Category: English

On the way home from another day of bullying, I found a notebook with no name on it. I decided to use it as a diary, writing down the hell I was going through. Suddenly, the notebook wrote back. “Go to Northside High. Find Luke Vance. He will help you.” 1 July 26, 2009. Wednesday. Overcast. Today, Chloe and Jessica forced me to kneel on broken glass. They tore my clothes. They took photos. I cried and begged, but it didn’t matter. It only made them worse. My throat is raw from screaming, and there isn’t a single part of me that doesn’t hurt. I cried to my parents, but they said we’re poor. We can’t afford a better life. We can’t offend them because their families have money. They have parents who protect them. Even the teachers and the principal listen to them. Why don’t I? I don’t want to be bullied anymore. I want someone to protect me too. I ran my fingers over the bloodstains and tear marks on the page. I put down the pen. My knees were throbbing. The iodine my parents applied stung just as bad. Suddenly, the notebook moved. Words began to appear on the paper. “Don’t cry. Go to Northside High, Senior Class 3. Find Luke Vance. He can protect you.” I stared blankly at the words forming before my eyes. It wasn’t a hallucination. The handwriting was bold and forceful, like a boy’s. I picked up my pen and wrote: “Who are you?” “Doesn’t matter. Just find Luke. He’ll help you.” “Oh wait, it’s 2009. You need to tell him something specific.” “What?” I wrote. “Tell him: ‘I won’t eat cake ever again.’” I stared at the sentence, completely confused. If the physical pain wasn’t so sharp, I would have thought I was dreaming. After that, no matter what I wrote, the notebook didn’t reply. 2 The next day, I got on the 952 bus. The notebook was in my bag. This wasn’t the route to my school. I was going to Northside High. Just to see. To try. When you’re desperate, you grasp at anything, no matter how ridiculous. The words in the notebook were my only hope. Before leaving, I slipped a folding knife into my bag. Northside High wasn’t far from my school, Eastside High. It was the best high school in the state. I got off the bus and walked straight in. Luckily, we were all high schoolers, and the uniforms looked similar enough. Security didn’t stop me. I stumbled my way to the senior hallway and found Class 3. “Who are you looking for?” A boy standing by the door asked curiously. I gripped my backpack straps, keeping my head down. “I’m looking for Luke Vance.” “Luke’s not here. Try again later, kid.” He turned to go back inside, but I grabbed his arm. “Wait… can you tell me where he is? It’s urgent.” The boy hesitated, seeing how anxious I was. “At this time? Probably still awake from an all-nighter at the internet cafe. Try the breakfast joint on the street behind the school.” I bowed quickly. “Thank you.” The boy stepped back, waving his hands. “Whoa, no need for that.” Following his directions, I found the street behind the school. It was bustling with vendors. I watched the students passing by, wanting to turn and run a hundred times. Coming here based on a magical notebook? Impulsive. Maybe I was losing my mind. But then the memories of them dragging me by my hair into the boys’ bathroom flashed in my mind. My heart felt like it was being ripped apart. I was already here. Even the smallest hope was worth a shot. I spotted the breakfast joint on the corner. A few students in uniform were eating inside. In the corner sat a boy with bleached blonde hair. He looked like a delinquent. I twisted the hem of my shirt and walked up to a group of students. “Excuse me… do you know Luke Vance?” They paused. Suddenly, the blonde boy in the corner looked up. His eyes were bloodshot. “Why are you looking for me?” 3 I froze. Short sleeves. A tattoo on his neck. A scar across the bridge of his nose. Even with the scar, which most would call a disfigurement, he was unfairly handsome. It just added a dangerous edge to his look. But handsome or not… He definitely didn’t look like a model student at a top high school. Luke leaned back in his chair, legs crossed, looking reckless. Just like the “bad news” teachers warned us about. I instinctively wanted to run. Then I remembered the notebook. Would he really help me? “Cat got your tongue?” Luke slurped some noodles, then glared at me. “If you got nothing to say, get lost. You’re ruining my appetite.” I gritted my teeth, walked over, and sat opposite him. Under his scrutiny, I stammered, “I… I’m being bullied. Someone told me you could help…” “Hah.” Luke scoffed before I could finish. “You got the wrong guy. Help you? Who the hell told you to find me? Everyone at Northside knows I’m the one doing the bullying.” “Go back and cut ties with whoever told you that. They’re messing with you.” I bit my lip, remembering the notebook. “He said… if I told you one sentence, you’d help me.” “What sentence?” “Tell him: ‘I won’t eat cake ever again.’” Luke froze mid-bite. He looked up, his gaze turning ice cold. I shrank back in fear. Just as I thought he might hit me, he stood up, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Let’s go.” I blinked. “Where?” “You wanted help, right? I’ll go kill them for you. Good?” He looked back at me. My scalp tingled. I waved my hands frantically. “I… I just wanted protection, not murder…” “Oh.” Luke nodded. He raised his arm, and I noticed he was wearing a watch that looked like a woman’s style. “How do you want protection? Bodyguard style? 24/7?” He turned back, the sunlight catching his grin. It was beautiful. I opened my mouth but couldn’t say a word. 4 Luke walked me to the gate of Eastside High. Seeing the school made my chest tighten like a giant hand was squeezing it. I couldn’t breathe. “Wait here a sec.” Luke ruffled his hair and walked off. I gritted my teeth and walked through the gate. The security guard glanced at me. “Exams are coming up. Stop hanging around with those thugs.” I didn’t answer. In the hallway, every student passing by made my skin crawl. I flinched at every accidental touch. When I entered the classroom, the noise died instantly. Chloe turned around and snickered. “Oh, look, Maya’s here! I thought you wouldn’t dare show up today.” Her laugh made my body go rigid. Fear flooded my veins. “What are you doing standing there? Get in!” The teacher shoved me from behind. I stumbled to my seat. “Exams are around the corner! Focus!” the teacher barked. My seat was in the back row. As soon as I sat down, Chloe turned around. She gave me a look of pure malice. I saw her mouth the words clearly. “Don’t leave after school.” … I rubbed the cover of my textbook, watching the seconds tick by. Every second, my heart sank lower. The nightmare… was coming back. I pulled the notebook out of my bag and reread the conversation. I thought of Luke. Would he come back? The bell rang. School was out. “Focus on your studies!” the teacher reminded us one last time before leaving. Chloe stood up and turned to face me. Luke didn’t come. I thought despairingly. No one is going to protect me. 5 Chloe cornered me. “Little bitch, you told the teacher, didn’t you?” She kicked me. I fell to the floor. Pain shot through me, bringing a cold sweat. “I… I didn’t tell anyone.” “Bullshit.” Jessica walked up behind Chloe, glaring at me. “If you didn’t tell, why did the teacher call me to the office?” “Little bitch, you didn’t learn your lesson yesterday?” Jessica grabbed my hair. From pain to numbness, I knelt on the floor, tears streaming down my face. They seemed to enjoy my suffering. “Scream louder!” Jessica pulled a black plastic bag from her backpack. She shook it in front of my terrified face, laughing. A crunching sound came from inside. “Kneeling didn’t teach you enough yesterday. Today, you eat it.” I realized instantly. The bag was full of broken glass. “No!” I scrambled up and shoved Chloe hard. Then I ran like my life depended on it. “You bitch! You dare push me?!” Before I could reach the door, a hand grabbed my hair and dragged me back toward the boys’ bathroom. “Run! Keep running!” Jessica pried my mouth open. Chloe opened the bag, ready to pour the glass down my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut in terror and despair. Praying for it to be over quickly. I trembled, waiting for the pain. But it never came. “You dare touch my person?” A familiar voice. I opened my eyes. Through the blur of tears, I saw Luke. He had dyed his hair black and changed into our school uniform. A cigarette dangled from his lips. He crushed the cigarette against the wall.

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I confessed to Julian seventeen times. Each time, he rejected me without hesitation. Just as I was about to give up, I accidentally stumbled into his room. The cold walls were plastered with my photos. On his bed lay a body pillow with my image. A whiteboard meticulously tracked my interactions and intimacy levels with every guy I knew. I froze on the spot. Seriously? After all this, he still has the nerve to say he doesn’t love me? So, I pretended not to know and sent him two messages. “Mr. Vance, I’ve thought it through. I won’t bother you anymore.” “By the way, I have a kissing scene tomorrow. Want to come give me some pointers?” 1 My dad sold me to Julian Vance. His company was on the verge of bankruptcy, and in desperation, he came up with the brilliant idea of selling his daughter. The Vance family is old money, famous in elite circles. Dad went straight to them. At first, he tried to sell me to the eldest son. The eldest son was already married, but my dad didn’t care. He said rich guys always have a wife at home and a side chick outside. So basically, he wanted me to be a mistress. I obviously refused, crying snot and tears at the Vance family gate. Maybe my crying face was too ugly, because the eldest son wasn’t interested. Instead, the reclusive second son, Julian, looked down at me. His face was cold, features sharp, eyes dark and distant. I had heard rumors about him. He was the black sheep of the family. Antisocial, weird, always alone. Even his father disliked him. My dad had no hope with him and was dragging me away, but Julian stopped us. He leaned down slightly and asked eighteen-year-old me: “Do you want to come with me?” I don’t know what I was thinking at the time. Maybe I was just tired of being pawned off by my dad. Or maybe Julian was just really, really good-looking. So, I nodded and asked: “Can I?” 2 Julian gave my dad a huge sum of money and took me back to his villa. I assumed I was his trophy bird in a gilded cage, but something was off about him. He spent a fortune to keep me, fed me well, treated me well, but never touched me. Our rooms weren’t even on the same floor. I lived in the sunny master bedroom on the second floor. He lived in the dark, damp basement. At first, I thought he was waiting for me to get older. But after two years, when I turned twenty, he still showed no interest. I figured maybe he was shy, so I decided to take the initiative. I put on a white dress, channeling that innocent “first love” vibe, showing off my collarbone and arms, and greeted him at the door. Julian just frowned, took off his suit jacket, and wrapped me up like a burrito. “You’ll catch a cold wearing so little.” Then he walked straight to the basement without looking back. I didn’t give up. The next day, I posed seductively on the sofa, giving him “come hither” eyes while slowly lifting my shirt to show off my abs. Julian pursed his lips and asked, confused, “Why isn’t the AC on if it’s so hot?” The third time, I put on perfume and threw myself into his arms. He leaned down, his breath tickling my ear. Just as the mood was getting steamy, he asked: “Did you not shower? You smell weird.” … It was like winking at a blind man. So, I decided to be direct. 3 The day I confessed to Julian was a normal weekend. During dinner, I told him I liked him. I thought he’d say yes. After all, he was so good to me. He never hesitated to give me money. When I said I wanted to be an actress, he set me up with an agency and resources immediately. But just as I was feeling confident, Julian’s spoon paused. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Don’t let it happen again.” I thought he was just being dense, but he really rejected me. I cried under my blanket that day, heart-wrenching sobs until the sun went down. I didn’t understand. If he didn’t like me, why keep me? Why be so good to me? It’s easy for a naive girl to fall for that, okay? But I am persistent. After crying, I confessed seventeen more times. Each time with a different speech, full of deep emotion. I refused to believe he wouldn’t be moved. But he really wasn’t. He rejected me ruthlessly every time, saying there was no possibility between us. Even though I liked him, after being rejected seventeen times, I lost hope. I realized he was a stone that couldn’t be warmed. That night, Julian went on a business trip. I was sitting on the stairs, hugging my knees and crying, when a snake suddenly slithered past me. I jumped. I remembered seeing a small snake when I first moved in. I was terrified, and Julian had the whole villa fumigated. I hadn’t seen a snake in years. Where did this one come from? Cold sweat dripped down my back as I watched it. It went downstairs to the basement, straight to a door, and slipped through the crack. That was Julian’s bedroom. If a snake got into his bed… Just thinking about it gave me goosebumps. I wanted to go in, but I remembered Julian’s rule. He never let anyone into his room, not even the housekeeper. He always locked it when he left. Maybe he was in a rush today and forgot. Hesitating, I grabbed a stick and pushed the door open, thinking of the snake. But what I saw froze me in place. 4 Julian’s room was minimalist gray. But the wall facing me was covered in photos. Photos of me. From when I was eighteen entering the house until now. Different times, places, expressions. Some were from my Instagram, some were selfies I sent to tease him, and some were candid shots I didn’t even know he took. My eyes widened in shock. Then I looked at the whiteboard next to the wall. It was filled with Julian’s bold handwriting. “Greg, college classmate. Chats with Ranran every few days. Average looks, no threat.” “Zhou, record label owner. Frequent ‘accidental’ meetings. Ulterior motives. Handled. No threat.” “Xie, obsessive fan. Stalked Ranran. Reported to police. In jail. No threat.” … It detailed every interaction I had with the opposite sex. Every name had an X next to it, except the last line. “Perry, male lead in Ranran’s new drama. Rising star, clean record, good looking, popular with women. High threat.” Note: “Likes to message Ranran. Minimize contact outside of filming.” I stared at the board dumbfounded. He was… investigating me? If he didn’t like me, why do this? Why block me from other guys? I suddenly remembered college. Guys chased me, but after Julian visited, they’d all distance themselves. Could Julian actually like me? My heart pounded. I scanned the room and my eyes landed on his bed. It was neat, but the pillow was out of place. It was a body pillow. With a life-sized print of me on it. My face burned instantly. I imagined him sleeping with that pillow every night. I thought he was a gentleman. Turns out he’s a pervert. But if he likes me this much, why reject me? I couldn’t figure it out. The snake slithered out the window while I was staring. I looked at the wall of photos and remembered his rejection today. “Ranran, I’m not interested in you. I just see you as a sister. Stop thinking like that.” Who makes a body pillow of their sister? What a pretender. I pretended I saw nothing and quietly left his room. Looking at the sunny sky outside, I let out a long breath. Then I took out my phone and sent him two messages. [Mr. Vance, I’ve thought it through. I won’t bother you anymore.] [By the way, I have a kissing scene with Perry tomorrow. Want to come give me some pointers?]

