a beautiful goldfish. I nurtured it until it was the size of an egg, only for my mother to “accidentally” pour it down the drain. Later, I got a little duckling. I took it everywhere, practically inseparable. One day, I couldn’t find it. Frantic, I tugged on my mother’s sleeve, begging her to help me search. She held up a butcher knife, still dripping blood, and smiled faintly. “Looking for the duck?” “It’s right here.” She watched me cry hysterically, even as I hyperventilated. She only furrowed her brow, speaking with the tone of someone deeply disappointed. “If you can’t endure such a small thing, how will you handle the storms of the real world later on?” I was only ten. After that, my birds, my pet turtle, the stray cat I rescued—every creature I considered a friend became a ghost under my mother’s knife. I stopped bringing anything alive into the house. Patches was the only exception, the dog I raised in secret when I was on the brink of a nervous breakdown. He was the reason I could function like a normal person. I had hidden him for a decade, but Mom found him anyway. “Apologize to your brother.” “And… you will replace all this damaged furniture yourself by tomorrow. Don’t make me say it twice.” My mother’s voice dragged me back to the wreckage of the present. I saw the look of smug triumph on Preston’s face. I lifted my head, meeting her gaze. “Why should I?” “You cooked my dog; I smashed your house. That sounds fair to me. Why would I apologize to a man who ate my friend?” Preston burst out laughing. “Friend? You treat a dog like a friend? Hahahaha, that’s rich.” “Then again, someone like you probably has no real friends. Gotta treat an animal like your confidant, huh?” Every word was laced with contempt, devoid of any respect for me as his older brother. I had to wonder: when did my relationship with Preston become so venomous? Perhaps… it was the moment he realized that the best way to get Mom’s approval was to deliberately oppose me. I reached out and delivered a hard, swift slap across Preston’s face. In a few seconds, his cheek swelled like a dinner roll. The force was far greater than the day I caught him cheating with Hailey. The room finally fell silent. When Preston realized what had happened, his shriek threatened to take the roof off. “Jaxon! You hit me?! Are you looking for a death wish?! I’ll kill you!” His high-pitched screaming made my skull ache. I raised my hand again, intending to shut him up. But Mom intervened. Her tone was still deceptively soft and gentle. “If you touch your brother again, you need to be very careful…” As she spoke, her fingers brushed lightly over the crystal pendant around her neck. My pupils instantly constricted. I slowly lowered my hand. Whenever I tried to fight back, my mother would use the last relic left to me by my grandmother, Edith, as leverage. Edith had been the single sliver of light in my life, a small, fragile barrier between my mother’s endless psychological warfare and my own breaking point. She would hold me, comfort me, and find ways for me to breathe, allowing me to keep going. Tragically, in an attempt to protect me, she got into a huge argument with Mom. The strain triggered a fatal heart attack. Just before she died, she clutched the crystal pendant, her eyes wet with tears. “Don’t blame your mother.” “She’s only… she’s only confused for now.” Soon after, Mom snatched the crystal from me. Since then, she had found the perfect piece of collateral to control me, allowing her to comfortably continue her “great educational philosophy.” I don’t think Edith ever imagined Mom would become this. While I was lost in that thought, Preston took his chance, delivering a vicious kick to my stomach. I was knocked over, rolling onto the floor. Sharp porcelain shards dug into my palm, making me look far more pathetic than him. “Serves you right!” Preston adjusted his shirt, satisfied. I trembled, pulling the ceramic out of my hand, and stumbled back to my feet. Mom narrowed her eyes at me. “Apologize to your brother.” He had provoked me first. Yet, somehow, I was always the one at fault. I clenched my jaw, refusing to utter those three words. Seeing her hand move to the necklace again, I closed my eyes and mumbled, “I’m sorry.” Preston cupped his ear. “What was that? Did you leave your vocal cords at home? I can’t hear you.” Knowing he was deliberately taunting me, I could only repeat myself. “I’m sorry.” “Louder!” “I’m sorry.” Preston grinned, like a rooster that had won the fight. “See? Why make things hard on yourself?” He threw himself into Mom’s embrace, laughing brightly. Viola’s smile instantly returned. “Your New Year’s gift is in your room, darling. Go open it.” “Awesome!” My brother ran off, his earlier rage completely vanished. Mom turned back to the remaining relatives, waving her hand dismissively. “It’s just my oldest son being difficult. Ruined everyone’s evening. I’ll treat you all to a late supper and fireworks later. Everything’s on me.” The relatives exchanged nervous glances, but said nothing. They shuffled out the door, following Mom’s instructions. Before leaving, she turned her head, studying me for a few seconds, a hint of regret in her expression. “All these years, and you’re still so weak. You are not worthy to be my son.” Then, she was gone, leaving me alone in the house facing the endless darkness. I don’t know how long I stood there. Until a low, husky laugh echoed through the dark room. 2 After hastily bandaging my hand, Mom ordered me to take a platter of fruit out to the patio. When I arrived, my Aunt Carol and Aunt Susan were gathered around Mom, showering her with praise. “Viola, I’m so jealous of you. Your husband makes a fortune, he owns a company, and you must have several houses by now?” Aunt Susan sighed. “Tell me about it,” Aunt Carol chimed in. “And your son is so well-behaved. I hear your youngest is going to study abroad after the new year. Nothing like my useless boys.” “When will we ever be this comfortable? It’s just infuriating how easy you have it.” Mom took a sip of tea, accepting their envy as her due. When my parents first started their business, they struggled immensely. They lived in their car, slept on park benches, and did every degrading thing imaginable. They were so worn out that they almost jumped off a bridge. But then Dad, Rob Miller, stumbled into a massive financial windfall, and his business took off. Soon, they had cars, houses, and a company. Since then, Mom often repeated: “Thank God my inner strength was enough to persevere. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have made it.” So, when I was born, she began to implement her so-called “success theory” on me. My entire life had been held firmly in her grasp. I asked her once, I fought with her once: Why me? Why did I have to suffer all this? “One person is enough for the necessary training,” she replied. And so, she showered all her love and approval on my brother. My name is Jaxon. My brother is Preston. One name means nothing to her; the other gets everything. It was sickening. I set the fruit platter down and turned to leave. “I’ve already quit your job at the art studio,” she called out. “Loafing around all day—how will you ever amount to anything?” “I’ve spoken to an old acquaintance. Starting after the New Year, you’ll work as a factory hand at the glass plant. Six AM to ten PM, no days off. It’s a fine opportunity. Your character needs to be refined. Now, get out.” My head began to throb again. I rubbed my temples and walked to an empty chair nearby. Preston immediately gathered some of the younger cousins and deliberately approached me. “Hey, let’s play a throwing game!” he announced. “Yeah!” Their happy shouting circled my ears, intensifying my headache. I was about to leave when an object in Preston’s hand caught my attention. They were tossing… my grandmother’s crystal pendant! I immediately shot out my hand to snatch it, but Preston tossed it to the next cousin, who then tossed it back to him when I got close. They encircled me, laughing hysterically. “Come get it! I have it!” “Haha, it’s mine now! Jax, you’re too slow!” Back and forth, I chased the relic, panting heavily. I knew they were treating me like a performing monkey, but I couldn’t stop. “Fun! Hey, Preston, catch!” A younger cousin threw the crystal high into the air, but Preston was still laughing, distracted. By the time he fumbled for it, the pendant completed a perfect arc and fell onto the concrete patio in front of him. “No!” I heard a sharp, brittle sound. The crystal shattered into three pieces. The kids instantly froze, their laughter dying in their throats. I rushed forward, gathering the shards and clenching them in my palm. The veins in my arm bulged. Mom noticed the commotion and walked over. She spotted the broken pieces on the ground immediately. Preston whined, his voice thick with tears. “Mom, I… I didn’t mean to.” For the first time, she snapped at him. “Who told you to play with that?! That was your grandmother’s!” Before she could say more, another voice cut in. “It’s just a cheap piece of crystal. We’ll buy a new one.” “Preston, come here.” “Look what Daddy brought you.” Hearing the newcomer’s voice, Mom’s dark expression instantly melted into a radiant smile. “You’re back, Rob?” “Look at you, so busy you missed dinner. I’ll make you the leek dumplings you love later.” Dad smiled and nodded. “Good.” Preston, overjoyed, took the gift box from Dad. “Thanks, Dad!” The three of them looked perfectly harmonious. It was as if they forgot I was their son, too. Preston hid behind Dad, sticking his tongue out at me. He looped his arm through Dad’s and started to walk away. I stretched out my arm, blocking their path. “You broke my property. You think you can just walk away?” Dad frowned, clearly annoyed. “What do you want?” In his eyes, I was no different from a toddler—just a nuisance. I sneered, just about to speak. Mom delivered a swift, hard slap across my face. “Get back to your room!” I stumbled, nearly falling. The shattered crystal in my palm flew out, crashing onto the ground again. Like the fleeting affection I’d always craved from this family, it was now in pieces. The final, fragile tie to this house was gone. Mom instinctively opened her mouth, ready to scold me again. But after a moment, she regained her composure. She glanced at me, her expression complicated. “Clean up the garbage. Don’t be a public disgrace.” She turned to join Rob and Preston to go set off fireworks. Suddenly, my laughter erupted behind them. It started low and shaky, then built into a wild, manic roar. I was done waiting. The favor I would never receive, I wouldn’t wait for anymore. Expectation, I realized, was a weakness. I flexed my wrist, a sense of readiness surging through me. Before, I might have hesitated, thinking of consequences. But now, I had nothing left to lose. I was utterly alone. I wanted to see if the woman who constantly preached about inner strength could truly endure what was coming. I moved with startling speed, grabbing Preston’s hair and yanking him backward, then kicking the back of his knee, forcing him to his knees. He cried out in pain. “What are you doing?! Let go of me!” I looked up, grinning darkly. “What am I doing?” Then, I slammed his head down onto the concrete, right onto the shards of the broken crystal. “I want you to apologize to Edith!” It had only just begun. 3 Thump! Thump! Thump! Again and again. Each impact was heavy, dull, and solid, like a muffled hammer driving into a chest. The sound of his head hitting the floor, coupled with Preston’s wails, echoed across the patio. No one reacted. Not Rob, not Mom. They stood frozen, watching me slam my brother’s head onto the shattered crystal a dozen times. It took a long minute before a relative rushed forward, finally tearing us apart. When I looked, large patches of blood were already seeping from Preston’s forehead, running down his cheek. He clutched his face, sobbing toward Mom. “Mom! My face hurts! I’m going to be scarred, aren’t I?!” Mom frantically pulled him close, her voice soft as silk as she comforted him. “It’s shallow, darling. The cut is very shallow. You won’t have a scar.” “It’s okay. Don’t be scared.” Preston buried his face in her shoulder, crying uncontrollably, and Mom gently patted his back. To any outside observer, it was a profound display of maternal love. I looked over at Dad. His face was beet red. He pointed at me, spitting venom. “Look at what you’ve done! How could I have sired such a cruel, heartless monster?! That’s your brother! How could you lay hands on him like that?!” My brother? I twitched my lips, offering no argument. The relatives exploded in chatter, pointing and whispering. “How could that child be so vicious? My God.” “Attacking his own brother like that—it’s terrifying!” “Look at him. He must be crazy. Let’s stay away before he hurts someone else.” I pretended not to hear them. I used to agonize over whether I’d done something wrong to deserve their coldness. Now, I decided: if I didn’t get their love, I didn’t get it. It wasn’t a necessary thing. I leisurely brushed the dust from my hands. “Are you done with the lecture?”

