Category: English

1 I was in labor. My husband, Marcus, insisted on being in the delivery room. He wanted to be the one to cut the cord, to witness the miracle. Everyone called Marcus Wright the husband of the decade. Then, halfway through the most excruciating pain of my life, he walked in with his young, pretty assistant. She was curious, he said, and wanted to watch. Through the agony of being nine centimeters dilated, I bit my lip until it bled. “Get her out!” The assistant, Zoe, stared at the most private part of me, her eyes wide with a mixture of horror and morbid fascination. “Wow,” she breathed, loud enough for the whole room to hear. “It can stretch that wide? You could probably fit two fists in there!” She turned to Marcus. “Mr. Wright, should I book Sarah a ‘tightening’ surgery for after?” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Such a shame. It’ll probably never go back to the way it was…” Seven hours of torment later, a baby’s cry filled the room. After congratulating me, the nurse held up our daughter. “Dad can come see his little girl now.” My eyes were webbed with broken blood vessels. I raised a trembling hand. “Don’t show her to him.” “He’s not her father anymore.” … “Sarah!” “Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” The delivery room fell silent. The joy on Marcus’s face evaporated, replaced by a cold hardness. His grip on my hand tightened. “You’ve been through a lot. You’re not thinking clearly right now. Once you’ve rested, we can—” “I am thinking perfectly clearly.” “The ones who need to get the hell out are you and your assistant.” My entire body was shaking, a storm of pain and fury. The tearing sensation between my legs was a physical echo of my heart splitting in two. Marcus’s expression iced over. “Sarah, are you saying these things just to hurt me? Is this because I brought Zoe in?” Zoe flinched, hiding behind him with tears welling in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Sarah! I begged Mr. Wright to let me come. Please don’t blame him!” “I just… I speak my mind. If what I said upset you, you can hit me…” Before she finished, Marcus instinctively stepped forward, shielding her completely. “Sarah, you were her age once. Why make things difficult for a girl in her twenties?” “This is the day our child was born. It’s supposed to be a happy occasion.” He reached out to touch my sweat-soaked face. “Don’t be difficult, okay?” I laughed, the sound brittle and bitter. In my twenties, I was working myself to the bone to help Marcus secure his position at my family’s company, Stea Industries. I had three miscarriages from the stress and exhaustion. Back then, Marcus had knelt by my hospital bed, his eyes red, and sworn to me, “Sarah, I promise, I will become a man worthy of you. I will protect you for the rest of our lives!” Now, our fourth child was finally born, healthy and screaming. And he was shielding another twenty-year-old girl, telling me to behave. I gripped the bedrail, my heart a dead weight in my chest. “Marcus, that vow is broken. Is there any point to this marriage anymore?” “We’re getting a divorce. Don’t make me say it again.” “I don’t agree.” His voice was cold and firm. “Sarah, this is our daughter’s birthday. Why do you have to make such an ugly scene?” With the last of my strength, I ripped the diamond ring from my finger and threw it at his face. “That’s hilarious. You think I, Sarah Stea, need your permission to get a divorce?!” “You are no longer her father.” The nurses began wheeling my bed out. Through the blur of the IV drip, I saw Zoe collapse into Marcus’s arms, sobbing. He wrapped his jacket around her, holding her close. And then, as my world faded, they started kissing. 2. Back in the recovery room, my lawyer was already there. Marcus was refusing the divorce. He would see me in court. “Fine,” I nodded, dialing a number on my phone. “If he wants a war, he’ll get one.” I spoke into the receiver. “Yes. Let’s meet.” “I want Marcus Wright out of Stea Industries. I never want to see his face again.” After hanging up, I picked up my sleeping daughter. Her features were so much like his; it was disorienting. I had been so overjoyed to be pregnant with her, enduring the weight gain and morning sickness without a single complaint… All I had wanted was to keep a shred of dignity. Instead, at my most vulnerable moment, I had been turned into a spectacle. My phone buzzed, shattering the quiet. “Sarah, what the hell did you do?!” It was Marcus, his voice laced with a fury I had never heard before. “What’s wrong?” I bit out. “Finally have time to discuss the divorce?” “Don’t play dumb with me!” he roared. “Why did you have Zoe kidnapped?” “You just became a mother! How can you stand by and watch another woman miscarry? She could die!” A gasp of icy air filled my lungs. So, Zoe was pregnant with his child. All this time, while I was enduring my own difficult pregnancy, dreaming of our future, he was creating another one. “Marcus, I don’t know anything about a kidnapping. And I have no interest in your little girlfriend’s drama.” He was silent for a moment. “You’d better be telling the truth. If anything happens to Zoe, I will make you pay for it tenfold!” He hung up. The threat lingered in the air. A nurse who had overheard the call looked at me with awkward pity. “Mrs. Wright… whatever is going on, please try to rest. Your tearing was severe. You need to focus on healing.” I thanked her and took the care instructions. The next day, our family’s driver came to take us home. I had him put the baby in the car while I gave my lawyer some final instructions. My demand was simple: Marcus gets nothing. Not a single penny. “Understood, Ms. Stea, but…” The lawyer took the file, his eyes darting nervously behind me. Suddenly, a hand clamped over my mouth. A group of men grabbed me, dragging me into a waiting van. “Our boss said if Zoe doesn’t come back, you’re going down with her!” one of them snarled. “I can’t believe the great Sarah Stea would stoop to kidnapping. You’re disgusting!” They were rough, their bodies pressing hard against my abdomen, which was still tender and swollen from childbirth. A wave of agony washed over me, and I blacked out. I don’t know how long I was out. When the blindfold was ripped from my eyes, I was staring at a bright screen. In the video, Zoe was on the floor, the white dress she wore stained with blood. Men were kicking her stomach over and over. She looked like a broken doll. “I’m sorry, Ms. Stea, I was wrong…” she sobbed. “I’ll never say those things again! Please, let me go!” The video cut to black. Marcus stepped out of the shadows, his eyes stripped of their usual warmth. He grabbed my chin. “Sarah, have I been too lenient with you? Is that why you’ve become so cold and cruel you’d harm an unborn child?” “Tell me. Where is Zoe?” I met his gaze, my own as cold as ice. “I don’t know.” He didn’t believe me. He leaned in closer. “Sarah, for the sake of everything we were, I’m giving you one last chance.” “I. Don’t. Know.” Seeing my defiance, a cruel smile touched his lips. “Still as stubborn as ever.” At his command, I was dragged into a sterile, white room. It looked like an operating theater. “Let me go! Marcus, this is illegal imprisonment!” I struggled, but my limbs were strapped to a table. I was completely helpless. “Well then,” his voice echoed from above me, “that ‘repair’ surgery Zoe booked for you? Let’s get it done today.” The doctor hesitated. “Mr. Wright, your wife just gave birth yesterday! This is far too soon…” Marcus was silent for a long moment. He glanced at the video of Zoe, then his voice turned to steel. “Don’t give her any anesthesia. I want her wide awake for the entire procedure.” “She can stay like this until she’s ready to talk.” 3. “I’m sorry, ma’am.” With the doctor’s sigh, a cold, sharp blade touched my skin. The first cut sent a tremor through my very soul. With the second, my body no longer felt like my own. Pain, white-hot and absolute, consumed me. But I clung to one thought: the person I had called for help would find me. I just had to hold on. “Talk, Sarah.” “Or this is going to get much, much worse.” I bit my lip, forcing the agony to keep me conscious. When Marcus leaned close, I spat a mouthful of blood and whispered, “Marcus, if I wanted to destroy Zoe, I’d have her blacklisted from every company in New York. I’d make her crawl out of this city like the pathetic stray she is.” “Kidnapping? That’s your level, not mine.” He froze. For a second, a flicker of hope ignited within me. He gently stroked my thigh. His voice was soft, just like when we first met, but his words were chilling. “It’s been ten years, Sarah. You’re not the untouchable Stea heiress anymore, and I’m not that poor boy you picked up.” “Don’t think I’ll fall for that act.” Then, a sharp prick in my arm. “Adrenaline,” he ordered. “Don’t let her pass out.” The world, which had been blurring at the edges, snapped back into sharp, agonizing focus. The scalpel continued its work, and I was powerless to even faint. “Mr. Wright! Mr. Wright!” Someone was pounding on the door. It burst open, and Zoe stumbled in, her dress soaked in blood. “It’s me! I’m back! Marcus, help me…” “Zoe!” His eyes filled with shock and relief. He rushed to her, scooping her into his arms as she began to scream her accusations. “Those men… they made me apologize for what I said in the delivery room!” “They kicked my stomach! They said if they kicked it enough, the baby would just fall out…” Her gaze locked onto me, her eyes burning with hatred. “You bitch! I said one thing, and you tried to kill me and my baby!” Just then, the main doors to the suite swung open again. Marcus strode toward me. “Sarah, Zoe has a sharp tongue, but that’s all it is. And for that, you had her brutalized?” “You think because you’re a Stea, you can decide who lives and who dies?!” “Apologize to her. Now.” I stared past him at the open door. There was nothing but Zoe’s blood trail. No one else was coming. Had Marcus truly covered his tracks so perfectly? Was no one going to find me? “No.” Blood was pooling beneath me. I forced the word out through gritted teeth. “I will never apologize for something I didn’t do.” Marcus’s fist clenched at his side. I had only ever seen him this angry twice. The first time was after my third miscarriage; he hated himself for being too powerless to protect me. The second time was now. “Fine. Very well.” “This was your last chance, Sarah. You threw it away.” The door opened one last time. A large man walked in, holding a bundle. I heard a baby’s cry. “What… what is that…” My eyes flew open in terror. It was my daughter. She was supposed to be safe at home. 4. “You’re so naive, Sarah.” “In all my years at Stea Industries, I learned to always have a backup plan.” Marcus’s eyes were filled with pure venom. “Marcus, you monster… she’s your daughter!” At the word “daughter,” his face grew even colder. “How do I know that? Zoe told me she’s seen you with another man this past year.” I gasped, a wave of nausea and fury rising in my throat. “You can’t touch her!” He ignored my pleas. “Apologize to Zoe. This is your final chance.” At his signal, the man holding my daughter lifted her into the air. “You don’t want to see our child smashed on the floor, do you?” He smiled, and began a cruel countdown. “Five… four… three…” Time was running out. I was breaking. My daughter—the child I had lost three times, the child I carried for ten months—she was a part of me. How could I watch this happen? My vision went red. A scream was trapped in my throat, silent and suffocating. Just as the man prepared to drop her— BANG! A gunshot cracked through the air. The man collapsed. The baby fell, but was caught securely in a pair of strong arms. “Marcus. Who gave you the nerve?” The man was smiling, but it was a terrifying sight. Marcus was frozen in place. “Caleb Sterling?” He tried to regain his composure. “I’m with my wife for her surgery. What are you doing here?” Caleb walked to my side, gently shifting my daughter to one arm and scooping me up with the other. My blood soaked into his expensive jacket, dripping onto the pristine floor. “I’ve known Sarah Stea for twenty years,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “I have never seen her bleed this much.” His lips were curved, but his eyes held a chilling, manic glint. He was the one man in New York’s high society that no one dared to cross, a “mad dog” in a bespoke suit. But as he heard my pained groan, his expression softened. “Caleb… it hurts…” “I know. Don’t be scared. I’m getting you out of here.” The room was now filled with Caleb’s men. His cold gaze swept over the scene, landing on Zoe. She was immediately seized and thrown back into the operating room. Caleb gestured to the bloody table. “I believe you had an appointment for a ‘repair’ surgery?” “Since you’re so fond of the idea, why not try it yourself?” “Oh, and remember. No anesthesia.” Zoe’s face was chalk-white. She clung to Marcus’s sleeve. “Mr. Wright, save me! It’ll kill me…” But this time, no one could save her. As Caleb carried me out, his eyelashes fluttered. “Sarah, hold on.” “Your daughter is waiting for you at home.” He rushed me to the best hospital in the city. When the doctors lifted the blanket covering me, they audibly gasped. “Severe postpartum tearing, massive hemorrhaging… My God, what happened to her?!” My gurney raced down the emergency corridor, machines beeping frantically. Caleb ran alongside, his hand never leaving the rail, until the very last second. “Sir, we’re going into the trauma unit!” “You have to let go!” In the split second before the doors swung shut, I grabbed his hand. “Don’t worry,” I rasped. “I won’t die until they’ve all paid.” “Please… take care of my daughter…” As my eyes closed, I heard Caleb’s resolute voice. “I’ll be waiting for you, Sarah Stea.” “And I promise you… everyone who hurt you? I won’t let a single one of them go.” “They will beg for a death that will never come. That is their final end.”

