Category: English

For three years, I was the perfect girlfriend to Julian. I never checked his phone, never cared how many “female friends” he entertained, and never fought with him no matter how late he stayed out partying. Julian was proud of this. He bragged to his boys about how much I loved him. Until one day, he accidentally stumbled upon an old, private social media account dedicated to my first love. Back then, I was petty, jealous, and completely emotionally unstable. In one video, my first love laughed helplessly and asked: “Why do you have such a temper?” I answered righteously: “I only get mad because I love you. If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t give a damn.” Julian froze. 1. When I bumped into Julian at the club, a girl in a spaghetti strap top and hot pants was sitting on his lap. Her pale, slender arms were wrapped around his neck, and her lips, coated in glittery gloss, were curved into a flirtatious smile as she leaned in close. The married guys in the VIP booth were already standing up, apologizing to Julian with awkward smiles. “Sorry, Julian, gotta bounce. The wife’s on patrol tonight. She’s called like five times already. If I don’t get home now, I’m sleeping on the couch.” Julian let the girl pluck the cigarette from his mouth and put it in her own. He scoffed. “Useless. All of you, whipped by women.” The single guys started jeering. “That’s why Julian’s the king. Doesn’t matter what time he gets home, the wifey never checks up on him. Teach us your ways, bro! How do you train them like that?” The girl in his arms giggled, pressing her chest against him. “Yeah, Julian. Aren’t you afraid your girlfriend will see us like this and get mad?” Julian played with her hair, a smug look crossing his face. “She loves me to death. Whatever I say goes. We’ve been together three years, and she hasn’t started a single fight.” “Damn! Legend!” The guys laughed, envious. “Julian plays around all these years and she doesn’t say a word? That’s a real man right there—” His sentence cut off abruptly. He saw me standing nearby, expressionless. Julian saw me too. He didn’t look flustered at all. He just pushed the girl off his lap, raised an eyebrow, and waved me over. “When did you get here?” I paused, then walked over. My voice was calm. “Just got here. With friends.” The girl who was pushed away looked sour. She looked me up and down and forced a smile. “Hi, Chloe.” Only when I got closer did I recognize her. It was Mia, the new secretary at Julian’s company. Just a fresh grad from a state college. Julian had personally hired her after seeing her photo on her resume. Didn’t think he’d get his hands on her this fast. I ignored her. Julian looked like he’d had quite a few. His beautiful peach-blossom eyes were watery and dangerously attractive under the dim lights. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me close. “Didn’t even tell me you were coming out. Give me a kiss.” He leaned toward the corner of my mouth. I instinctively dodged. I didn’t know if he’d kissed Mia just now. I felt gross. Julian’s expression changed. The smile vanished from his lips. Even though he was the one sitting, he looked at me with a gaze that felt condescending. “Chloe, what’s that mean?” I turned my head slightly and said softly, “You’re drunk.” “You disgusted by me?” Maybe because I embarrassed him in front of his friends, Julian’s eyes turned cold. He suddenly grabbed Mia, pulled her back onto his lap, and pressed his hand against the back of her head. Mia looked delighted and accepted his kiss obediently. Just like that, right in front of me, they exchanged a wet, deep kiss. When Mia pulled away gasping ten seconds later, a thin silver thread of saliva connected their lips. She looked at me, a triumphant smirk on her face. Julian looked at me provocatively. His friends went silent, their eyes fixed on me. No woman could tolerate her boyfriend making out with another woman right in front of her. They probably thought I was finally going to snap. I just looked Julian in the eye and said indifferently, “You’re drunk. I’m leaving.” As I walked away, I heard his friends gasping in amazement. “Damn, Chloe is so chill. She’s not even mad!” “Julian really has her trained. She’s probably terrified of getting dumped.” “That’s true love right there. I heard she chased Julian for a whole year back in the day. Obedient as a dog. Deeply in love!” Julian laughed, a sound full of contempt. “She can’t leave me. She doesn’t dare get mad.” The winter air was sharp as a knife. It had started snowing outside without me noticing. The flakes drifted down, dyed red by taillights one moment, yellow by streetlamps the next. I tightened my scarf, leaned against a wall, and lit a cigarette. The menthol smoke mixed with the cold air, stinging my lungs as I inhaled. This was my first love’s favorite brand. Back when we were together, I used to pester him to let me try. He’d scold me every time: “Chloe, are you crazy? If I catch you smoking, I’ll break your legs!” The day we broke up, I bought a pack myself. I coughed while I smoked. After that, no one was there to stop me, so I learned. I rarely smoke these years. But sometimes, when the emotions hit, I can’t control it. Watching Julian kiss someone else didn’t make me angry. Because I don’t love him at all. 2. Getting together with Julian started with me chasing him. The first time I saw Julian was at the opening of a new bar. He was there as an investor. The table in front of him was full of expensive bottles, and the beauties around him were giggling at his jokes. That face attracted the gaze of every girl in the room. I