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In the third year of my secret crush on Ethan Sterling, his younger brother took a liking to me. So the always rebellious young master dyed his hair back to black. Quit racing, stopped playing extreme sports. Just followed behind me every day, sweetly calling me “Sister.” Everyone could see he liked me. So could Ethan. So he gave me a card: “It’s good that he has ambition now. Humor him.” Instantly, I felt it was utterly pointless. Later, Ethan got drunk and whined to me about stomach pain. But he heard sticky, wet sounds. He questioned who I was with. My breath was unsteady, and I laughed. “Humoring your brother.” 1 This is the third time Caleb Sterling has come to me with documents today. I lowered my eyes, trying not to meet his burning gaze. Adhering to professionalism, I taught him bit by bit. After explaining, a cup of brown sugar water at the right temperature was handed to me. Caleb smiled very sweetly, his canine teeth a bit wild. “Sister Jasmine, are you thirsty?” The teasing eyes of colleagues around were pinned on us. My face was a bit hot, heart moved. Don’t know how he knew my period came. Smiling and joking with him: “So meticulous, did you understand everything I said?” Caleb raised his eyebrows, confident and relaxed. Hands propped on the desk, leaning forward to circle me in his arms. Chest leaned falsely against the back of the chair, just the right sense of boundary. Don’t know what cologne he used, like sunshine, surrounding me warmly. I was a bit distracted, until he spoke smugly: “Done, amazing right?” Only then did I suddenly wake up. Pretending to be calm, checked it once, sure enough all correct. Caleb looked at me expectantly, waiting for praise. I dodged his gaze a bit evasively, dryly said: “Learned very fast.” Waiting for Caleb to leave with disappointed eyes, Luna, who has a good relationship with me, couldn’t help but crowd over: “No, Ms. Jasmine Lane, can’t you really tell he likes you?” “If you ask me, you are successful in your career now, should also spare some thought for other places.” “I think Caleb is quite good, top-quality little wolf dog (young, aggressive but loyal man), typical obedient under bed, wild on bed type.” “When first saw him, lip studs, eyebrow studs none missing, studs on ears more than moles on my face. For you, he has honestly been a good boy for three months.” Seeing me a bit distracted, she hated iron for not becoming steel, emphasizing her tone: “And I heard he keeps himself clean, is the boss’s brother, no pressure, just trust fund millions a month, also smart and romantic.” She rambled a lot. I knew she meant well for me. But she didn’t know, I didn’t accept Caleb, not because he wasn’t good enough, but because there was someone in my heart. 2 After delivering coffee to Ethan daily, I just wanted to retreat, but was stopped by him. I quickly went over it in my mind. Repeatedly confirmed several times there was nothing needed to discuss one-on-one with me, only then dared to generate a few points of expectation. Not official business, then what could it be? Ethan looked up at me, “Did Caleb trouble you again today?” Turns out he wanted to ask about his brother’s recent situation. I suppressed the disappointment in my heart, reporting dutifully: “No, he just asked me some questions.” Unexpectedly Ethan sneered: “Joined three months still have endless questions, then his Imperial College London degree is wasted.” Caleb certainly isn’t that stupid. On the contrary, he is very smart, sweet and caring. Asking me questions, picking times when I was not in good condition. Answering some simple questions, not counted as slacking off at work, could also rescue me from heavy work, letting me take a breath. Not to mention, his constant feeding made my condition much better during this time. But anyone could see, he was pursuing me like this. My eyes flickered, didn’t want to talk about this issue with Ethan. Being liked by the brother of secret crush object, actually not counted as happy. But Ethan obviously didn’t think so, tone deep and slow: “He was born with a lack of emotion and pain sensation, so he likes to pursue stimulation. When abroad, he liked playing extreme sports, drag racing, skydiving, entered ICU several times. Parents and I as brother are very worried about him.” 3 Ethan speaks little. But hearing him say so much today, I was not happy. When first became his secretary, many people praised me as clever, didn’t need words to be clear to understand. Now I wished I was a bit duller. So that heart wouldn’t sink to bottom, even uncontrollably wanted to cry a bit. Could only lose composure leaving a sentence: “Sorry, I still have urgent matters not finished, you can find someone else to confide in.” Embarrassed wanting to flee in defeat. But was nailed in place by Ethan’s sentence: “I want you to do me a favor, as a friend, Jasmine Lane.” Not Secretary Lane, but Jasmine Lane. Jasmine Lane who accompanied him from campus to workplace. Just like back then, he entered the company under pressure. People around only called him Little President Sterling, contemptuously, looking down. Attributing all his success to Father Sterling’s support, he also called me like this: “Jasmine Lane, they all bully me, can you come accompany me.” But I’d rather he didn’t play this emotional card on me. He shouldn’t trample my love like this. Nor should he push me to someone else so easily. Maybe disappointed to the extreme, I could calm down instead. Calmly, like a truly submissive subordinate. “President Sterling, you say.” Ethan frowned, a bit dissatisfied with this address. But soon restrained emotions. Being in high position for so many years, he was long used to not letting personal emotions interfere with decisions. He handed me a card: “Caleb rarely has so much ambition, Jasmine Lane, can you humor him, this is remuneration.” He still wanted to add: “No need to really accept his confession, you just need to string him along…” “Okay.” Before he finished, interrupted by me. I ignored the astonishment in Ethan’s eyes. Just like agreeing to him at school back then, so decisive. 4 Until off work, I was spiritually listless. When Caleb stopped me, I was even a bit annoyed. Tone was also bad: “Don’t you have other things to do?” Caleb thick-skinned, not hit at all: “Yes, for example I want to see the sea now, are you going?” Very inexplicable. Anger hit a soft nail. I died down a bit, couldn’t help asking why. Caleb raised eyebrows, asked back: “You don’t tell me why you are in bad mood, why should I tell you the reason I want to see the sea.” I rolled my eyes. “Oh, then I also have no reason to accompany you.” Strange to say, I could always be myself more easily in front of Caleb. Maybe the power of dislike is just this strong. Also let Caleb like the most real me. A round of eye confrontation. Caleb lost first, raised hand signaling surrender: “Afraid of you, then you smile once and I’ll tell you.” Very doting eyes. Caleb is really good looking, like the mischievous and charming childhood sweetheart in everyone’s fantasy. Made my face a bit hot, very deliberately smiled skin not meat (insincerely): “Say or not? Not say I’m leaving.” Finished speaking postured to leave. Sure enough not two steps, wrist was pulled. Caleb tone matter-of-fact: “What reason needed to see sea, want to go then go.” 5 Shoulders draped with Caleb’s coat, lower abdomen stuck with heat patch he prepared don’t know when. Ethan is a workaholic, after becoming his private secretary, I also accompanied him. Many times were latest leaving company. And now my work task became Caleb. Today is my first time getting off work so early, also first time driving to chase sunset. Car parked by sea. I looked at everything open, listening to sea sound, heart suddenly quieted down. Didn’t even react when Caleb approached me, touched my face. Wet tears wiped away gently, I realized, I cried. I waited for Caleb to continue asking like a curious baby. A bit smashing jar smashing fall (giving up on oneself), impulse to tell him everything. Unexpectedly he took out a bottle of red wine and wine glasses from nowhere. He winked at me: “I asked doctor, drink small amount, benefit qi activate blood.” Too smug. I couldn’t help laughing out. “Just you most meticulous.” We drank red wine, watching last trace of sunlight fall into sea bottom, as if nothing in world couldn’t be solved. Sky will darken, also will brighten. I turned head look at Caleb. From first time seeing him, I always felt his nose like Ethan, thin lips also cold like Ethan. But now I found his eyes bigger than Ethan. A very light small mole on lip, disappeared when smiling. Little bit freckles, very cute. Completely different from Ethan. I couldn’t help reaching out to touch his ear riddled with holes. Caleb very sensitive, neck and face red patches. But still obediently lowered head, convenient for me to touch. Like a small animal having weakness held, obediently explained: “Don’t look scary, actually not painful at all, doctor said my constitution good, pierced so many at once didn’t inflame.” I said nothing, didn’t respond either. Wait till he couldn’t help, turned head to look at me apprehensively. Eyelashes very long, like deer eyes. Suddenly couldn’t help laughing out loud. “Caleb, try chasing me see.” 6 Impulsively finished that sentence, I regretted a bit. Condemned myself in heart, want to walk out of emotional injury shouldn’t use Caleb. I could see, he really likes me. With this guilt, I didn’t have heart to refuse Caleb’s request to freeload meal at my house. Went to supermarket bought some meat and vegetables together. I stood in kitchen cooking noodles. Caleb couldn’t help, squatted at kitchen door with my big Golden Retriever, whispering: “Does Mom really know how to cook noodles? Wangwang, have you eaten before?” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t bark, go sit on sofa play.” Caleb was scolded, rubbed nose sheepishly, obediently left. I felt a bit funny, also completely relaxed. Didn’t expect, not even half minute, Caleb flashed back again. This time he had official business as excuse, tone proud: “Your phone rang.” I was busy cooking noodles, signaled Caleb to answer phone on speaker. Unexpectedly it was Ethan’s call. His tone tired: “Jasmine Lane, latest project bid proposal is with you right? Trouble send in to me.” Probably thought I was still working overtime in company with him as usual. My mood complex, momentarily didn’t know what to say. Instead Caleb spoke dissatisfiedly: “Bro, still making people run back company to send files after work time, what extinct skinning capitalist are you.” Air silent. After long while, Ethan spoke, voice very deep: “You are at her house?” 7 I took over phone, signaled Caleb to serve noodles. Avoided his question, answer very official: “Project proposal file I put on computer desktop, if you need urgently can go copy one yourself.” On phone end, Ethan voice dry: “So late, you keep him at home, do you know he likes you?” I rarely distracted a bit, watching Caleb silly holding plate bottom directly with empty hands. Walking slowly, still had mind to tease dog. Like not afraid of hot at all. Brow twitched, put down phone, took plate from his hand. Looked at his palm, sure enough red patch. Hurriedly pulled him to rinse water, no time to listen what Ethan said. Instead Caleb raised voice, like a silly sweet: “Sister of course knows, she agreed me chasing her today!” Water sound swallowed Ethan’s answer. I glared at Caleb, a bit angry: “Big young master, don’t even know how to hold plate, are you a child?” Caleb hummed twice, like puppy interacting with owner. Also a bit enjoying, tone indifferent: “I just want hold steady like this, anyway actually not painful either.” My movement paused, remembering his lack of pain sensation. Hindsight realized what a terrible disease this is. Cannot sense danger, naturally lost ability to escape danger. Finally hurt without knowing. Caleb saw my mood wrong, changed topic,贱兮兮 (cheekily/cheaply): “Okay, actually not completely painless, need sister help me blow to work.”

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My distant aunt passed away and left me a huge inheritance. But the condition for inheriting it was to raise her autistic grandson. 1 “How much?” I asked the lawyer. He pushed up his glasses and stated a number I couldn’t refuse. “Real estate not included,” he added. My eyes lit up. I patted my knees, dirty from moving packages. “Deal. I’ll sign.” “Miss Chen, do you accept the additional condition?” “Raising a person? With this much money, how could I not?” Lawyer Wu said discontentedly, “He is not an ordinary person. You might need to understand this group of people with such problems carefully.” I thought for a moment: “Okay, let’s meet first.” At noon the next day, I arrived at the agreed location a few minutes late. The team leader at the company exploited employees for a long time. The number of interns he scolded to tears in a team was countless. If it weren’t for earning money to pay off debts, I would have run away long ago. 2 As soon as I arrived, I saw Lawyer Wu from a distance. He pointed to a flower shop not far away, looking slightly helpless: “He’s over there. Go over and I’ll tell you.” I walked into this ridiculously large flower shop with him. It was more like a small botanical garden than a flower shop. “Luke loves plants. His major abroad was also botany. You must remember that his only interest and hobby is plants.” I was surprised: “You mean he can also study?” Lawyer Wu looked at me speechlessly: “He is autistic, not stupid.” I nodded awkwardly. Lawyer Wu reminded me: “If you can’t make him accept you as family, you will lose the right to inherit the estate.” “Then what is the standard for measuring his acceptance of me?” “He is willing to live with you.” Lawyer Wu tirelessly stated the precautions. My gaze was suddenly attracted by a figure in front. 3 The person was tall, thin, and pale, with clear black and white eyes, very pure, looking intently at the potted plant in front of him. Sunlight fell on him through the transparent skylight, plating a layer of fine light. He stretched out his slender fingers and tapped the leaves. “Are you sick?” His voice was very soft. “Is it him?” I asked Lawyer Wu. He held his glasses and nodded cautiously. “Luke, your little aunt is here.” I hurried to wave my hand: “I’m not much older than him. Just call me by my name.” But obviously Luke was more familiar with Lawyer Wu. Without raising his head, he repeated: “Little Aunt.” I tentatively walked up to him: “Like this tree?” He seemed not to hear me speaking, just gently stroking the leaves, like healing the tree. When leaving the flower shop, I bought that potted plant and gave it to Luke. When he took it, he said thank you very softly. According to the contract agreement, I took Luke to live with me. After successfully passing three months, I would be able to obtain the entire inheritance. 4 The apartment I rented wasn’t big, but living for two people was completely fine. Besides, it was close to where I worked, so I never thought of moving out. Luke was obviously very restrained coming to the new environment. The only things he said to me were “Where is Grandma” or “Where is Uncle Wu.” I didn’t hide it from him: “Grandma passed away. Uncle Wu is busy. You will live with me from now on, okay?” He didn’t speak. I thought he agreed. When I came back from work, he was gone. I was so anxious that I didn’t even change my shoes and was about to go out to find him. Suddenly I heard movement on the balcony. I walked over and looked. He was shrunk in the corner of the balcony, hiding behind the flower stand. He sat quietly on the ground, like a silent plant. I pushed aside the dense spider plants. He subconsciously raised his head, his eyes clear. I breathed a sigh of relief: “Time to eat.” 5 He didn’t get up, only asked me: “Where is Grandma?” “Passed away. Did you forget?” After a good while, he blinked: “Grandma passed away.” “Come out, eat first.” He hid further inside, covering his ears forcefully. “Don’t like here, want to go home.” Helpless, I coaxed: “Send you home after eating.” He hesitated and dawdled for a good while before coming out. Lawyer Wu said Luke had been treated and grew up abroad since he was ten years old, and needed some time to adapt to domestic life. At the dinner table, he ate half a bowl of rice anyway. I breathed another sigh of relief. This feeling was very wonderful. He was like a rare plant transplanted to my home, and I was just a novice craftsman who needed to regulate all elements well to ensure he could survive. After all, he was really my money tree. 6 “Awesome.” I touched his head praisingly. He didn’t reject it and also touched his own head. His hair was fluffy and soft, just like the touch of Taxus chinensis (Chinese yew). The Taxus chinensis was the potted plant I gave him. After eating, he put the bowls into the kitchen, then turned back and looked at me. “What’s wrong?” “There is no dishwasher here, but Auntie puts the bowls in the dishwasher.” I rolled up my sleeves: “It’s okay. Go play.” He stood at the kitchen door looking at me for a good while before walking away, alive like a rich young master who had never seen poverty life. When I finished cleaning up the kitchen, he was talking to the potted plant to himself. I approached while mopping the floor. Listening carefully, he was repeating the characteristics of this type of plant. The professional terms he said made me confused. After he finished speaking, I tried to talk to him: “Are you talking to it?” “I am talking to you.” “Got it. I’m listening.” He seemed a little happy, squatting in front of the spider plants to talk again. Could hear that he was very familiar with the habits of these plants. When I finished mopping the floor, he got up and said: “Little Aunt, I want to go home.” 7 “Don’t you want to live with me?” “I live with Grandma.” “Grandma passed away. She let me take care of you. You will live with me from now on, okay?” He got anxious upon hearing this: “No good. Don’t want Little Aunt.” I rubbed my forehead. Problems just after getting home. “I want to go home.” He repeated stubbornly. I had a brainwave, pointing at a few half-dead flowers and plants on the windowsill. “What will happen to them if you leave? No one helps me take care of them, they will die.” He was stunned, his expression a bit tangled. I squatted in front of him, put my palms together very sincerely. “Help me take care of them, okay? Please.” “When they bloom, I will go home.” Listening to this meaning, he agreed to stay. 8 I catered to his likes and arranged the home into a botanical garden. Plants were the medium for communicating with Luke. After getting along for a month, he at least got used to my existence. Luke was quite talented in raising flowers and plants. My jasmine on the balcony that never bloomed actually developed many flower buds. He could even know what time period the flowers opened, sitting by the balcony waiting in the middle of the night, and shaking me awake as soon as the flowers opened. I rubbed my sleep-filled eyes and was pulled by him to look at the flowers. When Luke was happy, his eyes would shine with sparkling starlight, and those eyes became more lively. “Does Sarah like flowers?” He asked me. Since I told him my name, he would take turns calling. “Like.” I yawned. “There are many, many flowers at home. Uncle Wu said someone helps me take care of them, but I want to go home.” He was talking about the home abroad. Luke had a three hundred square meter greenhouse there. “I’ll accompany you back when I have holidays.” He didn’t refuse me this time and smiled and said good. 9 Returning home from work this day, the neighbor grandmother’s eyes looking at me were incorrect. She shook her head, sighed and walked past me. My face was full of question marks, and the door was pushed open. Qin Kaiyang looked at me with sarcastic eyes: “Okay you Sarah Chen, broke up less than two months ago, and brought a wild man home?” I pushed him away. Luke was bringing dishes to the table. “Little Aunt, time to eat.” I gave Qin Kaiyang a slap backhand: “You fucking let him cook?!” Qin Kaiyang covered his face and roared: “Fucking I cooked! He insisted on serving!” 10 At the dinner table, it fell into a weird silence. After a good while, I opened my mouth: “Give me back the key.” “Enough heartless you.” Qin Kaiyang folded his arms, looking up and down at Luke, “He is a relative from Chen Zhendong’s side, can count as your nephew?” “If he can find me, it counts.” I said. Qin Kaiyang knew I was a reorganized family. Chen Zhendong was my stepfather. His business failed and he died of a heart attack, leaving a buttload of debts. Qin Kaiyang twitched the corners of his mouth: “It’s fine you pay debts for Chen Zhendong, but still pick up such a big burden to carry, are you out of your mind?” “You don’t understand.” This is not a burden, it’s a money tree. He shouted: “I’m preparing to study abroad, leaving in a few days.” I was expressionless: “Congratulations.” “I said I want to study abroad and you have no reaction? Don’t you want to keep me?” Before I spoke, Luke suddenly said: “Don’t want him to stay.”