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My brother’s girlfriend is a certified psycho. In my past life, she saw my brother give me a piece of tripe at a hotpot restaurant. Assuming I was a mistress, she stormed in, grabbed my hair, and shoved my face into the boiling chili broth! “Bitch! How dare you seduce my man! I’ll melt that slutty face off!” she screamed. My face was ruined, skin peeling off in chunks. Her defense? “I didn’t know you were his sister! Besides, don’t you have hands? Why did my man have to serve you? You deserved it!” My parents and brother begged me not to press charges, claiming I shouldn’t ruin his “perfect match.” After they got married, my brother felt bad about my depression and offered to take me on a road trip. But his wife ambushed us, dousing me in sulfuric acid while I sat in the passenger seat. I suffered severe burns all over my body. Yet she cried and pouted to my brother: “Who told her to cover up like that? I just love you too much! I thought you had another woman!” Moved by her “true love,” my brother and parents locked me in a storage room to protect her, leaving me to rot and die in agony. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my brother offered to treat me to hotpot. 1 “I’m going to propose to Bella at the end of the month. I need a high-end suit to look the part. Sis, help me pick one out, and I’ll treat you to hotpot!” My brother, Jason, shoved me lightly, jolting me awake. The phantom pain of burning flesh and rotting skin lingered. I lifted my hands—which should have been exposed bone and festering wounds—and saw smooth, unblemished skin. I was reborn! My heart hammered against my ribs, a mix of ecstasy and hatred making me tremble. “No! I have plans this afternoon!” I blurted out. “What could be more important than your brother getting married? You ungrateful brat, this is a big deal! You are going!” My mom stormed out of the kitchen, spatula in hand, and whacked me on the head. I clutched my head, ignoring the pain because my heart hurt more. Ungrateful? Who was the ungrateful one when that psycho Bella destroyed me? How did they treat me then? Fine. Since I’m back, it’s their turn to suffer! “Mom, you’re right! Nothing is more important than Jason’s future! Why don’t you come too? I just got paid, I’ll buy you some nice dresses!” Mom paused. “Did that whack knock some sense into you? Finally learned to care about your mother?” I forced a smile and urged her to change, my heart cold as ice. Ever since I started working, she and Dad had been hinting I should marry rich quickly so they could use the dowry for Jason’s down payment. When I refused, I became the villain. In their eyes, their son was everything. I was just his insurance policy. After living through hell once, I had no love left for them. Only revenge. Mom changed quickly, and we drove to the mall. I enthusiastically picked out several bright, gaudy dresses for her. “Oh my god, Mom! These make you look twenty years younger! Your figure looks amazing!” Flattered by my praise, she couldn’t stop grinning and refused to take them off. I dragged her around the counters, accessorizing her with jewelry, a shawl, and a sun hat. I even took her for a makeover—full makeup and a new hairdo. By the time I was done, she looked like a flashy, nouveau riche madame. Finally, I suggested buying her a gold bangle. Walking out of the jewelry store, Mom was over the moon, praising my newfound filial piety. I checked my watch and pointed to the hotpot restaurant. “Mom, we’ve been walking for hours. Let’s eat?” Her face fell. “Eat, eat, eat! You only know how to eat! We haven’t even looked at your brother’s suit yet!” I smiled. “Jason’s probably tired from carrying all your bags. Let’s eat first, then shop?” Jason quickly agreed, and Mom relented. Inside, I grabbed the window seat—the exact spot I sat in my past life. But this time, I gave it to Mom. Once the food arrived, I excused myself to use the restroom. From a distance, I saw Bella walking in, arm-in-arm with her best friend. My heart pounded like a drum. I ducked behind a corner. Just like before, her friend spotted Jason. “Bella, look! Isn’t that your boyfriend? Why is he eating with another woman?” Bella looked up and saw Jason laughing as he put a piece of tripe into the bowl of a woman with big wavy hair and flashy clothes—my mom. She noticed the pile of shopping bags next to them, and her sanity snapped. “That cheating bastard! Shopping with a mistress behind my back? I’ll skin her alive!” Bella charged into the restaurant like a rabid lioness. Before anyone could react… She grabbed my mom by the hair and slammed her face into the boiling red chili broth! 2 “Shameless slut! You dare seduce my man?! I’ll melt your face off!” “AHHHHHH—!” My mom let out a blood-curdling scream as her face was submerged in the scalding liquid. “Bella, are you crazy?! Stop!” Jason jumped up to stop her, but Bella’s friend blocked him. Mom struggled violently, screaming in agony. She reached out to claw at Bella, revealing the brand-new gold bangle on her wrist. Bella saw red. “Jason, you piece of shit! I ask for jewelry and you make excuses, but you buy gold for this whore?! How dare you?!” She let go of Mom’s hair to snatch the bangle. Mom, delirious with pain, instinctively protected her jewelry. This enraged Bella even further. “Bitch! You dare hide it?!” She grabbed a glass bottle of plum juice from the table and smashed it onto Mom’s hand. Crash! The glass shattered, slicing deep into Mom’s hand. Blood gushed everywhere. Mom screamed, her voice distorted by pain. Bella ripped the bangle off her wrist. “Mine now!” She slipped the bangle onto her own wrist and kicked Mom, who was curled up on the floor, writhing. “Pah! Homewrecker! Try touching my husband again and I’ll kill you!” Everyone froze, stunned by her sudden, brutal violence. Jason finally broke past the friend, roaring: “Bella, are you insane?! That’s my mother!” Bella froze mid-kick. “What did you say?” Mom clutched her bleeding face, rolling on the floor. “My face! It hurts! Son, help me!” “Auntie… I’m sorry, I thought…” Bella’s face went pale. She tried to help Mom up, but Mom slapped her away. “Get away from me! Son, take me to the hospital! It hurts!” Jason scooped Mom up and ran for the exit, not even glancing at Bella. But knowing she was in trouble, Bella followed them. I stepped out from the corner, filled with dark satisfaction. In my past life, I was the one shoved into that boiling pot. When Bella found out the truth, she just sneered, “I didn’t know you were his sister. Besides, you’re an adult, can’t you feed yourself? Why did my man have to serve you? You deserved it!” My face was ruined, skin sloughing off. Yet she blocked Jason from taking me to the hospital. “You say she’s your sister? Don’t lie to me!” I missed the critical window for treatment. My face became a permanent mask of scars. My family convinced me not to call the police. “It was a mistake. Your face is already ruined, why ruin your brother’s happiness? Don’t be selfish!” Jason hugged Bella and said, “Sis, Bella just loves me too much. We’re family now. Don’t hold a grudge. We’ll take care of you!” Because of that “accident,” I lost my job, my dignity, and my life. I hid in the dark, wrapped up like a mummy, living like a rat. After they got married, they forgot I existed. Until that trip. Bella was away, and Jason, feeling a rare pang of guilt, took me on a road trip. On the third day, Bella ambushed us. She dragged me out of the car by my hair and poured acid over me. “Bitch! Seducing my husband while I’m away? I’ll peel your skin off!” The pain was indescribable. I screamed and rolled on the ground as my flesh burned. When Jason arrived and she realized it was me, she used the same excuse: “Who told her to cover up like that? I just love you too much! I thought you were cheating!” Jason didn’t take me to the hospital. He took me home. My parents saw me and nearly fainted. After hearing the story, they decided to protect Bella. “Daughter, don’t blame us. Even if we save you, you’re ruined. Better to save the money for your brother and Bella’s future children!” They locked me in the storage room to rot. I died in agony, infection eating me alive. After I died, they spread rumors that I went crazy from my disfigurement, tried to attack someone with acid, and hurt myself. I suffered in life and was slandered in death. This time, I will make every single one of them taste their own karma. The show has just begun! 3 My phone rang incessantly. I finally picked up. “周小西 (Zhou Xiaoxi – My name), where the hell are you?! Mom is hurt! Come to the hospital!” I arrived at the hospital and met Bella’s scrutinizing gaze. “Hi sister-in-law, I’m Jason’s sister. How’s Mom?” Even though I identified myself immediately, Bella still looked hostile. “He never told me his sister was this old.” “I’m two years younger than Jason. And sister-in-law, he never told me you were this pretty!” Flattery worked. Her expression softened. Jason wheeled Mom out. Her face was swollen, covered in blisters, skin peeling. Her left hand was bandaged after glass removal. She looked worse than I did in my past life. When the doctor said she had deep burns, permanent disfigurement, and needed multiple skin grafts, she broke down. I threw myself on her, wailing. “Mom! Who did this to you?! Make them pay!” Mom glared at Bella. She pushed me away and slapped Bella with her good hand. “Bitch! You ruined my face! I’m sending you to jail!” Bella cowered behind Jason. Dad arrived in the chaos. Seeing Mom’s ghostly face, he almost collapsed. “What happened?!” After hearing the story, Mom demanded Jason call the police and dump Bella. Bella cried, using the same lines as before. “I didn’t mean to! I just love Jason too much!” I smirked internally and used Mom’s own words against her. “Mom, it was a misunderstanding. Jason and Bella are getting married. You can’t be selfish and ruin their happiness!” Bella nodded frantically. “Yes! Uncle, Auntie, I’m so sorry! Honey, I don’t need a dowry or jewelry! I’ll marry you and take care of your parents to make up for this!” Jason and Dad looked pleased. But the knife hurts differently when it’s in your own flesh. Mom refused. “No! I won’t let my son marry this vicious bitch! Get out!” Seeing Bella about to leave, I jumped in. This wasn’t enough suffering yet. “Mom, don’t be impulsive. Think about Jason’s future!” I whispered in her ear, and Mom finally relented. “Fine. But you pay for everything! Medical bills, surgery, and my retirement!” Bella gasped. The doctor estimated costs in the millions. Seeing her hesitate, Mom screamed about jail again. I pulled Bella aside. “Sister-in-law, Mom is just angry. She loves Jason! Once you get married and have a baby, she won’t make you pay anymore!” Jason joined in. “Yes, baby, just calm her down. Or you really will go to jail!” Bella gritted her teeth and agreed. They got their marriage certificate the next day. No wedding. Bella’s parents were dead, so she moved in with us. For a woman like her—insecure and possessive—status matters more than money. Mom knew this. To get revenge, she played the evil mother-in-law card hard. Using her injury as an excuse, she fought Bella for Jason’s attention constantly. She made Bella cook complicated meals, forced Jason to video call her in front of Bella, and acted like a baby. Late at night, she’d knock on their door, demanding Jason apply her ointment. When I wasn’t home, she even made Jason sponge bathe her. Bella finally exploded. She called Mom shameless. Mom retorted, enjoying Bella’s rage: “You have a dirty mind! I bathed him when he was a baby! Now I’m hurt, it’s only right he helps me!” “And you! Married two months and still acting like a brat? One more word and I’ll send you to the police station to learn some manners!” Bella lost again. She felt like she was going crazy. She complained to Jason, but his patience was gone. “You’re overthinking it! Mom is like this because of you! You should take it!” “Don’t fight her. If she calls the cops, no one can save you!” Exhausted by the constant war at home, Jason started using work as an excuse to stay out late. Furious at Jason’s avoidance, Bella tried to trigger Mom. She told Mom that Dad coming home late meant he was cheating on his “ugly old wife.” “Mom, you think Dad is working for your medical bills? Maybe he has a mistress!” Mom exploded. “Bullshit! Only a psycho sees cheaters everywhere!” “If not for you ruining me, would they have to work this hard?!” “You crazy woman! He’s avoiding you, not me!” That sentence planted a seed of doubt in Bella’s mind. She stopped arguing and stormed out. For the next few days, I followed her. She was stalking Jason. But Jason was genuinely working. He hadn’t done anything wrong. One day, Bella cornered me with a long hair she found. “Xiaoxi (Sisi), have you been in your brother’s car lately?” I shook my head. “No, I haven’t seen him in days. He’s so busy!” She clenched her fist, eyes murderous, and slammed her door. I smiled. I knew what was coming. That night, I stayed home to watch the show. Bella didn’t come back, but Jason did. He drank water, complaining about a demanding female client. Just as he dropped her off at a 5-star hotel, his phone rang. He picked up, and his face crumbled. He screamed: “Bella, are you insane?! Where the hell are you?!” 4 Bella’s maniacal laughter came through the phone, mixed with a woman’s screams. Whatever she said made Jason almost crush his phone. “I’m warning you, don’t do anything! She’s not someone we can offend…” Bella hung up. “Fuck!” Jason smashed his phone and ran out. He bumped into Dad coming home. “What’s wrong?” I grabbed them. “Bad news! Bella’s psycho mode is activated!” “I think she’s beating someone up again!” “What?!” My parents turned pale. Mom grabbed a scarf to hide her face, and we chased after Jason. We arrived at the city’s top luxury hotel. The lobby was packed. Pushing through the crowd, the scene was chaotic. Bella looked like a demon from hell, straddling a woman, slapping her left and right. Jason roared, trying to drag her off, but she had a death grip on the woman’s hair. “You’re still protecting this slut!” She bit Jason’s arm. He let go in pain. “Everyone look! This fox seduced my husband! Opening a room in this expensive hotel!” Jason screamed, “Shut up! Nothing happened! She’s a client!” Bella’s friend blocked him. “Oh please! We’ve been tracking you for days! You think you’re slick?” “Touch me and I’ll sue for harassment! Guilt makes you violent!” Jason was frantic but couldn’t touch her. He tried to show his phone for proof, but remembered he smashed it. He begged the crowd for help. I watched his desperation with glee. Bella thought he was protecting the mistress. She snapped completely. She kicked the woman in the waist with her stilettos. The woman groaned, curling up. “Jason, help me!” The woman clutched her bathrobe, trying to cover herself. “Still using that mouth to seduce my husband?” Bella kicked her in the mouth. Blood sprayed. I stepped in, pretending to help. “Sister-in-law, this must be a misunderstanding! Hitting people is illegal!” Mom and Dad begged the crowd not to call the police, saying we’d settle privately. They didn’t want Bella arrested because it would ruin their future grandchild’s chances of getting a government job. “Stop being crazy! She really is a client! Nothing happened!” Jason’s defense only fueled Bella’s madness. She started ripping the woman’s robe off. The woman was covered in bruises. Bella had been beating her for a while. “Pah! What client meets late at night in a robe? Jason, do you think I’m three?!” “This slut slept her way to the top! I’ll show everyone what she really is!” The woman screamed. Jason lost it. He kicked the friend away and slapped Bella hard. “You are insane! She is our biggest client! You ruined my project!” “Do you want me to get fired?!” That slap was like pouring gasoline on fire.

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My adoptive mother disappeared in the national forest. My husband, a park ranger, took only a few seconds to start searching in the completely opposite direction. When I realized his mistake, I stumbled through the brush, rushing to the front of the search party to point them the right way. But he just shoved me aside. “Are you the ranger, or am I? My gut is never wrong!” It wasn’t until he returned from that wrong path, carrying another woman on his back, that I understood. As his old flame, Mina, threw herself into his arms, sobbing with relief, the truth hit me. He deliberately chose the wrong direction just to save her mother. My mother was found a day later, not far from the correct trail. Her leg had been shattered by a bear trap. She had bled to death. Seeing her cold, lifeless body on the hospital gurney, my vision turned red. I lunged at my husband, screaming, tearing at him, demanding to know why he hadn’t saved her. Mina, seeing her hero under attack, snatched a scalpel from a nearby tray and plunged it through my carotid artery. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the exact moment my husband chose the wrong path. 1 “The tracks disappear here! This way, men! Follow me!” The familiar words echoed in my head, jolting me back to consciousness. My eyes snapped open to see Alex waving his arm, about to lead the search party down the wrong trail. It was happening all over again. In my last life, Alex had insisted my mother was lost on the other side of the mountain. I had screamed myself hoarse, telling them it was the wrong way. I had scrambled to the front of the line, trying to get him to just look again at the signs. He had simply pushed me away. “Are you the park ranger, or am I, Lily? I know these woods like the back of my hand. My instincts are never wrong!” he’d yelled. “Mom is missing, and you’re just making a scene! We’re losing precious time, and if anything happens to her, that’s on you! Besides, she’s my mother too. You think I wouldn’t try to save her?” Oh, you would. You absolutely would choose not to. I had trusted his judgment completely, letting him lead everyone down that fateful fork in the trail. And he did find someone. Just not my mother. The woman he carried on his shoulders was the mother of his first love, Mina. Meanwhile, my own mother was just off the main trail, her legs crushed in a steel trap, waiting alone for a rescue that came too late. A local found her a day later, but she had already bled out. This time, I would not let my mother die again. Done trying to reason with Alex, I spun around and ran back to the command post to find the Chief Ranger. “The other path at the fork! That was my mother’s last known route!” Alex saw me talking to the Captain and stormed back, grabbing my arm. “Sorry, Captain. My wife doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” He tightened his grip. “I already checked that other trail. It’s well-traveled, a safe route. There’s no way anyone could get lost there.” He pulled me aside, his voice a low hiss. “Don’t cause any more trouble! Leave this to the professionals. Just wait here quietly!” I ignored him, wrenching my arm free and turning back to the Captain. Alex’s patience snapped. He slapped me across the face, the force sending me stumbling to the ground. “Lily! I told you to stop this nonsense!” he roared. “How could anyone go missing on a path people use every day?” The slap left my ears ringing, but I didn’t care. I crawled on my hands and knees to the Captain’s feet. “Please,” I begged, “please, save my mother!” Alex moved to drag me away, but the Captain held up a hand, stopping him. “Hold on,” the Captain said, his eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me you unilaterally dismissed the possibility of her being on the other trail, Ranger?” Alex froze, a flicker of panic in his eyes. A ranger knows the forest, but no one can be 100% certain where a missing person might be. Standard procedure was to dispatch teams to every possible route from a fork. By insisting on taking the entire team down one path, Alex had blatantly violated protocol. He scrambled for an excuse. “No, it’s not like that. The other path leads to a much more remote area. The chances of her being lost there without being found are much higher…” His voice trailed off, his confidence evaporating under the Captain’s cold stare. The Captain shot him a look of utter disdain before giving the order. “Split into two teams. Find her, now.” The Captain had intended for Alex to lead the team searching for our mother, but Alex deliberately broke away from his assigned group and sprinted toward the other trail. Watching his eager silhouette disappear down the wrong path, my last ounce of hope for him withered and died. 2 About ten minutes later, the Captain’s voice crackled over the radio. “We’ve got her! Her leg is caught in a bear trap, it’s shattered. Is the ambulance here yet?” “Negative!” someone replied. Panic seized me. I snatched the radio from the Captain’s belt. “I can provide first aid! I’m a doctor! What’s the location? I’m coming now!” I ran, my feet flying over the uneven ground, a single prayer chanting in my mind. Don’t die, Mom. Please, just hold on. I’m almost there. You have to hold on! When I finally reached her, she had already lost too much blood and slipped into unconsciousness. She was lying on a stretcher, cold and pale, just like the last time I saw her. A sob escaped my lips, and I collapsed over her body, weeping. The Captain pulled me back. “Quick! Back to the command post! We have oxygen tanks there!” Right. She needed oxygen, a blood transfusion. She wasn’t dead yet. I wiped my tears, nodded, and scrambled to my feet, following the team back. But when we arrived, the command post was filled with cheers. Alex stood there, covered in mud, with a woman on his back. I recognized her instantly: Mina’s mother. Unlike last time, with the search party split, her rescue had been rougher. There were several bloody gashes on her thigh, and she too was unconscious. I could only scoff. What a performance. A few scratches and she faints? I tried to ignore it, but Alex believed her act. He had commandeered the entire medical kit for her. What about my mother? “Wait!” I yelled, running over. “Give me one of those oxygen tanks!” I tried to wrestle one away from him. Alex’s face was a mask of grim determination. He shoved me back with his body, sending me sprawling to the ground. “Mina’s mother needs oxygen! A life is on the line, Lily! When are you going to stop this selfish act?” He completely ignored my mother, bleeding and broken nearby, to lavish attention and resources on a woman with a few superficial wounds. Was he really so blind he couldn’t see who was in mortal danger? With no other choice, I grabbed a sturdy branch from the ground, tore a strip from my white sundress, and began to fashion a crude splint to stabilize my mother’s fractured leg. 3 Even unconscious, my mother’s muscles trembled in agony. It was a small mercy she was out; the pain of setting a shattered bone like this would have made her pass out all over again. But she still needed oxygen. I gently pried open her mouth, clearing the dirt and blood from her airway. Then, kneeling beside her, I laced my fingers together and began chest compressions. Thank God we found her in time. We were still within the fifteen-minute golden window for resuscitation. After two long minutes of pumping, my arms aching, my mother finally stirred. “Lily? Where’s… Alex?” Seeing her eyes flutter open, I burst into tears of joy. She tried to lift her hand to wipe them away. “My child… why are you crying… I’m all right now…” “I’m not crying, Mom,” I choked out. “I’m just so happy!” Suddenly, a triumphant shout came from Alex. “That’s wonderful! You’re awake! I didn’t let Mina down!” I turned to see him helping Mina’s mother, who was now breathing from an oxygen mask. He was animatedly telling her how he’d defied everyone to come and save her. A chill spread through my heart. The woman who had raised us from childhood was still clinging to life, and he had the nerve to brag to another woman’s mother about how he had fulfilled his “promise.” My mother’s flicker of consciousness faded, and her eyes rolled back as she passed out again. “Mom!” I screamed, scrambling over to the medical station. “The oxygen tank… where’s the oxygen?!” As I frantically searched, Alex finally decided to pay me some attention. He grabbed my arm, yanking me back. “What do you think you’re doing?!” I spun around and slapped him, hard. “I’m asking you where the FUCK the oxygen is!” Everyone froze, stunned into silence. Just then, a hand tangled itself in my hair, yanking my head back so hard I nearly fell. 4 Mina stood over me, her eyes filled with tears as she looked at her mother’s minor injuries. “Alex, what happened? Why is my mom hurt? I told you exactly where her signal was lost!” Alex just glanced silently in my direction, and Mina immediately understood. “It was you!” she shrieked, her voice venomous. “It was you, wasn’t it?! You’re the reason my mom got hurt!” She lunged, trying to claw at me. Her sharp nails dug into my scalp as she pulled my hair. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? My mother has hypoglycemia! If anything happens to her, I’ll kill you!” I wasn’t about to take it. I twisted my body, grabbing her wrist and applying pressure to the joint until her grip loosened. With a heave, I threw her to the muddy ground. “Your mom has a few scratches and low blood sugar? My mother has a compound fracture and is bleeding to death!” I spat. “What, is your mother’s life more valuable than mine? Alex dragged the entire medical team over here just to treat a few goddamn cuts on her leg. You really think she’s in danger?” My voice dropped to a low growl. “I’m telling you right now, if anything happens to my mother, you will pay.” Seeing Mina kneeling in the dirt, Alex’s heart clearly broke. He shoved me back forcefully. “Lily! You’re completely out of control! Now you’re physically attacking people?” He bent down to help Mina to her feet. I watched them, my voice cold as ice as I asked the question that had haunted me for years. “Alex, whose husband are you, anyway?” Sensing the shift in the atmosphere, Mina let out a piercing cry. “Just because he’s your husband, he’s supposed to bend the rules and save your mother first? Is that it? I gave Alex her exact coordinates! Of course he had to save my mom first! Was he supposed to go searching for someone when he didn’t even know where she was or if she was even alive?” Her shriek drew everyone’s attention. So, whoever speaks first is right? I was about to argue back when Alex pulled me away, his voice a low warning. “You’ve already made one mistake today. Just admit you were wrong and stop causing more trouble!” “Alex?!” He actually thought this was my fault? It was because he misled the rescue team to save Mina’s mother that my own mother missed her window for survival in my past life. If I hadn’t insisted on searching the other trail this time, she would have died alone in the woods, just like before. And now he was blaming me. “Do you even have a conscience?”