remember a lot of people went to ask for his WeChat. I went too. Lots of people liked Julian, but I was the one who persisted the longest. For a year, I was at his beck and call. One word from him, and I’d appear in front of him no matter how far away I was. Julian’s playboy reputation was legendary in our circle. He never had a shortage of women. Even if he had just finished hooking up with someone else, I’d pick him up with a single phone call. I asked nothing, said nothing, just made him hangover soup. Everyone thought I loved him to the bone. They said the Zhong family was embarrassing—going bankrupt was bad enough, but their only daughter was so bewitched by the He family’s youngest son that she was willing to be his doormat. The catalyst for us getting together was a night we both got drunk and confusedly rolled into the same bed. I only remember Julian was very rough that night. I cried a lot, holding onto him and sobbing. The next morning, Julian looked at the marks on my body and my swollen eyes. Maybe he felt a rare pang of softness. He lit a cigarette and asked casually: “Do you want to be with me?” “Let’s get one thing straight,” he said, biting the cigarette filter. “Don’t try to control me. I hate women who manage me.” I stared at the duvet on my chest for a while, then said: “Okay.” Julian always thought I was crying tears of joy that night. He didn’t know that day was my first love’s birthday. His profile looked so much like him. At the party earlier, I spotted him in the crowd instantly. In the dim light that night, for a moment, I felt like he had returned to me. … I was with Xavier from the time I was seventeen until we broke up when I was twenty-five. Almost ten years. He was the only scholarship student at our private high school, recruited for his grades. I heard his family used to be well-off, but his father was backstabbed by a business partner. After going bankrupt, his father couldn’t take the blow and committed suicide. His mother, already in poor health, died of depression soon after. Overnight, he went from a pampered young master to a destitute orphan. But Xavier bounced back fast. He was never humble nor arrogant. Even in a private school full of rich kids, he maintained the top grades and was voted Student Council President. Who wouldn’t like someone like him? I confessed to him many times and got rejected every time. But I never gave up. I kept liking him. Many girls liked him, but they all gave up after his rejections. Only I persevered. Finally, on the eve of graduation, when I confessed for the sixth time, Xavier sighed helplessly and asked: “What exactly do you like about me?” My face flushed. Tears welled in my eyes as I looked at him stubbornly. I didn’t know if I was angry or sad. I just knew I liked Xavier. There was no why. Sometimes, liking someone doesn’t need a reason. “I just like you! I like everything about you!” Xavier looked complicated. After a long time, he whispered: “But I have nothing. I can’t give you anything. Do you still like me like that?” I shouted: “Yes! Xavier, even though I like you, I have limits too! If you don’t say yes this time, I’m never asking you again!” Xavier looked at me for a long time, then let out a long breath, like he was resigned, or maybe surrendering. After a while, he gently hugged me. “What a dummy.” My eyes widened. My heart skipped a beat, then started pounding violently. That was the first time I knew what euphoria felt like. It turns out when people are happy, fireworks really do go off in their hearts. After that, Xavier and I were together. He had great grades; mine weren’t as good. To be with me, he skipped two major questions on the college entrance exam just to get into the same university as me. When I found out, I cried like a baby. He just held me and laughed. “Dummy, why are you crying? College is college. Don’t worry, I won’t let you suffer in the future.” He didn’t make empty promises. Xavier started his own business in his sophomore year. He opened a company with friends and made his first bucket of gold. By graduation, he had already bought a large flat in the city center, decorated in my favorite style, intending it to be our marital home. Everything was going smoothly. Our future plans only included each other. Neither of us doubted we would make it to the end. Until after graduation, when I took him home to meet my parents. Then I saw my dad’s face change dramatically. Xavier swayed on his feet, his face turning pale inch by inch. Later I learned that my dad was the partner who backstabbed Xavier’s father, causing his family’s ruin. Life is absurd like that. Because my dad was always away on business, Xavier had never seen him before. None of us predicted this possibility. That day, my dad asked my mom and me to leave the room so he could talk to Xavier alone. Not long after, Xavier left without saying goodbye. He went abroad. He didn’t leave me a single word. The person who would cross half of China just because I said I missed him, who promised to love me forever, who knelt on one knee with red eyes asking me to marry him, saying he finally had a home with me… he abandoned me just like that. And I couldn’t even hate him. Because my dad ruined him. Who wouldn’t hate that? If it were me, I’d hate it too. Maybe it was karma. After that, my dad’s investments failed, he committed suicide, and my family went bankrupt. But Xavier thrived abroad. He had a great eye for investment and rode the wave. In just a few years, his company rang the bell at Nasdaq, and he became a famous tech mogul. The tables turned. We had no contact. And we couldn’t possibly have any contact. So