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Three months into my gig impersonating the spoiled trust fund idiot, Grant Harrington tossed his burner phone at me and told me to keep his fiancée on the hook. “Flirt, Jamie, not fall,” Grant warned, his eyes barely lifting from the twenty-year-old on his lap. “You mess this up, and your scholarship money is the first thing I cut.” To keep the lights on—and, more importantly, to keep my grandmother alive—I spent the next ninety days showering Delaney Croft with sickeningly sweet devotion. Morning and night texts. Weather reports. Even cutesy, slightly breathless voice notes that made my skin crawl. It worked. Eventually, the untouchable East Coast heiress actually started to thaw. Then came the night she messaged the burner phone to tell “Grant” she’d sent him a gift. My mind was clearly running on fumes. I picked up my personal phone—my main, private number—and tapped out a reply: Got it, babe. Love you! I sent the message and went straight to the shower. When I came back, the screen was illuminated by a single, icy cold punctuation mark: ? It was my personal chat with Delaney Croft. Not the burner. The situation spiraled from bad to catastrophic a few days later. At the welcome-home dinner, Laney decided to call her supposed fiancé—Grant—in front of the entire elite crowd. I was standing right beside him when my phone, resting innocently in my pocket, let out a cheerful, jarring ring. 1 It was my third year serving as Grant Harrington’s all-purpose gopher. His family’s finances were suddenly precarious, and they were strong-arming him into an arranged marriage with the notorious Laney Croft—heir to the Croft empire. Grant, whose ego was as big as his trust fund, wouldn’t be caught dead doing the grunt work of a relationship. So, he threw his second phone at me. “You handle the heavy lifting,” he drawled, still half-distracted by the ingenue he was currently dating. “You bore her, you piss her off, or you break the whole thing off, and I guarantee your tuition for the semester disappears. Find another way to pay for that old woman’s medical bills.” I clutched the phone like a live grenade. For that life-saving money, I was forced to channel my inner hopeless romantic, meticulously crafting every cheesy line and heartfelt inquiry. It was an exhaustive exercise: from basic Good mornings and Good nights to cringey pickup lines, from the five-day weather forecast to her weekly horoscope. After three months of this fabricated intimacy, Laney Croft—the one they called the Ice Princess—actually softened. Her replies grew warmer, her texts longer, and she started initiating conversations. Until that night. She texted the burner phone to say she’d dropped off a gift with the dorm security guard and reminded “me” to pick it up. My brain must have short-circuited. I didn’t even think, sending a quick reply from my main number: Received! Thank you, babe. Love you the most! The reply was instantaneous, though I didn’t glance at it. I shoved my phone under the pillow and headed to the bathroom, humming a tune. The cold water hit my face, and the adrenaline kicked in. Wait. The burner phone—the Grant phone—was sitting on the desk, plugged in. So the phone I’d just used was… I didn’t even bother to towel off my hair. I wrapped myself in a thin bath sheet, bolted back into the room, and snatched up my private cell. My world went black. That syrupy, embarrassing “Love you the most!” message hung there, frozen in time. Laney didn’t respond with her usual ‘Aww’ or ‘Hug’ emoji. She responded with utter, chilling detachment: ? I scrolled up to her previous message: I left a gift for Grant with the security desk. Make sure he remembers to grab it. I was ruined. My hands shook so violently I could barely tap the screen. The dreadful two-minute window for un-sending the message had already passed. I took a ragged breath, my mind racing for a cover story, before I typed out a desperate, shaky text: My apologies. Wrong recipient. Lost a bet in Truth or Dare with my girlfriend. I’ll remind Grant about the gift. Thanks. I felt like a condemned man waiting for the executioner. About thirty seconds later, Laney replied. As sparse and glacial as before: K. My heart, which had been lodged in my throat, finally plummeted back to my chest. I quickly abandoned my personal phone and picked up the burner. As soon as I unlocked it, Laney’s messages popped up, her tone utterly different from the one she’d used moments before: Darling, my work here is finished. I’m flying home tomorrow. When I land, let’s get the engagement party planning started. How does that sound? I stared at the screen, and the fragile sense of relief I’d just gained shattered. 2 Since freshman year, to cover my grandmother’s crippling surgery costs, I’d signed a devil’s bargain—becoming Grant Harrington’s exclusive, twenty-four-hour gopher. I did his laundry, ran errands, wrote his damn papers. Three months ago, the Harrington family investment firm ran into major trouble, desperate for the cash infusion the Croft Group could provide. Grant was forced into the courtship with the notoriously demanding Laney Croft, who was overseas tending to an expansion deal. It was a long-distance relationship by necessity. Grant, with his temper and short attention span, lasted less than three days before throwing the phone across the room, complaining that Laney was a “total ice block” and not worth the effort. To save his family’s future—and, consequently, my paycheck—he came up with the toxic solution: have me impersonate him. “Just keep her happy, and the money’s yours.” I looked at the pitiful balance in my bank account and took the job. To execute the role of the devoted, romantic boyfriend, I studied Laney Croft’s social media and public profiles religiously. What she loved, what she hated, her taste in music, her favorite novels—I knew them better than I knew myself. When she was stressed, I sent jokes; when she was tired, I recorded myself playing soft piano pieces. Slowly, her detached “Hmm” and “Okay” transformed into long, emotionally resonant voice notes. She started sharing her daily schedule without being asked. I convinced myself this was nothing more than a profitable transaction—until she announced she was returning home to get engaged. I knew my performance had reached its final curtain. 3 I spent an all-nighter compiling a multi-page, hyper-detailed dossier. I meticulously outlined every one of Laney’s likes, dislikes, favorite private jokes from our chats, and even her known emotional triggers. After printing it, I headed downstairs to the security desk to collect the gift she’d sent. I drove straight to Grant’s ridiculously expensive off-campus apartment. When I walked in, Grant was having a loud, messy party with a few friends. Empty bottles and junk food cartons were scattered everywhere. I handed him the gift and relayed the news about Laney’s return. Grant nonchalantly took the box, ripped it open, and peered inside. A hand-stitched rabbit plushie lay nestled within. It was beautifully crafted, clearly high quality, and probably took hours to make. Grant held it up by one ear, his face screwed up in disgust. “What is this garbage? A cheap bunny? Is she trying to treat me like a five-year-old?” I kept my voice low. “I mentioned I liked rabbits once, in a message. Maybe she remembered.” “So lame.” Grant tossed the plushie back at me. “Take this cheap crap. I don’t want it cluttering up my space.” “Next time, remind her I like a Patek Philippe, or maybe a new Tesla, not some kindergarten craft project.” I clutched the rabbit close. I knew it was hers; she’d shown me a half-finished video of it a few weeks prior, her fingers taped up with small bandages. I suppressed the bitter pang in my chest and handed him the binder. “This is the dossier. All the details. You need to review this before you meet her.” Grant didn’t even look at it. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. God, you’re so tedious, Jamie. Are you my mother now?” I swallowed my reply and said no more. A few days later, Laney arrived. Grant dressed in his most expensive suit and took me along to the welcome-home dinner. I walked silently behind him, a human shadow tasked with carrying his files. At the entrance to the exclusive private dining room, Grant’s current girlfriend called. He turned to me. “Go in and grab a table. I’ll take this call in the hall.” I nodded and pushed the door open. The room was dimly lit. Before I could fully assess the occupants, a long, elegant hand reached out and took the bag from me. The hand then slid down my arm, fingers gently but firmly lacing around mine. A low, amused voice exploded in my ear. “That messenger bag—the one you said you liked? It really suits you.” It was Laney. I’d heard that voice a hundred times over the phone, but hearing it live, so close, sent an electric current down my spine. I froze, lifting my head awkwardly. In the dim light, Laney’s eyes finally focused on my face. The soft smile on her lips instantly solidified. The hand holding mine recoiled as if I’d electrocuted her. “My apologies,” she said, her voice dropping to a chill. “I mistook you for someone else.” 4 Just then, Grant pushed the door open. He saw us standing opposite each other and asked, puzzled, “What’s the hold-up? Playing doorman, Jamie?” Laney’s expression snapped back to the picture of poise. She stepped past me, went straight to Grant, and took his arm, offering a dazzling, soft smile. “Nothing, darling. I saw his silhouette and thought it was you for a second. My mistake.” Grant chuckled, and the two walked into the room arm-in-arm. I trailed behind, finding the most inconspicuous spot in the corner. Laney’s crowd was the East Coast elite—old money, fast living. Grant, eager to please, immediately started charming everyone. After a few rounds of drinks, Grant decided to play the doting fiancé. He peeled a large shrimp and, smiling sweetly, held it up to Laney’s lips. “Open up, babe. Say ahhh—” The air in the room instantly thickened. A few of her closest friends exchanged nervous glances. My stomach dropped. In the very first line of that dossier I’d given Grant, printed in bold, red, ALL CAPS text was the warning: LANEY CROFT HAS A SEVERE, LIFE-THREATENING SHELLFISH ALLERGY. A SINGLE SHRIMP COULD CAUSE ANAPHYLACTIC SHOCK. Grant hadn’t read a word. Laney stared at the shrimp, her eyes unreadable, and didn’t open her mouth. Before the moment could crystallize into complete disaster, I blurted out a soft warning from the back of the room: “She’s allergic to shellfish.” Grant’s motion stuttered. But he recovered instantly. He rotated his wrist, popped the shrimp into his own mouth, and winked at Laney. “Gotcha! Just kidding, babe. I knew you couldn’t. Just trying to mess with you a little, see you squirm.” Laney’s rigid composure relaxed. She laughed, a low, dismissive sound. “You’re so funny.” The crisis was averted. I sighed in relief and took a long drink of the juice in front of me. After dinner, the crowd moved on to the usual fare: Truth or Dare. Halfway through the game, Grant announced he needed the restroom and told Laney to wait up. My cheap messenger bag and his expensive leather one looked similar and were placed side-by-side on the sofa. Laney reached for what she thought was Grant’s, accidentally knocking mine to the floor. Thwack. The contents spilled everywhere. The hand-stitched rabbit plushie rolled out, completely exposed in the ambient light. Laney’s hand, which had been reaching to gather the scattered items, froze. She picked up the rabbit, her thumb lightly tracing the small, slightly crooked ‘D’ she’d embroidered on one of its ears. “This bunny…” She lifted her head, her gaze piercing me. “Why do you have this?” 5 In that instant, I felt the blood drain from my entire body. How could I explain? Say it was a common design? It was a unique piece, made by her. Say I was holding it for Grant? Grant had walked out empty-handed. My mind was a catastrophic mess of fear. Before I could form a single coherent thought, Grant’s voice shrieked from the doorway. “Jamie Brooks! What the hell—did you just steal this?!” He stormed over, snatched the bunny from Laney, his face contorted in manufactured rage. “I’ve been nothing but good to you, given you money and a place to stay, and you knew this was Laney’s engagement gift to me! Why would you steal it?!” The room erupted in whispers. Contemptuous stares stabbed me like a thousand needles. “Oh my God, you can’t trust anyone. He looks so quiet and harmless, but he’s a thief.” “That’s absolutely disgusting, stealing your boyfriend’s gift. Is he some kind of lowlife with a fetish?” “He’s probably just jealous of Grant. Trying to get the Croft heir’s attention? Pathetic.” I opened my mouth to defend myself. Grant suddenly pulled me into a feigned embrace, and in a voice only I could hear, he hissed into my ear: “You say one word, and your grandmother’s surgery money is gone. Every cent.” “Take the fall. I’ll transfer you five grand later.” 6 That five thousand dollars was my grandmother’s vital next month’s medical payment. Every shred of my dignity, every ounce of my mounting bitterness, was worthless against that cold, necessary number. I dug my fingernails into my palms, the pain a single tether to reality. I lowered my head, my voice raspy and unrecognizable. “…I’m sorry. I stole it.” “It was so cute, I had a moment of stupidity… I apologize.” 7 Grant smiled, a look of smug benevolence on his face. “Fine. Since you’ve confessed, I won’t press charges.” He turned to Laney and took her hand. “Laney, don’t be upset. Jamie comes from nothing. He’s never seen nice things before. He just had a moment of weakness.” Laney shot me a cold, penetrating look, thick with distaste and aversion, as if I were a piece of refuse. She didn’t speak. She simply took the rabbit that I had just touched and dropped it into the nearest waste bin. “It’s tainted now. Trash.” She shrugged. “I’ll make you a new one, babe.” A crushing weight slammed into my chest. That rabbit was made from hours of her effort—I’d watched her work on it on video—and now, because my fingers had grazed it, it was garbage. The game resumed, the atmosphere now tense and strange. Unfortunately, I lost. The one holding the King card was none other than Laney Croft. She leaned back on the sofa, twirling an eyeliner pencil between her fingers. Her eyes flicked to me, and a small, cruel smirk twisted her lips. “Dare, hmm… Let’s go with this: Pick an opposite-sex person here and feed them something.” She paused, then added: “No hands. Mouth to mouth.” The room went completely silent. It was pure, undiluted humiliation. But I had no right to refuse. I scanned the faces. Everyone avoided my eyes as if I carried a contagious disease. Just as I felt the blood rushing to my face, a plump, aggressively sleazy girl named Tasha Rourke stood up. She was known for her promiscuous reputation. “Since no one wants the honor, I suppose I can lower myself to help out.” She offered a predatory, leering smile. Someone handed her a long, thin pretzel stick. Tasha bit one end, signaling for me to take the other. I looked at her shiny, oily face, my stomach turning a violent somersault. I leaned forward, trembling. Just as my lips were about to touch the pretzel, I couldn’t stop myself. I turned my head and gave a small, dry retch. “Enough!” Grant finally stepped in. He didn’t want the spectacle to ruin his image. “Laney, let’s not take this too far. It’s gross.” Laney didn’t press it. She threw the card down. “Fine. Let’s wrap it up.” Tasha sat back down, disappointment etched on her face, and shot me a murderous glare as she left. After the dinner, I drove Grant back to his apartment. At the entrance to his building, his phone pinged. Five thousand dollars hit my account. “Keep your mouth shut, and there will be more where that came from.” He strode into the house in his expensive loafers. I sat in the car, staring at my phone screen. The burner phone—the one I used to text Laney—suddenly lit up. The message from her was so soft, so honey-sweet, it could drip off the screen: Hey, babe. Guess I took care of that disgusting little gopher for you tonight. He looked completely crushed. Don’t let a lowlife like that ruin your mood. XOXO. I stared at the words, and the tears I’d held back all evening finally broke. 