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Seven years after my divorce from Grayson Shaw, we met again in a flower shop in downtown Portman. He walked in under the dome of an expensive-looking black umbrella, a man who seemed entirely immune to the storm raging outside. His assistant scurried behind him, collapsing the umbrella with a neat thwump. And then there was me. I was wearing a faded t-shirt that had been through the wash one too many times and a pair of mud-caked rain boots. I was in the middle of a losing battle, haggling with the owner over a few sad-looking succulents that had been beaten down by the rain. I just wanted a touch of green for my tiny bakery. The clerk, who clearly recognized him, greeted him with a deferential, “Professor Shaw.” My back was to him, but my entire body went rigid. Grayson. The name was like a shard of glass I’d swallowed long ago, still lodged somewhere deep inside, scraping me raw with every beat of my heart. Today, he was the youngest tenured professor in the physics department at Portman University, a rising star with an international reputation. And I was the unassuming owner of a small bakery on a forgotten street in the south end. 1 “I’ll take a bouquet of Carolina roses, ninety-nine of them.” Then, a second thought. “Actually, my wife is pregnant. She’s sensitive to strong scents.” His voice was the same as I remembered—a cool, crisp tone with a magnetic undercurrent of authority. Hearing it, the still waters of my heart rippled with a faint, dead tremor. His wife. Pregnant. How nice for them. I lowered my head, picked up the cheapest cactus in the shop, and turned to pay. But in that single motion, as I pivoted, our eyes met. For the first time, I saw something other than detached brilliance on the face they called the “darling of the physics world.” I saw shock. Disbelief. And something that looked terrifyingly like panic. Those eyes, which had gazed into the vast, cold emptiness of star charts and cosmic theories, were now locked on me. “Ava?” I managed a tight, brittle smile and nodded. “It’s been a while, Professor Shaw.” Then, clutching my small, prickly cactus, I walked out into the curtain of rain without a backward glance. The rain was cold, but my heart had been frozen solid seven winters ago. 2 My bakery is called “Late Bloom.” It’s tucked away on an old street that still smells of real life—of charcoal grills and damp pavement. My only employee, Maya, is a sharp-witted twenty-year-old who’s quick with her hands and even quicker with her tongue. When I sloshed back into the shop, dripping all over the floorboards, she was perched on a stool, scrolling through her phone. She shot up immediately. “Ava, what happened? Did you fall into the river?” she cried, bustling around me. “Get out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold! And what’s this? Did you buy yourself a little ball of spikes? Who taught you that kind of romance?” She chattered on, pressing a dry towel into my hands, her eyes dancing with amusement as they landed on the cactus. I just smiled and didn’t answer. Late Bloom was my father’s legacy. Before he passed, he held my hand, his own rough with a lifetime of flour. “Ava,” he’d whispered, “this little bakery put you through school, and it fed that… that thankless boy. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry I ever brought that wolf cub home.” The wolf cub my father spoke of was Grayson. When he was eight years old, his drunk of a father beat him half to death and left him in the alley behind our bakery. I was eight, too. I gave him the dollar I’d been saving for candy and then cried and begged my parents until they let me bring him inside. My mother and father were good people. They saw a broken, starving kid and they opened their home. He took my mother’s maiden name, becoming Grayson Shaw, my unofficial brother. But my father quickly realized that this silent, scarred boy was something else entirely. He was a prodigy. The math and physics problems in my textbooks, which looked like a foreign language to me, were things he could solve in his head with a single glance. From that day on, my father poured every ounce of hope and resource into him. We weren’t wealthy. My parents ran the bakery from dawn until dusk, and from the meager profits they skimmed off, they paid for his private tutors and sent him to the best schools. And Grayson, to his credit, soared. He skipped grades, and at sixteen, he was accepted into Portman University’s physics program. The day he left for college, he stood on the worn linoleum of our small apartment above the shop and made me a solemn promise. “Ava, just wait. I’m going to give you the best life. I’ll never leave you.” I believed him. The same way I believed that fairy tales always ended with the prince and princess living happily ever after. “Ava? Hey, Ava! Earth to Ava, you’re a million miles away.” Maya’s voice pulled me from the past. I realized I’d been staring at the cactus, lost in thought. “Sorry. Just thinking about old times.” I set the plant on the windowsill. “How were sales today?” “The usual,” she said with a shrug. “Though we had a weirdo stop by earlier.” “A weirdo?” “Yeah. Pulled up in some kind of ridiculously expensive car I didn’t even recognize. He just stood under the awning, out of the rain, staring at our sign. Didn’t come in, didn’t leave. Just stood there like he was trying to solve an equation.” My heart gave a painful lurch. Before I could respond, the little bell above the door chimed. A tall figure stepped inside, bringing a gust of damp, cold air with him. It was Grayson. Maya’s mouth fell open into a perfect ‘O’. Her eyes darted from Grayson to me and back again, her expression a priceless mix of confusion and awe. Grayson’s gaze swept over the simple, worn tables and chairs of the bakery, finally settling on me. His expression was as complex as one of his unsolvable theorems. “I…” he began, his voice raspy. “Could I… get a loaf of the hearth bread?” I nodded calmly, turning to the kitchen as if he were any other customer. Maya followed me, her voice a frantic whisper. “Ava! Isn’t that Grayson Shaw? The genius physicist from the news? What is he doing in our little place? And how does he know you?” I ignored her, my hands moving with practiced ease as I took a warm, crusty loaf from the cooling rack, slid it into a paper bag, and handed it to her. “Take this out to him.” She did, glancing back at me over her shoulder with every step. From behind the kitchen curtain, I watched him. He sat at one of the chipped wooden tables, his posture ramrod straight, a man completely out of place amongst the flour-dusted, homey warmth of my world. He tore off a piece of the bread and slowly, deliberately, brought it to his lips. And then I saw it. The slightest slump in his shoulders. A subtle, almost imperceptible collapse. I knew. The recipe for our hearth bread hadn’t changed in thirty years. It was the taste he’d known from age eight to twenty-two. The taste of fourteen years of his life. The taste of home. 3 Grayson never finished the bread. He left a hundred-dollar bill on the table and walked out without another word, a kind of dazed, lost look on his face. Maya clutched the money, her eyes wide with gossip. “Okay, Ava, spill it. Confession time. What is the deal between you and the devastatingly handsome Professor Shaw? Ex-boyfriend?” I wiped down the table he’d just vacated. “Ex-husband,” I said flatly. Maya’s jaw practically hit the floor. The next few days passed in a quiet blur. Grayson didn’t return, and my life slipped back into its comfortable, predictable rhythm. Until a week later, when a ghost from my past—a person I had prayed I would never see again—walked through my door. It was a slow afternoon. Maya and I were in the back, kneading dough for the next day’s bake. A fire-engine red Porsche pulled up to the curb with an arrogant screech, and a woman in a Chanel suit, her belly swollen with pregnancy, emerged. It was Lily. Grayson’s wife. She clicked into my humble bakery on seven-inch heels, a triumphant smile playing on her lips, but her eyes were sharp with suspicion and challenge. “Ava, sweetie. It’s been so long. Are you… doing okay?” she asked, her tone dripping with false concern as her gaze swept dismissively over my flour-dusted apron. Maya was on her feet in an instant, planting herself between us. “Who are you? We don’t know you.” Lily shot her a contemptuous glance, then produced a sleek black card from her Hermès bag. She placed it on the counter and slid it toward me. “I know things must be hard for you, Ava,” she said softly. “There’s fifty thousand dollars on this. A little something from Grayson and me. Take it. Go somewhere else, start a new life. Just… close this bakery.” Her voice was gentle, but her words were poisoned darts. She was afraid of me. Afraid that this tiny, insignificant bakery would stir the embers of Grayson’s long-abandoned conscience. I looked at the card, and a dry, humorless laugh escaped my lips. “Lily,” I said, meeting her gaze, my voice level and cold. “The last time I saw you, you were wearing a white sundress I bought for you. You came to my house, crying, telling me you had nowhere else to go. You looked just as innocent and pitiful then as you do now.” The color drained from her face. Lily had worked at the flower shop near the university. Back then, Grayson and I were married. He was finishing his Ph.D., a brilliant mind on the fast track to success. I had given up a graduate scholarship of my own to take an administrative job in his department, just so I could be close to him, to manage our life so he could focus on his work. Grayson had a thing for plants. He said their growth patterns held a certain cosmic order. That’s how he met Lily. She was clever. She saw Grayson wasn’t just another grad student. She’d bring him books like A Brief History of Time, asking him to explain the concepts. She would look at him with wide, adoring eyes and say things like, “Dr. Shaw, the things you talk about are more beautiful than any flower.” All I ever asked him was, “Do you want pot roast or spaghetti for dinner?” Then, Lily told us she was dropping out of college because she couldn’t afford tuition. I looked at her innocent, tear-streaked face and my heart ached for her. I convinced Grayson that we should help her. We paid for her classes. I treated her like a little sister, inviting her over for meals, buying her clothes. I thought I was doing a good deed. Instead, I had personally invited the gravedigger to my own marriage. I’ll never forget that night. I came home from work early, wanting to surprise him. But as I reached our bedroom door, I heard voices that froze the blood in my veins. I pushed the door open to a scene that would be burned into my memory for eternity. And the white dress Lily was wearing? It was the one I had just bought for her the day before. My world shattered. I went berserk. I smashed everything I could get my hands on, tore every picture of us to shreds. I lunged at her like a wild animal, grabbing her by the hair, trying to drag her out of my home. But Grayson shielded her. He held her behind him, and the look he gave me was one I’d never seen before. It was cold, alien. He looked at me as if I were a complete stranger, a raving lunatic. “Ava, you need to calm down!” Calm down? How could I calm down? The man who was my entire universe, the foundation of my life, had betrayed me in the most intimate way possible. In the weeks that followed, I spiraled into a deep depression. I couldn’t sleep. My hair fell out in clumps. I would weep for hours for no reason, or break into fits of hysterical laughter. Grayson offered no comfort. He just started coming home later and later. Whispers started circulating around the university—that I was jealous, unstable, that I was no longer a suitable wife for a man as brilliant as Grayson Shaw. I tried to tell people the truth, but no one believed me. They only saw the charming, gentle professor and his unhinged wife. The final straw was my job. Grayson used his influence in the department to have me put on indefinite leave, citing my “unstable mental state.” He was systematically erasing me. He was going to destroy my career, my reputation—everything—just to get me out of his life cleanly. It all came to a head one afternoon when I tried to throw an ashtray at Lily. Grayson called an ambulance. Not a regular ambulance. One from a private psychiatric facility. I fought as two burly orderlies pinned my arms. I screamed his name, my eyes pleading with him. He stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the light, his face unreadable. All he said to the doctor was, “She’s sick. Very sick.” As they dragged me away, I saw Lily standing behind him, the faintest hint of a smile on her face. The days in that place were a gray, medicated fog. I was a specimen, the crazy professor’s wife. They fed me pills that made my mind feel like cotton. My parents came, tears streaming down their faces, and begged Grayson to let me come home, but he wouldn’t even see them. I thought my life was over. Then, one day, I got sick. A kind nurse, suspecting the cause, ran a test for me on the quiet. I was pregnant. The existence of that tiny, fragile life was like a single ray of light piercing through my suffocating darkness. For my baby, I had to get better. I had to survive. I started cooperating. I took the medication without a fight. I smiled. I did everything I could to appear “normal.” I called Grayson and told him about the baby, begging him to bring me home. Perhaps the word “child” still meant something to him. He finally agreed. I thought we could start over. I was so naive. When I got back to our apartment, Lily was there. Her own stomach showed the slightest swell. She clung to Grayson’s arm and smiled sweetly at me. “Congratulations, Ava. Now our children can grow up together.” I stared at her, then at Grayson’s silent, confirming expression. The world tilted on its axis. He wasn’t just keeping her. He was keeping her child. We fought. Of course we fought. In the chaos of our shouting, Lily suddenly cried out and crumpled to the floor, clutching her stomach. Without a second’s hesitation, Grayson rushed to her side, shoving me violently out of the way. I stumbled backward, the small of my back slamming hard against the sharp corner of our dining table. A searing pain shot through me. And then, a slow, warm trickle of blood ran down my leg. I lost my baby. And in that moment, I lost the ability to ever love him again. Lying on the sterile table in the hospital, as the life and the love bled out of me, I told Grayson, who was waiting just outside the door, “I want a divorce.” He was silent for a long time. Then he said, “Fine. But you leave with nothing.” … “…So now you’re here,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet, pulling myself back to the present. I looked at Lily, whose face was now ashen. “You’re standing in my father’s bakery, my only home, offering me fifty thousand dollars to disappear?” The raw hatred in my eyes made her flinch. But she quickly regained her composure, straightening her spine. “Things are different now, Ava. You can’t win. Grayson loves me. I’m carrying his firstborn son. And what are you? A washed-up crazy woman who runs a dingy little bakery.” Crack. The sound of my hand connecting with her cheek echoed in the small shop. I had held that slap in for seven years. It was for my lost child. For my ruined life. For my father, who died with a broken heart. Lily shrieked, her hand flying to her face. “You hit me! You bitch, I’ll kill you!” She lunged at me, her nails bared like claws. Maya reacted instantly, grabbing a rolling pin and holding it like a shield. Just then, the door flew open and a tall figure rushed in. He pulled Lily behind him, shielding her with his body, and snarled at me, “Ava! What the hell are you doing now?”