when I saw Julian, I felt my dead heart beat again after a long time. For me, does it matter who I’m with? Julian looks so much like Xavier. For me, that’s already a gift from heaven. For that face, I was obedient to him for years, always on call. I was always there when he needed me. No matter how late he was out, one call and I’d get out of bed to pick him up from another woman. He didn’t remember my birthday or our anniversary. Even on my birthday, he didn’t come home, playing around outside with new girls. Julian was a famous playboy. He knew how to play and loved to play. He changed women faster than clothes. I knew his reputation before my family went bankrupt. After getting together with me, he didn’t restrain himself at all. Several times, girls came directly to me to cause trouble. I could tell he wanted to break up with me several times, using these incidents as an excuse, but I never got jealous, never made a scene. Over time, he got used to my presence. He and his friends thought I loved him to the bone, loved him too humbly. Actually, I really just didn’t care. I just wanted to see that face in my dreams occasionally. Imagining Xavier was still by my side. Relying on this, I could keep going. 3. It was Julian’s friend’s birthday. He called everyone in the circle for dinner. Everyone brought a plus-one, so Julian brought me. But I didn’t expect Mia to be there too. She naturally sat next to Julian. And she asked me: “Chloe, you don’t mind if I sit here, right?” Julian looked at me. I didn’t make a sound. His smile faded. He sneered and put his arm around Mia. Mia seemed to really like Julian. Throughout the meal, she toasted him frequently, whispering things to him, occasionally laughing at his jokes and leaning on him. I wasn’t angry at all. I sat quietly on the side, eating. One of Julian’s friends tsk-tsked enviously and said to his girlfriend: “Look how generous she is. Unlike you, getting jealous over every little thing. Learn from her!” His girlfriend was drunk. She scoffed: “I care because I like you! If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t give a damn!” Maybe it was a coincidence, but after she said that, the whole room went quiet. Julian clearly heard it too. The smile was still on his face, but the hand holding his glass tightened until his veins popped. His friend froze, then quickly apologized with a smile: “My girl drank too much. Sorry, Julian, she didn’t mean it.” His girlfriend started apologizing too. Julian didn’t say anything. His gaze fell on me. I turned my head, avoiding his eyes. He suddenly asked me: “You aren’t angry at all?” “What is there to be angry about?” I was confused. “Isn’t this the freedom you wanted?” I get to see this face all the time. And he gets the freedom he wants. Each takes what they need. What’s wrong with that? After all, when Julian agreed to be with me, he warned me not to control him. He’s never stopped seeing women all these years. I thought this was the dynamic he liked. Julian seemed unhappy. He got closer to Mia. She was practically sitting on his lap. They French-kissed right in front of me. Completely disregarding me, his girlfriend. Others were used to it. A few looked at me with pity. I scrolled through my phone photos to kill time, waiting for it to end so I could go home. After a few rounds of drinks, Mia got bold. Maybe she finally couldn’t resist wanting to take the main spot. She looked me over and nitpicked: “Using an iPhone 12 in this day and age? How retro.” I ignored her, but she got more excited. “I forgot what an iPhone 12 looked like. It’s an antique, right? I’m actually curious. Sister, show me your phone?” “No.” I gripped my phone tight. “Julian~ Let me see Chloe’s phone. It’s just a phone, what’s there to hide?” Seeing I didn’t speak, Julian frowned: “She wants to see it, just show her.” “No.” I refused again. “Julian~” Mia acted coquettish, holding his arm. Maybe feeling embarrassed by my rejection, Julian’s face went cold. He reached out his hand: “Phone.” I didn’t say a word. “What’s in the phone?” Mia added fuel to the fire. “Something shameful?” Julian’s eyes darkened. He came over to grab my phone directly. “What are you doing?!” I was startled. In the struggle, the phone fell. I instinctively pushed Julian away to catch it. His lower back hit the corner of the table. He grunted in pain and cursed me: “Are you crazy, Chloe?! It’s just a broken phone. If it breaks, I’ll buy you a new one—” The next second, he looked at the video playing on the screen, and all his words stopped abruptly. The video I had just been watching was playing again. It was from when I was still with Xavier. I was lying on his back. I didn’t know he was recording me. I was pouting and scolding him. “Why did you talk so much to that girl today?!” Xavier laughed helplessly: “She’s the Vice President of the Student Council. We were talking about business. You, seriously, how are you such a vinegar jar (jealous person) every day?” I got angrier: “I get jealous because I like you! If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t care if you died!” Xavier laughed and hoisted me up higher. “Okay, okay, you like me. I should be happy, right?” I poked him while lying on his back: “From now on, you’re not allowed to talk to other women, not allowed to add other women on WeChat, not allowed to like anyone else!” “Okay, I’ll listen to you. Where did you get such a bad temper…” The video continued. I picked up the phone and turned it off. Julian held his pose, motionless. No one expected things to develop like this. It went quiet. Eyes fell on us. The next second, Julian suddenly snatched