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Here is the translation and adaptation of the short story, localized for a Western audience with the requested formatting and stylistic adjustments. My husband is mute. At our wedding, it was his best friend, Kathleen, who spoke his vows for him. After we were married, his mother called me barren, a worthless wife, and he just stood there, face flushed red, unable to say a word in my defense. When Kathleen pushed me down the stairs, I lay on the floor, my head bleeding, and watched myself miscarry our child. My husband could only make strangled, desperate noises, powerless to help. Everyone told me the same thing: “It’s hard for him, too. He’s mute, Lucy. You have to be patient.” I believed them. Until the company gala. I left early and found him in the stairwell, shielding Kathleen from a group of drunk guys. I heard his voice, perfectly clear, for the first time. “Let her go,” he warned them, each word a cold, hard stone. “Or I’ll make sure you disappear from this city.” Kathleen looked up at him with pure adoration. “Liam,” she breathed. “You were so heroic.” Then my husband turned and saw my ashen face. And just like that, he was mute again. It turned out his voice only existed to protect one person. And it wasn’t me. 1. I stood frozen, watching Liam’s mouth move, the articulate threat dissolving back into the meaningless, guttural sounds I knew so well. His eyes were wide with panic, like someone who’d just had their most shameful secret exposed to the world. Kathleen’s expression faltered too, but she recovered instantly, rushing to my side and grabbing my hand. “Lucy, don’t misunderstand. Liam was just… he was so worried about me, he forced the words out.” Her voice was thick with a feigned vulnerability. “You know how he is. He’d do anything for me.” I ripped my hand from her grasp, my eyes pinned on Liam. He couldn’t meet my gaze. He looked down, a frantic sound caught in his throat as his hands flew into a flurry of sign language. [It’s not like that, Lucy. Let me explain.] I stared at his long, elegant fingers. The same hands that had gripped my hospital bed in a display of helpless agony the day I lost our baby. The memory was now a grotesque joke. A laugh escaped my lips, sharp and humorless. I turned and walked away. Liam reached for me, but I flinched away as if his touch would burn. “Don’t touch me.” My voice was so cold, I barely recognized it myself. He froze, the panic in his eyes deepening into despair. Back home, I locked myself in the bedroom. I used to think our quiet house was a peaceful sanctuary. Now, it just felt suffocating. Every corner reeked of lies. A little while later, there was a knock on the door. It was Liam. He didn’t try to enter. He just dragged his fingernails down the wooden door, a high-pitched, grating sound. Once. Twice. It was our private signal. It meant something was urgent. It meant he was begging me. I ignored it. After half an hour, the scratching stopped. I thought he’d given up, and a strange, unwelcome flicker of relief passed through me. Then my phone buzzed. It was a call from Kathleen. I didn’t answer. She followed up with a barrage of texts. “Lucy, Liam’s gone. He was so upset. I’m worried he’s going to do something stupid.” “He loves you so much. Please don’t be mad at him because of me.” “My cat seems sick, and I’m all alone and scared. Do you know where Liam is?” The last message was a tearful voice note. I opened the bedroom door. The living room was empty. Liam’s coat and car keys were gone. On the coffee table was his notepad, left open. Scrawled across the page in a messy, desperate hand were the words: [Lucy, believe me. I only love you.] I stared at the sentence, and a wave of nausea rolled through me. He loved me? Was this his love? Running to another woman the second his lies were exposed? I picked up my phone and dialed a number. “Hello. I need a background check. Liam Vance, and a woman he’s close with named Kathleen Bell.” “I want everything. From the day they met until now.” 2. The next day, I went to work as if nothing had happened. Liam didn’t come home. His mother, however, called right on schedule. “Lucy, what did you do to upset Liam now? Life is hard enough for him as a mute man. Do you have to push him to his breaking point?” “Kathleen called me. She said you were being unreasonable. Liam’s at her place now. You need to go pick him up immediately!” I hung up on her. That evening, Liam finally returned, his face etched with exhaustion. Kathleen was trailing behind him, carrying a container of homemade soup. “Lucy, Liam was worried you hadn’t eaten, so he asked me to bring this over.” She smiled, a picture of innocence, as if the scene in the stairwell had been a figment of my imagination. My mother-in-law followed them in, immediately taking Kathleen’s hand and glaring at me. “Look at how thoughtful Kathleen is. Then look at you. Can’t even take care of your own husband!” “If it weren’t for Kathleen, who knows where Liam would have ended up last night!” Liam just stood there, head bowed, wringing his hands, the very image of guilt and helplessness. I watched them, my heart a block of ice. I walked to the dining table, picked up a document, and held it out to him. “Sign this.” His mother snatched it from my hand. “Sign what? A divorce? I’m telling you, Lucy, the Vance men do not get divorced!” Kathleen leaned in, her face a mask of concern for Liam. “Liam, don’t do anything rash. Lucy’s just upset right now.” She reached for his hand, but he recoiled as if burned, his pleading eyes fixed on me. I ignored him and spoke to his mother. “It’s not a divorce. It’s a company document. Urgent.” She looked skeptical but, seeing my resolve, said nothing more. Liam, seemingly wanting to ease Kathleen’s worry, took the pen and quickly signed his name at the bottom. His signature, like his appearance, was neat and clean. He looked up at me, his eyes wide and innocent as always. [Lucy, please don’t be mad anymore. Okay?] I took the document without giving him a second glance. Just then, Kathleen pointed to an emerald bracelet on my wrist. “Lucy, that bracelet is beautiful. Was it a gift from Liam?” It was. It was the gift he’d given me when he proposed, and I never took it off. I waited for his reaction. As expected, he froze, then began signing rapidly. [It was my engagement gift to Lucy.] Kathleen’s face fell in disappointment, her lip jutting out in a pout. “Oh… I see. It’s just so pretty.” She looked at Liam, her eyes full of longing. “You’ve never given me a gift like that, Liam.” A flicker of conflict crossed his face. He glanced at Kathleen, then back at me. Finally, he picked up the pen and wrote on the notepad. [Lucy, what if… you just let Kathleen borrow it for a few days? She has an important party next week.] In that single moment, my heart didn’t just break. It turned to dust. 3. I stared at the words on the paper for a full ten seconds. Then, I smiled. I unclasped the bracelet. But instead of handing it to Kathleen, I looked directly at Liam. “Are you sure?” He shifted uncomfortably under my gaze, avoiding my eyes as he nodded. [Just for a few days.] “Okay.” I nodded. Then, before any of them could react, I raised my hand. SMASH! The bracelet shattered against the marble floor, emerald fragments scattering like shrapnel. My mother-in-law shrieked. “Are you insane, Lucy?!” Kathleen gasped, hiding behind Liam, her face pale with shock. Liam shot to his feet, staring at me in disbelief. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. I stood amidst the glittering debris, my voice calm. “It’s broken. Now no one can have it.” I turned and went upstairs to pack. Liam followed, signing frantically at the door. [What is wrong with you? I’ll buy you a new one!] I ignored him, stuffing clothes into a suitcase. He grabbed my wrist. [Don’t go!] I threw his hand off. “Liam. We’re done.” He swayed, his face deathly pale. As I dragged my suitcase downstairs, his mother was still screaming insults at me. I walked straight to the door. Liam blocked my path, his eyes red, signing the same thing over and over. [I’m sorry. I was wrong. Please don’t leave.] I looked at him and found it all so pathetic. “Can your apology bring back my child?” He flinched as if I’d slapped him and froze. I pulled open the door and walked out. Behind me, I heard the sound of something else shattering, followed by his mother’s furious shouts. I didn’t look back. A few days later, my investigator handed me a thick file and several audio recorders. I spent the entire night acquainting myself with the “pure friendship” of Liam and Kathleen. It turned out, Liam wasn’t born mute. At age ten, a severe fever damaged his vocal cords, leaving him unable to speak for a year. During that year, he was showered with attention and care from everyone. Especially Kathleen, who became his self-appointed “spokesperson.” When his voice returned, he made a choice. He stayed silent. He discovered that being a mute got him more than speaking ever did. And Kathleen was the sole keeper of his secret. They were bound together by this twisted arrangement for twenty years. I listened to a recording of Kathleen bragging to a friend. “Liam? Of course he’s not really mute. He just can’t be bothered to talk to people who don’t matter.” “Lucy? She’s just a tool. The Vance family business needed her family’s connections. Why else would he marry her?” “It’s better that the baby’s gone. I was getting sick of looking at her.” I squeezed the recorder, my nails digging into my palm. 4. I thought I would be shaking with rage, but I was terrifyingly calm. The next day, I got a call from Kathleen. She was sobbing, claiming she’d accidentally broken my mother-in-law’s favorite antique vase and was about to be thrown out. “Lucy, can you please talk to Liam for me? He listens to you.” I let out a soft laugh. “Isn’t he at your place? Why don’t you talk to him yourself?” There was a pause, then more dramatic crying. “He… he won’t see me. He won’t answer my calls. I don’t know what to do.” I leaned back on my sofa, taking a slow sip of coffee. “Then you should get on your knees and beg him. Just like I was on my knees, begging him to save me the day I lost our baby.” Kathleen was speechless. I hung up, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. A short while later, my doorbell rang. It was Liam. He looked haggard, with dark circles under his eyes. He was holding a small, elegant cake box. When he saw me, he forced a hopeful smile. [Lucy, I bought you your favorite cake.] He signed, watching my expression carefully. I didn’t let him in. I just leaned against the doorframe. “What do you want?” He seemed taken aback by my coldness. He started signing again, more urgently this time. [Kathleen didn’t mean it. She’s young and immature. Don’t hold it against her.] [I’ll talk to my mom. Don’t worry.] I watched him rush to defend her, the irony thick enough to choke on. “Liam, are you here to bring me a cake, or to be Kathleen’s lawyer?” His face drained of color, his hands frozen mid-air. I shut the door, cutting him off completely. That night, I received a picture message from an unknown number. It was a photo of the box from my old storage room—the box that held all of my baby’s things. The tiny clothes, the soft toys, the sweater I’d knitted by hand. Now, they were all piled next to a dumpster, spattered with filth. Beneath the photo was a single line of text. [Eyesores belong in the trash.] Blood roared in my ears. I drove to the old house like a madwoman. The storage room door was open, the inside ransacked. The contents of the box were scattered everywhere, trampled and ruined. The little wooden horse I’d carved for my child was snapped in two. I fell to my knees, gathering the soiled keepsakes one by one, tears streaming down my face. Just then, Liam and Kathleen arrived. Kathleen gasped theatrically. “Oh my god, what happened? Everything was fine when I left!” Liam rushed to my side, trying to help me up. [Lucy, don’t be like this. If they’re broken, we can buy new ones.] Buy new ones? I looked up, my eyes burning with a hatred so intense it felt like it could incinerate him. “Get out!” He recoiled, startled by my ferocity. Kathleen stepped forward, playing the peacemaker. “Lucy, don’t blame Liam. A burglar must have broken in! We should call the police!” I grabbed the broken half of the wooden horse and hurled it at her with all my might. “You did this! Kathleen, I’ll kill you!” The wood grazed her cheek, leaving a thin, red line on her perfect skin. She screamed and dove behind Liam, crying hysterically. “Liam, I’m so scared… she’s lost her mind…” Liam instinctively wrapped his arms around Kathleen, shielding her completely. He turned to me, his eyes cold with disappointment. And then, I heard his voice. He hadn’t used this voice to say his vows. He hadn’t used this voice to defend me from his mother’s insults. He hadn’t used this voice to call for help as I bled out on a hospital bed. But now, for a meaningless scratch on another woman’s face, he spoke. He had honed twenty years of silence into a razor-sharp blade, and he plunged it straight into my heart. “Apologize to Kathleen. Now.”