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After I got pregnant with our second, my husband hired a nanny to “help with my workload.” But when I fell down the stairs, she didn’t call 911. Instead, she rushed to comfort my daughter, the one who had pushed me. “It’s okay, Sophie, sweetie. Don’t be scared,” the nanny cooed, stroking her hair. “Auntie Jenna knows it wasn’t your fault. Mommy’s just gotten clumsy since the new baby came along.” My daughter buried her face in the nanny’s arms, her sobs muffled. “I hate her, Auntie Jenna! That stupid, ugly woman doesn’t deserve to be my mom!” she wailed. “When Daddy divorces her, you can marry him. You can be my new mommy, okay?” I saw a flicker of pleasure in my husband’s eyes. The nanny, Jenna, just blushed. But when I finally did step aside and give up my title as the wife of a wealthy man, they both came to regret it. I guess a nanny’s salary doesn’t quite cover the costs of a man and a child who bleed money like it’s their job. 1 It was Sophie’s third birthday. At six months pregnant, I had squeezed myself into a sweltering, plush mascot costume of her favorite cartoon character, planning to give her the surprise of her life. But when I pulled off the heavy mascot head, grinning as I held out her present, her face fell. “Oh. It’s you,” she said, her voice flat with disappointment. “Where’s Daddy?” I figured she was just having a moment. I’d been so buried in work lately; maybe she felt neglected. I forced a patient smile. “Daddy went to pick up your birthday cake, sweetie. He’ll be right back.” She just turned away, her little face a cold mask. A wave of dizziness washed over me, the heat from the costume clinging to my skin, but I pushed through the discomfort and offered the gift again. “Sophie, look. Mommy got you the princess dress you wanted. Why don’t you try it on for me?” She didn’t even glance at it. Her hand shot out and slapped the box from my grasp, sending it clattering to the floor. “I don’t want your stupid present!” she shrieked. “I want Daddy! He promised he’d take me to get a kitten today!” I frowned. A kitten? Sophie was severely allergic to cats. Mark would never make a mistake like that. I reached for her, my voice gentle. “Are you sure that’s what he said, honey? I don’t remember him mentioning that.” That was the wrong thing to say. Her face twisted in disgust. She ripped her arm from my grasp and gave me a hard, two-handed shove. My balance was already precarious. I stumbled backward, my feet finding only air, and then I was tumbling, crashing down the stairs. The world was a blur of motion and pain. Sophie’s terrified screams echoed from the top of the landing as Jenna, the nanny, came running. “Jenna,” I gasped, my voice thin and reedy. “Call an ambulance. Now.” She gave me a fleeting, dismissive glance before scooping my crying daughter into her arms. “It’s okay, Sophie, honey. Don’t be scared,” she murmured, her voice dripping with false comfort. “Auntie Jenna knows it wasn’t your fault. Mommy’s just gotten so clumsy since the new baby.” Sophie clung to her. “That woman is ugly and stupid, and she won’t let me have a kitten! I don’t want her to be my mom anymore!” she sobbed. “You’re nice to me, Auntie Jenna. When Daddy divorces her, you should marry him. You can be my new mommy!” The words struck me harder than the fall. I couldn’t breathe. Sophie’s birth had been traumatic. A nightmare of an emergency C-section, an allergy to the standard epidural. I had been half-conscious, feeling every pull and stitch as they brought her into the world. And this was the child I had nearly died for? Saying things like that? Just a few weeks ago, she was my little shadow, my sweet girl. What had changed? Was it Jenna? Mark had hired her when I was about five months along. He said it was to help me with Sophie. I was hesitant—Jenna was barely out of her teens—but Mark insisted she was from a reputable agency. “She’s young,” he’d argued. “She’ll have more energy to keep up with Sophie.” It made sense at the time, so I agreed. Not long after, a neighbor pulled me aside. “I don’t want to be a busybody,” she’d said, “but that new nanny of yours seems a little… overly friendly with Mark. Just be careful.” I nodded and thanked her, but I didn’t take it seriously. Mark and I were college sweethearts. We’d built a life together. If he wanted to cheat, he’d had countless opportunities with women far more impressive than a twenty-year-old nanny. But I never imagined the nanny’s target wasn’t my husband, but my daughter. Thinking back, Sophie’s coldness towards me started right after Jenna arrived. A sharp, violent pain radiated from my abdomen, shattering my thoughts. There was no more time to think. I fumbled for my phone, my fingers slick with sweat, and dialed 911 myself. Then, everything went black. 2 When I woke up, the sterile smell of a hospital filled my nostrils. My hand instinctively went to my belly. The baby was still there. Thank God. The thick padding of the mascot costume must have cushioned the fall. The room was empty. Who had brought me here? I reached for my phone, planning to call Mark. But when the screen lit up, I saw a flurry of notifications from the parent group chat for Sophie’s preschool. 99+ messages. I scrolled to the top. It was a photo posted by Sophie’s teacher, and she had tagged me. “Audrey, you never answered your phone today, I was worried you weren’t coming to the parent-teacher conference! It was so lovely to finally meet you. You’re even more beautiful in person! Mark is a lucky man.” My blood ran cold. Today was the first parent-teacher conference of the year. After Sophie was born, Mark and I had an agreement: I would carry the babies, he would handle the school runs and parent meetings. But I hadn’t been there today. Who did the teacher think I was? With a sense of dread, I clicked on the photo. It was Jenna. She was holding Sophie, a serene, maternal smile on her face. Mark stood beside them, his arm resting possessively on the back of her chair. At a glance, they looked like a perfect family. The comments below the picture were a mix of fawning and envy. “Wow, Mark, you really hit the jackpot! What a gorgeous wife!” “Seriously! And talk about a power couple. I’m pretty sure that limited edition Maybach in the parking lot is his. I heard those things are over a million dollars!” The mention of the car sent the chat into a frenzy. Someone asked Mark what he did for a living to be so successful. He replied with a coy, humble message about just being “lucky.” A knot of bitterness formed in my stomach. Mark had essentially married into my family’s money. He was a kept man. The seed money for his boutique photography studio had come from me. The Maybach was a birthday gift from me. His income alone wouldn’t even cover the insurance on it. I understood a man’s pride. A little bragging was one thing. But why would he take Jenna to our daughter’s conference and let everyone believe she was his wife? I didn’t have the heart to read anymore. I dialed his number. It rang and rang, unanswered. Just then, I heard voices from the hallway outside my room. It was Mark and Sophie. “Daddy, can you divorce Mommy tomorrow?” Sophie pleaded in her sweetest voice. “I want Auntie Jenna to be my new mommy.” Mark chuckled. “You really like your Auntie Jenna that much, huh, sweet pea?” “Of course! Auntie Jenna is young and pretty, and she’s going to buy me a kitten! Mommy is just mean and bossy!” Sophie’s voice turned demanding. “So, will you do it or not? If you don’t, I’m never speaking to you again.” “Alright, alright,” Mark said with a long-suffering sigh. “Whatever my little princess wants.” The door swung open. Mark’s smile vanished the second he saw my eyes were open. “What the hell was that parent-teacher conference about?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. He had the grace to look guilty. “It’s your fault, Audrey. You’re always working, you never have time for Sophie. Jenna was just trying to help so Sophie wouldn’t feel sad.” I let out a cold, humorless laugh. “Helping? Does ‘helping’ now include pretending to be my replacement?” Before he could stammer out another excuse, Sophie ran forward, planting herself between us like a tiny bodyguard. “You’re a mean lady!” she shouted, pointing a finger at me. “Daddy already promised he’d divorce you! When we kick you out, you won’t be able to be mean to him anymore!” My eyes locked on Mark. “Is that right?” He wouldn’t meet my gaze. Sophie got frantic. “Daddy! You promised! You can’t take it back!” My own anger flared. “Sophie Elizabeth,” I snapped, “I haven’t even started with you. Why did you push me down the stairs? There’s a baby in my belly. What if you had hurt the baby?” Her eyes instantly filled with tears. “Mommy’s yelling,” she whimpered. “I’m scared!” Mark immediately turned on me. “Look what you did. And nothing happened, did it? Why are you taking it out on a child?” he scolded. “Besides, if you hadn’t gained so much weight with this pregnancy, you wouldn’t be so clumsy. You can’t blame Sophie for that.” He scooped her into his arms. “Come on, sweet pea. Daddy will take you for some ice cream.” The air left my lungs. The words were a physical blow. It was true, I’d gained a lot of weight. I hadn’t even wanted a second child, but Mark had insisted Sophie was lonely. He’d worn me down until I agreed. And now he was using it against me. He was disgusted by me. Just then, his messenger bag, left on a chair in the corner, chimed. He had left his iPad. A sick feeling pulled at me. I opened the bag. His iMessage was open, the screen still lit. I don’t know why I did it, but I started scrolling through his conversation with Jenna. It was all there. A carefully documented campaign of sabotage. It started innocently enough—daily updates on me and Sophie, laced with subtle digs about how I was neglecting my family. Then came the messages bragging about how attached Sophie was becoming to her. Once they were comfortable, she started asking about his finances, feigning naive curiosity. And Mark, drunk on the praise and adoration, had forgotten his place. He told her my family’s corporation was his. He complained about me, my moods, my work. And Jenna, with her gentle and understanding words, reeled him in, whispering suggestions and validations. Even a fool could see her endgame. She wanted to be me. She was angling for the throne. My hands shook as I used my phone to record the entire chat history. A part of me tried to rationalize it. A man can be replaced. A nanny can be fired. But a daughter… a daughter is your own flesh and blood. She’s just a child, I told myself. She’s been manipulated. I decided I would deal with Mark and Jenna later. First, I had to fix things with my daughter. But when I walked through my front door later that day, carrying a box of her favorite cupcakes, I was greeted by a scene that burned any remaining hope to ashes. 3 I walked in to find Sophie curled up on Jenna’s lap. “Auntie Jenna, when are you going to marry my daddy?” she asked, her voice full of childish sincerity. Jenna bit her lip, feigning demureness. “Oh, Sophie. Do you really want me to be your new mommy that much?” Sophie nodded furiously. “Uh-huh! Daddy already promised he’s going to divorce that old woman. As soon as they’re divorced, he’s going to marry you!” Jenna cast a shy, hopeful glance at Mark, who was watching from the other end of the sofa. “Is that what Daddy wants, too?” Mark’s expression was unreadable, a smug, ambiguous smile playing on his lips. He neither confirmed nor denied it. Sophie scrambled off Jenna’s lap and started tugging on his arm. “Daddy, say something! All you have to do is say yes, and Auntie Jenna will be my new mommy forever!” Just as he opened his mouth to speak, his eyes landed on me, standing frozen in the doorway. The color drained from his face. He shot up from the couch as if he’d been electrocuted. “Audrey,” he stammered. “You’re home.” A cold smile touched my lips. “Looks like I’m interrupting something.” He started to make an excuse, but Sophie charged at me, her tiny fists balling up and punching my thigh. “You bad woman! Don’t you bully my daddy!” The pure hatred in her eyes was a physical blow. I felt my heart crack. Just then, Jenna rose gracefully from the sofa. “Audrey, you’re misunderstanding,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I just feel so bad that Sophie feels neglected by her own mother. I was only trying to give her a little extra love… I never thought you’d take it this way. You’re so suspicious and… and irresponsible. No wonder Sophie doesn’t like you.” I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. “You can drop the act,” I said, my voice like ice. “The day I fell, you didn’t call an ambulance. That was negligence. Now you’re actively trying to turn my daughter against me. You are a nanny, Jenna. And when you cross a line this egregious, you get fired.” Not only fired. I could have her blacklisted across the city. My father was the majority shareholder in the agency chain that had placed her. But Jenna didn’t flinch. She pulled Sophie into a defiant hug. “Mark hired me to take care of Sophie, and she will always be my first priority,” she said, her chin held high. “I may just be a nanny, but you can’t intimidate me. If you want to fire me, fine. But I feel sorry for Sophie, knowing she’ll have no one to look after her.” A single, perfect tear rolled down her cheek. She made a show of turning to leave. “NO!” Sophie shrieked, launching herself at me, kicking and punching. “You evil woman, you can’t make Auntie Jenna leave! You should be the one to leave! I only want Auntie Jenna!” Mark finally spoke, his tone dripping with disapproval. “Audrey, I hired her. Don’t you think you should have consulted me before firing her?” A laugh, sharp and brittle, escaped my lips. “I pay for her. Why on earth would I need your permission?” He was carrying on an emotional affair with our nanny and now he had the audacity to lecture me. I pulled out my phone, brought up the screen-recorded video of their texts, and shoved it in his face. “Did you really think I didn’t know, Mark?” I said, my voice dangerously low. “The only reason I didn’t expose you sooner was to spare you some dignity in front of our daughter. But you just had to push it.” I paused, letting the weight of my next words sink in. “Since you’re so unhappy with my decisions, how about this: we get a divorce. Then you can do whatever you want with your precious little nanny. How does that sound?” Mark’s face went pale. He was silent. Jenna looked at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Mark? Are you really going to let her send me away? I promised Sophie I’d take her to see the kittens.” Sophie’s wails intensified. “I don’t want Auntie Jenna to go! Bad mommy! I hate you!” Mark shot a look at Jenna, then scooped Sophie up without another word and walked out the front door. After Jenna left, a fragile peace settled over the house. I told myself it had all been her influence. With her gone, Sophie would eventually come back to me. Mark, for his part, blocked Jenna’s number in front of me and swore it would never happen again. My trust in him was nonexistent, but for Sophie’s sake, I decided to give him one last chance. It was a mistake. One night, I woke up around 2 a.m. and he wasn’t in bed. I found him on the balcony, his back to me, whispering into his phone. 4 In the dead of night, the voice coming through the phone was unnervingly clear. It was Jenna. “When are you going to divorce that old hag?” she demanded. “Just be patient,” Mark soothed. “Give me a little more time.” “Patient? How can I be patient?” she hissed. “If you don’t divorce her soon, I’m getting rid of this baby!” Mark glanced nervously over his shoulder. “Don’t say that, baby, please,” he whispered urgently. “I promise you, I’ll handle her. I’ll make this right for us.” Jenna was pregnant? With Mark’s child? My world tilted on its axis. I thought, for Sophie, I could endure a broken marriage. But this… they had been sleeping together all along. And then Mark said something that shattered what was left of my reality. “Just hang on a little longer, for our son,” he pleaded. “I’m looking for another way to get rid of her. If we divorce, I’ll have to give her half the assets. I can’t let that happen. I’ve put up with her for this long… a few more days won’t kill us.” My body started to shake uncontrollably. When I married Mark, he didn’t even have enough money to buy me a ring. I’d married him against my family’s wishes, against all common sense. To protect his fragile ego, I let the world believe he was the provider, the breadwinner. And now, for a nanny, he was talking about getting rid of me. Killing me. Beside me in our bed, Sophie mumbled in her sleep. “Want… Auntie Jenna… to be my mommy.” I didn’t sleep for the rest of the night. It was over. The husband, the daughter—I had to let them both go. I hired a private investigator to gather concrete evidence of Mark’s affair and to dig into Jenna’s background. I was preparing for war. But before I could even launch my first attack, Jenna lost her patience and brought the battle directly to me. 5 I had taken Sophie to Mark’s photography studio to get a new passport photo. As we approached, I saw a small crowd gathered outside, murmuring and pointing. In the center of it all was Jenna. The moment she saw me, she threw herself forward and grabbed onto my legs, collapsing theatrically onto the pavement. “Audrey, please, I’m begging you, let me have my job back!” she wailed, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m not lucky like you, married to a rich husband. My grandmother needs medicine! You can’t just have the agency blacklist me over a misunderstanding!” Her voice rose to a hysterical pitch. “All I did was try to help with your daughter because you’re always so busy! Why are you trying to destroy my life?” She made a show of trying to bang her head on the ground. Mark, his face ashen, rushed out of the studio. “Honey, I have no idea why she’s here,” he stammered, desperately trying to signal for Jenna to leave with his eyes. Jenna ignored him completely, her performance escalating. In her telling, I was a paranoid, abusive, pregnant monster. It was clear what she was doing. This wasn’t about the job; it was a public spectacle designed to force Mark’s hand. At this point, I had nothing left to lose. The onlookers, however, were eating it up. “That poor girl,” one woman muttered. “Imagine having a mother that paranoid.” “Exactly! She fires the nanny for caring too much? That’s inhuman.” “How did a great guy like Mr. Henderson end up with such a shrew?” Beads of sweat formed on Mark’s brow. He grabbed Jenna’s arm. “Jenna, stop this. I’ll… I’ll talk to the agency. We can get you back to work.” I let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “Mark, since when do you make the decisions in this family?” His face flushed a deep, ugly red. Jenna, sensing a shift in power, straightened up. “Mark, you’re the man of the house! How can you let her talk to you like that? A woman like her doesn’t deserve you.” Mark stood silent for a long moment, then his jaw clenched. He turned to me, his voice seething. “Don’t push it, Audrey. If Sophie knew what a tyrant you are, she would be so disappointed.” “Then let’s not disappoint her,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Let’s get a divorce.” I knew he was trying to use our daughter as a weapon. But he had no idea that I was already done. With both of them. His face went slack with shock. He was completely cornered. Our prenuptial agreement was ironclad; in a divorce, he would walk away with nothing. He would never risk that for Jenna. Not when he was still plotting to get my assets. But Jenna didn’t know that. She saw her chance. “Fine! Divorce her!” she crowed triumphantly. “Mark has been sick of you for ages! Even Sophie wants a new mother!” Mark lunged to cover her mouth, but it was too late. I smiled, a cold, empty thing, and pulled a folded document from my purse. I threw the divorce papers at his chest. “Then sign it,” I said. “The daughter is yours. I don’t want her.” Mark looked like he was going to be sick. But Jenna, high on her perceived victory, jumped in. “Don’t you act like some kind of saint!” she shrieked at me. “Just three days ago, I saw you at the Grand Hyatt, all over some young guy, hugging him in the lobby! You’re the cheater! Mark should have thrown you out ages ago!” Mark’s head snapped up. A glimmer of hope, ugly and ravenous, lit up his eyes. “Jenna,” he said, his voice trembling with excitement. “Are you sure? You saw her with another man? At a hotel?”