the phone and smashed it onto the ground! Crack! Instinctively, I slapped Julian across the face and bent down frantically to pick up the phone. This was the last memory Xavier left me. The phone was shattered beyond recognition. The screen went completely black. I grabbed the phone, then realized what happened. I turned to look at Julian. That slap wasn’t very hard. But Julian froze. He didn’t even cover his face. He just stood there staring at me blankly, looking confused, like he didn’t know me anymore. Everyone was shocked. No one dared to make a sound. You could hear a pin drop. I regretted it a little, but inexplicably felt relieved. Actually, I didn’t mean to hit Julian. It was just a reflex. At this point, I knew it was impossible with Julian. I picked up my bag and left. As I walked out the door, I sent Julian one last message. “Let’s break up.” 4. I walked aimlessly on the street, but suddenly saw a familiar back at the corner! In that instant, the sound of traffic vanished. I only heard my heart stop for a beat, then thunder in my chest! That back looked so much like Xavier. But when I rushed over, he had disappeared into the crowd, nowhere to be found. I stood there lost for a while, until a car honked behind me, urging me to move. I turned away blankly. This winter seemed to have an unusual amount of snow. After sitting in the park for a while, I felt a slight coolness on my eyelashes. I realized belatedly that everything around me was white. I curled up slowly, not wanting to leave. I didn’t know where to go. After my dad died, my mom remarried quickly and went abroad. I had no home. Xavier once gave me a home, then left me alone. With Julian? That wasn’t a home. I had places to stay, but no home to return to. Wetness streamed down my cheeks. I wiped it gently and was about to get up when a shadow fell over me. I thought Julian had come out to find me. But when I looked up, my breath stopped instantly. The face that had appeared in my dreams countless times crossed the boundary between fantasy and reality, appearing right before my eyes. And I couldn’t tell dream from reality. My fingers trembled, but I didn’t dare touch him. Xavier had snow in his eyes, slowly melting. For a moment, I thought the him from my memories, the one who loved me, had returned. He said gently: “I’m back.” … I forgot how I got back to Xavier’s place. I only remember I kept crying, clinging to him tightly, refusing to come down. Until he helplessly held me on the bed, patting my back. “Stop crying. I’m not running away. You’ll get a headache if you cry anymore.” I couldn’t even speak properly. I looked up, sobbing intermittently: “When did you come back?” “A few months ago.” I paused, then cried louder: “Then why did you only find me now?!” Xavier lowered his eyes. There was a complexity in them I couldn’t understand. “I heard you were in a relationship. I didn’t know if I should disturb you.” “Then why did you come?” “Couldn’t help it.” He seemed to finally admit defeat: “I can’t forget you, Chloe. I can’t let you go. “I missed you so much it hurt. I surrender. I have no choice.” My hand paused. I sat up. Xavier leaned down. In the cold winter night, with snow falling heavily, this long-overdue kiss was scorching hot. Neither of us spoke again. We had been together too long; even our tacit understanding was too perfect. No one needed to say anything more. We didn’t even have a moment of unfamiliarity. We knew each other’s bodies too well. It had nothing to do with lust, only longing and possession. When I frowned, I held him almost in panic, afraid this was just a dream. Then I found he held me even tighter. In the trembling that bordered on pain, we finally confirmed each other’s existence again. When I woke up, the sky was bright. Snow was still falling outside the window. Dark clouds pressed low, making everything hazy. The bed beside me was empty. I was startled. I clutched my chest and stumbled up. Just as I was about to go out, I bumped into Xavier coming back. The light in the room was dim. His sculpted features were shadowed. Maybe because the exercise was too intense, his M-shaped lips were flushed red, impossibly handsome. I breathed a sigh of relief and grabbed his forearm. “I thought…” Thought I was dreaming. In the years apart, I had too many dreams about him. But the happier the dream, the more lost I felt upon waking. Leaning into his arms for a long time, I finally summoned the courage: “Are you leaving again this time? About my dad…” Xavier rested his chin on my head. After a long silence, he finally spoke: “Back then, I couldn’t accept it immediately. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t know what to do. I really hated him, and consequently, I couldn’t help but hate you too. All these years abroad, I hated you while loving you. I was going crazy. I saw a psychiatrist, but I couldn’t help it. “I kept dreaming of you,” he held my hand, his voice soft. “I dreamed of you crying and asking me, ‘Xavier, why don’t you want me anymore?’ My heart hurt so much. I’d wake up and smoke all night. I didn’t know what to do. Chloe, what could I do?” “Later, I slowly figured it out. Your dad is your dad, you are you. What your dad did has nothing to do with you. And now your dad is gone too. I’m willing to let it go. Let’s start over, okay?” He slowly tightened his embrace: “I’m not leaving. Never leaving again. That old apartment was bad memories. I bought a new house. Let’s decorate it from scratch, okay?” My vision blurred with tears. I hugged his arm tight. “Okay.” The sun broke through the clouds. The snow stopped sometime ago. My sky finally brightened.