8 The next day, I was working my shift at The Buttercup bakery. I still needed tens of thousands of dollars for my grandmother’s full course of treatment, and Grant’s sporadic payments weren’t enough. The lunch rush was over, and the shop was quiet. The bell above the door jingled, and Tasha Rourke walked in. She walked straight to the counter, not buying anything, just staring at me. “Jamie Brooks, right? Last night wasn’t very satisfying. How about we pick up where we left off somewhere else?” She reached across the counter to grab my hand. I recoiled violently. “Ms. Rourke, there are security cameras. I advise you to back off.” “Oh, playing the victim now?” Tasha sneered. “You steal Grant’s throwaways. You’re desperate for cash, aren’t you?” “Work for me. I’ll give you fifty grand. Fifty times five grand.” She rounded the counter and grabbed my wrist with surprising, brutal force. “Let go!” I struggled, but she was like a solid wall of muscle. In desperation, I grabbed the nearest object—a sharp ballpoint pen—and slammed it down into her hand. “Agh!” Tasha cried out, releasing my wrist. Blood immediately pooled on her skin. I used the opportunity to sprint toward the back kitchen. “You little bastard! You stabbed me!” Tasha’s eyes were bloodshot. She grabbed a chair and chased after me. Just as she was about to tackle me, the shop door was kicked open with a thunderous CRASH. A slender figure in a tailored black suit stormed in and delivered a vicious, textbook-perfect roundhouse kick to Tasha’s stomach. Tasha flew backward like a sack of rocks, smashing into the wall, where she collapsed, groaning. I stared, utterly stunned, at the woman who was now standing between us. It was Laney Croft. Why was she here? How did she have that kind of strength? Laney calmly smoothed the fabric of her skirt and looked down at Tasha. Her voice was pure ice. “You dare cause a scene in my territory? Do you have a death wish?” Tasha recognized the danger. Her fear was palpable. She scrambled to her feet and fled, tripping over herself. The shop fell silent. Laney slowly turned, her focus landing on me. I instinctively flinched. She didn’t move. She just pulled a pack of tissues from her pocket and tossed it to me. “Wipe your face. You’re filthy.” I caught the tissues and murmured a thank you. “Don’t read too much into it.” Her voice was as remote as ever. “You’re Grant’s property. If something happens to you, he’ll be inconvenienced.” “I just don’t want to deal with his complaints.” Of course. I gave a dry, self-deprecating smile. Any absurd flutter of hope died instantly. “I understand, Ms. Croft. Thank you.” My replacement arrived. I gathered my belongings and prepared to leave. Laney followed me. “Get in. I’m heading to Grant’s place anyway. I can drop you off.” Before I could refuse, she unlocked the passenger door and gave me an unyielding look. I had no choice. I got into the passenger seat. 9 The silence in the car was heavy. Laney didn’t remember. But we had met years ago. I was fifteen. My parents had divorced, remarried, and neither wanted the burden of a teenage son. I was kicked out and living on the street. That night, I was huddled outside a corner bodega, starving. I needed fifty dollars for a textbook fee the next day, and I was completely broke. I tried asking the local pizza joint if they needed a dishwasher, but the owner waved me off. “Beat it, kid. You’re bad for business.” Just as I was sinking into despair, a clear, crisp voice spoke behind me. “How much do you need?” I looked back. A girl in a private school uniform was standing there, holding a bottle of water, looking down at me. Laney Croft back then had none of the ice she carried now. She was clean and luminous—an angel. I sniffled. “Fifty dollars.” She pulled a hundred-dollar bill from her wallet and handed it to me. “Keep the change.” I froze, shaking my head violently. “No, I can’t take charity.” I ran into the bodega, got the bill broken, and ran back, handing her the fifty-dollar change. “Consider it a loan. I will pay you back.” I gathered my courage and asked, “What’s your name?” She took the money back, smiled faintly, and said, “Delaney Croft.” That single smile lit up my entire gray, desolate adolescence. Unfortunately, she had long forgotten the desperate, dirty boy outside the deli. Now, her focus, her affection, was entirely on Grant Harrington. The light turned red. The car stopped. Laney picked up her phone, her elegant fingers tapping away at the screen. The next second, my phone, in my pocket, vibrated.

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1 The system told me I’d won Victor Vaughn. The conquest was complete. After, I confessed everything. I also told him that if he ever fell in love with someone else, I would die. But in the fifth year of our marriage, he brought home a bright, bubbly college girl. He let her destroy my mother’s last keepsake, leak my private photos online, and kill my kitten. Afterward, all he said, with a shrug, was, “Ava’s pregnant now. You’re my wife, shouldn’t you be a little more accommodating?” He leaned in, his voice a low sneer. “You’ve held me hostage with your life for five years. This is what you deserve.” But as I lay dying, I heard the system furiously detaching itself from my body. “That damn sterile bastard. The bitch isn’t even pregnant! Host, you’re the one carrying his twins, thanks to me!” “Bye, Host! I’m jumping into his body now. It’s his turn to win you over.” “And you get to decide the punishment for his failure!” I rested a hand on my stomach and let out a cold, hollow laugh. “Fine. If he fails, let that bastard’s spawn die.” … The moment the system left, I felt a flicker of life returning to my veins. Across the room, Victor’s brow furrowed. He strode over and gripped my wrist, his fingers like steel bands. “Isabella, what did you just do to me?” And then, I heard the system’s voice, now echoing inside Victor’s head. [Hello, new Host. The target’s current Affection Level for you is 1. If you fail to raise it to 100 within one month, you will lose your own flesh and blood.] Victor froze, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second. Then, understanding dawned, and his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “Isabella. Are you really pulling this kind of black magic again just to win me back?” He leaned closer, his dark eyes glittering with menace. “I believe I made it clear how important the child in Ava’s womb is to the entire Vaughn family.” “Don’t you dare harm it. Don’t even speak an ill word against it!” “I’m ordering you to undo this curse right now. If you don’t, you’d better watch your back. Your grandfather is in a Vaughn-owned hospital, remember?” His words were a blade to my heart. I ripped my arm from his grasp. Always this. He knew my grandfather was the only family I had left in this world. He knew what he meant to me. So every time Ava hurt me, Victor would have the hospital staff inject my grandfather with a drug that wrecked his kidney function, leaving him in agony all night as the toxins built up in his body. The agony my grandfather was suffering now… It was because, ten years ago, he’d saved a dying Victor Vaughn by giving him one of his own kidneys. Victor, how could you? For a woman who came from nowhere, you’ve abandoned the last shred of your humanity. A wave of pure disgust washed over me. I opened my mouth to speak. But the system’s cold, mechanical voice cut through the air. [Target’s Affection Level has decreased. Double punishment will now be administered to the unfaithful and the interloper.] The words had barely faded when both Victor and Ava turned deathly pale and crumpled to the floor. I watched them, my face a mask of indifference. I stood up, reaching for my phone to arrange a transfer for my grandfather. But the moment I was on my feet, my own body betrayed me, and I collapsed. As darkness consumed me, I heard the system’s frantic voice. “Ahhh! Host, I forgot to tell you not to move until you’re fully recovered!” “Great, now I have to call 911 for you!” 2 When I woke up, I was in a hospital room, sharing it with Ava. Across the room, a doctor was speaking earnestly to Victor. “Mr. Vaughn, Ms. Winslow’s constitution has always been delicate. Now that she’s carrying twins, she absolutely cannot be agitated.” “Heirs have always been scarce in the Vaughn family. You must ensure she doesn’t experience any more emotional distress.” Victor stared in disbelief, snatching the medical report from the doctor’s hand. “What nonsense are you talking about? Ava is the one who’s pregnant.” The doctor handed him two separate reports. “Mr. Vaughn, you know our hospital’s diagnostics are state-of-the-art. Errors are virtually impossible.” “According to these results, Ms. Ava is not pregnant. Ms. Winslow, however, is carrying twins.” The doctor continued, his voice low. “Sir, the Vaughn family line has been thin for generations. For you, it was almost a certainty you’d have no heirs at all.” “To have twins now… it’s a miracle. Ms. Winslow is the savior of the Vaughn legacy. You must cherish her…” Victor wasn’t listening. He stormed over to my bed, his face a thundercloud. “I told you, if you just behaved, the title of Mrs. Vaughn would always be yours.” “Ava is the one who is pregnant. Why are you using these cheap tricks to deceive everyone? What more could you possibly want?!” Before I could answer, the family matriarch, his grandmother, swept into the room with a large entourage. Her face was flush with excitement as she looked at Victor. “I heard we’re finally having twins in the family! Where is Isabella? Let me see the blessed child.” Just then, the system issued a new task inside Victor’s head. [Task: Inform the Vaughn matriarch of the good news that Isabella is pregnant with twins.] As all eyes turned to Victor, he reluctantly pulled out my pregnancy report. But as he handed it to his grandmother, an idea seemed to strike him. He pretended to stumble, smudging the name on the report before leading everyone to Ava’s bed. “Grandmother, you must have misheard. Isabella isn’t pregnant.” “The hero who is blessing our family with twins… is Ava.” Seeing Victor defy the task, the system’s punishment kicked in again. But perhaps because he’d experienced it once before, his tolerance seemed to have increased. He paled and leaned against the wall for support, his gaze fixed on Ava, who was also sweating and writhing in pain. His jaw tightened. In a swift, brutal motion, he turned and ripped the IV needle from my arm, the one feeding me prenatal nutrients, and plunged it into Ava’s. “Why should you get to enjoy this, Isabella? Ava is the one who needs it most right now.” The needle tore away a piece of my skin, a raw, bloody wound. My body, already teetering on the edge of collapse, felt a new wave of weakness. I clutched my bleeding hand, pointing a trembling finger at Victor and the woman in the other bed. I spoke to the system, my voice a venomous whisper. “This hurts so much. System, light them up. Fry them until they’re screaming!” The next second, the world went black as I fainted once more. 3 I woke up in a damp, musty cellar. Roaches and other filth crawled over my skin. Ava was there, surrounded by her people, casually stroking her slightly rounded belly. She smiled when she saw my eyes open. “Well, look who’s awake, sister?” “Was it fun, controlling Victor and me with your little magic show?” “That little helper of yours is gone now. Let’s see who’s going to save you!” With a flick of her wrist, she ordered her men to hold me down. One of them produced a small, sharp knife and began to carve into my skin. One cut after another, each deeper than the last. Warm blood welled up, followed by a searing, bone-deep pain that consumed me. As I struggled against their grip, I saw with horror that the blood-sucking insects in the cellar were swarming towards my open wounds, feasting on me. I tried to brush them away, a cold terror gripping me, but Ava grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking my head back. She forced me to meet her cold, cruel gaze. “I don’t know how you found out my pregnancy was a fake, and I don’t care what you did to bribe the Vaughn family doctor to back up your lie,” she hissed. “All I know is that making Victor believe I’m pregnant is my golden ticket into the Vaughn dynasty, a family desperate for an heir.” “And I will personally eliminate anyone who stands in my way. That includes you.” I watched her, this woman who had shed her mask of innocent charm, now raising the knife to strike a final blow. A part of me found it laughable. She was still so stupid. When she destroyed my mother’s keepsake, she left her fingerprints all over it. When she leaked my private photos, she used her own burner account. When she killed my cat, she forgot to delete the security footage. And now, imprisoning me? She was using the very servants who were most loyal to me. I held her gaze, my expression unwavering, until I saw a flicker of fear in her eyes. Panic flashed across her face, but she blustered, raising her voice. “What are you looking at? Do you believe I won’t just kill you right—” My calm voice cut her off. “Maria. Anna. Restrain her.” The two women, who had been hiding in the crowd, sprang into action, seizing the triumphant Ava and pinning her down. The tables had turned in an instant. But just as I picked up the knife, a playful smile on my lips, and turned towards Ava… The cellar door burst open. It was Victor. “Isabella, what do you think you’re doing to Ava?!” The sound of his voice seemed to give Ava a sudden burst of strength. She broke free from Maria and Anna’s grasp and, like a madwoman, began hammering her own fists into her stomach. By the time Victor and his men rushed in, they saw me, bloodied and disheveled, and Ava, clutching her belly and screaming. His face contorted with rage. He rushed to Ava, pulling her into a protective embrace, then ordered his men to lock me in an iron cage. “No one lets her out without my permission!” His fury didn’t bother me. But tomorrow was my grandfather’s birthday banquet. Knowing his health was failing, he had invited his most powerful and influential friends, nobles and titans of industry, all to support me, to ensure I wouldn’t be bullied by the Vaughns after he was gone. I couldn’t betray his kindness. I couldn’t be trapped here. My face was cold as I delivered my threat. “Victor, you will attend my grandfather’s birthday banquet with me tomorrow.” “If you don’t, I’ll have the system electrocute the child in Ava’s womb right now.” As if on cue, the system’s voice echoed in his mind. [Task: Agree to accompany the target to her grandfather’s birthday banquet.] [Refusal will result in immediate double punishment.] 