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After finding out my childhood best friend was dating someone else, I hid on the terrace to cry. My nemesis, Sebastian Hayes, found me in my pathetic state. He stood over me and casually offered the worst idea ever. “Date me. We’ll piss him off together. What do you say?” I looked up at the tall, handsome man and swallowed hard. “Um, do you mean like… a fake dating thing or a real dating thing?” He smirked, the corner of his mouth curving up. “I recommend the real thing.” He leaned down, his voice husky and lazy against my ear. “After all, I have two more abs than him, I’m better looking, and I’m better in bed.” 1 The day of Liam’s birthday party, I was thrilled. I put on my best dress, did my makeup perfectly, and headed to his house full of hope. The main hall was buzzing. My eyes scanned the crowd, instinctively searching for Liam. When I found him, he was holding hands with a girl. A stunningly beautiful girl. The smile froze on my face. They were the center of attention. Liam held a drink in one hand and never let go of her with the other. He blocked drinks for her, leaned in to whisper things—every move screamed intimacy. It hurt. Just two days ago, he told me I was “still young,” that I should focus on school and not rush into dating. But today, he was holding hands with someone else. I hid in the corner, downing colorful cocktails one after another, feeling like I was going to explode. The cabbage I’d been guarding for years was suddenly harvested by someone else. And the girl who stole it was gorgeous, which just made it worse. Maybe it was the alcohol amplifying everything, but my eyes started to sting. Afraid someone would see me break down, I snuck up to the second-floor terrace. Pathetic, I know. I hugged my knees by the glass railing, sobbing quietly over a relationship that never even started. I didn’t notice the faint smell of cigarette smoke until a lazy voice drifted over. “Sarah, you really can cry, huh?” I sniffled and turned my head. Sebastian Hayes was leaning casually against the railing, a cigarette burning between his fingers. He looked down at me with amusement. I shifted away uncomfortably and tried to glare at him. “None of your business!” Sebastian laughed. “Still got a temper.” I ignored him. He didn’t get mad. He put out his cigarette with one hand, walked over, and crouched beside me. “Sad because Liam’s dating?” Hit where it hurt. I buried my head in my arms. Sebastian sighed dramatically and stood up, looking down at the party in the courtyard. “Your precious Liam is kissing his girlfriend. Want to see?” Hearing that, I didn’t dare turn around. I just wailed louder. “You are so annoying!” “Tsk,” he chuckled. “Hating me again?” He waited for me to finish crying before speaking again, his tone unhurried. “If you feel that bad, how about I give you an idea?” I sniffled. “What idea?” He grinned. “Date me. Let’s make him jealous. What do you think?” “I’m tall, I’m handsome. Dating me isn’t exactly a loss for you.” “Besides, Liam and I have never gotten along. Seeing the girl who grew up following him around get stolen by his worst enemy? He’d be furious.” I thought about it. It kind of made sense. They say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone new… or something like that. I hesitated, then looked up at the tall man in front of me and gulped. “Um… do you mean like… a fake dating thing or a real dating thing?” Sebastian paused, surprised by my question. Then he smirked, reaching out to pull me up. He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear, his voice raspy and lazy. “I recommend the real thing.” “After all… I have two more abs than him, I’m better looking, and I’m better in bed. You won’t find a deal this good again.” 2 My face burned. I pushed him away. “You’re being a pervert!” He pulled me back. “Wow, gaslighting already? It’s not perversion, it’s my resume. Don’t believe me? Feel for yourself.” I bit my lip, avoiding his eyes. I glanced down at the courtyard. Liam was wiping cream off the girl’s face. My heart clenched. Seeing his gaze start to drift upward, I quickly turned back to Sebastian. “Okay.” Sebastian smiled, a wicked “gotcha” look on his face. He straightened up and cupped my face in his hands. Our lips were inches apart. Just as I thought he was going to kiss me, he stopped. “Baby, want to give him a show?” I looked down at the courtyard again. Gathering my courage, I stood on my tiptoes and pecked his lips. He froze for a second, then that helpless smile returned. His thumb stroked my cheek. “Let me teach you something better.” He lowered his head and captured my lips. My eyes widened in shock. I clenched my teeth, nervous. My heart felt like it was going to hammer out of my chest. “Open up,” he murmured, his eyes half-closed, a teasing smile on his lips. I obeyed instinctively. He held the back of my head, pressing gently, forcing me to look up and deepen the kiss. His clean, sharp scent filled my senses. For a moment, it felt like I was drowning in him. Slowly, the kiss stopped being gentle. It became demanding, domineering. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I bit his lip. He pulled back slowly. I stood there, face flushed, mind blank. Seeing the small cut on his lip, I felt guilty. “I didn’t mean to bite you.” He licked the wound. “Feisty.” “You were kissing too hard.” He looked at me and smiled. “Fine. I won’t hold it against you.” I glared at him. “You seem pretty experienced.” He smirked, pinching my cheek. “Yeah. I have even more experience with other things. Want to try next time?” I turned away, puffing out my cheeks. Who knows how many girls he’s kissed! 3 Blushing, I ignored him and looked down. Liam was staring right at me from the courtyard. I froze. Sebastian pulled me into his arms, looking down at Liam with a triumphant, provocative grin. He was showing off so hard. I poked his rock-hard chest. “You’re kind of evil, you know that?” “Tsk.” He pinched my face. “Is that how you talk to your boyfriend?” I pouted. “Who said you’re my boyfriend?” He laughed, squeezing the back of my neck. “Sarah, are you playing with an innocent boy’s heart?” I looked up at him. “Ha. Innocent boy? You kiss way too well for that.” Sebastian looked at me, amused. “Don’t you know men are born with this talent?” I scoffed. Yeah, right. He leaned in close, his hot breath tickling my ear. “Not entirely self-taught. There are plenty of… educational videos out there.” My face went atomic red. I was speechless. “You…” Sebastian ruffled my hair. “What, you want to learn? I’ll share my playlist with you later.” Mortified, I punched his chest. “Who wants to learn that!” He chuckled, burying his face in my neck. “Okay, okay. Don’t get mad. I’m teasing.” 4 The party ended at midnight. Sebastian insisted I drop him off at the gate of his gated community. After he got out, I turned to leave, but he called me back. He hooked an arm around my neck and planted a heavy kiss on my lips. I glared at him, blushing. “Why do you like kissing so much?!” He smirked. “I’m addicted.” “Go home! It’s late.” He rested his hand on the steering wheel, pausing. “Will I get a DUI?” “Did you drink?” He shook his head. “No, but you did. We kissed for so long, what if I’m drunk by association? If I get arrested, it’ll affect our future son’s record.” I smacked him on the head. “Shut up!” I ignored him and walked away. My house was just a few villas down from Liam’s. As I passed his place, he called out to me. “Sarah.” I turned. “What?” “When did you start dating Sebastian?” His questioning tone annoyed me. I stared at him without answering. He sighed. “He’s not a good guy. Dating is fine, but don’t get too invested.” I bristled. “You’re not my brother. You don’t get to decide.” “And don’t badmouth my boyfriend in front of me. I’ll get mad.” I’ve always been protective. Sebastian is my boyfriend now. Liam has a girlfriend. Him trying to manage me felt… gross. Instant turn-off. Actually, I’ve known Sebastian forever. When we were kids, my parents were busy, so I stayed with my grandparents. The houses in that neighborhood were close, just separated by a wall. Sebastian lived next door. Grandpa used to drag him over to play with me. But the guy was a menace from day one. Mean mouth, loved to bully me. I suffered under his tyranny for years. That’s why I liked Liam. He was gentle, reliable, like a real adult. He solved my problems instead of mocking me like Sebastian. “Sarah, God gave you a brain to use, not just for decoration.” “Sarah, crying makes you ugly.” “Sarah, be gentle or no one will marry you.” … But sometimes, Sebastian was okay. When I got bullied, he’d protect me. Even while mocking me, he’d wipe my tears. When I didn’t get a perfect score, he’d show me his failing test paper. “Look at mine! I failed! You got a 99! You’re way better than me.”