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There is a specific kind of intimacy in sharing a bathroom, a forced vulnerability that I have never gotten used to. But there are boundaries. And then, there is the violation of my prescription pH-balancing wash. It kept disappearing. When I asked my roommates, they feigned ignorance. Becca and Chloe just shrugged, eyes glued to their phones. But Sienna? Sienna laughed. “Maybe you just use a lot of it,” she sneered, applying a layer of gloss. “Or maybe you just have a lot of… problems down there that need fixing. You know, from being loose.” She implied I was dirty. That I carried something contagious. I didn’t scream. I didn’t fight. I just felt a cold, hard knot tighten in my stomach. I took the bottle, emptied the expensive medicinal liquid down the sink, and filled it with industrial-strength adhesive. That night, the dormitory was awakened not by a nightmare, but by a scream so raw it sounded like fabric tearing. 1 Let me back up. My luck had been rotting for weeks. First, the infection. A persistent, burning itch that kept me awake until the sun bled through the blinds. The campus clinic doctor prescribed a specialized, expensive wash. “Use sparingly,” she said. “This stuff isn’t covered by basic insurance.” I treated that bottle like liquid gold. But a month’s supply vanished in a week. At first, I thought I was crazy. I bought another one—seventy dollars I didn’t have—and marked the level with a Sharpie. Two days later, the line had dropped by three inches. Getting to the specialist required three bus transfers and a half-day missed of classes. The copay alone was half my grocery budget for the month. I felt every penny leaving my account like a physical blow. But it wasn’t just the money. It was the thought of someone else’s hands—someone else’s body—touching the nozzle that touched me. It made my skin crawl. I confronted them again. “Not me,” Becca said. “Gross, no,” Chloe added. Sienna was at her vanity, perfecting her eyebrows. She saw the bottle in my hand, snatched it, and held it up like a trophy. “Oh, look. It’s the coochie medicine,” she announced, her voice pitching up so the girls in the hallway could hear. “Maybe if someone wasn’t sleeping around with randoms, she wouldn’t need prescription-grade disinfectant. Careful, girls, don’t breathe too deep. You might catch whatever she has.” Becca and Chloe actually recoiled, pressing their backs against their bunks, looking at me like I was a biohazard. 02 “It’s just a bacterial imbalance,” I stammered, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “I have the lab results from the Medical Center. Look…” Sienna didn’t look. She just crossed her arms and smirked. “Save the act. I saw you last Sunday,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “Getting out of that black Mercedes G-Wagon. That guy was old enough to be your dad. Disgusting.” “That is the father of the kid I tutor!” My voice cracked. “It was pouring rain. He offered me a ride back to the dorms—” “Bullshit.” Sienna cut me off, her gaze dropping pointedly to my chest. “You smell like desperation. You’re hopping into old men’s cars and then coming back here acting like a saint?” I was shaking. Not from fear, but from a rage so pure it felt electric. Before I could speak, Sienna tossed the bottle. Clatter. It hit the trash can rim and fell in amongst the used makeup wipes. “Who knows what kind of diseases are on that plastic?” She grabbed a can of Lysol and began spraying the air around me aggressively. “So unlucky. I heard you can catch that stuff just from breathing the same air.” The panic was contagious. “Sienna, spray my side too!” Becca squealed. “I think I touched her curtain earlier, oh my god,” Chloe whined. “And she picked up my Uber Eats order today… I feel sick.” Sienna smiled, a predatory baring of teeth, and linked arms with them. “Come on, babes. We’re going to Target. We need bleach. Tonight, we scrub this room. Anything she touched gets boiled or trashed.” They left in a cloud of performative giggles. A second later, the door flew open. Sienna marched back in, aimed the Lysol directly at my face, and held the trigger. “The thing that needs sanitizing most is you,” she hissed. “Do us a favor and drop out. Stop infecting our lives.” I coughed, my eyes stinging from the chemical mist, tears streaming down my face. She slammed the door, leaving me in the silence. 03 I stood there, my chest heaving. Why? I was the one being stolen from. I was the victim. And now I was the pariah? My grandmother used to say, Swallow your anger and you’ll swallow poison. If I let this go, if I just bought a lockbox and hid my things, I would be admitting defeat. I would be accepting that I deserved this treatment. No. Fuck that. They didn’t deserve my grace. I pulled out my phone and opened Amazon. Industrial strength cyanoacrylate adhesive. Add to cart. Miniature wireless nanny cam. Add to cart. Overnight shipping. Two days later, the package arrived. When the room was empty, I tucked the camera onto the top shelf of my bookcase, hidden between two textbooks. Then, I poured the remaining medicinal wash into a travel bottle for myself. I filled the original prescription bottle with the glue. It was clear, odorless, and had the viscosity of gel. It looked exactly like the soap. But the reviews said it could bond steel to concrete. Finally, I took a label maker and printed a single word in bold, red letters: GLUE. I stuck it clearly on the bottle. I placed it at the very back of my desk, behind my laptop and a stack of notebooks. Hidden. Private. 04 That night. The scream tore through the darkness like a physical weapon. I bolted upright, heart hammering. Becca and Chloe were sitting up, silhouettes of confusion in the dim streetlights filtering through the window. We looked at Sienna’s bed. It was empty. My stomach dropped. No way. She didn’t actually… I scrambled down the ladder. The bottle on my desk was gone. From the bathroom down the hall, the screaming shifted into a guttural, animalistic sobbing. “It’s Sienna!” Becca realized, sprinting into the hallway. I followed, barefoot on the cold tile. Becca pounded on the bathroom door. “Sienna! What’s wrong? Open the door!” The only answer was a shriek of pure agony and the sound of something heavy thumping against the stall wall. The handle jiggled, but the lock held. The commotion summoned the Resident Advisor, a tired senior named Jessica, followed by a growing crowd of students in pajamas holding up their phones. “Move! Everyone back!” Jessica yelled, key in hand. She shoved the door open. The collective gasp sucked the air out of the hallway.