4 Victor agreed to my demand. But as a final act of humiliation, he had Ava attend in a magnificent gown, while I was dressed in plain clothes, trailing behind them like a servant. He used my grandfather’s health as leverage, forcing me to kneel and put on Ava’s shoes, to serve her at the table, to swallow my pride and eat the scraps she spit onto her plate. I sat beside my grandfather, watching his face grow dark as stone, listening to the whispered gossip of the powerful guests around us. I could feel their pitying, mocking stares. It felt like they were peeling away the layers of dignity my grandfather had spent a lifetime building for me. I heard the system warn Victor in his mind. [Target’s Affection Level has dropped into the negatives! Host must immediately appease the target!] But Victor ignored it. Instead, he shot a subtle glance at a mystic seated near him. The mystic made a small, almost imperceptible gesture with his hand. And just like that, the system went silent, as if it had been completely blocked. A satisfied smirk touched Victor’s lips. He stood up, his arm wrapped around Ava, drawing the attention of the entire room. “Since you are all here, I have some wonderful news to share.” “The Vaughn family has long been criticized for its scarcity of heirs. For my generation, doctors had all but given up hope.” “But Ava’s arrival has changed everything.” Ignoring my grandfather’s darkening expression, Victor gazed lovingly at Ava. “I am thrilled to announce that my dear Ava is blessing our family with twins!” “The Vaughn family has decided that once the children are born, Ava will become the true Mrs. Vaughn. As for Isabella, she will receive a generous settlement and be returned to the Winslow family.” The room erupted. Congratulations for Victor mingled with scornful murmurs about my family, creating a chaotic din. And in the middle of it all, Ava raised her glass to my grandfather. Her voice was sweet, her smile demure, but her eyes were sharp with provocation. “Grandfather, I’m sure you’ll be happy to bless Victor and me, won’t you?” Her words silenced the room. All eyes turned to my grandfather, seated at the head of the table. He didn’t answer her. He just looked at me, his gaze a complex storm of heartbreak, regret, and rising fury. Then, before anyone could react, he raised his hand and struck Ava across the face with a resounding crack. The moment his hand fell, a torrent of blood erupted from his mouth, and he collapsed in his chair. As the room descended into panic and staff scrambled to call for medics, Ava let out a piercing shriek of her own. She clutched her stomach and fell to the floor. When we reached the hospital, Victor barked orders at the doctors. “Save Ava first! Let the old man die for all I care, but nothing can happen to the children in her womb!” “Where is Dr. Peterson? Why isn’t he here yet!” The doctor attending to Ava was a stranger. But I recognized her. She was the one who had conspired with Ava to fake the pregnancy. She looked panicked, her voice urgent. “The patient is hemorrhaging! We’re out of her blood type in the bank! Is anyone here Type A?” Victor’s head snapped towards me. He grabbed my arm, his grip like a vise. “She’s Type A. Take her blood. Take as much as you need!” Just then, the system, which had been silent for so long, suddenly reappeared in my mind. [Host, that mystic Victor brought was something else. He actually managed to expel me from his body.] [But don’t worry, I’ve reset your mission log. You won’t face the death penalty for your previous failed tasks.] I didn’t respond. Instead, I asked a single question. “How is my grandfather?” [Just a spike in blood pressure from the anger. Don’t worry, I took the liberty of using some of Victor’s remaining life force to stabilize him.] Oblivious, Victor was already pushing me towards the operating room. “Isabella, you have to save Ava and my children. This is a once-in-a-century miracle for the Vaughn family!” “If anything happens to my children, I’ll make the entire Winslow family pay!” I ignored his threats. My voice was calm as I spoke to the system in my head. “Will terminating Victor’s bastards in my womb cause any physical harm to me?” [No.] With that confirmation, I arched an eyebrow and turned to the frantic Victor. “You can have my blood. But you and the entire Vaughn family are going to regret this.” He stared at me, then let out a sharp, derisive laugh, as if I’d told the world’s funniest joke. “Isabella, has loving me finally driven you insane?” “Honestly, if it wasn’t for your family’s connections back then, I never would have been with you in the first place.” He leaned close to my ear, his expression turning venomous. “And now? I wouldn’t care if you dropped dead right in front of me, let alone giving some blood.” His words meant nothing to me anymore. I shoved him away with disgust and walked into the operating room.

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When I transferred to the most elite private high school in the city, the entire student body was shook. The top ten students on the honor roll were trembling, because they had long heard the legend of the “Academic God” descending upon them. The first person to find me was the school bully’s mom: “I know you’ve already been accepted to Ivy League schools. Want to make some pocket money? Five million dollars. Get my son’s grades up to average.” I grinned so wide my face hurt and agreed instantly. A month later, the bully confessed his love to me. I rejected him. I shook my head at him: “Sorry, I only date Ivy League students.” The bully went crazy, studying like his life depended on it. I said nothing, just quietly counted the balance in my bank account. The best strategists always put themselves in the game. 1 When I chose to transfer to Sterling Academy, the administration at my old public magnet school cried rivers of tears. They grabbed my backpack straps, sobbing. “Ms. Sage, you can’t transfer to a private school! It will ruin you!” “Besides the luxury dorms, climate-controlled classrooms, five gourmet cafeterias, and unlimited funding… what can they possibly offer you?” I didn’t really want to go, but now I had no choice. Anyway, after my firm insistence and some maneuvering by the Sterling principal, the school board approved my transfer. The principal patted my shoulder. “Sage Hart, you must set an example for the advanced students and strive to lead your classmates to progress together!” I nodded, promising: “Mission accepted!” After all, I had no money and no power. My only purpose at this noble academy was to be a mascot. Everyone knows that the wealthier the parents, the more they obsess over their kids’ success. They pay tuition that costs more than a luxury car each semester, and not just so their kids can party. Caught between the increasing competitiveness of the world and their children’s desire to “lie flat,” the rich parents took action. They demanded the principal improve the school’s atmosphere and actually raise test scores. Not just promote how many galas they held or how many overseas trips they took. Under these circumstances, the principal set his sights on me, the “Academic God from Above,” and spent a fortune to poach me. It was as if I were a golden statue placed at the school gate, attracting countless parents to offer up their precious children and their cash. And sure enough, the first sucker arrived. An elegant, wealthy woman stopped me, followed by a phalanx of bodyguards. She looked down at me through her designer sunglasses. “Are you Sage Hart?” For a second, I didn’t think she was here to hire a tutor. I thought she was here for revenge. My mind flashed through all the ex-boyfriends I had ruthlessly dumped back at my old school. Whose mom was this? I swore to the heavens: “I swear, I broke up with Liam ages ago. You don’t need to force us apart.” The wealthy woman paused, confused. “Who is Liam?” I quickly covered my tracks: “Oh, then Noah and I are just friends. Same with Ethan. We’re just classmates now.” The woman was completely baffled. She took off her sunglasses, speaking grandly: “I don’t care who these three people are. I only know that you are the student with the highest GPA in the city. “Of course, I also know you’ve already been admitted early. Want to make some money? Five million dollars. Get my son’s grades up to average.” I breathed a sigh of relief. So it wasn’t a love debt. In that case— “I’ll do it!” That’s five million dollars! Who would be stupid enough to say no to money? Forget teaching a person; even if the student were a turtle, I’d put on scuba gear and swim into the ocean to teach it. Seeing me agree so readily, the woman hesitated. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. My son isn’t easy. He’s chased several tutors out of the house. He is the undisputed tyrant of the school.” I patted my chest: “Don’t worry, absolutely no problem.” There won’t be a bully here anymore. Because. Your boss has arrived. 2 The bully’s name was Caleb Vance. His daily hobbies included arriving late, leaving early, and wandering the campus with a baseball bat. I hugged a pile of new textbooks and sprinted at full speed, crashing into him. Books scattered everywhere, and I rolled twice on the ground. Caleb stumbled from the impact and fell on his butt. His minions rushed to help him up, shouting angrily. “Who are you? You dare hit our boss? Do you want to die?” I lay on the ground, apologizing profusely. Then I looked up with teary eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m the new transfer student. I’m not familiar with the school yet.” A minion whispered to him. “Boss, this seems to be the new Academic God who transferred here. The one who’s been first in the city for ten years straight!” Caleb stared at me for a moment, his ears turning slightly red. “Shut up, I know that! There’s only one transfer student, of course I know.” He put on a fierce face again: “I don’t care what kind of god you are. I advise you to stay out of my business. Heh, I’ve seen plenty of girls’ tricks. This won’t work on me.” I responded with the purest, most innocent gaze. I sniffled, squeezing out a tear. I crouched down to pick up my books without saying another word. Caleb looked uncomfortable. He coughed lightly and glared at his minions. “Are you blind? Help her pick up the books!” The minions scrambled to help, afraid of getting kicked if they were too slow. I flashed a “campus crush” smile. “Thank you, classmate.” Caleb looked away awkwardly. “Watch where you’re going next time.” The minions straightened up, hooting and hollering. Caleb kicked one of them: “Get lost, all of you!” The minions scattered like birds. Plan A: Success. Half an hour later, led by the homeroom teacher, I walked into Class 1. Caleb’s eyes lit up when he saw me. Then he pretended not to care, looking down at his phone. The teacher treated me like a treasure: “Sage, choose a seat for yourself.” Caleb kicked the chair next to him, making a loud noise, afraid I wouldn’t notice him. I looked up shyly. Then I chose to sit next to a girl. Snap. Caleb broke his pen. Plan B: Success. I understood the art of playing hard to get. I must have left a deep impression on him. Finally, after class, the whole room surrounded me. “Sage, did you offend Caleb? He was staring daggers into your back.” “Advice: don’t mess with him. When Caleb goes crazy, he doesn’t care if you’re a guy or a girl. His tongue is so toxic it could poison him.” “And don’t fall for him just because he’s handsome. I’m afraid a campus romance will turn into a true crime documentary.” Their warnings were chilling. But I had the sun in my heart to keep me going. That was a whole five million dollars! 3 Life at the noble academy was simple and boring. The questions were too easy for me; I could get a perfect score with my eyes closed. The only trouble was deciding which cafeteria to eat at. In this bored state, I wanted to conquer the five millio… I mean, Caleb, even more. Money to be made and fun to be had? Only a fool wouldn’t do it. So, I started secretly observing Caleb’s daily life. His schedule was very regular. Arrive at class at 9 AM. Sleep as soon as the bell rings, demonstrating high-quality slumber. Skip class at 11 AM to go to the cafeteria. When my classmates and I arrived at the cafeteria, we would see him finishing his last drumstick. Ride his motorcycle on the highway at 10 PM. The noise shook the whole street, causing classmates to curse. I slapped my forehead. What if he gets into a car accident? Thinking about my money potentially flying away, I couldn’t help but shudder. No, I had to stop the tragedy. So I secretly rode my electric scooter and followed him. Unfortunately, Caleb’s motorcycle was too fast. I twisted the throttle like crazy. “Fly, you piece of junk!” And accidentally overtook Caleb. 