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The first thing I did after being reborn was secretly move my parents’ graves. In their place, I buried the ashes of a stray dog. Not only that, I poured manure all over the site. Why? Because in my past life, my boyfriend’s childhood sweetheart insisted on paying respects to my parents with him. From that day on, my life spiraled into endless misfortune. Meanwhile, she flourished. She landed a job at a top tech company and even won the lottery. Not long after, I died of a sudden illness. My spirit lingered, and I heard her gloating to my boyfriend: “Thanks to your dead girlfriend, I swapped our fates. She had no idea how lucky she was. Now everything that was hers is mine!” Hearing that, I wanted to scream, to tear them apart. Then I opened my eyes. I was back to the day she asked to visit my parents’ grave. Chapter 1 “Sarah, is this where your parents are buried?” Emily looked at me with wide, curious eyes. I nodded. “Yes, my mom and dad are right here.” Her eyes lit up. She bowed deeply before the tombstone. “Sarah, let me burn some paper money for them too,” she said, smiling sweetly. “It’s just a token of my respect.” In my past life, I was touched by her gesture. But this time, I knew better. Her “token of respect” was a ritual to steal my luck. I replied coldly, “No need, Emily. They’re my parents. It’s more sincere if I do it myself.” Emily’s face fell instantly. She turned to look at my boyfriend with misty eyes. “Mark, I just wanted to show my respect! I didn’t mean anything else!” “Sarah,” Mark chimed in, frowning at me. “Emily is just being kind. Why are you rejecting her like that?” I looked at the two of them and sneered internally. “Fine,” I said flatly. “If you want to burn it, burn it.” As soon as I spoke, Emily shot Mark a look. Mark turned to me. “Sarah, let’s go buy some flowers to put on the grave.” In my past life, this was how he lured me away. When we returned, Emily had already finished her ritual. I asked her what she burned back then. She looked flustered but brushed it off. I didn’t think much of it. Only after I died did I realize she had stolen my family’s fortune. This time, I wouldn’t stop her. After all, the ashes in that grave didn’t belong to my parents. My parents were safe in a cemetery back in my hometown. The only thing protecting Emily now was… well, nothing good. As I walked away with Mark, I saw Emily pull out a stack of yellow paper from her bag. I noticed faint red markings on them—her birth date written in her own blood. I smiled, pretending not to see, and followed Mark down the hill. When we returned with the flowers, Emily was done. She took the bouquet from me, beaming. “Sarah, I asked your parents to bless you too!” I gave her a faint smile but didn’t say a word. Looking at the triumphant glint in her eyes, I couldn’t help but smirk. Chapter 2 After saying goodbye to Mark and Emily, I went straight to the hospital for a full checkup. The doctor told me I was perfectly healthy. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. In my past life, I died from a mysterious illness. This time, that wasn’t going to happen. When I got home, my phone rang. It was the company I had been dreaming of joining—a high-security government contractor. They told me I passed the interview and wanted me to start ASAP. I was stunned. In my past life, I never got this call. Instead, Emily got an offer from a huge tech giant on her way home from the grave. But this time, the luck was mine. Since the job was in another city, I packed immediately. Just as I finished, Mark showed up. “Sarah, Emily didn’t get the job offer.” He looked at me with concern. “She’s really upset. I’m going to go keep her company.” I smiled. “Sure, go ahead.” Mark paused, studying me closely. “Sarah, are your parents really buried there? Like, always been there?” “Of course,” I nodded without hesitation. I knew he was suspicious. Mark and Emily had once dragged me to a fortune teller who told them I had incredible luck and ancestral protection. That’s why they targeted me. “Mark, would I forget where my own parents are buried?” I asked, feigning hurt. Mark laughed, relaxing. “True, that would be crazy.” “I’ll go check on Emily then.” I pretended to care, telling him to comfort her properly. “Sarah, you used to hate it when I hung out with Emily. Why are you pushing me to go today?” he asked before leaving. I smiled sweetly. “I didn’t like it before! But she’s sad, right? Go be a good friend. I trust you, Mark!” Mark nodded, satisfied, and left. The moment the door closed, my smile dropped. I called my landlord. I told him I was moving out immediately and didn’t even care about the deposit. I booked the earliest flight out. Sitting at the airport, I finally felt safe. I couldn’t imagine what other traps they had waiting for me if I stayed. But now, Emily’s bad luck was just beginning. She had just spiritually adopted a stray dog as her ancestor. And with the manure I poured over the grave, her luck wasn’t just stolen—it was poisoned. As for Mark? Being with her would only drag him down. I needed to be as far away as possible. Chapter 3 In the waiting lounge, I scrolled through my phone. Mark had posted a photo on his Moment (social media feed). It was him and Emily on a trip together. They looked intimate, more like a couple than friends. I stared at the photo, feeling a wave of detachment. We started dating a year ago. A classmate dragged me to a fortune teller, and Mark and Emily tagged along. They heard my birth date and the fortune teller’s praise. After that, Mark pursued me relentlessly. I didn’t understand then. Now I know he was chasing my luck, not me. He wanted me for Emily’s sake. I smirked and turned off my phone. When I landed, a company car was waiting. They had arranged housing for me in a secure compound. Seeing the patrols, I felt a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in two lifetimes. After settling in, my new boss told me to take a few days to adjust before starting next week. I went straight to bed, exhausted. I slept like the dead until my phone rang. It was Mark. “Sarah! Come to the hospital, quick!” his voice was frantic. “What?” I asked, feigning confusion. “Emily and I got into a car accident! We’re at the hospital. Come now!” “Mark, I can’t,” I said calmly. “I got a job. I’ve already left the city.” “What?!” Mark roared. “You didn’t even have an interview! How could you have a job?” “And I saw you yesterday! I know you’re just jealous because I’m with Emily!” “Sarah, stop being childish and get over here!” I laughed softly. “Mark, I really did get a job. Also, I realized you care way more about Emily than me.” “So, Mark, we’re breaking up.” I hung up before he could respond. It was over. Now, the bad luck was all theirs. My luck was back where it belonged. He called again. I frowned and turned off my phone. Finally, a good night’s sleep. Chapter 4 Over the next two weeks, I settled into my new role. My boss was impressed with my work and even promised me my own project if I nailed the current one. I was motivated. Mark and Emily kept calling. I blocked them, but they just used new numbers like relentless cockroaches. Every time I heard Mark’s voice, I hung up immediately. A friend back home gave me the tea. Emily was having a terrible time. The car accident scarred her face, and she needed reconstructive surgery. Mark broke a rib. Worse, before the crash, Emily had dragged Mark to a high-stakes poker game. They lost everything. Now they were drowning in debt. “Sarah, you won’t believe it,” my friend whispered. “They got into the accident because they were fighting in the car after losing all that money!” “And now loan sharks are chasing them.” “Don’t let Mark guilt-trip you. He was cheating on you the whole time!” “I know,” I said with a smile. “Thanks for telling me.” I hung up, feeling vindicated. In my past life, Emily went straight from the “grave visit” to celebrate her job offer with Mark. That’s when they started gambling, thinking her stolen luck made them invincible. This time, her luck was cursed from the start. I was glad I escaped. The next morning, Mark called again from another new number. “Sarah, please! I really need you!” “Mark, did you forget? We broke up.” “I never agreed to that!” he shouted. “I just got hurt, and you dump me? You have to take responsibility!” “Why should I be responsible for an accident you had with Emily?” I scoffed. “Besides, aren’t you two happy together?” “Please, stop calling me.” I was about to hang up when Emily’s screeching voice came through. “Sarah! That wasn’t your parents’ grave, was it?! What did you do?!”

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1 At my firefighter brother’s funeral, an influencer my fiancée invited shoved a mic in my face. “You adopted ten orphans,” he accused, “just to steal their benefits and buy houses?” He then turned to my fallen comrade’s son. “He’s the one who killed your dad! He sells kids abroad for their organs!” Before I could deny it, my fiancée Ava grabbed the mic. Claiming to be a truth-seeking journalist, she played a doctored audio from the fire scene. It made it sound like I had sent my team to their deaths intentionally. The crowd erupted. As families rushed me, I shielded the child in my arms but was pushed off the stage, breaking my neck. A month later, an explosion at the same chemical plant blew a surviving body camera into view of a news crew, finally exposing the buried truth. … “Ms. Shen, we found a micro-recorder!” a young intern shouted, handing the device to Ava. Her brow furrowed. As she read the badge number engraved on the side, she flinched. Behind her, the influencer, Ryan, gasped dramatically. “Isn’t that Captain Luke’s number? Could this be… the evidence he tried to destroy?” The live feed went dead silent. The viewer count on the stream skyrocketed. “Investigate him now! That scumbag Luke has to be dirty!” “There’s the missing proof! Get the police on this!” “I always said he had a villain’s face! Knew he was no good!” Even the intern spat on the ground in disgust. “Luke is a disgrace to the uniform.” Someone tugged his sleeve. “Dude, shut up,” they whispered. “He’s Ms. Shen’s fiancé, remember?” “They were together for ten years, about to get married. Goes to show, you never really know someone.” From my hospital bed, paralyzed from the neck down, I stared at the television, a shattered protest gurgling in my throat. No… not me. I did nothing wrong. Watching Ava’s false-sincere expression, a black wave of hatred threatened to swallow me whole. I wanted to scream, but the fractured vertebrae had not only stolen my mobility, they had shredded my vocal cords. All of this was a gift from the woman I trusted most in the world. Ava’s eyes welled with tears as she bowed deeply to the camera. “I’m calling the police immediately,” she pledged. “Rest assured, everyone, I will get justice for all the victims. On behalf of Luke, I once again offer my deepest apologies to their families.” The livestream’s comment section flooded with sympathy for the woman so cruelly deceived by her own fiancé. “That monster hid his true face for a decade! Poor Ava!” “It should be Luke on his knees begging for forgiveness!” “The thought of him in that uniform makes me sick! He dishonored it!” Ryan wrapped a protective arm around Ava, tenderly wiping a tear from her eye. “Ava, this isn’t your fault. You’re a hero to this city for being brave enough to expose your own.” He looked at her with adoration. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right here with you, always.” They clasped hands, looking for all the world like a pair of star-crossed lovers who had weathered a terrible storm. Even the reporters on site were moved. “Ms. Shen, Ryan is the man you truly deserve!” one of them called out. The chat was already spammed with their ship name, #Ryva. Praise for Ryan poured in. “Thank god for this streamer exposing the truth! Who knows how many more people that monster would have killed!” My hands clenched the bedsheets so tightly that my nails broke the skin. Just last month, I had proposed to Ava. She had thrown herself into my arms, laughing, and promised me forever. Now, the decorated firefighting hero was a public pariah, and she was holding the hand of the man who had orchestrated my downfall. I squeezed my eyes shut. A commotion erupted at my door. Ryan, his livestreaming crew, and a mob of angry citizens stormed into my room. The glare of a camera light blinded me, hot and accusatory, like an interrogation lamp. “Captain Luke,” Ryan began, his voice dripping with venom, “I hear your parents were firefighters too. Do they know they raised a worthless piece of filth?” My breath caught in my chest. His tone grew even more vicious. “Or is it because of their legacy as fallen heroes that you felt you could get away with anything?” I trembled with a rage I couldn’t express. My parents had died ten years ago in the city’s worst industrial fire, their bodies incinerated, their bones melted into the blaze. Ryan then dragged my fallen comrade’s son forward. “Kid, tell the nice people. Did he force your mommy to sign papers so you’d never see her again?” The boy, terrified by the crowd and the lights, burst into tears. His mother clutched him, her sobs wracking her body. “Captain Luke told me a single mother couldn’t raise a child properly! He said if I just signed the agreement, I wouldn’t have to worry about my son anymore! I had just lost my husband… he tricked me into nearly losing my son too!” She threw a piece of paper onto my bed. Ryan snatched it and held it up for the camera. “See? Here’s the proof! The contract for selling this child!” The livestream chat exploded. “That animal! He deserves to rot!” “The kid is so small! How could he do that? Someone beat the hell out of that bastard!” The enraged mob surged forward. They dragged me from the bed, tearing open my healing wounds. Someone grabbed the scalding hot water from my bedside table and poured it over my hands. The pain was so intense my skin seemed to shrink from my bones, and an involuntary scream tore from my throat. The little boy tried to run to my side, to protect me, but his mother held him back. A sharp pain, worse than the burns, pierced my heart. It was she who had knelt and begged me to take her son, saying she was too young to be tied down by a child. I clamped my jaw shut, refusing to reveal that truth in front of the boy. Just then, Ava pushed her way into the room. I noticed for the first time that the engagement ring was gone from her finger. Of course it was. How else could this mob have gotten past hospital security without her help? “Luke,” she said, her voice as cold as a morgue slab, “God is watching. The body camera has been sent to the police. You can’t escape this.” I stared at her, my eyes burning. “What did Ryan offer you, Ava? What was worth doing this to me?” I remembered her in high school, storming the principal’s office to defend a bullied roommate, her voice ringing with conviction. “I, Ava Shen, will always stand for the truth! You want to twist the facts? Not on my watch!” I had been captivated. I learned her dream was to be a journalist. I followed her, enrolling in the police academy next to her university. I fought fires, and she reported the truth. She was a born idealist, and I was prepared to spend my life protecting that idealism. I never imagined I would be the first piece of “truth” she threw away. Her face hardened. “Don’t be ridiculous! Ryan was trying to promote a hero. It was you who was exposed by his investigation! Did you want him to lie for you? He has integrity, unlike you. The only thing left for you to do is confess.” “Confess? He claims I framed my teammate. Where’s his proof?” I fumbled for the nurse’s call button, trying to get security to clear the room. Ryan blocked the door. “Proof? The children you ‘adopted’ are all overseas right now. That’s the proof!” My eyes shot to Ava. She knew. She knew I had used my own money to send them to a summer science program abroad. But her gaze never met mine. A bitter sting filled my nose. My heart, for Ava, turned to ice. Ryan scoffed. “Captain Luke, you’re public enemy number one. I have a duty to let everyone witness your true colors before the police get here.” A dry, rasping laugh escaped my lips. “Good. I’d like to file a report myself. For the public assault of a city official. Let’s see what the police have to say about that.” The crowd went quiet. “…He’s right, he’s still a Fire Captain.” “So what! He deserves it!” “We didn’t cause these injuries! He was like this when we got here!” I stared at their lying faces, thinking of all the times I’d stared death in the face to save people just like them, and my heart grew colder. Ryan suddenly smiled, a cruel, knowing look in his eyes. “No need to pull rank, Captain. You only have your position because of your parents, don’t you?” He lowered his voice, but it was still perfectly clear for the livestream. “But your parents weren’t heroes! They were the ones who caused the massive explosion ten years ago! They didn’t die! They took the money and fled the country to live in luxury!” He leaned in closer. “Your whole family is a criminal enterprise. They’re your connection to the wealthy buyers, aren’t they?!” A roar filled my ears. The blood in my veins turned to ice. “You’re lying—” With a surge of adrenaline-fueled strength, I kicked out, sending him flying across the room. The next second, Ava slapped me so hard my head slammed against the steel bed frame. Stars exploded behind my eyes, and blood streamed down my face. “How dare you lay a hand on him!” she screamed, cradling Ryan in her arms. Ryan clutched his stomach, his voice a pathetic whimper. “Ava, it’s true. An old firefighter told me everything. Captain Luke killed his teammate, he sells children’s organs… he learned it all from his parents. The whole family is rotten to the core.” The rage was so intense my vision started to black out. I remembered my parents’ backs as they ran into that inferno without a moment’s hesitation, and it felt like a piece of my own flesh was being torn away. “Slander…” I choked out. The livestream comments went insane: “A whole family of criminals!” “The apple doesn’t fall far from the poisonous tree! The parents are crooks, the son is a monster!” “No wonder he’s so cold-blooded, it’s in his DNA!” “He doesn’t deserve to be called the son of a hero! And they don’t deserve to be called heroes!” Staring at the venomous words scrolling across the screen, I coughed, and a spray of black blood erupted from my mouth before I passed out. When I woke, I was drowning in the glare of spotlights. I was tied to a chair, an inmate at my own inquisition. Before me was a massive banquet hall, hung with huge red banners: PUBLIC TRIAL OF THE TRAITOR LUKE, WHO BETRAYED HIS COUNTRY AND COMRADES! Below, a sea of hateful eyes stared up at me. I tried to shrink back in terror. Ryan yanked my hair, forcing my head down. “Today, the families of every victim your family has destroyed are here!” he bellowed. “Since the authorities won’t act, I, Ryan, will deliver justice! Today is the day of judgment for the sinner, Luke! His family is steeped in evil! His parents were not heroes, but criminals who stole millions and ran!” The massive screen behind me lit up. It was a video of my parents, walking hand-in-hand on a beach. They were older, their faces lined, but it was them. It was unmistakably my mom and dad. “No. Impossible.” I shook my head, trembling uncontrollably. Ryan kept yanking my hair, forcing me to bow again and again to the jeering crowd. A glass flew from the audience, shattering against my forehead. Warm blood streamed into my eyes. “Avenge the fallen firefighters!” “A family of traitors! They all deserve to die!” Ryan smiled and took Ava’s hand. “I told you, Captain. You can’t win against me.” Ava looked at me with something like pity. “Luke, just kneel and confess. Otherwise, these families… they’re really going to kill you.” I started to laugh, and the laughter turned into tears. Without her, Ryan would never have dared. The old Ava would have cried if I so much as scraped my knee on a call. This Ava seemed to be hoping I’d die sooner rather than later. “Ava,” I rasped, “you will regret this.” She flinched, then bit her lip. “This has nothing to do with Ryan. I just… I can’t watch you continue down this dark path.” Her phone rang. After a brief call, her expression grew even colder. “Luke, the Fire Department brass is on their way with the decoded body camera. It’s over.” Ryan lost his patience. He waved a hand to men planted in the crowd. They surged onto the stage. “This one’s for the teammate you murdered!” one of them yelled, burying his fist in my stomach. The air rushed out of my lungs, and I spat up a mouthful of blood. Someone else poured a pitcher of ice-cold alcohol over my head. The searing pain in my countless wounds was blinding. “Stop… this is a crime…” An older woman rushed the stage and punched me square in the face. “You killed my son! You’re not fit to be a firefighter! Give me back my son!” More people swarmed me. “My brother died because of your parents!” “My husband had just gotten married! He never even had a chance to have children!” They kicked and punched, clawing at me, beating me with whatever they could find. Soon, I was a mess of blood and bruised flesh. One of my ears went deaf from a blow, and someone ground a broken piece of glass into my palm. Blood and tears mingled on my face. The livestream chat scrolled at a dizzying speed, a chorus of cheers. “Yeah! Beat him to death!” “He deserves it! This is what happens to traitors!” “The streamer is a hero! Taking out the trash!” “Make his parents come back and face the music too!” My consciousness began to fade in a haze of pain and humiliation. I bit my lip until it bled, fighting to stay upright. Just then, the doors to the banquet hall were kicked open. A team of uniformed police officers stormed in, followed by the city’s Fire Chief, his face a mask of frantic worry. When his eyes landed on me, they turned red with fury. He held up my body camera and roared, his voice cracking with emotion. “All of you, STOP! You’re destroying a true hero!”