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My entire prestigious family can hear my thoughts. The day they brought me home, they sent their adopted son a casual thirty-thousand dollars for pocket money. They sent me two hundred. I grumbled to myself, Are you kidding me? Two hundred bucks? I make more than that turning wrenches on the line. Just as their faces curdled with disdain, waiting for me to grovel like a grateful dog, they heard the rest of my thought: So, a New York City powerhouse family gives their son a combined monthly allowance of thirty-thousand, two-hundred dollars. They couldn’t even afford a square meter of thermal shielding with that. What’s the point of fighting over this paltry inheritance? The Program is still behind on its thirty-rocket KPI for the year. Instead of wasting time on this family drama, I should be back building defenses against the alien invasion. 1. The moment my parents and I stepped through the mansion’s grand entrance, a boy threw himself to his knees in front of me. I flinched back, startled. He scrambled forward on his knees, his face streaked with tears. “It’s all my fault! I stole the life that should have been yours, brother! I’m on my knees begging for your forgiveness. If you can’t forgive me… I’ll voluntarily leave the Sterling family and go back to the slums! I’ll do anything, as long as it makes you happy!” In the opulent living room, my biological parents and three older sisters immediately rushed to his side. My mother helped the boy, Miles, to his feet, her tone sharp with disapproval. “Rob, that’s enough. How could you treat your brother like that?” My father’s face was grim, his eyes burning with condemnation. My eldest sister, Chloe, scoffed. “What do you expect from someone raised in the wilds? Besides herding cattle and turning wrenches, all he knows are these pathetic little tricks to get attention.” I was too busy gawking at the mansion’s interior to hear a word they were saying. The Sterlings really are a top-tier player in the advanced materials industry. Even their home is built with the best of the best. The anger in their eyes vanished, replaced by stunned confusion. They exchanged glances, then all stared at me. Good thing I listened to the Director and took leave to come home for this family reunion. With me as the inside man, the Program won’t have to worry about material suppliers anymore. My father’s brow furrowed slightly. Chloe let out a disgusted snort but said nothing. My second sister, Seraphina, shot me a look that was suddenly sharp and wary. My third sister, Ava, glared at me. “I’m warning you,” she said, her voice like ice, “we only have one brother, and that’s Miles. Don’t even think about competing with him for our affection, or for the company.” My father cleared his throat, addressing me in a patronizing tone. “Rob, you’ve been working on the factory floor for a long time. It must be difficult adjusting to the Sterling lifestyle here in the city.” He tapped a few times on his phone. A moment later, the ancient feature phone in my pocket blared a robotic, glitchy voice announcement: “Two hundred dollars received.” “Take this for now,” my father said. “Once you’ve settled in, I’ll send you more.” Then, he turned to a teary-eyed Miles, his voice softening with affection. “Miles, we raised you. You will always be a Sterling. That will never change. As compensation, I’m raising your monthly allowance to thirty thousand, starting now. I’ll send it over.” He immediately pulled out his phone to make the transfer. Miles’s tears vanished, replaced by a triumphant smile. He made a show of refusing, his gaze flickering smugly in my direction. “Oh, no, you can’t. You should give my allowance to my brother instead. He grew up poor in the countryside and worked in a factory. He needs the money more than I do.” The flaunting was obvious, but I just frowned. Are the Sterlings really this poor? Only thirty thousand a month for their son? My father’s thumb froze over his phone’s keypad. 2. Miles stared at him, confused. My eldest sister, Chloe, let out a cold laugh. “Thirty thousand? I bet you’ve never even seen ten thousand in your life. Do you even understand the concept of money?” I was disappointed. Is thirty thousand a lot? It wouldn’t even buy a square meter of thermal shielding. My workshop’s weekly budget is more than that. The smirk on Chloe’s face froze solid. Well, I guess being a little poor is fine. At least their family business is in advanced materials. I’ll ask Dad later if he can pull some strings, get his company to partner with our Program. They are my blood relatives, after all. Their products must be struggling to sell. Poor Sterlings, they need my help. After a long, awkward silence, the entire family—except for a clueless Miles—had strange expressions on their faces. My father finished the transfer to Miles and stalked out of the living room, his face dark. After dinner, my mother led me to a small suite next to the first-floor dining room. “Rob,” she said coolly, “none of the upstairs bedrooms are ready. You’ll have to make do and stay here for now.” Miles stood beside her, feigning concern. “Mom, this is the maid’s quarters. Is it really appropriate for my brother to stay here? Maybe he should just take my room.” Before I could say a word, my mother jumped in. “Absolutely not! This cramped little room is for the help. I can’t let you suffer in a place like this!” I had to laugh. This family is something else. The adopted son is too good for the maid’s room, but the biological son isn’t. A flash of embarrassment crossed my mother’s face. She shot me an angry glare before turning back to Miles. “Rob grew up in the country. He’s used to dirt floors and factory dorms with no plumbing. The maid’s room is a huge step up for him. But you’re different. You’ve been raised in luxury. You could never get used to a place like this.” Tears of pity welled up in her eyes. Miles put on a magnanimous smile. “It’s okay, Mom. My bedroom was always meant to be his anyway. I’ve been the usurper for over twenty years. It’s time I gave it back.” “Miles, don’t say that! No matter what, you’ll always be my precious son…” The two of them went back and forth, ending in a dramatic, tearful embrace. 