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Five years. That’s how long it had been since I’d divorced Ryder Croft, the ghost I thought I’d finally laid to rest. And then, there he was, standing in the doorway of the rehearsal hall for the Joint Service Commendation Ceremony. The security guard, in the middle of checking my credentials, straightened up, his tone shifting from professional to familiar. “Captain Croft! Good to see you, sir.” Ryder gave a slight nod, his gaze landing on me, a current passing through the space between us. “She’s with me,” he said. I politely cut him off, pulling my own laminated pass from my pocket. “No need. I have my own clearance.” His eyes dropped to the ID in my hand. For a moment, he was silent. “Anya,” he said, his voice low. “It’s been all this time. You’re still angry with me.” I offered a small, empty smile and said nothing. My mind was already occupied by the man who would be receiving his award tomorrow. There was no room for anyone else. 1 After the rehearsal, I packed up the dress uniform I needed to take home, slung my tote bag over my shoulder, and headed out. The early autumn wind whipped up dust from the parade ground, stinging my eyes as I walked toward the on-base shuttle stop. By the time I’d rubbed the grit from my eyes, Ryder’s black government SUV had pulled up in front of me. He noted the redness rimming my eyes, his brow furrowing. “Get in. I’ll give you a ride.” “Not necessary. I’ll take the shuttle.” His gaze swept over me, from my combat boots to my practical fatigues, finally settling on the tote bag slung over my shoulder. His voice softened. “How have you been these past few years?” “I’ve been great.” Ryder clearly didn’t believe me. “Get in the car, Anya.” The shuttle behind us honked its horn, but he didn’t move an inch, creating an impasse. Under the curious stares of other personnel, I finally relented and pulled the passenger door open. “Three Miller Road,” I said, giving the address to the old base housing. The air in the car thickened. When Ryder finally spoke, his voice was strained. “You’re still living there? They zoned that whole sector for demolition years ago. And you’re all alone, with….” He trailed off, but I knew exactly what he was leaving unsaid. It was where my mother died. Ten years ago today, she had refused to attend my wedding to Ryder Croft. Instead, she jumped from her tenth-floor window. The back seat was spacious, but the heat was cranked up too high. I pressed the button to lower my window. “You always catch a cold from the draft,” he said automatically. “You should close it. I can turn down the heat if you’re warm.” I shook my head, a real smile touching my lips this time. “That was a long time ago. I’m fine now.” Silence fell between us until his phone rang, the name flashing on the car’s infotainment screen. The call connected, and a familiar voice filled the speakers, though it was laced with a delicate sweetness I didn’t recognize. “Honey, is rehearsal over? Are you on your way home?” “Just wrapped up. Ran into Anya. I’m giving her a lift.” A beat of silence on the other end. “Anya’s back? Wow, it’s been forever. You should have said something, we should get the old gang together for dinner.” I’d known Mia for over a decade, and I’d never heard her use that soft, almost girlish tone. The Mia I remembered was quiet, head-down, completely absorbed in her tactical cartography. The Mia I knew would just cry in private when someone with better connections stole her spot in the national competition. It was me who had smashed that person’s sand table in front of the entire company, me who had written letters of complaint all the way up the chain of command until they gave Mia her spot back. It’s true what they say. Being cherished really does bring a person to life. “It was just a chance encounter,” Ryder said. “She has plans. I’ll be home after I drop her off.” “Even a chance encounter is fate! What’s wrong with treating an old friend to dinner?” “Mia. Don’t start.” The line went silent. Ryder was always gentle when he was trying to coax someone, but when he made a decision, nothing could change his mind. Mia, of all people, should have known that better than I did. The call ended abruptly. Just then, the SUV pulled up in front of the old housing complex. “Thanks for the ride.” I opened the door to get out, but his voice stopped me. “Anya, can I ask? The dress uniform you picked up… who is it for?” “My husband.” Ryder rubbed his forehead and let out a bitter laugh, as if he thought I was just saying it to spite him. “It’s the same regulation uniform. You used to prep mine just like that, five years ago.” “And?” I met his gaze, my expression perfectly calm. “You don’t have to put on a brave face for me. All these years, all I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy. Not… not like this.” Like what? My reflection stared back at me from the tinted window. A standard set of fatigues, combat boots, a tote bag filled with groceries I’d picked up. I looked like any other military spouse, worn down by the daily grind. But compared to the woman I used to be, the one who felt she had to be perfectly polished at all times, this version of me wasn’t so bad. I smiled, feeling no anger at all. “But I am happy.” A flicker of confusion crossed his face. “You really have changed, Anya.” “Yeah,” I said. “A lot of people say that.” I turned and walked toward the building without a second glance. Inside, I climbed the five flights of stairs and unlocked the door to my old apartment. The layout was exactly as it had been last year. My mother’s official military portrait sat beside the old television, the incense in the burner long since turned to ash. I moved on autopilot, lighting three new sticks and tying on an apron before heading into the kitchen. I soon had a simple meal on the table—three dishes and a soup. Across from me, I placed a bowl of rice that would go untouched. I ate slowly. “Mom,” I murmured to the empty room. “I saw Ryder today.” “Don’t get upset. He can’t hurt me anymore. Besides, I’m not the fool I used to be.” The only answer was the wind howling outside the window. My appetite faded. I put down my chopsticks, went into the bedroom, and pulled an old photo album from a dusty box. “Look at how commanding you were back then,” I said to the portrait. “Staring at a picture is so boring.” I hadn’t even opened the album when a loose photograph slipped out and fluttered to the floor. I bent to pick it up. It was a picture of Ryder, Mia, and me. Three young, smiling faces. I was standing in the middle, my arms linked with theirs, my grin the widest of all—a faint purple bruise from training still visible on my right cheek. It was the summer I turned thirteen. Debt collectors had shown up at Ryder’s house, making a scene. All the neighbors shut their doors, even my own parents were too afraid to get involved. But I ran out there. A wooden stick that was meant for Ryder’s back came down hard across my face instead. A fractured cheekbone. I spent the entire summer recovering. My mother, her heart aching for me, forbade me from seeing Ryder ever again. That lasted until Ryder’s mother, dragging her injured leg, knelt on our doorstep, thanking us over and over. My mother’s heart softened. For the next ten years, there was always a place for Ryder at our dinner table, always a new set of clothes for him at the holidays. When Mom wasn’t busy, she’d help Ryder’s mom at her small convenience store, and she had a tongue sharp enough to scare off anyone who came looking for trouble. They called each other sisters. But no one ever imagined that the timid, stuttering “little sister” would one day climb into her “big sister’s” husband’s bed. I came home to find our apartment destroyed. My mother stood in the ruins, sobbing, a bright red handprint stark against her cheek. My father stood protectively in front of the other woman, Helen. “Let’s get a divorce,” my father said, his voice flat. “You can have everything. All I want is Helen.” Ryder, who was with me, rushed to pull his mother away, but my mom slapped him twice, hard. I shoved my own mother. She stumbled backward and fell, staring up at me in disbelief. Tears were streaming down my face, but the words that came out of my mouth were the cruelest I’d ever spoken. “Mom, what gives you the right to hit Ryder?” That chaotic memory, frozen forever on this small, glossy square. After my divorce, I burned everything that had to do with Ryder. I thought I’d gotten it all. Apparently, one piece of evidence had survived. I was about to toss the photo into the trash when a knock came at the door. Assuming it was Mrs. Gable from next door, who always brought over dumplings on this anniversary, I opened it without thinking. It was Mia, her arm linked through Ryder’s. Her smile was radiant. “Anya! It’s been so long! You haven’t changed a bit.” She turned to Ryder. “See? I told you she wouldn’t mind. Sorry for dropping in unannounced, Ryder was just too stubborn to call first.” I looked at them, my expression unreadable. “I’m not going to invite you in. What do you want?” Mia’s smile faltered, and she looked up at Ryder with a wounded expression. “Mia wanted to see you,” Ryder said, his voice a low rumble. “She brought a gift. We mean well.” He placed a gift box on the small table by the door. Mia immediately launched into her explanation. “I’ve been using this skincare line, and it’s amazing. I thought you might like it too. We always used to share these kinds of things, remember?” I glanced down at the box. It looked like the same brand my housekeeper used. “That photo…” Mia started, her eyes suddenly welling with tears. “Anya, after all these years, you still haven’t let it go.” I crumpled the photograph in my fist and tossed it into the nearby trash can. “You’re overthinking it.” She reached out as if to take my hand, then hesitated. “I know you’re still hurting. If you two were still together, today would have been your anniversary.” Her voice was thick with performative sympathy. “I had no choice back then, you know that. If you’ve really moved on, then let us take you to dinner. And if you’re struggling with anything, please tell us. We’re old friends, after all.” My immediate instinct was to refuse. But then, one of the incense sticks on the altar for my mother suddenly flared, letting out a sharp pop. I smiled and changed my mind. “Alright.” In the car, Mia’s chatter intensified, as did her little gestures of affection. While we were stopped at a red light, she uncapped her lip balm and gently applied it to Ryder’s lips with her finger. “Honestly, I have to remind you every winter. Last time you kissed me too hard your lips started bleeding. You never learn, do you?” Ryder caught her wrist, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Stop it, Mia.” “Oh! I completely forgot Anya was here. You don’t mind, do you, Anya? Ryder and I are just so used to…” I cut her off with a placid smile. “Of course not.” My voice was even. “I’ve already seen the two of you naked and tangled up in bed together. This is nothing.” The car fell into a dead silence. Finally, some peace and quiet. I stared out at the passing scenery, thinking that if my mother were still alive, she’d be stunned by how much the city had changed. My father’s determination to divorce her for Helen had nearly driven her mad. My decision to secretly marry Ryder was the final blow that took her life. At first, I only hated my father and Helen. Their betrayal had transformed my mother from a formidable, respected officer into a paranoid, weeping wreck, time cruelly eating away at her spirit. Later, I came to hate myself. After my mother’s funeral, during what should have been my honeymoon, I requested a temporary assignment to a remote border posting and stayed there for a month. Back then, the only person I didn’t hate was Ryder. To me, he was a diamond in the rough, a resilient soldier who had overcome a difficult past. Before I left for the border, I asked Mia to look after him. And she did a wonderful job. She cooked for him in our new apartment in the base’s family housing, whipping up impressive four-course meals that looked and smelled delicious. I was genuinely grateful to her. In that year, the three of us grew even closer. Ryder treated me better than ever. He spent his entire first commendation bonus on a tactical watch I’d been wanting. For my birthday, he arranged a city-wide fireworks display. Every time he came back from a field training exercise, he would cancel all his meetings just to be with me. I never once doubted him. I believed he loved me to the bone. Until one day, by chance, I went to his office alone. The door to his private break room was slightly ajar, and I heard… sounds. I pushed the door open. Two naked bodies, entwined. The image was a bayonet stabbing into my eyes. A scream tore from my throat. He moved like lightning, pulling a sheet over the woman beneath him. “Who told you to come in here?” he roared. “Get out!” I went berserk, grabbing anything I could find and hurling it at them. Blood trickled from a cut on Ryder’s temple, but he never stopped shielding the woman in his arms. I destroyed everything in the room I could get my hands on. But I couldn’t bring myself to get any closer to them. These were the two people I had loved most in the world. Fear seized my heart, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. “Mia,” I managed to say. “Look at me.” The woman, her face swollen from crying, struggled out from under the sheets and knelt before me on the floor. “Anya, I’m so sorry.” “Ryder and I… we shouldn’t have, but we’re truly in love.” “Please,” she begged. “Please, just let us be together.” Her pathetic, groveling form looked so much like the first time I met her, when she was cornered by a group of bullies behind the training grounds. That was the day I, a top-ranked cadet, received my first disciplinary action for defending her. I had personally handed her my wedding bouquet, wishing for her to find her own happiness. And now here she was, in my husband’s arms, begging for my blessing. Tears streamed down my face. My voice trembled. “When did it start?” Her lips quivered, but no words came out. He answered for her. “Does it matter? Have you made enough of a scene? This is a military base, Anya, not your living room.” “Does it not matter?! Ryder! Does it not matter?!” I shrieked, my voice raw. He stood there, naked and unapologetic. “Fine! You want to know? I’ll tell you!” “It was last March, when you insisted on transferring to the border post. We got together then.” “We didn’t mean to hide it from you. But you had just lost your mother, and I didn’t want to hurt you more. So I let this marriage continue, to humor you.” “Mia has given up too much for me. I can’t let her suffer anymore. I was planning to ask for a divorce after the anniversary of your mother’s death.” “But since you’ve found out, we might as well be honest.” “Let’s get a divorce. You can name your terms. All I want is Mia.” In that single, shattering moment, I finally understood. I understood the true weight of that day I had sided with Ryder, when I had pushed my own mother away. Before the divorce was finalized, I waged a war. I took the photos I had of them in that state and had them printed, slipping copies into every company mail slot on base. I hung banners exposing their affair across the front of the main administration building. I filed a formal complaint with the Inspector General’s office about Mia’s conduct. I plastered the online forums of the National Defense University, where she was finishing her degree, with my story. At her graduation ceremony, I paid someone to loop a slideshow of all our old photos—the ones of our supposed friendship—on the main screen. The memories I had once treasured became my weapons. But Ryder protected her through it all. She graduated with honors. She was even about to have her first solo art exhibition. To clear the path for Mia, Ryder finally confronted me directly. “Mia is about to achieve her dream. Don’t you dare interfere.” By then, I was seeing red. “Interfere? I’m just getting started. I’m going to make sure everyone who comes to see her art gets to appreciate your masterpiece, too.” He threw a file on the table in front of me. “Sign the divorce papers, and stay the hell away from us. Do it, if you want your mother to have a final resting place.” When my mother was buried, I was so consumed by grief that Ryder had handled everything, including the purchase of the plot at the national cemetery. His name was on the deed. Now, he was using my mother’s grave against me. I threw my coffee in his face. That night, I slept at my mother’s graveside, crying until I passed out. The next day, I went to the legal office and signed the papers. The outcome was a final, cruel twist—Ryder only gave me the old, dilapidated apartment in the family housing complex. “You reported me for misconduct,” he said, his voice cold. “Most of my assets are frozen. This is all I can give you.” A pause. “If Mia hadn’t begged me, you wouldn’t have gotten a penny.” I could never win against Ryder. It had been that way since we were kids. He was calm, calculating, never acting on impulse. He knew how to use strategy and power to get what he wanted. I was the one who always charged straight ahead without thinking, wounding the enemy but taking the brunt of the damage myself. I gave him what he wanted. I went quiet. I sold the apartment and put in for a long-term transfer to the border. But before I left, on a whim, I went to Mia’s art exhibition. Her serene face was projected onto a massive screen in the city’s central plaza. The exhibition was titled, The Unlocking. It was a phrase we used to use in the letters we wrote to each other as teenagers. It represented the purest dreams of girlhood, the most sincere hopes of friendship. Driven by a final, self-destructive need for closure, I put on a hat and sunglasses and slipped into the gallery, feeling like a rat sneaking in to watch someone else’s feast. And then I saw the centerpiece painting. The Unlocking. It depicted two entwined bodies. I had kissed the mole on the man’s back a thousand times. The woman’s fingers were clenched, wrinkling the bedsheets. The bed had a pale green duvet cover, and outside the window, a magnolia tree was in full bloom. I had picked out that duvet cover myself. The pink blossoms swayed in the wind, a picture of tranquil beauty. It was my home. It was the place where he and Mia had first been together. So, the soul was hers, and the key was Ryder’s. A wave of nausea crashed over me. I threw up, right there on the polished gallery floor. The commotion drew the attention of the happy couple, who were greeting guests nearby. A soft voice sounded beside me. “Ma’am, are you alright?” The heart-shaped pin on her dress glittered, a perfect match for the key-shaped cufflinks on Ryder’s shirt. I lunged, ripping the pin from her chest and slashing it across the canvas. Screeeech. The sound of tearing canvas silenced the room, followed by a collective gasp. In the chaos, security guards tackled me and pinned me to the floor. My cheek pressed against the cold marble, I looked up and saw him, holding a sobbing Mia, his eyes meeting mine. He looked at me as if I were something he’d found in a sewer. “Call the police,” he said.