4 Actually, it wasn’t the scooter’s fault. It was entirely because Caleb had stopped his bike and was leaning against it, enjoying the scenery. The breeze blew, leaves rustled, lifting the boy’s bangs. I braked hard and almost flew off the scooter. Too late to hide now. Caleb had seen me. He crunched the lollipop in his mouth and looked at me suspiciously. “Sage?” I smiled awkwardly. “Caleb, what a coincidence. Are you admiring the moon? The moon tonight is big and round, just like…” Just like the pie your mom promised me. Caleb didn’t get my drift. He coughed involuntarily: “The moon is indeed nice tonight.” I got goosebumps and quickly changed the subject: “Um… it’s almost eleven. Aren’t you going home?” Caleb shook his head, pretending to be deep: “There is no place for me in this world, nor is there a return. In this vast floating world, nothing can carry my hope.” “…Speak English.” “My motorcycle broke down.” I hopped off the scooter, circled the bike, and tapped the engine with my finger. “I can fix it. Don’t move. I’ll go home and get my toolbox.” Caleb was shocked: “You can fix motorcycles? Are you kidding?” I puffed out my chest proudly. “Not only that, I can also unclog toilets. If your toilet gets clogged, call me.” I regretted it as soon as I said it. Pah, pah, pah! My image was ruined. How could I urge Caleb to improve now? Unlike my regret, Caleb’s eyes widened: “You… you’re pretty amazing.” I shrugged. Can’t help it, that’s what happens when you have a good brain. You learn it once you see it. An hour later, Caleb held his phone flashlight for me. I struggled to fix the motorcycle and sat on the ground, exhausted. “I’m dead tired. Try it.” Caleb straddled the bike with his long legs and tried to start it. With a twist of the throttle, the bike shot forward fifty meters. Caleb muttered to himself: “She actually fixed it.” His gaze towards me was filled with admiration and respect, and a few indescribable emotions. Inside, I was conflicted. Should I ask for a repair fee? If not, I felt sorry for my labor value. If I did, what if I lost the bigger picture? After thinking about it, I decided on a compromise. It would maintain the dignity of labor and bring us closer. “Treat me to lunch tomorrow, okay?” As I stood up, my hair brushed Caleb’s face. His breath hitched. “Whatever you want.” 5 The next day at noon. Caleb didn’t skip class. Instead, he waited obediently until the bell rang. He even gave up his favorite drumsticks, piling them all into my bowl. I ate five drumsticks in a row and burped with satisfaction. Then I regretfully put down the sixth drumstick. “You eat too.” Caleb took the tray naturally and sighed: “You really are different from other people.” I defended myself: “Studying consumes a lot of energy. I don’t eat for myself; I eat for the people, for the cause of education in our country.” Caleb quickly explained: “No, no, no. I mean, you eat with such gusto. I’m happy watching you.” I agreed deeply. This is called “a feast for the eyes.” Otherwise, where did my ex-boyfriends from the magnet school come from? School rewards? No, my grades and my face played a dual role. Although the magnet school was strict, and my exes and I never even held hands. It didn’t stop me from walking through the flowers. After this day, rumors of Caleb and I dating spread through the class. Student A: “Wow, Sage is the first woman to eat with Caleb.” Minion B: “Boss hasn’t smiled like that in a long time.” Minion C: “I’ve never seen Boss care so much about a woman.” I laughed so hard I was crawling on the floor. But the other party involved seemed less calm. “They’re spreading rumors like that. You’re not angry?” I shook my head and asked sincerely: “It’s fine, small stuff. Actually, I have other questions for you.” Caleb held his breath: “Go ahead.” “Do you not eat with your mom usually? Do you really not watch comedy shows?” Caleb’s face turned black at my questions. “…I have a question for you too.” I tried to hold back tears of laughter. “What question?” Caleb suddenly got nervous and couldn’t stop coughing. Minions at nearby tables took their bowls and left, clearing a large space for us. Caleb turned his head awkwardly: “Um, do you want to be my girlfriend?”

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My new husband discovered my secret. He stared at the NSFW webcomic drafts on my computer—where the male lead looked suspiciously like him—for a long time. Then, he slowly opened his mouth: “So, this is why you agreed to marry me?” Help! Is it too late to say I have a split personality? 1 “Do you have anything you want to explain?” Caleb Thorne, freshly showered and wearing only a bathrobe, sat on the sofa, tapping his fingers lightly on the armrest. Explain…? I glanced at the steamy drafts on the screen in front of him and hung my head in utter shame. “I’m sorry…” Help! Is it too late to fake Dissociative Identity Disorder?! Let’s rewind thirty minutes. I was occupying Caleb’s study, rushing to meet my comic deadline as usual. I didn’t expect Caleb to come back early from his business trip abroad. Not only did he come back, but he also discovered the earth-shattering secret I’d been hiding! “Sorry?” Caleb glanced at one of the male leads on the screen, subtly adjusting his robe to cover his magnificent chest. He let out a chuckle that I couldn’t quite decipher. “Your observation skills are quite… detailed.” Hearing this, I wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole. “When did this start?” His tone was casual, yet it made me instantly obedient, like a student called into the principal’s office. “T-two months ago.” “We’ve only known each other for two months.” Caleb’s tone was ambiguous. His gaze held a hint of scrutiny, and then he suddenly laughed. “Well, it seems I need to rephrase the question.” Caleb stood up. His tall, towering figure cast a shadow over me, bringing an inexplicable sense of oppression. He raised an eyebrow, his voice cooling slightly. “So, this is why you agreed to marry me? For art?” “No!” I instinctively wanted to deny it, but then I remembered that I did have that thought the first time I saw Caleb. My voice trailed off guiltily. “I didn’t expect my little wife to have such an interesting job.” Caleb gave me a half-smile, his posture relaxing. “This is good. We each get what we need. No need to take it too seriously.” Get what we need? I looked at Caleb’s deeply handsome face, and my gaze slowly drifted downward. …If you put it that way, I guess he’s not wrong? 2 The first day I met Caleb, I drew a picture of him. Yes, without clothes. He was seemingly buying boba tea for someone, his suit jacket draped over his arm, revealing a Patek Philippe watch on his wrist. Sharp brows, an aura of nobility. Head-to-body ratio of 1:9. Perfect comic book proportions. Excellent. He fit the male lead settings for my new comic perfectly! I immediately pulled out my sketchbook and quickly sketched his precise lines. But as I moved lower, I paused, struggling with the proportions. “This size seems a bit small…” “Size?” A stranger’s voice interrupted. Lost in my thoughts about incorrect sizing, I replied without thinking, “Yeah, I feel like it should be bigger.” “Bigger…?” The voice held a hint of surprise. I realized something was wrong and stiffly looked up, meeting Caleb’s face. He smiled gently at me, but his voice was chilly. “So, what size do you think it is now?” “101, 77, 95…” [Chest, Waist, Hips in cm] I blurted out a string of numbers instinctively. As soon as the words left my mouth, Caleb’s smile deepened, looking elegant and refined. He took off his glasses and wiped them. “Your visual estimation skills are indeed impressive.” “May I have this drawing?” “Of… of course.” Without his glasses, Caleb was completely different from his previous gentle self. His dark eyes stared straight at me like a predator eyeing its prey. The immense pressure made me nod tremblingly. “Thank you.” Caleb thanked me politely, then extremely politely asked for my phone number. Just as I thought my spring of romance had arrived, Caleb smiled brightly: “My lawyer will contact you later regarding the violation of my portrait rights.” I instantly went poker-faced, cursing internally. Then, this man who threatened to sue me turned out to be my blind date that evening. Beside him sat a cup of boba tea bought that afternoon. —Oh, so he bought the tea for himself. Seeing me stare at the tea, Caleb leisurely took a sip, his tone apologetic. “I didn’t realize Miss Tory was my date, so I only bought one cup.” I let out a “Heh.” Old grudges and new hate combined, making my brain hot. I grabbed the tea Caleb just put down and drank half of it in one go. “It’s okay. Sharing a cup is romantic. I get it.” I deliberately winked at Caleb, eagerly expecting to see his face turn black. However, Caleb just froze for a second, then smiled. “$6.25. Venmo?” The tea was $12.50. I drank half, so $6.25. Realizing this, I cursed internally, vowing to draw Caleb as the bottom in my new BL comic. I aggressively scanned his QR code, added him, and sent the money. Caleb glanced at his phone, his smile widening. “Miss Tory is very interesting.” Pah! Dog man! 3 But in the end, I flash-married Caleb. Seduced by beauty, constantly tempted by beauty. Caleb was polite and gentle, making it clear from the start: “I need a wife to deal with my parents.” “Coincidentally, me too.” Back then, I was stubborn. Later, every time I bragged about “how handsome my hubby is,” I regretted it. —Wasn’t this just slapping my own face? But for now, Caleb didn’t know I liked him. I sighed heavily and messaged my bestie group chat: “Mr. Thorne came back tonight…” I briefly recounted the evening’s events. However, the focus of my four chaotic besties was clearly off— Bestie 1: “Late at night, freshly showered…” Bestie 2: “And saw steamy comics…” Bestie 3: “And in the end, he just coldly put on clothes and went back to the office??” Only Bestie 4 hit the nail on the head: “Tory, you weren’t wearing those Teletubby pajamas, were you?!” I retorted: “I wasn’t! Don’t talk nonsense!” Then I looked down at my Peppa Pig pajamas and thought, well, technically I didn’t lie. “Wear the one I gave you!” Sasha called immediately, sounding exasperated. “Put it on and wait in bed for your Mr. Thorne to come back.” “Tory, tonight is do or die!” I sniffled, gave a wronged “Oh,” and rummaged through the closet to find the wedding gift Sasha gave me— A themed outfit that extremely conserved fabric for the nation. However, I sweated buckets and couldn’t figure out how to put it on. So, I took a picture to ask Sasha. After sending it, I continued to struggle with the outfit. No reply for a long time. Confused, I picked up my phone and realized in horror that I sent it to the wrong person. Not only the wrong person, but I sent it to Caleb. —I nicknamed Sasha “Hubby Wubby” and Caleb “Hubby.” One word difference, fatal mistake! I tried to unsend it, but the time limit had passed. Just as I was racking my brain wondering if Caleb would believe the split personality excuse now, he replied. “Is this also a plot in your new comic?” 4 Sasha says I’ve always been bold. But right now, the “bold” me sat on the bed, clutching my phone, staring at Caleb’s message. After a long while, I tremblingly replied: “You guessed it…” After sending the message, I buried myself under the covers and let out a long sob. —So freaking cowardly! However, Caleb replied quickly: “Prepared for the protagonist based on me?” A few seconds later, another message popped up: “Although as the author you have absolute control over the character settings, the prototype prefers red.” Red… red? I stiffly turned my head to look at the black translucent fabric spread on the bed. My brain uncontrollably imagined Caleb changing into this outfit— I gasped, suddenly feeling Sasha was right. Risk it all, turn a bicycle into a motorcycle! Fight hard, and babies will drop! 5 To capture Caleb’s heart as soon as possible, I stayed up all night drafting a detailed plan. However, when I sent it to the group chat, everyone fell silent. “That’s it?” “You read The Art of War and only learned to run away?” “Honestly, I haven’t seen a ‘steamy’ date plan where kissing is the climax since elementary school.” Sasha immediately sent a screenshot— It was the protagonist based on Caleb from my new comic, with a red circle highlighting a hickey on his fair neck. Me: “???” Me: “I refuse to discuss work in non-formal talks!” Sasha is my bestie and editor. “Heh,” Sasha sneered, typing furiously. “This is the hickey you spent days drawing? Honestly, if you told me a pig gnawed on him, I’d believe it. Tory, the prototype is right beside you and you draw like this? I think you should switch careers to pig farming!” I fell silent. I was enlightened. So, I grabbed my tablet and marched to the study. Just as I was about to knock, the door opened from the inside, and my hand landed right on Caleb’s chest. Hiss— Big. Solid. Want to touch more. Caleb wasn’t wearing glasses. His gaze was sharp with a hint of scrutiny. He glanced at my hand with a half-smile, meaningful: “Preparing for the new comic again?” This sounded familiar; he seemed to have said it last night too. But a dead pig doesn’t fear boiling water. I feigned calmness, pretending not to notice where my hand was, tone deep: “Actually, I do have a favor to ask you…” Caleb didn’t speak, just raised a brow, signaling me to continue. “Sasha said the hickey I drew looks like it was gnawed by a pig.” I carefully observed Caleb’s expression and boldly continued, “You know, one must make sacrifices for art!” I saw Caleb’s smile stiffen for a second. His gaze swept over my neck darkly. He pinched the bridge of his nose and chuckled. “So?” Thinking of the group chat mocking my perfect seduction plan, I gritted my teeth. Heart steeling, I jumped onto Caleb, wrapping my arms around his neck, and buried my face into his neck for a big suck. “Tory—Mmph!” 6 According to my plan, I should have sucked hard on Caleb’s sexy Adam’s apple. Ideally triggering his beastly instincts, leading to this and that, achieving my ultimate goal. But I underestimated Caleb’s height. This bite landed hard on his collarbone. It hurt so much my tears instantly sprang out. Caleb grunted, instinctively cupping my butt to support me, his tone sounding a bit teeth-gritting: “Get down!” “No!” Even though it hurt like hell, I clung to Caleb like a koala, refusing to let go, crying and arguing: “This is for work!” “Work?” Caleb laughed in anger. He carried me into the study and dropped me into a chair with one hand. I instinctively covered my mouth, looking up at him tearfully. Caleb leaned on the armrests, squinted at my mouth, and suddenly laughed. “Art really comes from life.” I stared at him blankly, covering my mouth, unable to react. “Pig gnawing.” Caleb pointed at my covered mouth, the smile in his eyes deepening. “Seems your friend was right.” Me: “…” So freaking mad. “Put your hand down,” he sighed, helplessness appearing between his brows. “Let me see.” I whined, trying to act cute, but was scared into obedience by Caleb’s look. “Nothing serious—does it hurt?” Caleb curled his lips, changing the subject. Maybe the dim light in the study added some ambiguity, or maybe Caleb was incredibly gentle right now, so I plucked up my bear courage to ask for benefits: “Hurt, it hurts a lot!” I thought Caleb would comfort me, but he just straightened up, looking down. “Hurting is correct. Since it’s your work, why isn’t it on your body?” “It’s… it’s inconvenient to draw looking in the mirror!” I looked away guiltily, mumbling, “Besides, even if I draw it, it’s not drawing me…” Caleb took a deep breath and smiled at me. “Seen enough?” “No…” I glanced at the mark on his straight collarbone, painfully contemplating the probability of him agreeing to “one more time.” “Want to do it again?” Just as I was lost in thought, Caleb’s voice carried a hint of seduction. His eyes smiled, clear and gentle. “Or, give our dear author ‘Lady Wine’ some more creative inspiration, for example…” His fingers moved down slowly, unbuttoning one by one. His superior physique peeked through. My eyes lit up, completely missing that he said my pen name. I even obediently closed my eyes when he whispered for me to. Then, Caleb held my waist and pushed me out the door. I watched dumbfounded as he buttoned up his shirt one by one in front of me, his slow movements carrying a hint of ruthlessness. “Rest early,” Caleb’s voice was gentle, even polite, “or go busy yourself with work.” Then the door slammed shut in my face. I turned around expressionlessly, pulled out my phone, and typed furiously in the group chat: “I’m so mad!!!” “Caleb Thorne is impotent!!!”