3. I surveyed the room meant for “the help.” You know, for a maid’s room, it’s not bad. Great soundproofing. Those two are wailing their heads off, and I can barely hear them. Dad must be dead to the world out there. It is a bit small, though. I won’t be able to move my equipment from the facility here. Guess I’ll have to go back to the lab if I want to work overtime. What a pain. My mother’s crying stopped abruptly. Thinking about work made me anxious. I used my annual leave for this family reunion. I’ve got a mountain of work piling up. Starting tomorrow, I’ll have to pull a week of all-nighters. Otherwise, I’ll never hit my KPI for the year. My mother was staring at me, the tears drying on her cheeks. She looked around the small room, a flicker of regret in her eyes. The news that the Sterlings had found their real son spread like wildfire through the city’s elite circles. Everyone was watching me and Miles, hungry for a real-life soap opera. To show that the family treated both sons equally, my father decided to throw a grand party in my honor. The funny thing was, nobody told me about it. That evening, after a long, grueling day at the lab, I came home. I pushed open the door to find the living room filled with the city’s rich and famous, all of whom turned to stare at me with a mixture of shock, pity, and disgust. Miles’s voice boomed across the room. “Brother! Why would you come to a party dressed like that?” I looked at him. He was preened to perfection, every hair in place, wearing a bespoke suit that made him stand out even in this glamorous crowd. He walked over to me, his voice laced with false concern. “Didn’t you like the suit Mom and Dad picked out for you? You can borrow one from my closet if you want.” His words were caring, but his eyes were overflowing with malicious glee. As expected, the guests started whispering. “So that’s the real Sterling heir? He looks so… common.” “They threw this whole party for him, and he shows up dressed like that on purpose? Is he trying to embarrass them?” I glanced around. Ava, my actress sister, was chatting with guests, pretending not to know me. Seraphina stood nearby, watching the drama unfold with a detached amusement. Chloe walked over with my parents, her expression thunderous. “Rob,” my mother hissed, “what is wrong with you? Look at what you’re wearing to an important event like this!” 4. I looked down at myself. A standard-issue work shirt and a pair of durable cargo pants. Comfortable, practical. What was the problem? So tired. So sleepy. I didn’t work my ass off all day just to come home and play-act with these people. The aliens are about to invade, and they’re wasting time with high-society drama. I should have just stayed at the lab. With all the time they’re spending on this charade, I could have run another set of simulations. My father forced a smile for the guests. “This is my son, Rob. We just brought him back from the countryside. He’s still learning the ropes. Please forgive his… naivety.” Miles quickly jumped in to “defend” me. “It’s my brother’s first time at a party like this. He doesn’t have any experience, so please don’t mind him.” The condescension in the guests’ eyes only intensified. “I heard his adoptive parents were shepherds. He grew up with sheep. It certainly… shows.” “Not only that, I heard he’s a menial laborer at some factory. No culture, no education. Compared to him, Miles is much more of a ‘real’ heir.” My parents’ faces grew darker with every whisper. Miles shot me a secret smirk, then turned to our parents. “Today is about introducing my brother. Mom, Dad, you shouldn’t be angry with him.” Then he deliberately changed the subject. “By the way, brother, I heard you work at a big factory. Which one is it?” he asked, his tone deceptively innocent. “A lot of our family friends are here tonight. Maybe your boss is even in the room!” Another wave of snickers went through the crowd. “An electronics assembly plant is a ‘big factory’? Does he not know what a real corporation is?” “He’s from the country. It’s normal he can’t tell the difference.” “My company would never hire someone without even a high school diploma. It would ruin our image.” The mockery was relentless. My whole family was glaring at me, blaming me for their humiliation. Actually, Miles just gave me an idea. The Sterlings may be poor, but they’re well-connected. Satellite communications, remote sensing, new energy… if I could get the titans of these industries to partner with the Program, our production capacity would skyrocket. My KPI for the year would be saved. Our current planetary defense system isn’t robust enough. We need all the private sector support we can get. I looked around the hall, suddenly energized, and was about to introduce everyone to my work. 5. But Chloe rushed over, grabbing my arm. “Rob, stop making a fool of yourself,” she hissed. “Go change out of those disgusting clothes, now!” She practically dragged me toward the maid’s room, terrified I was about to further tarnish the family name. At the door, she let go, her voice a low warning. “You will stay in here and behave yourself. Don’t you dare do anything else to embarrass this family! I’m going into politics, and I cannot afford a single stain on my record. If you do anything to jeopardize my vetting process, I swear, Mom and Dad won’t be the only ones who make you pay!” I stared at her frantic expression. This sister of mine has been trying to get into public service for seven years. A tortoise could’ve made it by now. Are the Sterlings really so broke they can’t even afford to send her to a prep course? Chloe’s face went through several shades of red before she finally exploded. “You’re incorrigible! You know what? Just stay in here and think about what you’ve done. You’re not welcome at the party anymore!” She slammed the door and, to my surprise, locked it from the outside. I couldn’t figure out what had made her so angry, but I wasn’t complaining. It gave me the perfect opportunity to review the day’s test data. But Miles, it seemed, wasn’t done with his games. A few minutes later, I heard the lock click. He stepped inside, a saccharine smile on his face. “Brother, aren’t you changed yet? The guests are all waiting for you.” With no one else around, the cunning in his eyes was on full display. He saw the data sheets on my desk. I instinctively tensed, covering the documents with my hands. This was classified information. Even a small leak could have