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I’m the kind of director who makes studios rich. The kind whose name above the title guarantees a hit. So when my fiancé, the show’s primary investor, demanded I cast his childhood sweetheart, Mia Sutton, as my leading lady, I should have known it was trouble. I refused, citing that she was utterly wrong for the part. As a consolation, I gave her the role of the villain—the second female lead. When the show became a runaway success, Mia’s portrayal of the venomous antagonist was so convincing that the internet turned on her. She was dragged on social media, trolled relentlessly, and even received death threats. That was when my fiancé decided I needed to be taught a lesson. He found a group of men to defile me, and he had them film it. The video went viral. Overnight, I went from being Hollywood’s golden girl to a pariah, branded a slut, a whore who’d slept her way to the top. One of Mia’s obsessed fans, convinced I had bullied his idol, found me on a rainy street and stabbed me until I bled out on the pavement. And then, I opened my eyes. I was back. 1 “Camera A is set! Stand by, Camera B!” The assistant director’s frantic voice echoed in my ears. I blinked, my heart hammering against my ribs as I took in the painfully familiar scene around me—the controlled chaos of a film set on the first day of shooting. I had been reborn. I was back on the day we began filming The Gilded Cage. In my first life, my fiancé, Ethan Croft, had forced his little pet project, Mia Sutton, into my cast. He had insisted she play the lead. I’d said no. But to appease him, to keep the peace and the funding, I’d offered her the part of the vindictive lady-in-waiting. The show was a sensation, bigger than anyone had imagined. But Mia’s performance was too good. The audience’s hatred for the character bled into reality. She ran to Ethan, weeping, claiming I had set her up, that I’d deliberately given her an unlikable role to sabotage her career and expose her to public hatred. And Ethan, my Ethan, believed her. He decided I needed to be punished for my “retaliation.” So he hired a group of thugs to corner me. They filmed what they did to me and plastered it all over the internet. In a single night, I was destroyed. My career, my reputation, my sense of self—all of it gone. I was no longer an A-list director; I was a “desperate slut,” a “casting couch whore.” And Mia? She spun the narrative masterfully, emerging as the sympathetic victim, the innocent starlet bullied by a jealous director. Her career skyrocketed. It all ended on a storm-slicked street, with a knife in the hands of her crazed fan. “Ava? Are you alright? You look pale,” my assistant’s voice cut through the memory, pulling me back to the present. I shoved the searing hatred down, letting it cool into a block of ice in my chest. My eyes hardened. I shook my head, my gaze sweeping across the bustling set until it locked on the main makeup trailer. I pushed the door open without knocking. And there she was. Mia Sutton, draped in the magnificent gown meant for my lead actress, sitting in the star’s chair as if it were her throne. She was barking orders at the makeup artist. “The eyeliner needs to be sharper. More of a wing. I want it to look seductive, understand?” “And this lipstick is all wrong. It’s too pale. It washes me out. I need a classic red.” “Honestly, the team you’ve assembled is just subpar, Ava. I’m surprised at your standards.” My actual lead actress, a talented newcomer I had fought to cast, was huddled in a corner, her eyes red-rimmed, twisting the fabric of her simple costume in her hands. She was fuming, but powerless. I walked toward them, the sharp click-clack of my heels on the linoleum floor announcing my arrival. Mia saw my reflection in the mirror. Instead of contrition, her chin lifted in a gesture of pure defiance. “Ava, you’re just in time. Take a look. This new girl you picked? She has no screen presence at all. Don’t you think I’m a much better fit?” I looked at her face, a perfectly painted mask of ambition, and I smiled. The next second, my hand was a blur. CRACK. The sound of my palm connecting with her cheek echoed through the trailer, silencing everything. The makeup artist’s eyebrow pencil clattered to the floor. In the corner, the young actress gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Everyone froze. Mia clutched her face, her eyes wide with disbelief. A beat passed before the shock curdled into outrage and she let out a piercing shriek. I flexed my stinging hand, admiring the five perfect, red fingerprints blooming on her skin. “The makeup’s not bad,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Let me just add a finishing touch.” 2 “Aaaah—!” “You hit me! You actually hit me!” Mia’s scream was the perfect summoning spell for Ethan. The trailer door burst open, and he stormed in, his eyes immediately finding Mia, who was already performing the role of a lifetime, clutching her face, tears welling. He rushed to her side, gathering her into a protective embrace before turning his glare on me. His eyes were filled with a familiar disgust. “Ava, what the hell is wrong with you? Why would you hit Mia?” I crossed my arms, watching his little show with a cold detachment. “Why?” I repeated. “Because I’m the director on this set. I’m teaching her about the rules. Is there a problem?” My words stopped him short. His face darkened. From the safety of his arms, Mia began to sob. “Ethan, I didn’t mean any harm… I just thought the costume was beautiful, and I wanted to try it on… I don’t know why Director Renner got so upset with me…” Ethan’s resolve softened instantly. He murmured comforting words to her, his gaze on me turning venomous. “Ava, how many times do I have to tell you? Mia and I grew up together. She’s like a little sister to me. Can’t you just look out for her?” “It’s a leading role, for God’s sake. What does it cost you to just give it to her?” “And don’t forget,” he added, his voice dripping with condescension, “I’m the one signing the checks. Is it really that hard to do this one little thing for me?” That tone of absolute entitlement. It was the same one he’d used in my past life, over and over again. The last flicker of warmth in my heart died out. “Let’s get something straight, Ethan. This is my set. I am the director. And I call the shots.” “If you don’t like it,” I said, my voice dropping to a deadly calm, “you can take your little pet project and get the hell out. Right now.” Every word was a shard of ice, delivered without a trace of mercy. Ethan’s face twisted in disbelief. He had never heard me speak to him like this. The woman he knew was pliable, gentle, eager to please. “What did you just say to me?” I met his rage with an equal and opposite force, pointing a finger toward the door. “You heard me. I said, take her, and get out.” “Fine,” he snarled, a cruel smile spreading across his lips. “Just fine!” He jabbed a finger at me, his voice a low threat. “I’m calling my father right now. I’m telling him to pull the funding. Let’s see who’s calling the shots then!” A wave of panic rippled through the trailer. The crew members exchanged anxious glances. The young actress in the corner slumped, the hope draining from her face. Mia’s eyes, however, flashed with triumph, a smirk playing on her lips. They all expected me to fold. In my last life, Ethan always used his father as a weapon. And every single time, for the sake of my project, for the sake of my art, I had swallowed my pride and given in. I buried the resentment, the humiliation, the pain. But I wasn’t that woman anymore. I calmly pulled out my own phone and dialed a number before he could. “Hello, Arthur? It’s Ava.” The steady, powerful voice of Arthur Croft came through the line. “Ava, my dear. Is everything alright? Is the first day going smoothly?” Ethan froze, stunned that I would dare to go over his head. I shot him a cool glance, my voice a mask of professional concern. “Not exactly. Ethan is here on set, insisting that I cast his friend in the lead role. He’s now threatening to have you pull the funding.” “As you know, this is a project you personally championed. We have significant sunk costs. Replacing the actress I carefully selected to fit the role will not only compromise the quality of the film but will also cause delays and budget overruns.” “I’m just a director, Arthur. I’m afraid I can’t take responsibility for those kinds of cost overruns. I felt it was my duty to report the situation to you directly.” I didn’t embellish. I didn’t need to. I just stated the facts. Arthur Croft was a shark. He understood profit and loss better than anyone. There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. Then, his voice boomed, a roar of pure fury. “That goddamn idiot! Put him on the phone!” I hit the speakerphone button and held the phone out to Ethan. Arthur’s enraged voice filled the entire trailer. “Ethan! Are you out of your goddamn mind? Ava is the director! Casting is her decision! What the hell do you know about it? I’m telling you right now, if you delay this project by one single minute, I will personally break your legs! Now you apologize to Ava, you hear me? Apologize now!” The color drained from Ethan’s face, replaced by a mottled, furious red. He never, in his wildest dreams, imagined that his doting father would humiliate him so thoroughly. For me. 3 Arthur slammed the phone down, the disconnect tone echoing in the dead silent trailer. The atmosphere was thick with humiliation. Mia’s face was pale. She quickly wiped away her triumphant smirk, replacing it with a mask of trembling contrition. “Director Renner… I’m so sorry. This is all my fault…” She bit her lip, tears falling like perfectly timed pearls. “I never wanted the lead role, really. I would be happy with a walk-on part. I truly don’t mind…” She claimed she didn’t mind, yet she wept as if her heart had been shattered. It was a masterful performance. Ethan, seeing her distress, felt his own humiliation flare into protective anger. The rage his father had ignited now had a new target: me. He took a deep breath, his tone shifting to one of strained negotiation. “Ava. Mia already said she’s sorry. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” “She won’t be the lead. Fine. But what about the second lead? That’s not too much to ask, is it?” I laughed. The second lead. The very role that had set in motion the tragedy of my last life. History wasn’t just repeating itself; it was mocking me. “No.” My refusal was swift and absolute. “Not the second lead. Not a walk-on with no lines. She will have no part in this production.” My words were like a bucket of ice water dumped over Mia’s head. Her crying stopped for a split second before resuming with even greater intensity. Ethan’s control finally snapped. “Ava! Don’t push me!” He slammed his hand down on the makeup counter, sending bottles and brushes scattering across the floor. “I’m telling you right now, if Mia doesn’t get the part of the second lead, then nobody is shooting anything today!” He spun around and roared at the open door. “Get in here!” On his command, two large men in suits—his personal security—barged into the trailer. “Smash it,” Ethan ordered, pointing at the meticulously designed props and set pieces nearby. “Smash it all.” The men moved to obey, but I lunged forward. “Stop it! Ethan, have you lost your mind?” Before I could intervene, the bodyguards grabbed me, one on each arm, holding me fast. My heart ached as I watched them begin to destroy my work—the culmination of months of planning, of sourcing investments, of poring over scripts with my writers. The crew shrank back, terrified. The other actors stood frozen, too intimidated to move. Ethan strode toward me, his face alight with a sick, vengeful pleasure. “You see this, Ava?” he hissed. “This is what happens when you cross me. I want you to watch as I tear down everything you’ve worked for.” Trapped in their grip, I could only watch the carnage, my face a cold mask. “Think about what you’re doing, Ethan. This isn’t just my project. This is your father’s reputation on the line!” He scoffed. “He won’t blame me.” “Are you sure about that?” I asked, my voice chillingly calm. My eyes flickered to a figure standing in the doorway, a figure Ethan hadn’t noticed yet. It was Arthur Croft, his face a thundercloud. Ethan, lost in his own arrogance, didn’t see him. “Please. My father? My grandfather could show up, and it wouldn’t stop me. If this film bombs, it’s on you, Ava, the great director. It means he made a bad investment. If it’s a hit, it’s because I was here, managing things.” He puffed out his chest. “That old man just knows how to throw money around. You think he’d ever set foot in a dump like this? He should be thanking me for being here, making sure no one is taking advantage, or bullying the new talent.” His voice dripped with disdain, completely oblivious to the man standing behind him, his father’s face growing darker with every word. “You arrogant little fool,” Arthur’s voice boomed, thick with menace. “Listen to the garbage coming out of your mouth.” Ethan whipped around. The moment he saw his father’s furious expression, his face froze. “Dad?! Wh-what are you doing here…?”