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The New Year’s Day dinner was loud, crowded, and already too boozy. My mother, bless her heart, chose that moment—right between the turkey and the pie—to become utterly weepy. She grabbed my wife, Vanessa, the CEO of the local manufacturing plant, by the hand, her eyes swimming. “Vanessa, honey, thank you. Thank you for making an exception and hiring my oldest boy as the Chief Engineer.” “Felix never finished high school; jobs are so hard for him. It’s a miracle you—his sister-in-law—helped him out.” “I promise, he’ll pay you back…” I smoothly took the glass of wine from her hand. “Mom, easy on the Merlot. Vanessa’s infamous for being ruthless and playing by the book. She even fired me years ago just to avoid any hint of nepotism. No way she’d bend the rules for Felix.” My mother looked genuinely confused. “You don’t know? Vanessa said… you agreed to it.” I froze. I turned my head, staring at Vanessa. She immediately looked away. “Nolan, you know how hard it is out there for Felix with his background. I just felt a pang of pity. He needed a break. But you’re different. You have me. A job isn’t the most important thing when you’re married to the CEO.” Her voice was smooth, a practiced balm. “Besides, I’ve always provided for you. It’s my way of… making amends, I suppose.” I let out a laugh that tasted like tears. Good. That train ticket, the one tucked away for three years, inviting me south to a fresh start, could finally stop being a secret. … A sharp clink and the wine glass hit the floor, shattering the silence. Mom instantly sobered up. “Did… did I say something wrong?” A bitter, scalding flush of tears finally broke free. I swung around, fixing my gaze on the man sitting rigidly opposite me, as agonizing memories roared through my mind. Vanessa was instantly on high alert, physically stepping in front of Felix. “Nolan, this is ancient history. On New Year’s, you really have to ruin the night for the whole family?” I stared coldly at both of them. “So, you admit it?” The room was dead silent. No one answered. Rage surged. I reached up, tore off the pendant I’d cherished for a decade, and hurled it out the window. “Nolan, are you insane? Do you know how expensive that was?” Vanessa’s voice was a furious crack in the quiet room. I turned back, my eyes moving past her angry face to settle on Felix, who was shrinking behind her. He was wearing a brand-new leather jacket—crisp, expensive, and a perfect fit. Just last month, when Vanessa went to the city for a conference, she’d told me she was too busy to pick up anything for me. Now I knew where her attention had gone. “Expensive?” My voice was unnervingly calm. “Is it more expensive than my entire future, CEO Vanessa?” Vanessa’s face changed. She walked toward me. “Stop causing a scene. We can talk about this later.” “We’ll talk now!” I roared, losing all control. “On New Year’s? Do you need to be so dramatic?” Her tone was infuriatingly level. “Dramatic? How did I lose my job, Vanessa?” I hammered the table. “You told me if I got promoted, people would call it nepotism. You fired me yourself, in front of everyone, accusing me of trying to get in through the back door!” “And now you’re telling me you did it all just so Felix could walk into my spot and get the Chief Engineer title?” “I waited ten years for a shot at the city office. Ten years! And you wiped it all out with a single lie!” “SLAP!” A sharp sting against my cheek. Vanessa’s chest was heaving, her finger trembling as she pointed at me. “On a holiday, you want to dredge up old resentment?” Relatives rushed over to grab her arms. “Woah, easy there, Vanessa! It’s the holiday, talk it out, don’t hit him.” Just then, Felix suddenly burst into tears, dramatically throwing himself onto his knees in front of me. “Nolan, please, stop arguing with Vanessa. It’s all my fault! Only mine!” “I’ll quit! I’ll give up the job! I’d rather starve or beg in the street than cause a rift between you two! If you’re still not satisfied, I’ll just end it!” He bolted for the door. Vanessa grabbed him. “What are you doing?” The crowd rushed to restrain him. “Felix, hold on, talk it out…” Vanessa took a deep, shaky breath, then glared at me, her eyes spitting fire. “Look what you’ve done to Felix!” “Don’t you know everything I did was for you? If Felix hadn’t dropped out of school and handed over his tuition money, would you even have a degree today? I’m just repaying a debt! Can you stop being so selfish for once?” I stood frozen. The truth was, Felix had skipped school constantly, chasing gambling debts. He’d been beaten half to death and come home stealing Mom and Dad’s money. They were the ones who finally said he was hopeless and told me to go to college. I was the one who lost everything, yet I was the one being told to be reasonable? “My job is gone,” I whispered. “You fired me, gave my life to him, and you claim it was for my own good?” I slammed my fist onto the table, blood immediately welling up between my knuckles. The relatives clamored, and even my mother got up, speaking in that worn-out, long-suffering tone. “The past is the past, Nolan. Why make a scene? Just apologize to Vanessa. Your brother had it rough, too. It’s right that Vanessa helped him. Can’t you be supportive of your wife? She has it hard!” Vanessa lowered her head, a look of contrived remorse flashing across her face as she reached for my hand. But Felix was faster. He shoved himself between us, grabbing my bleeding hand. His eyes were wild. “Little brother, don’t be like this. It’s all my fault. I’m a drain on everyone.” “I’m a curse on this world. Just let me die! Don’t fight with Vanessa; she only tried to compensate me, she meant well—” He spun around, grabbed a sharp shard of broken porcelain from the table, and lunged it toward his neck. “It’s my fault! I’ll pay you with my life!” Vanessa screamed and threw herself forward, wrapping him in a desperate embrace. “Felix!” she sobbed. “Why are you taking the blame? If he hadn’t stolen your place all those years ago, you would be the one standing by my side!” The naked truth, a tidal wave of genuine feeling, crashed over the silent room. Vanessa shoved me out the front door. “Felix is trying to kill himself because of you! Are you going to stay here and torment him further?” The cold wind whipped against my face, turning the wound in my heart into a burning scar. I heard Felix’s hysterical crying behind the closed door. “It’s my fault! If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be fighting. I’m just a burden. Let me die!” Then, Vanessa’s voice—a tenderness I had never once heard directed at me—cut through the noise. “Don’t talk about dying. You are the man I love most. Don’t speak such awful things.” “I only recognize you as my husband.” I was hit by a shockwave, yet I started to laugh. Oh. I was the interloper. A torrent of memories flooded my mind. I was twenty-two, and the air was full of fireworks as Vanessa and I married. I was broke, but she was the factory’s rising star. She chose me anyway. “The men who want to marry me only want my money. But I know you want the man, Nolan. I’m only willing to be tied down by you.” Later, when she became CEO, everyone saw us as the golden couple. I was about to transfer to the city, my career peaking. Then she shot down my transfer application. “Nolan, the factory whispers are getting loud. People say I favor you. If you get promoted here, I’ll lose all authority.” “For our family, make a sacrifice. Don’t quit; I’ll fire you. You can collect a severance package.” I was too stunned to argue. She was the CEO, and her signature was law. No one else would touch me. Afterward, she held me, her eyes swimming with remorse. “I’m so sorry, Nolan… but this factory is my life’s work. I can’t let our marriage ruin my reputation. I’ll find you another job. A better one.” I chose to understand, seeing her self-reproach. But she never found me a job. Worse, she made calls, warning off any company that did business with the plant. I was forced into early retirement, spending my days keeping house, cooking, and doing her laundry. I thought I was sacrificing for our future. I realize now: my destroyed career was just to clear a space for Felix. I looked at my hand, the wound still bleeding. I wished I had a scalpel right now. I’d carve open Vanessa’s chest and see what was inside—was it stone, or was it iron? The hysterical crying inside had softened into gentle laughter. I shivered, whether from cold or anger, I couldn’t tell. I didn’t turn back. I dragged my exhausted body into the street, walking aimlessly. Passing under a highway overpass, a couple of thugs surrounded me. “Look at the fancy coat. Must be a rich boy. Time to hand over some holiday cash.” I frowned. “What do you think you’re doing? My wife is the CEO of the county plant! You want to rob me? I’ll have you locked up.” “Who cares about the CEO? God himself couldn’t help you now!” They jumped me. A blinding flash of pain, and I was curled on the ground, powerless. I tasted copper. I reached for my tie to wipe the blood from my mouth. One of them raised his foot, aiming for my head. I shielded myself, bracing for impact. Then a blur of motion. A few sickening thwacks, and the thugs were groaning on the ground. I looked up, a spark of warmth igniting in my chest. “Vanessa…” She stood over me, looking down with a mixture of disgust and contempt. “Well, Nolan. You talk about a future and a career, but here you are, hanging out with bums and lowlifes?” “I was blind. I never saw what a useless, pathetic waste of space you were.” A bitter taste rose in my throat, and before I could deny it, she grabbed my wrist. “Enough. Get up and come home. Do you have any idea how worried Felix is?” Back home, Felix sat innocently in the corner chair. Vanessa pulled a document from her pocket and slapped it onto my chest. “Sign this. After the holidays, you won’t need to show up at the plant anymore.” It was a resignation form. “What… is this?” She frowned, impatient. “I’ve secured Felix’s position. He can’t stay in that dumpy old house. I’m arranging for him to replace you, so I can officially apply for one of the larger factory houses.” She saw my expression and added, softer, “When Felix is settled, this house will be a testament to your contribution. A form of compensation.” Ten years of marriage, ten years as her subordinate, ten years in a tiny shack. I’d asked for a bigger place when I was fired. She said, as CEO, she had to consider the employees first and couldn’t be seen taking a bigger house for her husband. Now, the status I’d never attained was easily handed to Felix. My world collapsed, finally. “Let’s get a divorce,” I said, quietly. She didn’t answer right away. She was too busy nuzzling into Felix. “Red, you’re the best,” Felix murmured. Vanessa stroked his hair, a tender, chastising look on her face. “Stop being silly with me.” Watching their sickening intimacy, and contrasting it with her coldness toward my despair, I was done. I walked to my room, only wanting the box of train tickets. Vanessa looked up, instantly alert. “What are you looking for?” “Are you trying to hide the necessary paperwork so Felix can’t get the job?” She rushed over, pulled the file from the cupboard, and clutched it. “Give it up! I promised Felix I wouldn’t let him suffer!” Seeing her zeal, a dull ache started in my chest. There was no point hiding it anymore. “I’m not looking for files. I’m getting my train tickets.” She laughed out loud. “Tickets? Are you kidding? You think a weak threat to leave is going to scare me?” “Where are you going to go without me?” Yes, where could I go? She’d taken my job. But staying felt like a fate too brutal. I laughed through my tears, my voice raspy. “Vanessa, we are getting a divorce.” She paused, a genuine look of surprise on her face. “You… you know?” Her expression turned jubilant. “I was planning to hold a small wedding for Felix and me during the holidays. But since you’re still my legal husband, I couldn’t make a big show of it.” “Since you agree to divorce, that simplifies things.” She took my hand, a rare gesture of warmth. “Don’t worry, it’ll just be a temporary legal formality. If you agree to sign the papers, I can give Felix the grand wedding he deserves. After he’s settled, we can get back together. How does that sound?” She spoke casually, as if asking me to pick up milk. My heart was bleeding. “No need,” I told her. “I only want the divorce. I won’t be coming back.” She was too high on the excitement to notice. “Don’t be silly. I promised I’d be with you forever.” “Even if we divorce, it’s temporary. In my heart, you’ll always be my only husband.” I was disgusted. I wasn’t interested in being a placeholder. She frowned impatiently. “Since you agree, you must come to the wedding tomorrow—it’s at the biggest hall in the county. Felix and I will be there.” “Oh, and the money you had saved with me? I’ve used it. It’s for the wedding. Felix deserves a good ceremony so no one looks down on him.” I froze. She then took the pendant I’d thrown out earlier, retrieved by one of the relatives. “This is the necklace you threw. Take it. Don’t lose it again.” I took it in silence. She gave me a satisfied smile. The next day, after signing the divorce papers, I walked straight out into the freezing storm. Vanessa felt a sudden, inexplicable sense of emptiness, a crucial piece ripped from her core. She wanted to chase me, but Felix called out to her. The ceremony was about to begin. She stopped. That afternoon, firecrackers popped, and bells chimed. Friends and family congratulated Vanessa on her “new life.” And I was on the southbound train. Later, back at home, she and Felix celebrated. She glanced at the pendant on the coffee table, and a deep, cold dread settled in her stomach. The image of Nolan’s face, cold and final when he said he wouldn’t remarry, flashed into her mind. She felt heavy, unable to breathe. She threw open a window. Toot— A whistling sound, the steam from the old green train, pierced the air. She looked at the metal box on the bedside table. It was empty. The tickets were gone. She realized everything at once and ran to the bedroom. “Nolan!” “Nolan?” She screamed my name, but only silence answered. “What’s wrong?” Felix looked up at her from the couch. “Nolan… Nolan is gone.” Felix’s eyes grew wide, a sudden flicker of concern. “He didn’t come to the wedding today. I knew he was still angry at me.”