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The Hawthorne Academy’s Charity Case was in the marble-tiled bathroom, dousing herself in cold water. Willow, our resident poor-but-pure girl, was soaking her crisp, but perpetually faded, linen blouse, her eyes glittering with malice. “Guess who your brother and your fiancé are going to believe?” she challenged, the ice in her voice sharper than the water she was pouring over herself. The moment the heavy door slammed open—Beckett, my brother, and Graham, my fiancé, charging in—she was on the ground. A crumpled, shivering heap of innocence. “I’m sorry, Miss Hawthorne,” she choked out, her voice barely a tremor. “I was wrong. I promise I’ll stay away from them. Please, don’t hurt me again.” A wave of pure, red-hot fury—a familiar Hawthorne trait—surged through me. They were both barreling toward me, their faces twisted with an infuriated protectiveness that made my stomach clench. They were going to make me pay, again. Just as I prepared to launch my defense, a blinding, holographic text overlay—like a malicious, glowing subtitle—flashed across my vision: [This villainess is too much!] [It’s fine, let her keep acting out!] [Her reputation for being a bully is universal. Soon no one will believe her! Once she embarrasses the Hawthorne name, the family will cut her off! The Male Lead will step up, and she’ll be the first person he purges!] I froze. The anger was instantly replaced by a glacial, sickening clarity. A slow, cold smile stretched across my face. I raised my hand and began to strike myself—not once, but a dozen times. Then, I grabbed the collar of my designer top and ripped it down the front. Finally, I scrambled onto the third-story window ledge and jumped. I made sure every witness saw the final, terrifying tableau: me, driven to self-destruction from the third-floor ledge by my own brother and fiancé, all for the sake of the ‘poor white flower’ they so adored. I was unconscious before I hit the ground, rushed to the ER, the family name already screaming in headlines. That night, the roar of the Hawthorne private jet shook the quiet suburb. Every major name in the city—the old guard, the corporate titans—showed up at the hospital. Grandfather Elias Hawthorne, propped up by his silver-wolf-head cane, ordered Beckett to receive fifty strokes. Graham was forced to kneel in the hospital lobby for three days and three nights, begging for Grandfather to lift the corporate sanctions that were already crushing his family’s hedge fund. 1 In the restroom stall, Willow—her clothes strategically faded, a testament to her ‘hardship’—was methodically dumping a bucket of toilet water over her head. “Guess who your brother and your fiancé are going to believe?” she repeated, her eyes gleaming. I looked at her the way you look at a truly bizarre performance artist. This wasn’t even the first time she had used this exact trick to set me up. Willow had arrived at Hawthorne Academy as the token scholarship student. Her innocent features, soft voice, and weaponized fragility had earned her the nickname: The Ingenue. Everyone bought the pure, selfless act. I, Audrey Hawthorne, the sole granddaughter in the Hawthorne legacy, had been raised on a pedestal of absolute privilege. I was notoriously aloof, arrogant, and rarely suffered fools. Naturally, I hadn’t rolled out the red carpet when Willow started circling Beckett and Graham. I’d told her, in front of the entire Advanced Placement class, to stop pretending she could marry her way out of poverty. She’d never forgiven me. Her revenge campaign was insidious. She’d pretend I tripped her in the hallway, glue her chair to the floor, plant a dead mouse in her locker, or slap herself and scald her own arm with a hair straightener. Then, she’d turn on the tears and blame me. At first, Beckett and Graham had defended me. But Willow’s relentless, tear-soaked consistency had worked. They slowly started to believe her. My reputation as a privileged, reckless bully who persecuted the poor had solidified across the entire campus. This newest performance—the drenched victim in the private bathroom—was just another escalation designed to turn everyone, especially Beckett and Graham, further against me. Seeing my silence, Willow’s smile widened, radiating smug satisfaction. “Thinking of a defense, Miss Hawthorne?” she asked. Before I could speak, she violently slammed the back of her head against the wall. A red contusion instantly bloomed on her pale forehead. The sound of desperate, pounding footsteps echoed outside the door. Willow instantly dropped to her knees, hugging herself, shivering dramatically. “I’m so sorry, Miss Hawthorne. I was wrong. I won’t go near them again. Please, stop tormenting me.” Beckett and Graham burst in simultaneously. The flash of sick panic in their eyes as they saw Willow on the floor was like a physical stab in my chest. Graham ripped off his limited-edition cashmere jacket and draped it over her trembling shoulders. When he looked up, his eyes were pure ice. “Audrey. When are you going to stop being a goddamn sadist?” he hissed. “First the mouse in the locker, then locking her in the equipment room, and now this? Cornering her in a bathroom? The whole school knows you harass her. Are you happy only when you’ve driven her out of school?” Beckett, without a word, grabbed the bucket Willow had used and, without hesitation, dumped the rest of the freezing water right over my head. His voice was terrifyingly cold. “Is this fun for you, Audrey? Are you finally satisfied?” The cold shock ran from my scalp to my toes, but the freezing water couldn’t extinguish the inferno of rage in my heart. Just as I opened my mouth to scorch the earth, the text overlay reappeared, even brighter now: [This villainess is too much!] [It’s fine, let her keep acting out!] [Her reputation for being a bully is universal. Soon no one will believe her! Once she embarrasses the Hawthorne name, the family will cut her off! The Male Lead will step up, and she’ll be the first person he purges!] The words hammered the future into my mind. I was the novel’s Designated Villainess, whose sole purpose was to lose everything before being destroyed by my own brother, the true Male Lead, all because of my repeated attacks on The Ingenue. But I knew the ending. And I absolutely refused to play the role they had written for me. Willow, seeing my dazed, drenched state, leveraged the moment. “Graham, Beckett,” she whispered, her voice laced with tears. “Don’t blame Miss Hawthorne. It’s my fault for forgetting my place, for foolishly thinking I could be friends with you. I’ll stay away from you both from now on. I don’t want to be the reason you fight.” Graham, his face contorted with sympathy, bundled her tighter in his jacket. “This isn’t your fault, Willow. It’s Audrey’s. She never learns.” He glared at me, his eyes full of contempt. “Audrey, if you so much as touch her again, I am ending our engagement today.” Beckett stepped closer to Willow, smoothing her damp hair. “It has nothing to do with you. Everyone indulged her, which is how she became such a spoiled tyrant. I’m making her apologize to you now.” He grabbed my wrist hard. “You are going to apologize, Audrey. If you don’t, I’m telling Mom and Dad, and more importantly, I’m telling Grandfather everything you’ve done at this school.” The text overlay flashed again: [Will she apologize now that Graham used the break-up threat?] [No way. She’s too arrogant. Once Beckett tells the family, she’s going to face her first-ever session kneeling in the family chapel!] I looked from Graham’s cold indifference to Beckett’s smug certainty and finally to Willow’s carefully crafted distress. I violently yanked my wrist free from Beckett’s grip. SLAP. The sound echoed through the tiled room as I struck my own face. Beckett and Graham stared at me, their eyes wide and synchronized. “What are you doing?” they demanded. I let out a strange, choked laugh. “You’re both so heartbroken for Willow,” I whispered, tears of real, white-hot fury beginning to stream down my already wet cheeks. “You don’t believe I was set up. Now, I’m letting you taste your own medicine, my darling brother and soon-to-be-ex-fiancé.” I lifted my hands and began to strike myself again, harder this time. My white face was instantly blotched with red, swelling rapidly. They surged forward in alarm, but I was faster. I lunged onto the window ledge. I tore off the rest of my ruined shirt and screamed at the top of my lungs: “Ah! Willow! Beckett! Graham! I’m sorry! Stop hitting me! Stop!” A crowd instantly formed below the window. They saw me, drenched, shaking, my face hideously bruised, perched precariously on the ledge. Tears, real ones mixed with the shock, poured from my eyes. I was performing for the largest audience I’d ever had. “Oh, God, Beckett, Graham, I really didn’t touch her! She poured the water herself! She put the mouse in the bag! It was all lies! She set me up!” I wailed. “I know you’ll never believe me. But if I have to die for you to finally see the truth, fine!” I reached out and grabbed their hands, pulling them toward me, and smiled a cold, desperate, unhinged smile. “You’ll get to feel exactly like me now. Wait for it.” Beckett scoffed, attempting to maintain control of the spiraling situation. “I don’t buy it, Audrey. You’re not actually going to jump.” He threw my hand away. That was my cue. I turned and dropped. As I fell, I screamed a final, desperate plea: “AH! STOP PUSHING ME! HELP!” You want a villainess who masters manipulation? Fine. Let’s see you try to out-manipulate a girl who already knows the script. The pain was immediate and absolute, and then the world went black. As I fell, I saw the twin looks of utter, paralyzing horror on Beckett’s and Graham’s faces as they looked down from the frame. The fall happened during the passing period. A huge crowd instantly gathered. “What happened to Audrey Hawthorne? Why did she jump?” “I was right here! I heard her scream that Willow was setting her up, and she was begging Beckett and Graham to stop hitting her!” “But that’s her own brother and her fiancé! Why would they do that to her? And Audrey is so proud—she would never jump without a reason.” “I thought I heard her scream, ‘Don’t push me’…” Everyone stared at my visibly bruised face and the drenched, torn remnants of my clothes. Audrey Hawthorne, the spoiled tyrant, was untouchable. No one would dare bully her. The only logical explanation in their minds was that someone had pushed her, or driven her to it. The news of the Hawthorne Heiress’s jump spread faster than a market crash, alarming the headmaster, the board of directors, and the entire Hawthorne corporate apparatus. Within ten minutes, private security and medics swarmed the campus. My father, currently closing a deal in Zurich, mobilized his private jet to return immediately. I was out for a full day and night. Other than a nasty spiral fracture in my leg, I was fine. When I finally woke up, my room was packed. My eyes immediately locked on the three figures kneeling in the corner of the room. Grandfather Elias’s voice was the first one I heard. It was thick with concern. “Audrey. Tell me exactly what happened. Why did you do this?” My parents looked devastated. “They told us it was your brother and Graham… that they pushed you. Is that true, sweetheart?” Beckett exploded. “I already told you, she jumped! She did this to herself! Why won’t anyone believe me?” Grandfather roared, “Silence!” The text overlay flashed again, now with new, frantic comments: [Wait, what? This plot twist wasn’t in the draft! Did the villainess just jump to frame Willow and the guys?] [They’ve been kneeling for a day and a night because of her jump. What an evil, disgusting villainess!] […Is the villainess starting to use her brain? Beckett just got Grandfather’s wrath for the first time because of her.] A day and a night? Pathetic. My face crumpled. I unleashed a flood of tears. “Grandfather, Mom, Dad, you have to help me.” I reached for my father’s hand. “Willow poured water on herself to frame me, and they refused to listen. They slapped me, they poured water on my head, and they cornered me on the window ledge, telling me to apologize to her.” I forced a sharp, painful cough. “When I refused, they pushed me.” I leaned back, weak and frail. “It wasn’t just this time! Every time Willow hurt herself to set me up, Beckett and Graham believed her, and they always took her side. Grandfather, I was so scared. I thought I would never see you again.” My parents’ faces hardened. Grandfather’s expression was thunderous. “Grandfather! Dad, Mom! She is lying! She is framing us!” Beckett pleaded, furious. “She’s the one who bullies Willow at school! Everyone knows it! She had Willow cornered in the bathroom, and if Graham and I hadn’t gotten there, Willow would have been the one going out the window!” Willow, still kneeling, whispered meekly, her lips trembling, “I didn’t lie, Miss Hawthorne. I know my place is beneath you. I would never have the courage to harm you or offend you.” Graham quickly chimed in. “Mr. Hawthorne, Audrey is completely lying. She slapped herself, she ripped her own clothes, and she jumped. We never laid a hand on her!” Grandfather slammed his cane on the floor. “Nonsense!” he bellowed. “Audrey Hawthorne is the heiress of the Hawthorne legacy. She can snap her fingers and ruin anyone who crosses her. Why on earth would she mutilate herself and jump from a third-story window just to frame you three?” Exactly. No one could believe I would degrade myself that way. It only proves how desperate I was to clear my name. I met Willow’s eyes. A flicker of pure, unadulterated hatred swam in hers, but she didn’t dare speak another word. Beckett, emboldened by panic, stood up. “Grandfather! Why do you believe Audrey and not us? She’s a bully! She’s been tormenting Willow since she arrived!” Graham nodded seriously. “Mr. Hawthorne, Beckett is telling the truth. She’s the aggressor. Her jump was an attempt to frame us.” Grandfather’s face was a mask of cold disappointment. He directed his fury at Beckett. “Disgraceful! You, as the elder brother, not only failed to protect your sister but actively conspired with an outsider against her! You will take the fifty strokes, copy the family rules one hundred times, and kneel in the family chapel for seven days and seven nights!” He turned to Graham. “And you. You have been betrothed to my granddaughter since childhood. You have not only failed your duty as a fiancé but aided in her abuse. The Hawthorne corporation is immediately severing all financial and political ties with the Graham Group. The engagement is null and void.” Beckett and Graham stared, aghast and speechless, at the patriarch. I watched, a vicious joy coiling in my chest. Willow threw herself forward, forehead hitting the floor with a loud thud. Her voice was a heartbreaking sob. “It’s all my fault! I caused this! If hitting my head until I bleed would make Miss Hawthorne feel better, I would do it!” She hammered her head again. “Please, don’t punish Beckett and Graham! I caused this argument! Punish me instead! If Miss Hawthorne is still angry, I will leave the school and never show my face again!” [Oh God, our poor Willow! She’s being framed, but she’s apologizing for the villainess! When will this cruel villainess get what’s coming to her?] [Sweetie, you did nothing wrong! Don’t apologize! It’s only because you don’t have the background! You’ll step on Audrey Hawthorne one day!] Beckett and Graham rushed to her, their faces contorted with pity. “Grandfather, this has nothing to do with Willow. It’s my fault for not looking after Audrey. Punish me.” “Mr. Hawthorne, Willow is from a poor background. It’s hard enough for her to attend school. I’ll take the punishment.” Grandfather’s expression darkened, ready to deliver his verdict, but I spoke first, my voice weak but steady. “Grandfather, let her go. It’s not worth it. We don’t want to be accused of bullying a poor townie.” Willow looked up at me in shock. I gave her a small, sweet smile. You don’t think I’d just let you walk away after you put me in the hospital, do you? Grandfather looked at me with approval. “Fine. On the condition that Audrey has forgiven you, I will spare you the corporate consequences. However, you will write a full apology and read it aloud to the entire student body. If this happens again, you will be dealt with severely.” I was satisfied. The Hawthorne family was dangerously thin on heirs; it was just Beckett and me. Grandfather, being old school, favored the male heir, but I was still his only granddaughter. This incident had shaken his faith in Beckett. My goal wasn’t just revenge; it was the legacy. From this day forward, I would prove that Beckett was unfit to lead the Hawthorne empire. Beckett spent two weeks recovering from his fifty strokes. Graham was forced by his parents to kneel outside my hospital room for three days straight, begging Grandfather to reconsider. When Willow returned to school, the sympathy in her peers’ eyes was gone. Whispers of her being a manipulative “white lotus” followed her everywhere. She finally got a taste of what it felt like to be publicly maligned and utterly powerless. I spent a month recovering. During that time, I enrolled in the upcoming national academic competition. On the day of the competition, I arrived in a wheelchair, only to find Willow sitting in my reserved spot. Beckett and Graham were flanking her, still acting as her self-appointed bodyguards. They were whispering to her, eliciting a delicate, muffled giggle. The moment they saw me, their faces went cold. Willow remained firmly planted in my seat. She tilted her face up, a picture of false concern. “Miss Hawthorne, are you feeling better? I wanted to visit you, but I thought you wouldn’t want to see me, especially after… well, everything.” She brightened suddenly. “I see you signed up for the academic competition! I admire your courage! But you’ve been in the hospital. I know you haven’t had time to study. Don’t worry. I’ll let you have first place as my apology for everything that happened.” I looked down at her, utterly unimpressed. “Move,” I said, my voice flat. Beckett stepped forward, his eyes burning with familiar contempt. “Audrey, what is your problem? Willow is trying to be kind! Don’t be a brat! And for God’s sake, what’s the point of you even showing up? Don’t you dare come in last place and embarrass the Hawthorne name again.” Graham chimed in with his usual condescension. “Willow is being gracious. You’ve been sidelined for a month; you’ve probably forgotten the basic formulas. If you place dead last, you’ll only confirm the rumors that the Hawthorne Heiress is just ‘a golden cage with nothing inside.’” I ignored them both. “Move. This is my seat.” Willow immediately broke into a fit of delicate coughing, looking like a weak puff of wind could scatter her. “I’m so sorry, Miss Hawthorne. I didn’t mean to steal your spot,” she whispered. “After you poured that water on me, and then the kneeling… I’ve been sick off and on all month. I just felt dizzy and needed to sit down. Please, don’t be angry.” Beckett shot me a hateful look. “Willow, stay put. Rest here until the competition starts.” He turned to me, his voice a low, hostile growl. “Don’t think that just because Grandfather is protecting you, I’m afraid of you. I will make them see you for what you are. As long as I’m a Hawthorne, you will not touch Willow!” Graham stood directly behind her, shielding her. “I won’t let you bully her again.” I glanced past them. Willow caught my eye and flashed a small, confident smirk. She mouthed the words: What can you do? The text overlay exploded: [LOL, Willow’s so fierce! If Audrey charges in, she’s screwed! Willow already called the press—if the villainess loses control, tomorrow’s headline is “Psycho Heiress Bullies Sick Classmate,” and Hawthorne stock will plummet! Grandfather will disinherit her!] [Since Audrey framed them last time, Beckett and Graham are both wearing tiny pinhole cameras! If Audrey tries to lie, the recording goes straight to Grandfather!] I slowly released the arms of the wheelchair and stood up, leaning against the table. The noise around us had swelled. “Do you think Audrey will actually attack her this time?” “Of course, she will. It’s Audrey Hawthorne. She has no brain, only a terrible temper. She’ll blow up instantly.” “I bet $500,000 she flips the table!” “A million! I bet she slaps her!” Everyone was waiting for the show.