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My husband is a terrible photographer. Which is a problem, because I’m a beauty influencer with over a million followers. In the three years we’ve been married, Leo has been the perfect partner in every other way. He tracks my cycle on his calendar, kneels to massage my sore ankles after a long day in heels, and makes sure I have three solid meals when I’m too lost in editing a video to remember to eat. But whenever I ask him to take a simple picture for me, that pained look crosses his face. “Babe, I’m telling you, I just don’t have the eye for it. Please don’t make me.” On the rare occasion I could guilt him into it, the results were always comical. The lens, they say, captures the heart of the person behind it. If that were true, Leo’s heart saw me as a bizarrely angled cryptid or, at best, sixty pounds heavier than I am. I eventually gave up. Today, rushing to get footage for my big Christmas brand deal, Leo spoke up from the doorway. “You can’t frame it like that,” he said suddenly. “It’s going to look awful.” In three years of marriage, it was the first time he’d ever offered a single piece of photographic advice. I thought he’d been secretly studying, trying to find a new way to connect with my work. My heart swelled. Beaming, I filmed a little behind-the-scenes clip of his advice and posted it to my story, only to have a tidal wave of ice-cold water thrown in my face by my own comment section. “Wait… isn’t that the guy who used to be Ava Sinclair’s exclusive photographer? No way he ‘doesn’t have an eye for it.’” “To you his first words are ‘you’ll break the lens.’ To her, they were ‘I’m all yours, maestro.’” “Holy shit. Your ‘bad at photos’ husband is LEO DAWSON?!” “I’m more shocked that Leo Dawson is MARRIED. What the hell was I doing shipping him and Ava all those years?” 1 The comments kept pouring in, a relentless flood. “You’ve got good taste, I’ll give you that. It was an open secret in the industry. For Ava’s big competition, Leo stayed up for three straight nights shooting and editing. The second the show was over, he literally collapsed backstage. God, their story is still iconic.” “You think that’s iconic? What about how he just dropped his camera and walked away from the entire industry after she left? He went completely dark. Talk about devotion.” “Girl… I think there’s a little green sprouting on your head.” … The shippers and the trolls took over my comments, and the few remaining were just mourning a love story that never got its ending. Three thousand, seven hundred comments, all piecing together a man I didn’t know at all. This wasn’t the Leo I had fallen in love with—the steady, reliable man who was so calm and self-assured that I was the one who had to nervously bring up the topic of marriage. This was a reckless, passionate kid who would race through a rainstorm to explain a misunderstanding at her apartment, who would loudly and publicly claim her as his in front of her other admirers. The night before Ava left the country was Christmas Eve. That same day, Leo Dawson quit his job at the studio, put down his camera for good, and locked himself in his room, staring at the last set of photos they ever took together. It was a bridal shoot. A joint creation. It was Ava who had taught him how to find the angle, how to adjust the light. They had chosen the gown and the backdrop together. It was their shared memory. He watched the slideshow, and with every image, he wept. I scrolled through the comments, reading their entire history. The bright white of the screen burned, and my eyes stung with tears I refused to let fall. I knew that set of photos. They were legendary. They were the key that unlocked the doors to the international fashion scene for Ava. I remember seeing them back then and thinking, the camera really does have a soul. How much love must a photographer have for his subject, for an audience to feel it radiating from a still image? The composition Leo had just suggested for my video… it was the same framing he’d used for Ava, all those years ago. Was it because Christmas was coming again? Was he thinking of her? “Hey, what’s this? You’re crying?” Leo’s soft chuckle broke the silence. The calloused pad of his thumb brushed against the corner of my eye. I flinched away, forcing a smile onto my face as I tried to keep my voice steady. “Have you ever studied photography? The composition you suggested was really beautiful.” I took a breath. “My regular shooter for the event backed out. I could really use a photographer to save the day. How about it, husband?” Everyone has a past. And for the past few years, he had been so good to me. It was real. Besides, I’d just gotten the positive pregnancy test last week. The future we’d always talked about, our little family of three, was finally within reach. If he said yes, it would mean he had truly moved on. I could pretend I never saw any of this. I could let it all go. But Leo just froze. A long, heavy silence stretched between us before he finally spoke. “I’ve never studied it. You know that. I’m terrible at taking your picture.” His words made my desperate attempt at peace feel pathetic. Laughable. The whole world knew his story with Ava. It was still plastered all over the internet. Leo, my cautious, careful Leo, was telling such a clumsy, easily disproven lie. I lowered my gaze, my voice barely a whisper. “Is that so?” “Then what are all of these comments about?” 2 With the last shred of denial torn away, a frantic energy seized me. I demanded to know why. Leo was silent for a long time. “There is no why,” he finally said, his voice flat. “I loved her. And sometimes, I still think about her. It’s that simple.” He watched my hysteria with a chilling calm before adding, “Chloe, we’re married now. You don’t need to be obsessed with my past.” The irony was a bitter pill. “And what if she came back now?” I shot back, my voice trembling. “If she asked you to be her exclusive photographer again, would you go?” He didn’t answer. Instead, his hand moved to my shoulder, trying to pull me into an embrace. I slapped his hand away, my eyes locked on his, demanding an answer. Leo sighed. “Come on. Don’t work yourself up like this. Let’s just go to sleep.” His composure was infuriating. It painted me as the hysterical, irrational wife. Tears welled, blurring his face. “Would you go, or not?” I insisted, my voice thick. According to the comment section, Ava Sinclair had just returned to the States and opened her own studio. She was looking for a skilled, dedicated photographer. The old fans were in a frenzy, convinced this was the grand reunion, completely unconcerned about the feelings of his legal wife. Leo’s jaw tightened. “No, I wouldn’t go. Okay?” As if on cue, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. The caller ID glowed in the dark room: a single, shining letter. A. Without a second thought, Leo grabbed the phone and started to walk out of the room. I lunged, clutching the hem of his shirt. A tear splashed onto the fabric, darkening a small circle. “Answer it here.” We were locked in a standoff. The ringing weakened, and perhaps fearing he would miss the call, Leo actually answered it, right there in front of me. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “Ava.” He said her name with a deep, lingering tenderness that twisted a knife in my gut. A soft, gentle voice replied from the speaker. “It’s me.” I felt Leo’s entire body go rigid, so still that he forgot to pull his shirt from my grasp. Ava’s voice was laced with a hint of melancholy. “I’m so sorry to bother you this late. But… I didn’t know who else to call. The photographer for our studio is throwing a fit, and now he’s refusing to shoot the final runway show, let alone come back to the States with me. But the venue here is already booked, and we can’t postpone.” She paused. “I know this is a long shot, but… could you come and save me? Please, Leo. For old times’ sake.” 3 “What about your show over there? How will you manage?” The words flew out of Leo’s mouth before he could stop them. Both Ava and I were stunned into silence. I’d never seen him so impulsive, so reckless. Especially not for me. My own voice rose, sharp and high. “You’re going to fly overseas for her? Tomorrow is Christmas Eve! Our families are supposed to come over for dinner!” I had planned to announce the pregnancy then. Our parents had been asking for years. My mother-in-law would always get that wistful look whenever a friend mentioned their grandchildren. And Leo… Leo had wanted a child more than anything. In our most intimate moments, he would whisper against my ear, his voice thick with emotion, “Let’s have a baby, one that’s just as sweet as you. Please?” On the other end of the line, Ava’s voice suddenly caught. “Leo, is… is that a friend of yours?” “We’re married,” I cut in. A choked sound came from the phone. Leo frowned at me, his voice firm. “It’s just taking pictures, Chloe.” Right. It was just taking pictures. Then why was it an absolute “no” when I asked, but the second she called, he was ready to book a flight to another continent? The air crackled with unspoken things. Ava was the first to break the silence. “Forget it, Leo. It’s okay.” “Wait,” he said, a rush of panic in his voice. He covered the phone’s microphone with his hand and pried my fingers from his shirt. His voice was cold. “Can you just stop this?” “She’s all alone in a foreign country. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get to where she is? I’m helping a friend. What is wrong with that?” I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. But it hasn’t been easy for me, either… This was supposed to be the year I finally broke a million subscribers. But the morning sickness has been relentless. My video output has slowed to a crawl, my livestream numbers are dropping, and my brand partners are getting nervous, even threatening to terminate our contract. The Christmas campaign was a lifeline, a huge opportunity a friend had fought to get for me. But the photographer I’d booked bailed, saying my morning sickness was “disgusting” and he couldn’t work with me. I’m not some naturally gifted prodigy. I got here through sleepless nights writing scripts and endless hours practicing in front of a mirror. Now, because of this pregnancy, I might lose everything I’ve built. And even with all that, I never for a second regretted carrying his child. There was too much to say, too much hurt welling up inside me. The moment I tried to speak, tears started streaming down my face. Leo was already grabbing his camera bag, packing in a frantic hurry. Seeing me cry, he paused. For a moment, I thought he would come to me, hold me, or at the very least, offer some hollow words of comfort, like he always did. But all he said was a flat, dismissive, “Drink some water when you’re done crying. I’m leaving.” My nails dug into my palms. “Are you really going?” I asked, my voice raw. “No regrets?” Leo looked at me, a long, hard stare. Finally, he looked away. “Get some sleep.” The heavy thud of the front door echoed through the house, leaving me completely alone in the cavernous silence. My hand instinctively went to my stomach. For a long, long time, I just stood there, crying. Then, I picked up my phone and dialed a number. “Hello, I’d like to schedule a consultation for a… for a painless abortion.” 4 My voice must have been choked with tears, because the young woman who answered the phone sounded startled. “Ma’am? Are you okay? Please, just take a deep breath. Don’t do anything rash.” “Is there something wrong? I can just listen, if you want to talk.” I couldn’t hold it in anymore. A wrenching sob tore through me. A complete stranger on the phone was showing me more compassion than my own husband, the man who slept beside me every night, who had looked right at my pain and chose to walk away. Almost as a form of self-torture, I spent the rest of the night digging up old behind-the-scenes clips of him and Ava. There was Leo, blushing when Ava glanced his way while posing. There he was, frustrated with himself for not capturing her at the perfect angle. And there he was in an interview, boldly declaring that she was the most beautiful woman he would ever capture through his lens. In our relationship, he had always been the stable one, the calm one. His emotional steadiness gave me a profound sense of security. So when he was occasionally distant or cold, I just chalked it up to his personality. It wasn’t his personality at all. It was just that he’d already given all his fire, all his passion, all of his grand, romantic gestures to someone else. And he was still ready to fight her battles. I watched until dawn, tears tracking paths down my cheeks. As the first light hit my window, I hardened my heart and forced myself to make a decision. I was at the clinic by eight a.m., clutching my appointment confirmation. The waiting room of the OB/GYN clinic was already packed. I saw so many couples, waiting together for their appointments, their faces glowing with happiness. One pregnant woman grimaced, her face pale. Her husband immediately started rubbing her back. “Are you feeling sick again? This is too much for you. We don’t have to do this, you know. We can just stop.” She gave him a weak, loving smile, and he melted. “I know, I know. You’re doing so great,” he cooed, his eyes filled with adoration. It must be nice. A pang of envy shot through me. My morning sickness had been terrible, but Leo had never really asked about it. He probably still didn’t even know I was pregnant. “Chloe Morgan?” a nurse called. “We’re ready for you.” My thoughts snapped back to the present. I stood and walked into the exam room. The doctor reviewed my chart, her brow furrowed. “Your health history indicates that it’s not easy for you to conceive. If you terminate this pregnancy, it could be very difficult to have a child in the future. I strongly recommend you discuss this further with your family.” I stared down at my hands, which were trembling uncontrollably. My phone screen lit up with a text from my mom. “Happy weekend, sweetie! What do you feel like for dinner tonight? You and Leo pick.” A second text followed. “We are so, so excited for your surprise!” I stared at the messages for a long time, the certainty I’d felt just moments ago beginning to crumble. I was about to tell the doctor I needed more time to think when my phone started ringing. It was Leo. 5 “My camera fell. It’s broken,” he said, his voice a frantic rush. “You need to bring yours. Now. Book the earliest flight you can, the event starts in a few hours.” The words hit me like a barrage of stones, leaving me stunned and confused. Ava’s camera broke. What did that have to do with me? “If the camera’s broken, just buy a new one,” I said, frowning. “You could be at a pro shop choosing a new one in the time it would take me to get to the airport.” Before I could finish, Ava’s tearful voice broke in on the line. “We can’t! They don’t have lenses this good here. The photos won’t be the same.” It clicked into place instantly. My camera. The anniversary gift from Leo. It had a custom-made lens—one of only a handful in the world, he’d told me. I remembered the night he gave it to me. When I opened the box, I’d actually stumbled back, insisting it was too expensive, that my skill level didn’t deserve such incredible equipment. But Leo had pressed it into my hands, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “What are you talking about? You’re amazing. You deserve the best of everything in the world.” An identical lens. Which meant he had given one to Ava, too. I tilted my head back, trying to keep the fresh wave of tears from falling. “I can’t. I have something here I can’t get out of.” Ava started to say something else, but Leo cut her off, his voice now sharp with irritation as he took the phone back. “What’s the big deal? Just let Ava use the camera. Your little videos aren’t good enough for a camera like that anyway! And what else do you have going on? That influencer stuff isn’t even a real job. What could you possibly have that you can’t get out of?” His casual, cruel dismissal of my life’s work sucked all the fight out of me. Just before the sob broke through, I let out a small, quiet laugh. “I’m about to go into surgery,” I said softly. “So, yeah. I really can’t get away.” I ended the call, my fingers gripping the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. I looked at the doctor, my voice steady now. “We don’t need to discuss it anymore.” “What’s the earliest you can do the procedure?” Everything moved quickly after that. As the IV needle slid into my arm, the sky outside was just beginning to bruise with dusk. The television in the recovery room was broadcasting Ava’s final international runway show. Members of her team were telling the reporters a gushing, romanticized story of her bond with her “prodigal photographer.” Two nurses were chattering excitedly nearby. “It’s so romantic,” one of them sighed. “After all this time, they found their way back to each other.” I looked up at the screen. The camera was doing a close-up on Leo as he shot Ava on the runway. The lights converged on them, and for a split second, their eyes met. It was a look of profound, undeniable connection. Love. The crowd roared, the nurses behind me squealed, and my social media feeds were exploding with a single refrain: I’m shipping this so hard. It was Christmas Eve. It was supposed to be a happy, noisy celebration. The anesthetic began its work, a cold spread through my veins. Amid the sound of a thousand celebrations, I was completely alone as I said goodbye to the tiny life inside me. At that exact moment, Leo was finishing his shoot. He and Ava were standing together, taking questions from the press. They looked like a bride and groom at their wedding reception. “Mr. Dawson, it’s so moving that you came all this way. Could you comment on the current nature of your relationship?” “The rumor is that you two are back together. Is that true?” Leo gave a small shake of his head. “No, that’s not true. I’m married.” The smile on Ava’s face faltered for a fraction of a second before she recovered beautifully. “We’re just friends! And his wife is amazing, a huge influencer! I was so touched he would leave his family right before the holiday to come help me. I really didn’t expect it.” Her words were just ambiguous enough for a sharp reporter to seize upon. He pushed his microphone towards Leo. “Mr. Dawson, is there tension in your marriage? There’s currently a trending story that your wife was seen at a clinic today… alone… having an abortion.” At the mention of the word, Leo’s entire body went rigid.