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It was the fifth year of my sentence. My mother came to visit me for the first time. She was a legendary defense attorney, a name known across the country. She was also the key witness who had personally put me behind bars. We picked up the phones, separated by a thick pane of shatterproof glass. Her eyes were red-rimmed as she asked how I’d been all these years. I told her calmly that everything was fine. Just as the visit was ending, she suddenly said, “Anya, Mom bought you a house in Seacliff. When you get out in three days, we can start over.” I managed a small smile but didn’t answer. There was no starting over for us. She didn’t know that to grant a final wish for a cellmate dying of cancer, I had helped her end the pain. The price for that mercy was my own life. I’d been sentenced to death. The execution was in three days. 1 A bitter draft snaked through the bars of the window, chilling the visitor’s room. The only sound was the low hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. My mother pulled a sheaf of documents from her bag and pressed them against the glass. “Anya Macqueen, this is the deed to the house. It’s in your name.” “And this,” she added, her finger tapping another paper, “is a letter of recommendation for the art school you always dreamed of. I’ve already taken care of everything.” She glanced at me, her expression a familiar mix of authority and expectation. It was her habit to arrange my life. “When you get out, you should go abroad for a while, lay low until people forget about… that incident. Then you can come back…” I nodded, offering a few polite, empty words. Seeing that our time was almost up, I hung up the phone and stood to leave. As I turned, my mother shot up from her chair, her hands slapping against the glass. “Anya, are you still angry with me?” “It doesn’t matter anymore.” I took a few steps back, putting more distance between us. My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “Ms. Macqueen, you’re a public figure. You should mind your image.” I let a cool smile touch my lips. “We wouldn’t want your colleagues to get the wrong idea.” As I walked away, I thought I heard her cry out, but the soundproofing was too good. I couldn’t make out the words. A cold sweat had soaked through my prison uniform, making the fabric cling unpleasantly to my skin. I casually rolled up the damp sleeve. Under the dim, flickering lights, the network of pale scars on my wrist stood out in stark relief—souvenirs from a time I had tried to end it all myself. I paused, a strange thought occurring to me. Seeing my mother today, on the fifth anniversary of my incarceration, I felt none of the burning hatred I’d expected, none of the hysterical rage that had consumed me in the beginning. I just felt… nothing. As if I were looking at a stranger. Back in my cell block, the guard had already unlocked the heavy iron door. I pulled my sleeve down and walked toward my bunk. Brenda, the convicted murderer who slept below me, gave me a complicated look. “You’re back, kid? I helped pack your things.” She gestured to a small cardboard box. “See if there’s anything you wanna keep. The rest you can just toss. Start fresh, you know?” I opened the box. Lying right on top was a fountain pen my mother had given me before I was sent away. Engraved on its side were the words: To my beloved daughter, Anya. Brenda’s interest was piqued. She leaned over for a closer look. “Hey, from your mom? Looks expensive. She must’ve really doted on you.” Her eyes scanned the inscription. When she saw the familiar signature engraved below it, she froze. Her voice trembled. “Eleanor Macqueen?” “You mean the Eleanor Macqueen? The Iron Lady of the courtroom?” Her voice rose with each question, a crescendo of disbelief. “The top lawyer who never lost a case, who put countless powerful men behind bars?!” Brenda’s gaze shifted to me, now filled with utter shock and confusion. “Anya… with a mom that powerful, how in the hell did you end up in here?” I tossed the pen into the trash bin. My voice was quiet. “Because I am her daughter.” The daughter she had framed with false testimony to protect her own immaculate reputation. 2 As Brenda kept pressing, I sank onto the cold concrete floor and told her the story of my mother and me. In the beginning, my mother wasn’t a legal legend. She was just an intern at a law firm, a single mother with a child in tow, fetching coffee and making copies. No connections, no husband. The man who was my father had thrown us out like trash. The northern winters were brutal, the cold sharp enough to cut skin. I remember my mother in a thin blazer, holding me as we shivered under a concrete overpass. I knew she was starving, so I went and begged for a piece of bread, pushing it into her mouth. From that rock bottom, an astonishing strength ignited within her. My mother was reborn. At thirty, she won the industry’s most prestigious award. By thirty-five, she was a partner at her firm. At forty, a case she handled became a national sensation, and accolades poured in. The same man who had kicked us out came crawling back, begging for a reconciliation. She stood before him, her expression like ice, and slapped a lawsuit into his hands. “I keep a perfect record of who was good to me and who kicked me when I was down,” she said, her voice dangerously low. “From this day on, Anya and I have nothing to do with you. I will give my daughter the best life imaginable, and no one will ever hurt her again.” From then on, her career skyrocketed, but she never left me behind. No matter how busy she was, she always carved out time for me. When I was applying to college, she turned down a multi-million dollar case to help me study. When I was looking for a job, she called in every favor to pave my way. I worried I was holding her back, that I was a burden. But she would just look at me and say, “Anya, back in that snowstorm, if it wasn’t for that half a bagel you gave me, I would have given up. From that moment, I swore I would give you the world. You are my life, Anya. No matter how high I fly, you will always be my only weakness.” That was the kind of person she was. Her principles were ironclad. Once she made up her mind, she saw it through to the end. It was true in the courtroom. It was true in how she raised me. And it was true when she sacrificed her own daughter for the sake of her so-called “justice.” “Sacrificed you?” Brenda’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You two were all each other had. With a bond that deep, she’d still send you to prison? What in God’s name did you do? Kill someone? Burn down a building? Were you running a drug cartel like in the movies?” None of the above. The crime that put me here was aggravated assault. The year I turned twenty-two, my mother was an unshakeable titan in the legal world. She was no longer satisfied with winning corporate cases. She began pouring her energy into what she called “social justice.” She didn’t care for money or power. What she craved, with an almost fanatical devotion, was her reputation. It didn’t matter if you were a billionaire or a politician. If you broke the law, my mother would take you on and send you to jail. Her proudest achievement was her carefully crafted image of absolute impartiality. “This integrity is what put me at the top of my field,” she’d often say. “The law is blind. Everyone is equal before it. Even my own family must face punishment if they do wrong. There can be no exceptions, not a single grain of sand in the gears of justice.” She said she loved the law. But I think she loved the feeling of holding people’s fates in her hands even more. In the theater of the courtroom, she was God. Guilty or innocent, life or death. She decided. I never really understood her grand speeches. But one day, Kevin, a scholarship student my mother was mentoring, looked up from his books with shining eyes. “Ms. Macqueen is right. I admire that kind of spirit,” he said. “Justice shouldn’t depend on who you know. It’s about having a clear conscience. Look how well I did in the mock trial today. It’s all thanks to her guidance.” That summer, under the incessant drone of cicadas, my fate began to turn. 3 After that, my mother started bringing Kevin home often. She’d tutor him, run him through debate simulations. Our sprawling villa practically became his second home. Their bond grew closer and closer, almost like that of a mother and son. Then one day, she suggested he move in with us. “His family has no money, and the dorms are a terrible environment for studying. Let him stay here while he prepares for the bar exam.” Kevin nervously fiddled with the cheap ballpoint pen in his hands. He forced a strained, eager smile onto his dark, earnest face. “Anya, I promise I’ll be quiet. I’m a good student, and I swear I’ll repay Ms. Macqueen for her kindness. If you’ll just give me a chance, I’ll do anything to thank you both!” Looking into his seemingly sincere eyes, I was suddenly reminded of my mother holding me under that overpass all those years ago. Helpless. Desperate. My heart softened once again. For a long time, I treated Kevin like a little brother. I cooked for him, bought him books, and taught him how to navigate the city. He called me “big sis” and told me I was the kindest person in the world. He promised that when he became a great lawyer, he’d protect me for the rest of his life. And he didn’t disappoint my mother. He passed the bar exam with flying colors. On the stormy night we celebrated, he climbed into my bed. My mother was out of town on business. I’d bought wine and food to celebrate with him. By midnight, my head was spinning, and I passed out on the sofa. When I woke up, it was to his predatory face looming over me. And a tearing, searing pain through my body. In that instant, my world shattered. I fought back, clawing and screaming, grabbing the heavy ashtray from the nightstand and smashing it against his head. I sent the plates and glasses on the table crashing to the floor. Kevin clutched his bleeding forehead, his eyes cold as he watched me struggle. “Cut the act, Anya,” he sneered. “Your mom’s not home. Who are you trying to seduce, dressed like that?” Given the choice between his future and my innocence, he chose to destroy me without a second thought. I couldn’t bear it. I called the police. Then, sobbing, I called my mother. She rushed back overnight, her brow furrowed as she took in my disheveled state. “Anya, calm down. If this gets out, it will ruin your reputation.” Kevin immediately dropped to his knees in front of her. “Ms. Macqueen, I know I wronged Anya, but I was drunk! She was the one coming on to me, I just… I lost control for a moment. You’re the best lawyer there is! I have a bright future ahead of me, you can’t let a small thing like this ruin it! If you help me this one time, I’ll be like a real son to you for the rest of my life!” I was only twenty-two. Still young enough to believe in justice, to believe my mother would fight for me. I pressed charges. I wanted to see that monster locked away. But reality quickly taught me a brutal lesson. To demonstrate her unwavering impartiality, my mother recused herself from my case and became a witness… for the defense. In court, she stood on the witness stand, dressed in her sharp suit, her face an emotionless mask. “This is my daughter,” she stated to the court. “Her personal life has always been… promiscuous. I urge the members of the jury to look at the facts objectively. Kevin is a good, honest young man. On the night in question, to my knowledge, it was Anya who invited him to drink with her. I don’t deny that Kevin made a mistake, but in my view, this was a tragedy sparked by seduction, and instead of reflecting on her own actions, Anya grievously injured him.” She even testified that I had expressed a romantic interest in Kevin on multiple occasions. She knew her words were destroying me. She just didn’t care. All that mattered was preserving her saintly image in this high-profile case, even if it meant sacrificing her own flesh and blood. And what about me? What was I? Sitting at the plaintiff’s table, I wept in disbelief. My ears were ringing with the contemptuous whispers from the gallery.

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