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On the set of Truth or Dare, the host turned to my fiancée and asked, “Have you ever cheated on your partner?” My fiancée, Chloe, was hooked up to a lie detector. She hesitated for a moment, then looked at me and said, “At our engagement party, my ex-boyfriend got drunk and came crying to me.” I couldn’t help but interrupt, “Didn’t we sleep together that night?” Chloe took a deep breath. “Yes. You were lying right next to us, so we were very quiet, afraid of waking you. But he was drunk, and he was intentionally rough, so I had to stifle my screams.” In an instant, the audience was stunned into silence. The host let out a low whistle. “That’s… intense.” I gritted my teeth, clenching my fists. If she told the truth, she’d win a million dollars. For a million dollars, this woman had stopped pretending completely! This wasn’t just any ordinary game of Truth or Dare. It was a reality show that operated in a legal grey area, which is why we had to fly to the US to participate. Contestants had to bring their families. There were five questions in total. Each truthful answer earned $200,000. Answer all five correctly, and you walk away with a million dollars. But once you start, you absolutely cannot quit. If you quit, you lose all the prize money. Chloe said, “Don’t blame me. No one dislikes money. Anyway, I’m about to have a million dollars. Worst case scenario, I’ll break off the engagement. The moment we landed in America, I never planned on staying with you.” I clenched my jaw. This b*tch. She didn’t even know she was already finished. Chloe had fought hard to get a spot on this show. To get us here, she even lied to me, saying she wanted a honeymoon in Las Vegas before the wedding. Only after we landed did she confess she wanted to be on this show. I immediately looked it up and found out countless families had been destroyed by it. Chloe kept reassuring me, swearing she had never done anything to betray me. Liar. She was lying from the start. But what Chloe didn’t know was that I had a backup plan. Before coming to the show, I took her to a drive-thru chapel—classic Vegas style—and asked her if she’d marry me. To keep up the charade and get me on the show, she said yes. This is America. This is Las Vegas. Chloe had no idea our marriage was already effective. Completely legal. Turns out, I bet right. When she tricked me into coming here for this show, I predicted she must have done plenty of things to wrong me. Now, every cent of the prize money she earned by tearing apart our relationship and humiliating me belonged to me. What she was speaking wasn’t just the truth; it was the evidence that would leave her with nothing in the divorce! 1 After Chloe gave her answer, the host checked the lie detector results and said, “That is the truth. Next question.” Chloe let out a sigh of relief. She glanced at me, her eyes devoid of any affection. All she could think about was that million dollars. The host continued, “Second question: Do you love your partner?” Chloe laughed. “What kind of question is that? I don’t love him. I’m marrying him only because he was the best option among my suitors. But I’m about to have a million dollars, so… who cares about him? I’m a smart woman.” As she said this, Chloe shrugged, thinking she was being witty. She knew nothing about America. The show’s interpreter glanced at Chloe. When he translated her answer, the entire audience started booing. Chloe panicked and shouted, “Girl power! Girls help girls!” It didn’t work. Several women in the audience yelled, “B*tch!” The host signaled for quiet and smiled. “Seems like our show is getting interesting. Does the gentleman have anything to say?” I looked at Chloe and asked, “Have you thought about the fact that this show might be broadcast back home? That our parents might see it?” Chloe sneered. “A million dollars is seven million RMB. When I’m living in a penthouse in Shanghai or Beijing, driving a Porsche, do you think I’ll care what people think of me?” I asked, “Have I ever wronged you?” Chloe said, “No, you haven’t. You’re a good man, and I do feel I’ve wronged you. It’s just that I deserve a better life.” The host announced, “The lie detector indicates you are telling the truth. Congratulations, you’ve accumulated $400,000. Are you ready for your third question?” Chloe smiled. “Ready.” She acted so indifferent. True, she had already self-destructed with the first question. What did she have left to fear? I clenched my fists, hate bubbling in my chest. On the night of our engagement party, while I was sleeping, she was doing that with her ex right next to me. Nothing she said could hurt me more than that. But I underestimated how low the show could go. The host looked at Chloe with interest. “You’ve boldly spoken your truth on this show, which means you’ll face strange looks from family and friends when you return home. We understand you have a plan. What do you intend to do?” Chloe looked at me and said, “I won’t be going back. I’m staying in America.” “But your tourist visa will expire.” Chloe suddenly announced, “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to marry an American man.” I was stunned. What did she mean, marry an American man? The host chuckled. “We have a special guest today. Would you mind introducing him to us?” Chloe nodded. “Please meet my fiancé, Tyler.” I couldn’t process it. I was her fiancé. Why was there suddenly another fiancé with a foreign name? Music started playing, and from behind the big screen walked a sloppy American man. He weighed at least 250 pounds, looked unkempt, and honestly, greasy. I was in shock. Since when did Chloe have a fiancé behind my back? The host said, “Your third truth: please explain this situation to us.” Chloe said, “As you can see, I’m a smart woman. When I came to America for this show, I knew what I’d face back home. So, a month ago, I started posting sexy photos of myself online.” My eyes widened. I couldn’t help but ask, “A month ago? Wasn’t that when we were preparing for the wedding?” Chloe replied, “At this point, the mask is off, so I have nothing to hide. I have to admit, posting thirst traps while wearing a wedding dress really gets the attention of foreigners. I love this open country.” “In China, wearing a wedding dress means accepting oppression from a husband. Bearing children for them, becoming a pathetic housewife.” “But America is different. In this land of freedom, I can express myself fully.” The interpreter’s face turned dark. I sighed. Chloe was so focused on grabbing money that she didn’t understand America at all. The interpreter looked like he wanted to slap her. The host said to the interpreter, “Please translate the lady’s words.” The interpreter awkwardly relayed Chloe’s statement. Instantly, the crowd erupted in curses. Especially the female audience members, who were shouting all kinds of profanities at Chloe. The host said, “It seems the lady has watched too many Hollywood movies and misunderstood our culture. We are in Las Vegas, Nevada. We lean Republican here.” Chloe looked clueless. “What’s the difference?” The host explained, “You foreign tourists might be ‘open,’ but to us, marriage is exactly what you despise. Men go out to provide, women stay home to care for the house and children. Our women oppose abortion, support traditional families, and are modest and conservative.” Chloe’s face grew uglier by the second. The host continued, “Our wives prepare meals with care for their husbands, iron their suits, and take the family to church every Sunday, taking pride in such a life. If you want to marry into America, at least understand American culture. Or maybe you should go to California; you’ll find plenty of Democrat friends to support you there.” In that moment, Chloe finally understood. This was a Republican stronghold. In the eyes of this audience, she was a loose, shameless slut. And just moments ago, she was clowning around shouting “girls help girls.” The host smiled. “Please continue.” Chloe realized her predicament. Feeling the scornful gazes of the audience, she braced herself and said, “It doesn’t matter. Once I get the million dollars, I can go to California and pursue the life I want. Anyway, after I posted some sexy photos…” The host interrupted, “Please specify the degree of sexiness.” Chloe awkwardly said, “Photos without clothes.” “Specifically, how much without clothes?” “Completely naked.” “How many views did these posts get?” “Some got a few, some got tens of thousands.” The audience immediately started shouting insults at Chloe. Whore. Slut. Chloe panted in humiliation, seemingly motivating herself with the thought of the million dollars. She continued, “Some men DM’d me. I expressed that I wanted to get married, and then I chose Tyler.” The audience started protesting. Some people stood up to curse her. For dramatic effect, the host handed the microphone to a woman in the audience. She said, “How could anyone want to marry an internet slut? Did you choose this man named Tyler, or was he the only one willing to marry you?” Tyler yawned, and in front of everyone, reached into his shorts and scratched his butt. Chloe admitted honestly, “Only he was willing. Everyone else rejected me.” The woman rolled her eyes. “While your fiancé was preparing for the wedding, you were posting shameless photos online just to marry over here. You truly only deserve a low-value man like him.” Tyler got angry, flipping the woman off and looking ready to fight her until security held him back. I clenched my fists, feeling utterly humiliated. So the moment Chloe found out she could be on the show, she started preparing back home. She had been cucking me for who knows how long! Chloe shrugged. “I don’t care. You’re all just jealous. Once I get the million dollars and marry Tyler for a green card, I’ll have a happy life.” I sneered when I heard that. She was still fantasizing about marrying Tyler and spending that million dollars in America, unaware she was already married to me. She couldn’t marry Tyler. When her visa expired, she’d have to go back. She wouldn’t have a happy life. All our friends and family would witness what a cheap person she was. When this hit the courts, she’d regret every single confession she made! Chloe noticed my smile. “Are you laughing at me?” I nodded. “Yeah, I am.” Chloe retorted, “What right do you have to laugh at me! I admit I’m bad, but I’ve already earned $600,000!” I looked at her coldly. She hadn’t earned $600,000. She had earned me $600,000. She thought enduring humiliation was making her rich, but she didn’t know she was making money for me. The host picked up his mic. “Congratulations on earning $600,000. And congratulations to our show; I believe this episode will have record-breaking ratings.” While the host spoke, I waved to a producer on the side. The producer came over and asked if I wanted to speak. I said, “I’ll give you a scoop that will send your ratings through the roof.” The producer looked confused. I leaned in and whispered, “We got married today. Please help me contact a lawyer. I’m going to make this woman lose everything. You can make this the final question.” The producer’s eyes widened in disbelief. I took out the marriage certificate and waved it in front of him. Immediately, the producer gave me a thumbs up and excitedly ran off to make arrangements. The host smiled. “Now, for $800,000. Miss, do you…” Just as the host was about to ask the fourth question, the producer ran up to him. He whispered excitedly into the host’s ear. The host listened, then looked at me in surprise. He put down the original question card and asked Chloe, “Miss, you are about to win a million dollars, but you have committed adultery and deceit against your fiancé. Now, both your fiancé and the man you intend to marry are here. Have you and Tyler done anything?” My heart skipped a beat. The show was helping me!

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The first day of college, and the campus queen wins my fiancé in a ring toss. She was already sliding a dog leash onto his neck, insistent on taking him home with her. To humor me, my fiancé bet that if I could ring him within ten throws, I could do whatever I wanted with him tonight. I’ll be honest, I’d been dying to get my hands on him for months. But before my first ring even left my fingers, the arrival of the impeccably dressed Sabrina Wells—Westbrook University’s queen—changed everything. The polished chrome chain was already clipped to my fiancé’s collar. She smirked at me, a blatant challenge in her eyes. “My apologies. I won the prize first. He’s mine for the night.” Unbelievable audacity. Who in the hell dares put a chain on Rhys Harrington? I was about to erupt. The stall owner quickly tugged my sleeve. “That’s Sabrina Wells, the Westbrook darling. The only daughter of the Wells fortune. And rumor has it, she’s the fiancée of the Harrington heir from Greenwich, Rhys Harrington.” “Cross her, and your time at Westbrook will be miserable.” Wait, what? She’s the Wells heiress? Who the hell does that make me? I shot a questioning look at my fiancé. “Dad has another daughter I don’t know about?” 1 Rhys, wearing a sleek, stylized wolf mask, winced as he tried to subtly slip the chain off. He answered me dutifully. “Baby, I have never heard your father mention any other daughters.” That was genuinely strange. Could my workaholic father possibly have a secret, illegitimate daughter? No, impossible. My parents are notoriously and sickeningly devoted to each other. My father is practically wrapped around my mother’s finger like caramel. An affair was absolutely out of the question. So, who was this Sabrina Wells? I tried to be reasonable. “Look, I think you have the wrong idea, Sabrina. This is my boyfriend, and we were just messing around. As compensation, you can have any other prize on the stall, on me.” Sabrina acted as if I hadn’t spoken. She yanked the chain hard, causing Rhys to stumble forward. “Stay still!” Before Rhys could fully react, she aggressively looped her arms around his neck. Click. She’d snapped a photo. A moment later, a social media post on a local feed flashed across my phone: “Won the cutest, hottest Big Bad Wolf at the carnival ring toss! He’s my exclusive personal escort now! ” The humiliating chain was clearly visible in the accompanying photo. Comments exploded instantly: “OMG, Sabrina, you’re wild! I can tell that body is shredded even through the mask. Is he a model?” “Only a real heiress plays like this!” “Wait… why does his build look familiar? Like the Harrington family heir?” No one, besides me, had ever dared treat Rhys like this. The sheer violence in his eyes was barely contained beneath the mask. This was the harbinger of his full-blown, terrifying rage. I quickly warned Sabrina. “You need to take that chain off and delete that photo right now. The consequences are far beyond anything you can handle!” If Rhys’s father—the notoriously protective patriarch of the Harrington empire back in Manhattan—ever saw his only son humiliated this way, he would go nuclear. Sabrina, and potentially Westbrook itself, would cease to exist. Instead, Sabrina used her $30,000 designer handbag to smack me hard across the face. Smack. A searing, sharp pain flared across my jaw. She glanced at my Westbrook University ID clipped to my jacket and sneered. “Tsk. I wondered what lowlife I was dealing with. Just a freshman, huh?” “No wonder. You reek of desperation and poverty. I can smell it three feet away.” She stepped closer, her voice dripping with scorn. “Listen up, little girl. You’re new to college, and you clearly haven’t learned the rules of the world. Tonight, big sister is going to give you a free lesson.” “When a Wells family member wants something, whether it’s an object or a person…” Her gaze swept deliberately over Rhys. “…no one dares say no. I don’t care if he’s your boyfriend. I want him, so he’s mine!” Rhys’s fists clenched, a storm brewing in his dark eyes. “You’re looking for a death wish,” he ground out. The air went silent. Sabrina was visibly rattled by his intensity. Before he could move, I quickly intercepted his hand, meeting his gaze with an urgent plea for patience. Rhys froze, confused, looking at me. I gave him a subtle, calming look. My focus wasn’t on his imminent breakdown, but on the bag that had just hit me. That specific color, that specific wear-and-tear… it was a gift from my father. And the tiny, distinct scratch on the bottom right corner matched the teeth marks of my mischievous puppy, Winston. I had explicitly told the housekeeper to discard that exact bag months ago. How was it in Sabrina Wells’s hand? Was my father truly hiding a secret daughter? 2 I instantly called my father. “Dad, you need to tell me the truth. Do you have an illegitimate daughter out there?” A distressed yelp came through the phone. Then, my mother’s furious voice: “Jonathan Sutton! You rat! Who is the mistress? Tell me now!” “Eleanor, my darling, I would never!” The head of the multi-billion dollar Sutton Group was practically whimpering. “Avery, don’t slander me! I promise you, you are my one and only precious daughter. What’s going on? You and Rhys’s engagement party is tomorrow night. Why aren’t you two together?” My father sounded genuine. I hung up and texted him, enclosing a photo of Sabrina, asking him to look into her identity immediately. I didn’t know how she got her hands on my Birkin, but a lie is a lie. I was eager to see how this fraud, wearing my identity like a costume, would keep up the act. “Sabrina Wells,” I said, my voice dangerously even. “There are dozens of people here recording this. If a video of the Wells heiress publicly assaulting an average student gets out, the Wells Group stock will tank tomorrow. Can you handle that?” Sabrina’s eyes narrowed, and she shrieked her denial. “You dare threaten me? Ha! Rhys already assigned his personal security detail to me! Do you know what that means? I am his acknowledged fiancée, the woman he truly loves!” “Are you sure?” I countered. I didn’t think so. Rhys’s personal security detail—The Talon operatives—answer only to him, and to me, via emergency clearance. Just then, a squad of imposing men in black arrived. They wore the Harrington family’s distinctive Talon insignia. They immediately dispersed the crowd, forcing everyone to delete their videos. They then turned and bowed in unison to Sabrina. “Miss Wells!” My stomach dropped. I looked sharply at Rhys. He gave me a pathetic shrug beneath the mask. “Baby, I swear this has nothing to do with me.” But what the hell was going on? How could she command The Talon? Sabrina crossed her arms, a triumphant smirk on her face, and yanked hard on the chain around Rhys’s neck. “Now I’ve changed my mind.” “I want you to be my pet. I’ll enjoy playing with you every night.” She ordered The Talon to restrain me and secure Rhys. Then, she walked over to a nearby street vendor and grabbed a bucket of glowing red charcoal from a grill, holding it up to Rhys. She grinned, manic excitement in her eyes. “Pull his pants down. I’m going to brand my exclusive mark right onto his little friend.” Rhys’s face was a study in cold, dark fury. His chilling demeanor caused the Talon operatives to visibly flinch. “You better kill me today,” he hissed. “Otherwise, I will make you regret the day you were born.” Sabrina was momentarily shaken, stumbling backward. Then, she turned, enraged, and ordered The Talon. “What are you afraid of? I’ll take full responsibility! Did you forget the Boss’s orders to obey me?” Watching Rhys face an absolute threat of castration, I struggled violently, screaming. “Are you all insane?! This is the Harrington Crown Prince! You dare do this to him?! The Harrington family will tear every single one of you limb from limb!” Sabrina slapped me across the face again. The blow left my ears ringing. She pointed a finger right at my nose, spitting words. “Still acting? Who would believe that nonsense? He’s the Harrington heir? Then I must be the Queen of England! Say one more word and I’ll have them brand your mouth shut!” My nose was bleeding. My cheek burned. I had been shielded and adored since birth. No one had ever dared lay a hand on me. When I was seven, I fell off a horse and suffered a minor wrist fracture. The next day, the purebred stallion—worth millions—had vanished from the stables. Rhys’s knuckles turned white. His eyes were bloodshot. “The Talon’s first iron rule,” Rhys’s voice was lethal, strained. “Loyalty to the Master, not the Mandate.” “If you touch a single hair on her head today, I will personally carve the mark of the Traitor into the retina of every single one of your eyes.” Every Talon operative recoiled as if struck by lightning, their faces bleached white. “That…” one stammered. “That is the unique private punishment reserved only for Harrington traitors. No outsider could possibly know that… Could he really be the Boss?”

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