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The Wolf Clan’s lineage was dwindling. Prince Valen, the Wolf King’s heir, had lived for a thousand years. He was a fearsome warrior, respected across the Beast Realm, but utterly uninterested in romance. The Wolf Queen was frantic. Beauties from every clan lined up outside the Wolf King’s den, hoping to catch his eye. I’m Ginger, just a regular girl from a poor family who accidentally fell into the Beast Realm. After crossing over, I stumbled into the Wolf King’s chambers by mistake. On the day of his engagement to the Tiger Princess, I ran away—pregnant with a litter of wolf pups. Years later, as I was busy feeding meat to my eight little wolves, he pushed open my garden gate. He looked at me like a kicked puppy, ears drooping. “Ginger, do you really not want me anymore?” 1 The Great War between the beast clans shattered the barrier between the human and beast worlds, and I fell right through the cracks. I was just trying to help my grandma dig up some wild ginseng in the back mountains. One wrong step, and I woke up here. Half-human, half-beast creatures were everywhere. Before I could process anything, a Wolf Clan patrol surrounded me. They wanted to execute me on the spot, but Grandma Leopard intervened and brought me into the Wolf Clan’s territory. I grew up in the mountains with my grandma. I rarely saw anyone besides the villagers, so I knew nothing about the outside world, let alone this one. At first, I thought I should treat these beast-men like the animals back home. I reached out to pet their heads and ears, but their ferocious snarls scared me back. They were fiercer than the neighbor’s Rottweiler! But Grandma Leopard was kind to me, just like my own grandma. She tried to give me chores like cleaning, but I was useless in this world. I tore ancient scrolls while dusting and nearly burned down a room while mixing potions. Exasperated, Grandma Leopard took me to the Wolf Queen. The Queen looked me over, noting my curves with satisfaction, and whispered to her handmaidens. “This little human looks like a good breeder. A bit dim, perhaps, too innocent.” “That’s fine. Let’s test her fertility. If the Prince takes a new consort later, she’ll be easy to dispose of.” Breeder? Consort? I didn’t care. I only cared about what Grandma Leopard told me: “Spend one night in the Wolf Prince’s bed, and you’ll survive here.” So, I happily let them take me to Prince Valen’s courtyard. A crowd of wolf beauties was already there, clearly unhappy about my arrival. One silver-haired beauty even tossed my luggage into the muddiest corner of the yard. I didn’t see the Prince until evening. He had fluffy wolf ears atop his head, but his face… god, he was handsome. “You… you’re so handsome…” I blurted out. Valen paused, seemingly intrigued by this bold human. He leaned in, sniffing me, his eyes thoughtful. This enraged the other beauties. From then on, they bullied me relentlessly. Threatening to tear out my throat, putting bugs in my food—I hadn’t had a decent meal in days. The wolves ate raw meat, which I couldn’t stomach. Starving and desperate, I remembered Grandma Leopard’s words. One night in his bed, and I get to live. And eat good food. So, under the cover of darkness, I snuck into the Prince’s chambers. The room was empty. I climbed into his bed and burrowed under the covers. Soon after, Valen walked in. He stripped as he walked toward the bathing pool. Through the steam, I saw his muscular back and powerful waist. It was the first time I’d ever seen a naked man! My heart pounded. Suddenly, he turned around. I ducked under the blanket. After what felt like forever, he stood by the bed. “Come out,” his voice commanded, heavy with authority. I peeked out timidly and patted the pillow next to me. “Your Highness… wanna sleep together?” Valen raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “What is your name?” “Ginger,” I answered honestly. He stared at my lips, his breathing growing heavy. He turned back to the pool, then returned moments later. His eyes were redder now, his breath ragged, as if suppressing something wild. “I… I was injured recently. There’s a dark energy in me I can’t control.” “Ginger, I need you now. Is that okay?” Need me? For what? I was confused by his burning gaze. “If I say yes, will you give me food? Will I get to live?” He chuckled and nodded. “Then hurry up! I want to eat when we’re done!” The next second, he was on top of me. His kisses were overwhelming. I felt like I was melting. My clothes were torn away in a daze. Then, a sharp pain snapped me back to reality. I pushed him. “Ouch! No more! I don’t want to eat anymore!” He kissed away my tears, whispering comforts, but his movements only grew fiercer. My protests seemed to fuel him. “Shh, be good. Relax, it’ll be over soon.” I sobbed in pain, but he wouldn’t stop. When it was finally over, I clung to his arm. “You promised. Food.” Valen stroked my hair, looking satisfied. He ordered a feast. And just like that, I, a human who had only been there a few days, became the first person to sleep with the Wolf Prince. 2 I woke up the next morning covered in Valen’s scent. I didn’t know what that meant in the Beast World. The wolf beauties in the courtyard glared at me with fire in their eyes. Overnight, I had become public enemy number one. I was moved to a special room. They said it was designed for humans, with strange runes on the walls. It was close to Valen’s chambers, heavily guarded. But Grandma Leopard was right. After sleeping with the Prince, I never went hungry again. No one dared threaten me. Valen treated me well, sending me cooked food and desserts every day. Some of it was weird, but it was better than raw meat. Rumors said Valen was cold and uninterested in women. I now knew that was total bull. Since that night, he was addicted. The moment he returned to his chambers, he was on me. Bed, bath, desk—nowhere was safe. I’d pass out and wake up to dawn breaking. Even while working, he’d hold me on his lap, kissing and nibbling on me. Sore and exhausted, I complained to Grandma Leopard. She smiled ambiguously. “Silly girl, he’s marking you! That’s a huge honor in our clan!” “If you get pregnant with a wolf pup, your future is set! You’ll be a hero to the Wolf Clan, set for life.” I blinked. “What if I have a human baby?” Grandma Leopard frowned. That stumped her. That night, in Valen’s arms, I asked. “Your Highness… if we have a baby, will it be a wolf or a human?” Valen’s hand paused in my hair. “You’re young. Don’t worry about children.” From the next day on, he fed me a strange fruit after every encounter. He said it was good for my health. I ate it without question. Only later did I learn it was a contraceptive fruit. Clearly, Valen never intended for me to bear his heirs. He kept me by his side constantly. He taught me the beast language. My writing was terrible—like chicken scratch—but he was patient, teaching me stroke by stroke. I loved writing his name in the beast script. It made me happy. Valen knew my tastes. He brought me rare treats from his travels: glowing berries, savory mushrooms, legendary “Beast God Nectar.” My heart started feeling strange. When he wasn’t there, I missed him. When he was, just sitting quietly nearby made me happy. The annual “Full Moon Festival” approached. It required a pilgrimage to a distant holy land. As the Prince, Valen had to go. The night before he left, he was insatiable, as if stocking up for the month apart. I was sad to see him go. That night, I was unusually responsive. Valen was so excited his wolf tail popped out. The big, fluffy tail wagged happily. After he left, I felt listless. Even roasted chicken wings lost their appeal. I remembered a proverb Valen taught me: “The lone wolf watches the moon, sleepless in its shadow.” I understood it now. I, a girl who had been single since birth, realized this was love. It had seeped into my bones without me noticing. The day he returned, he dragged me into his room immediately. I thought he wanted sex, but he pulled a glowing fruit from his robe. “Try this. It’s a fruit from the Beast God Tree. I stole it for you.” I almost cried. The Beast God Fruit was a sacred treasure. Even the King rarely ate it. I took a bite, and energy flooded my body. I felt light, floaty. In that moment, I thought staying here with Valen forever wouldn’t be so bad. I forgot I was just a “breeder.” How could I dream of growing old with the Wolf King? Soon, news spread that the Wolf Clan was forming a marriage alliance with the Tiger Clan. The Tiger Princess was coming to stay, acting like the future Queen. 3 The wolf beauties mocked me mercilessly. “A mere human, dreaming of keeping the Prince’s favor forever?” “The real deal is here. Scram, you hairless pet!” We lined up to welcome Valen and the Tiger Princess, Roxanne. When they walked in together, my heart skipped a beat. Valen radiated power, and Roxanne was elegantly wild. They looked… perfect together. Acid filled my chest. Thinking about watching them be a loving couple for the rest of my life made it hard to breathe. In the following days, Valen showed Roxanne around the territory. They watched the moon, hunted together. Some gossips even used magic to project images of their dates for me to see. I pretended not to care. But at night, I cried. Valen hadn’t summoned me in days. He came back late, and I never saw him. Maybe I really was just a toy, a pastime for when he was bored. One day, the Queen summoned us to the main hall. Valen was busy, so we were ordered to entertain Roxanne. Roxanne smiled and linked arms with me. “I heard you serve Valen. It must be hard work.” Once we were alone, her face changed. She threw my hand off. “A human like you thinks you deserve to be by his side?” “I heard you think you’re his partner. Guess who’s more important to him? You or me?” Alarm bells rang in my head. Before I could run, she ripped a talisman from her neck and threw it into the nearby Miasma Forest. Valen walked into the courtyard just then. Roxanne threw herself into his arms, sobbing. “Valen, this human is so rude. I just wanted to talk, but she insulted me and threw my mother’s talisman into the Miasma Forest!” I hadn’t seen Valen in so long. The man I shared a bed with now looked at me with cold, stranger’s eyes. “I didn’t…” I tried to defend myself, but he cut me off. Valen comforted Roxanne softly. “Don’t worry. I’ll send someone to find it.” Roxanne pouted, pointing at me. “She lost it. She should find it!” Humans have the weakest sense of smell here. I couldn’t navigate the poisonous fog. Valen knew this. He used to tease me about my “useless nose.” But now, he commanded coldly: “Go find it!” I stumbled into the forest. The acrid air made me dizzy. The toxins burned my skin. I crawled around, feeling my life draining away. I don’t know how long it took, but I found the damn talisman. Covered in cuts and burns, I crawled out and handed it to Roxanne. The Queen had arrived. She glared at me. “Disgraceful! A stain on the Wolf Clan!” “Stay in the forest for a day and night as punishment!” Valen didn’t even look at me. He walked away with Roxanne. The night wind blew, and I shivered. I finally understood the gap between a breeder and a Queen. I had no voice here. Roxanne could decide my life or death on a whim. I, who had once loved this place, wanted to leave for the first time. 4 I didn’t last long in the forest before fainting. In a haze, I smelled Valen. He licked my wounds gently. I sobbed, “Do you care about me at all?” He was silent. When I woke up, I was alone. A hallucination, surely. Then, footsteps. Valen walked in, face grim. I felt a flicker of hope. “Your Highness, you came?” He sat by my bed, eyes complex. “Ginger, Roxanne has contracted Soul Wither from losing her talisman. It’s critical.” He paused, his gaze hardening. “The shaman says we need human heart-blood as a cure. You… you’re always sensible. Will you help her?” “I promise I’ll make it up to you!” It felt like being doused in ice water. I shook. “I didn’t lose it! She threw it herself!” “Why don’t you believe me?” “I’m sorry,” his voice went cold. “You owe her this.” He grabbed my arm. Despite my struggles and begging, he drove a knife into my vein. The pain was excruciating. I couldn’t tell if my arm or my heart hurt more. Before I blacked out, I thought I saw pain in his eyes. No. Impossible. Another hallucination. The next day, I heard Roxanne recovered. The Queen summoned me so Roxanne could “thank” me. Before I entered, I heard them laughing. “Good child, take care of yourself.” “When you marry Valen, give us a strong wolf pup.” “As for that mongrel in his yard, I’ll watch her. She won’t birth the first pup before you arrive.” “Once you’re Queen, you can do whatever you want with her!” I realized then: to them, I was livestock. Roxanne thanked me insincerely. The Queen ignored me. “Just a lowly plaything. Giving blood is her honor. Why thank her personally?” “You’re too kind.” Message received. Leaving, I looked at my reflection in a puddle. No ears, no tail. But I was human. I had dignity. Why let them trample me? I was just a hidden breeder in Valen’s backyard. I never had a chance. Let alone growing old together. It was time to go. I stopped dreaming and started planning. The Queen’s Moon Festival was coming up. All clans would visit. Perfect cover. I snuck into a Bear Clan merchant’s wagon. Watching the Wolf territory fade into the distance, tears streamed down my face. “Goodbye, Valen.”

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She took the commission on my million-dollar contract and slashed it to nine dollars and ninety-nine cents. “Platform overhead, marketing spend, client retention costs… you think that’s free?” “You should be on your knees thanking me for the $9.99. Now sign it.” I went to my boss, Mark, looking for a shred of sanity. I found only deeper humiliation. “Whatever Finance says, goes. We can’t bend company policy for your personal gain.” Then, with a magnanimous sigh, he added, “Look, I’ll tell you what. I’ll throw in my own money to make it $99.99. For good luck. Happy now?” Later, that same Finance Director used a web of fabricated policies to cut my expense report until I owed the company money. That’s when I finally understood. I would follow their policies. To the letter. Two weeks later, I sat in silence during a meeting for a two-million-dollar deal. My boss had a complete meltdown. 1 “Nine ninety-nine. Sign it.” Veronica Lang, the Director of Finance, slapped the pay stub down on my desk. The acrylic tips of her nails clicked against the paper. “Veronica, I closed a million-dollar deal. How is my commission nine dollars and ninety-nine cents?” I fought to keep my voice steady, to keep the tremor of disbelief from cracking it. “Hmph.” She tapped impatiently at her monitor. “That client signed because of the Nexus Dynamics platform. Did you really think it was because of you? Without the company, what are you?” Before I could form a retort, her fingers were flying across a calculator, a vicious staccato in the quiet office. “Your million-dollar contract had the highest overhead of any deal this quarter,” she announced, as if delivering a verdict. “Let’s see… we deduct 40% for platform fees, 30% for marketing, 20% for office administration, 10% for post-sale support…” She spun the monitor toward me, a triumphant smirk on her face. “After all the deductions, you were actually in the negative. See? But the company, in its infinite mercy, decided to forgive your debt and grant you a bonus of $9.99.” Her chin tilted up, a pose of regal condescension. “It’s an act of profound generosity. You should be grateful.” Of course, a million-dollar deal has higher costs than a ten-thousand-dollar one. But in her mouth, my success became a crime. A hot, tight knot of anger formed in my chest. My hands clenched into fists. I spun on my heel and stormed into my boss’s office, Mark Redmond. “Mark, I need a reasonable explanation for the commission on the Sterling account.” Mark’s usually warm smile evaporated the moment I said the word “commission.” “Ava,” he said, his tone shifting to one of paternal disappointment. “As a sales professional, you need to see the bigger picture. You can’t get hung up on nickels and dimes. Think about the platform and the value this company provides for you.” “As for the commission,” he continued, steepling his fingers, “whatever Finance says, goes. We can’t bend company policy for your personal gain.” “My commission should have been twenty-five thousand dollars,” I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. I was barely suppressing a volcano of rage. Mark’s voice hardened. “You need to recognize your position here. Without this company, you’re nothing.” Seeing the look on my face, he softened his approach, shifting to a posture of performative charity. “Look, I know it’s not easy. I’ll tell you what.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “I’ll throw in my own money to make it $99.99. For good luck. Happy now?” I had come to him hoping for an ally, for a sliver of reason. Instead, he handed me a deeper, more personal humiliation. I forced the words through my teeth. “Mark, if this is how it works, who is ever going to close a major deal for this company again? Why would anyone kill themselves to land a big client, only to have Finance gut them and leave them with nothing?” He slammed his hand on the desk, the sound cracking through the office. He pointed a trembling finger at my face. “Don’t you dare take that tone with me! Ava, you’ve been here for years. The market is tough right now. You need to be a team player.” His voice dropped again, becoming a soothing, manipulative purr. “Just focus on your work. Don’t worry, your contributions will be remembered when it’s time for annual bonuses. Don’t be so impatient.” Every word was a needle. “Don’t bother,” I said, my voice flat, devoid of the emotion that was churning inside me. “I’ll take the $9.99.” The second I stepped out of his office, I was swarmed. Veronica was at the center of the vulture’s circle. “Be happy with it, Ava. $9.99 is still money. You came out ahead,” one of them chirped. “Exactly. You should be glad you don’t owe them. You should thank Veronica and Mark for their kindness.” “Some people just don’t know their own worth,” another chimed in, loud enough for the whole floor to hear. “They really think the company can’t survive without them.” Even my boyfriend, Liam, hurried over, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “Why did you have to go and argue with Mark?” he hissed under his breath. “Making such a scene over a little bit of money. You’re embarrassing me.” A laugh, sharp and bitter, escaped my lips. “Fighting for money I earned is embarrassing? Fine. From now on, why don’t you all just donate your salaries back to the company? Work for charity.” That shut them up. If a million-dollar deal was only worth $9.99, then my efforts were wasted here. I sat down at my desk and calmly typed out a text message: “Sarah, about that business proposal you mentioned last month. I’m in.” That afternoon, a potential investor, Mr. Peterson, came for a site visit. Mark was in full schmooze-mode, bowing and scraping. To showcase the company’s strength, he made my million-dollar deal the centerpiece of his presentation. “Mr. Peterson, I won’t lie to you, our sales team is the best in the business,” Mark boasted. “We have deep partnerships with several publicly traded companies. Just last month, one of our top people, Ava, closed a million-dollar contract. That’s the kind of talent we have here. You can rest assured.” He then called over to me. “Ava! Come over here for a second. Share some of your insights with Mr. Peterson on how you landed that major deal.” I walked over, a practiced, professional smile fixed on my face. “Mr. Peterson,” I said, my voice sincere and earnest, “my biggest takeaway is that you must spare no effort in contributing to the company’s success.” Mark nodded, beaming with satisfaction. “Here, you can see for yourself,” I said, my tone suddenly shifting as I held my phone out for Mr. Peterson to see. Displayed clearly on the screen was my pay stub. “And to recognize my contribution, Mark was generous enough to approve a staggering bonus of nine dollars and ninety-nine cents.” My voice was loud enough to carry across the room. “I insist on using this… fortune… to buy you a coffee later, as a small token of my appreciation.” Mr. Peterson’s expression darkened. He glanced at Mark, whose face had gone pale. “Your company’s incentive program is… unique,” Mr. Peterson said, his voice now distant and cool. “It seems you still have a long way to go.” Sweat beaded on Mark’s forehead. He scrambled to recover. “Mr. Peterson, please don’t misunderstand. The younger staff, they love to joke around. Our benefits package is absolutely top-tier…” Mr. Peterson held up a hand, cutting him off. “I think I’ve seen enough for today. We’ll need to re-evaluate this partnership.” He turned and left without a backward glance. Mark watched the deal walk out the door, then shot me a look of pure venom. A moment later, a notification popped up in the company-wide Slack channel, posted by Veronica. “Due to inappropriate and unprofessional conduct during a client visit today, which has caused significant damage to the company’s reputation, employee Ava Miller is hereby fined $1,000, to be deducted from her salary.” The office erupted in whispers. “Serves her right. Closes one big deal and suddenly she’s royalty.” My colleague Rick snickered loudly. “Some people need to be put in their place. They get a little success and their head gets so big they can’t see straight.” Liam rushed to my desk, his voice a furious whisper. “Are you trying to get fired, Ava? Is that it? Everyone knows we’re together. If you’re going to self-destruct, don’t drag me down with you.” I gave him a withering look and typed a public reply in the Slack channel, tagging Veronica. “@Veronica Lang, could you please cite the specific company policy this fine is based on? Thank you.” Veronica shot up from her desk, her hands on her hips. “It was authorized by the CEO. My word is the policy.” She lifted her chin, defiant. “And this rule will be added to the employee handbook effective immediately. Does anyone else have a problem with that?” Rick was immediately on his feet, practically bowing. “No, of course not! We completely support you and the company, Veronica.” He glanced pointedly at me. “People who can’t follow the rules don’t deserve to work here.” Others murmured in agreement. Liam saw the tide turning and shoved my shoulder, hissing, “Go and apologize to her right now, or we are done.” I brushed his hand away, disgusted. “If you want to lick her boots, go ahead. I did nothing wrong.” “For God’s sake, Ava, can you just be reasonable for once?” he practically shouted. Veronica watched our exchange with a cruel smile. “Liam, you deserve better. I have a cousin, she just graduated from Stanford. I could introduce you two sometime.” Liam’s eyes lit up, even as he mumbled, “Oh, you don’t have to do that, Veronica.” The shamelessness of it all was breathtaking. “Fine. We’re over,” I said calmly. Liam froze, then his face twisted in anger. “What did you say? You don’t get to break up with me. I’m breaking up with you!” I shrugged. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” The next morning, Liam walked into the finance department with his head held high. Not five minutes later, another company-wide notification appeared. “An internal audit has revealed that Sales Executive Ava Miller engaged in a serious violation of contract policy. Without approval from Finance, she unilaterally granted a client an unauthorized discount. As a penalty, this employee’s salary will be reduced by two pay grades.” It had to be Liam. I was bored anyway. I decided I might as well see this farce through. In her office, Veronica tapped a long, crimson nail on a stack of contracts. “Who gave you the authority to offer a client a 15% discount?” Her voice was shrill, the nail jabbing in the air just inches from my face. “This is a grave detriment to the company’s interests. I’m being merciful by not garnishing your entire salary to cover the loss.” She was warming up now, her voice rising with theatrical indignation. “No wonder profits have been shrinking these past couple of years. We have traitors like you eating us out from the inside.” I pointed to the contracts on her desk. “Veronica, Mark himself gave me verbal authorization to offer that discount to high-potential legacy clients. The repeat business and add-on sales from those accounts have more than covered that initial discount.” She slammed her palm on the desk. “Is that verbal authorization written anywhere in the company’s policies? Anywhere at all? No? Then it doesn’t count!” she shrieked. “Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing, trying to shift the blame. I’m already being lenient. Don’t push it.” It was a witch hunt. I turned and walked out. The office was buzzing. “She used company money to buy herself favors. Makes you wonder how she really closed all those other deals.” Rick picked up the thread. “I always said there was something fishy. A woman pulling in numbers like that… maybe she wasn’t just offering them a discount, if you know what I mean.” “Tsk, tsk. Acts all high and mighty, but who knows what she does behind closed doors.” I stopped. I picked up the lukewarm coffee from my desk, walked over to Rick, and poured the entire cup over his head. “There’s a sewer rat in here,” I said calmly. “It’s making a lot of noise.” “You… you’re an unhinged bitch!” he sputtered, his face turning a blotchy red as coffee dripped from his hair. I ignored him and returned to my desk, my fingers flying across the keyboard. They wanted to accuse me of giving unauthorized discounts? Fine. I went into the system and revised every single one of my active client proposals, setting the price to the absolute maximum allowed by company policy. The emails from clients canceling their contracts started rolling in within the hour. For the next week, my sales figures were zero. On Monday morning, Mark came down to the sales floor himself. “Due to a lack of performance,” he announced to the entire team, “the two-million-dollar medical account previously managed by Ava Miller will be transferred to our new hire, Leo, who will be taking over effective immediately.” This Leo, I’d heard, was a personal recommendation from Veronica. A real “superstar.” The team burst into applause. “Congratulations, Leo! It’s about time.” “Some people just can’t carry their own weight. Serves her right.” More daggers, all aimed at me. During my lunch break, I walked past Mark’s office and heard voices. “Mark, darling, you can relax. Leo’s family owns a chain of clinics. He knows the medical sector inside and out. This deal is a slam dunk,” Veronica cooed. “Weren’t you worried about Ava having too much power? I found you a real loyalist.” “You always know what I need,” Mark laughed. “Your bonus is doubled this month.” So, they were replacing me. Too bad for them. That medical account was a minefield. I’d spent a month doing due diligence, and the internal politics and technical requirements were more complex than anyone knew. A nepo-hire with a family connection wasn’t going to just waltz in and close it. I was almost excited to see how Leo would handle it. At three o’clock that afternoon, Mark was in his office, practically groveling into his phone. “Yes, yes, of course. Don’t worry, Ava will still be involved in the project.” The moment he hung up, he posted in the team channel. “While Ava has made some mistakes, I believe in second chances. Leo will remain the project lead, but Ava will provide support as an auxiliary member.” It seemed the client had pushed back. Mark couldn’t afford to lose the deal, so he was forced to shove me back onto the team. Fine by me. The new company Sarah and I were launching wouldn’t be ready for a few weeks anyway. I might as well enjoy the show. Besides, I still hadn’t been reimbursed for my last business trip. I wasn’t about to let them keep that money. I walked over to Veronica’s desk with a stack of receipts. She was touching up her lipstick in a compact mirror. “Well, look what the cat dragged in. The company’s star employee.” The sarcasm was thick enough to choke on. I placed the receipts on her desk. “My expense report.” She poked at them with her pen as if they were contaminated. “Fifty dollars for an Uber? Couldn’t you take the subway? It’s three bucks.” “Veronica, I was carrying three large cases of product samples. Did you want the client to think we’re broke?” I replied patiently. “This hotel bill is outrageous. Why didn’t you sleep under a bridge?” “That was the cheapest corporate-rate hotel in the area. If you’d feel safer under a bridge, you’re welcome to try it on your next trip.” Veronica’s head snapped up, her eyes flashing. “Don’t get smart with me. I say it’s not approved, it’s not approved.” She picked up another receipt. “A hundred and fifty for a meal? What are you, a black hole?” “I had to take the client for coffee and a sandwich. Or do you think our clients are black holes?” She was momentarily speechless, her face darkening. She took a red pen and started slashing through my receipts with a vengeance. “This one’s blurry. Denied.” “This one is past the submission deadline. Denied.” “This one… hmph, no itemized list. Who knows what sordid things you bought with this. Denied.” She punched numbers into her calculator, a cruel smile spreading across her face. “Oh, and I almost forgot. You used a company laptop during your trip. As per the new fixed asset usage policy, there’s a daily rental fee of fifty dollars. For eight days, that’s four hundred dollars.” She scrawled a final figure on the reimbursement form and shoved it at me. “Read it and weep. For this trip, you owe the company $838. I’ll be generous and waive the change. We’ll just deduct the eight hundred from your…” She paused, a look of mock realization on her face. “Oh, silly me! I forgot we already docked your entire salary this month. Well, we’ll just take it out of next month’s paycheck, then.” She watched me, waiting for me to break. “I’m just following company policy,” she said sweetly. “Is there a problem?” I looked at her mean, pinched face and felt a strange mix of pity and amusement. “No problem at all,” I said calmly. “Go ahead and deduct it. Consider it my contribution to your medication fund.” Her smile froze for a second before blooming into a triumphant, gloating laugh. “Still trying to get the last word in. With all that energy, you should probably be figuring out how you’re going to pay your rent this month. I’ve seen your type before—broke, arrogant, and always ending up with nothing.” Back at my desk, my phone buzzed. Another notification in the company Slack. “It has been determined that employee Ava Miller has violated company reimbursement policies with multiple non-compliant submissions. Her reimbursement privileges have been downgraded to the lowest possible level. At this company, policy is paramount. No one is above the rules.” The jackals descended immediately. “Good. Trying to scam the company for money. Absolutely shameless.” “Rules are what separate us from the animals. About time the company cracked down on the bad apples.” My ex-boyfriend, Liam, even chimed in, seeking his own moment of glory. “For the record, I want to state publicly that Ava Miller and I officially ended our relationship last week. I am currently single.” The subtlety was overwhelming. Veronica immediately replied with a tag. “@Liam, good for you. My cousin is free this weekend. I’ll set it up. She’s a real class act. Not like some people.” Then, she tagged me directly. “@Ava Miller, see the memo? Cat got your tongue? Failure to respond to work-related communications in a timely manner is a hundred-dollar fine.” I took a deep breath and slowly typed my reply. “Seen. I am reflecting on my actions.” Veronica responded with a single smiley-face emoji, dripping with the smugness of a victor. They wanted me to follow the policy? Fine. This time, I would follow it to the very end. A few minutes later, my phone began to ring incessantly. “The proposal meeting is starting! Where the hell are you? Why aren’t you at the client’s office yet?” Mark’s frantic voice crackled through the speaker. I held the phone to my ear, my voice unhurried. “Ubers aren’t a reimbursable expense, Mark. I’m waiting for the bus.” “It’s two million dollars on the line, who gives a damn about an Uber fare right now?” he roared. My tone was placid. “Mark, Leo is the project lead. His presence should be more than sufficient.” “Ava, the client specifically said if you’re not here, they’re not signing the contract.” Mark’s voice dropped, becoming a desperate plea. “This is a two-million-dollar deal. We can’t afford any mistakes. Just get over here. Please.”

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They call me the Reaper. When I walked out of the head office with that familiar pale blue folder, a collective groan echoed through the cubicles. The usual mix of glares and whispered curses followed me. In the last six months, I’d personally escorted nearly two hundred people out the door of Ascend Corp, saving our CEO over a million and a half dollars. My hands were stained, but I thought my reward was finally here—the promotion I was promised, the one I’d sacrificed my reputation for. Instead, he handed me a folder of my own. My termination papers. Fine. So this is what it feels like to be the blade they use and then discard. If my name is on the list, then they’re about to find out just how terrifying the Reaper can be when she comes for you. 1 “Ava, take a look at this list. I need them processed by Monday.” I took the folder from Robert Peterson, our CEO, my stomach already tightening with a familiar dread. Another list. Another round of lives to upend. I opened it. A dozen names, all familiar, stared back at me. One of them, Frank Miller, had been a senior engineer here for eight years, three of which we’d spent working on projects together. “Mr. Peterson,” I began, testing the waters. “Frank is a cornerstone of the tech department. Are we sure about this?” A frown creased his forehead. “Ava, you know the position we’re in. We have to be lean. You’ve been at this for five months. Don’t tell me you’re getting soft now.” I pressed my lips together. He was right. For five months, I had been the company’s Grim Reaper. One hundred and eighty souls—or rather, jobs—sent into the ether on my watch. “Besides,” Peterson added, a knowing glint in his eye, “once we get through this quarter’s restructuring, that promotion is all yours. Director of HR. You know how many people would kill for that spot.” That was the shot of adrenaline I needed. My hesitation vanished. For that title, for that corner office, for the promise of finally making it, I could handle one last list. I could be ruthless one more time. “I understand, sir. It will be done by Monday.” I nodded, closing the folder and sliding it into my desk drawer. “Attagirl.” He clapped me on the shoulder, his face breaking into a satisfied grin. “Ava, you’re the most effective HR manager I’ve ever seen.” His praise was a warm balm, soothing the unease in my gut. All the anxiety, all the guilt, melted away. As I walked back to my desk, I felt their eyes on me. The glares were a mix of contempt, fear, and a sick kind of relief that it wasn’t them. I was used to it. Since the layoffs began, my name had become poison. I’d heard the whispers: “The Hatchet Woman.” “The Vulture.” “That soulless corporate witch.” But who cares what they called me? Once I was Ava Morgan, Director of Human Resources, their whispers wouldn’t matter. I pictured the doubled salary, the spacious office with a view, and my mood lifted instantly. Back in my chair, I began my work, pulling up the file for each name on the list. Years of service, technical skills, project contributions—I meticulously copied the key details into my personal, encrypted notebook. It was a habit of mine. The official company files were comprehensive, but my own records were cleaner, more useful. They helped me do my job. 2 Monday morning, I began sending the death sentences. “Frank, could you come by my office when you have a moment?” The silence on the other end of the line was heavy, broken only by a soft sigh. He already knew. In the current climate at Ascend, a summons from Ava Morgan was a pink slip waiting to happen. Ten minutes later, he walked in. The eight-year veteran, one of our best engineers, looked exhausted. Dark circles hung under his eyes. “Have a seat,” I said, gesturing to the chair opposite my desk. I had rehearsed the script a thousand times in my head. “Ava, let’s just get to it,” he said with a bitter smile. “It’s my turn, isn’t it?” I nodded, pulling his prepared severance package from the drawer. “The company has decided on another round of personnel optimization. Unfortunately…” “Spare me the corporate bullshit,” Frank cut in, his eyes sharp with scorn. “We’ve worked together for three years. Don’t pretend this is anything other than what it is. What’s the package?” I pushed the documents across the desk. “Two months’ severance for every year of service. It’s more than the standard. It’s the best I could get for you.” He let out a short, harsh laugh. “Generous. Eight years of my life for a few months’ pay.” His gaze hardened, pinning me to my chair. “Do you even realize what you’re doing, Ava? You’re gutting this company, kicking your own colleagues to the curb, all for that director title he’s dangling in front of you.” His words were a direct hit, striking a nerve deep inside me. I kept my face a mask of professional calm. “This is a corporate decision, Frank. It’s not personal.” “Isn’t it?” He stood, looking down at me. “Then you’d better pray you never end up in our shoes. You think Peterson’s promises are worth anything? He’ll kick you to the curb the second you’re no longer useful to him.” His warning felt like a shard of ice in my chest. I suppressed the feeling, forcing my voice to remain flat. “Please have your affairs in order by Wednesday.” Frank just shook his head, picked up the folder, and walked out without another word. That scene repeated itself more than a dozen times that day. With every person I let go, I felt a small piece of my own soul chip away. But the thought of the promotion, the finish line, was all that kept me going. Before leaving for the day, I compiled all the signed documents, ready for Peterson in the morning. This was it. The final list. After this, I could shed this Reaper persona and finally claim the throne I had bled for. A flicker of triumph cut through my exhaustion. I opened my laptop, updating my private spreadsheet one last time. As of today, I had terminated 196 employees, saving Ascend Corp an estimated $1.56 million in annual payroll. The numbers were my justification. My proof of worth. I walked out of the office with my head held high, ignoring the way people averted their eyes and fell silent as I passed. It wouldn’t be long now. Soon, they wouldn’t see the Reaper. They would see Ms. Morgan, the Director. 3 “Excellent work, Ava.” Mr. Peterson scanned the files I handed him, nodding in satisfaction. “The personnel optimization plan is officially complete.” I couldn’t help but stand a little straighter, my expression full of anticipation. “Sir, about my promotion…” “Right, about that.” He smiled faintly, reaching into his desk drawer. He pulled out a single, familiar folder. Pale blue, with the small “HR” logo in the bottom corner. My heart stopped. For six months, I had been the one pulling termination letters from those folders, placing them in the hands of others. This time, he was handing the folder to me. “I don’t understand,” I managed to say, my fingers trembling as I took it. Peterson’s smile remained, but his eyes had turned to ice. “The company has decided on a complete overhaul of the Human Resources department. Your position has been eliminated.” I shot to my feet, nearly knocking my chair over. “What are you talking about? I did everything you asked. You promised me…” “Circumstances have changed,” he said, his voice clipped and final. “This new phase for Ascend requires a fresh HR team. One without the… historical baggage.” I stared at him, speechless. The air had been punched from my lungs. He glanced at me, his tone softening just enough to be insulting. “Ava, you’ve done a lot for us, and we appreciate it. Per company policy, you’re entitled to a standard severance. But for your unique contributions, I’ve personally authorized the same enhanced package you’ve been giving out.” The same package. The exact same one I had just given Frank. The room began to spin. A hot rush of blood roared in my ears. “You can’t do this,” I said, my voice shaking with rage. “I laid off nearly two hundred people for you. I took all the hate for it. You know the reputation I have now! You promised me the director position!” For a fleeting moment, something flickered in his eyes—pity? guilt?—but it was gone as quickly as it came. “Business is war, Ava. Plans change. You, of all people, should understand that.” “I don’t understand!” I was practically shouting now. “This is a betrayal!” His face hardened. “Watch your tone. The company is providing you with a fair severance, which is more than generous. Don’t forget, there’s a line of people out there who would kill for a job here.” I took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing myself to find some semblance of calm. “Then tell me who’s replacing me.” He hesitated. “Chloe Jenkins. The junior director from Marketing. She’s sharp, has fresh ideas.” Chloe? The kid who’d been here barely six months? I almost laughed out loud. “Mr. Peterson, she doesn’t even know basic labor law.” “She’ll have a team to support her,” he said, his patience clearly gone. “Ava, it’s done. There’s nothing more to discuss. Have your desk cleared out in three days. HR will handle your exit.” He stood up, the universal signal for “get out.” I walked out of his office in a daze, the pale blue folder clutched in my hand, a ringing in my ears. Back at my desk, I numbly opened it. The termination letter, with my name printed in neat, black ink, felt like an artifact from another dimension. Hours ago, I was the one issuing these. Now, I was the one receiving it. The eyes of my colleagues were on me again, but this time the emotions were different. There was shock, a little pity, but mostly, a chillingly familiar indifference. It was the same look I had given every person I had fired. “Karma’s a bitch,” I muttered with a humorless smile. Frank’s voice echoed in my head. He’ll kick you to the curb the second you’re no longer useful to him. A strange heat bloomed in my chest. It wasn’t just anger. It was the profound, burning shame of being played for a fool. 4 The clock hit five, and the office began to empty out. I remained at my desk, staring blankly at my monitor. My personal notebook lay on the desk, the one filled with the data of every single person I had let go. Names, positions, skills, major contributions… all the ammunition I had used to carry out my orders. Now, it looked like a monument to my own stupidity. I flipped through the pages idly. My eyes caught on a name, then another. Wait a second. This data… My mind started racing as I scanned the pages. An idea, audacious and cold, began to take shape. Peterson wanted a “lean” company, did he? He was so proud of the million and a half dollars I’d saved him. But what would be the cost if all that talent I’d cut loose ended up at his biggest competitor? A slow, icy smile spread across my face. I shoved the notebook into my bag, shut down my computer, and walked out of Ascend Corp for the last time as an employee. That night, back in my small apartment, I didn’t collapse into bed. I opened my laptop and began to organize the information from my notebook, focusing on the high-level tech talent. What was the real damage their absence would cause? I pulled up a job search site and looked up Ascend’s main rival, Apex Solutions. Just as I suspected. They were on a hiring spree, and their posted salary ranges were significantly higher than what we paid. After a moment’s hesitation, I created a new, anonymous email address. I drafted a short message to the head of HR at Apex Solutions. [> Subject: High-Value Talent Pool To Whom It May Concern, I have access to a curated list of highly qualified tech professionals with extensive industry experience. If you are looking to acquire top-tier talent, I invite you to a discussion.] After hitting send, I closed the laptop and lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Half a year as the Reaper, and now I was about to become a shepherd, leading the flock to a greener pasture. The irony was thick enough to choke on. But this was the perfect revenge. It was legal, professional, and it would hit Robert Peterson right where it hurt the most: his bottom line. The next morning, a reply from Apex was waiting in my inbox. They wanted to meet. Today. “Well, that was fast,” I murmured, sending back a confirmation. At the office, while gathering my things, Chloe—the chosen one—approached my desk. “Ava,” she began, looking deeply uncomfortable. “I heard that you…” “That I got canned? Yep,” I said, my face a blank mask. “Congratulations on the promotion.” Her cheeks flushed. “Ava, I swear I had no idea. Mr. Peterson only told me yesterday…” “Don’t worry about it. It’s just business,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand, pushing a stack of files toward her. “Here’s the latest project pipeline. You should get up to speed.” Chloe took them, but hesitated. “How can you be so calm? If it were me…” “What’s not to be calm about?” I looked up at her. “I fired almost two hundred people. Now it’s my turn. It’s only fair, isn’t it?” My words left her speechless. She stammered, “Well… what are your plans? Do you want me to see if I can… put in a good word for you somewhere?” I had to suppress a cold laugh. A rookie with six months of experience was going to give me a referral? Still, I kept my tone polite. “Thanks, Chloe, but I have my own plans.” She nodded and scurried away. At three o’clock, I was sitting in a quiet corner of a downtown café. The HR Director from Apex, a sharp woman in her thirties named Sarah, got straight to the point after shaking my hand. “So, what’s your story?” “Former HR Manager at Ascend Corp,” I replied, equally direct. “I was just let go. I have a deep understanding of your talent needs and where to find the perfect candidates.” Her eyes lit up with interest. “Oh? And who did you have in mind?” I slid a neatly prepared dossier across the table. “This is a list of top-tier tech talent. All of them are industry leaders with proven track records on major projects.” She scanned the first page, her eyebrows rising. By the second page, her expression was one of pure excitement. “This is… these are all from Ascend, aren’t they?” “Yes. All recently laid off,” I confirmed. “And their current project expertise aligns perfectly with your company’s recently announced strategic initiatives.” “This is incredible,” she breathed, closing the file. “We’re trying to staff three critical projects right now. These people could fill every gap we have. Can you connect us?” I smiled. “Of course. But first… we should discuss my commission.” “Naturally,” she said without hesitation. “Standard rate is fifteen percent of the candidate’s first-year salary. For key personnel like these, we can go up to twenty.” I did some quick math. A senior engineer like Frank pulled in at least $250,000 a year. Twenty percent of that was fifty grand. If I placed even half this list… I’d make more than Peterson had ever promised me. “Deal.” I extended my hand, and we shook on it. “I look forward to working with you.” On the way home, I felt something I hadn’t felt in months: genuine, unadulterated joy. This wasn’t just revenge. This was a brilliant business opportunity. That night, I started making calls. The first message went to the man whose curse had become my prophecy. [> Frank? It’s Ava Morgan. I have a job opportunity I think you’ll want to hear about.] He replied almost instantly. [> You’ve got a hell of a nerve.]

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