catastrophic consequences. “What’s all this, brother?” he asked, reaching for the papers. I pressed them firmly to the desk. “You’re being so secretive. Is it something you don’t want people to see?” Miles glanced toward the door, confirming something, and then his entire demeanor shifted. The mask fell away. He lunged across the desk. “Give them to me!” I reacted instantly, slamming my hands down on the stack of papers. He grabbed them, his eyes glinting with a sinister light. The papers crumpled in his grip, and I felt a pang of fury. “Miles, are you insane?!” He was about to rip the documents from my grasp. I didn’t hesitate. I kicked out, aiming for his chest. But then he did something strange. He let go of the papers and allowed my kick to send him flying backward. I didn’t miss the twisted, triumphant smile that flashed across his lips. “Miles!” The moment I heard my mother’s shriek, I knew exactly what his plan had been. Chloe, my parents, and a crowd of guests arrived just in time to see Miles sailing through the air. Chloe screamed, “Rob! What are you doing?!” 6. I looked up. She was yelling at me, but her face held the faintest hint of a victorious smirk. My father’s eyes were filled with profound disappointment. My mother rushed to Miles’s side, cradling him. He leaned against her, tears streaming down his face. “Mom, it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have tried to look at my brother’s things. Don’t blame him.” The guests who had followed them stared at me with open disgust. “Just as I thought. A savage from the backwoods. He’s barely been back a week and he’s already resorting to violence.” “Growing up in poverty like that, it’s no wonder his personality is so warped.” “He’s probably been jealous of Miles from the start. He wants to drive him out.” Miles, sobbing, added fuel to the fire. “It’s because I stole his life that he’s so unhappy. If he doesn’t want me in this family, I’ll just leave…” My mother looked up at me, her face contorted with hatred, as if I were some monster, not her son. “Rob! You’ve gone too far this time! Apologize to Miles, right now!” I scoffed internally. Chloe locks me in the room, and then Miles shows up with a key to steal my work. This brother-sister act is worthy of an Oscar. If Miles went into acting, our sister Ava might have some serious competition for her Best Actress award. Across the room, Ava choked on a cough. The fury on my mother’s face wavered. She unconsciously loosened her grip on Miles. My father’s gaze shifted to Chloe, who nervously wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. Miles was oblivious, still deep in his performance. “I was just worried he was going to do something to harm the family! I saw his papers, they had all this stuff about alloys and data I didn’t understand. I just wanted to see what it was, but he reacted so violently. He didn’t even graduate high school, how could he possibly know about this stuff? And our family company develops advanced materials, I was just worried he was…” His words all but spelled out that I was a corporate spy. Under the weight of his accusations, my father’s expression grew grim. He walked toward me, his hand outstretched. “Give me those documents.” I clutched them tighter, wary. His patience snapped. He lunged for them. Thankfully, I was ready and pulled them out of his reach. Like father, like son—a bunch of thieves. You must have a hankering for a prison sentence. Daring to grab a state secret. Is Chloe really sure she still wants to get into politics after this? Chloe’s face went white. She quickly stepped between us. “What is this stuff?” she demanded. “If you don’t give us an explanation, you are not leaving this house ever again!” 7. I was silent for a moment. That’s not going to work. I have to be at the lab early tomorrow to turn some more wrenches. If someone has to go to prison, I’m voting for Miles. I pulled him out of my mother’s arms, held up one of the data sheets, and pointed to a specific line. “Read this.” He was reluctant at first, but with everyone watching, he stumbled through the words.

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I was taking a walk with my grandma when I spotted a devastatingly handsome guy. Grandma caught my vibe instantly. “You want his number?” I nodded sheepishly. “I want it, but I don’t have the guts.” Grandma told me to wait and marched straight up to him. A few minutes later, my phone rang. A deep, magnetic voice came through the speaker. “Hi, your grandma got lost. Could you come pick her up at the intersection?” “…” 1 It was a lazy weekend afternoon, and I was strolling with Grandma, chatting about nothing in particular. Suddenly, I saw him. He was standing outside a convenience store, smoking. He wore a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms that looked sculpted by the gods. His profile was sharp, his demeanor effortlessly cool. He looked like a model straight out of a cologne ad. I stared so hard I almost tripped over my own feet. “Lily, what’s wrong?” Grandma steadied me. “Nothing, nothing,” I mumbled, too embarrassed to admit I was ogling a stranger. Grandma knows me too well. She didn’t buy it. She followed my gaze and landed on the guy. “Oh~ I get it,” she said, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “You want his number, don’t you?” I shook my head violently, then nodded pathetically. “I do, but I’m too scared.” Grandma scoffed. “Coward. Wait here. Grandma’s got this.” Before I could stop her, she was already shuffling toward him. I froze. Grandma, please don’t just ask for his number. That would be mortifying. 2 I watched as Grandma approached him. The guy noticed her immediately. He put out his cigarette and straightened up, his lazy demeanor shifting to something respectful. He seemed to be asking if she needed help. Grandma said something to him. He looked surprised for a second, then nodded. He pulled out his phone and started typing. I stood there, sweating from secondhand embarrassment. Thirty seconds later, my phone rang. An unknown number. I answered hesitantly. “Hello? Is this Lily? Your grandma seems to have lost her way,” a voice said. It was deep, smooth, and incredibly attractive. “Could you come pick her up?” “…” I gripped my phone, stammering, “Yes… yes, of course.” He chuckled softly. “Great. Meet us at the intersection of Main and 4th.” “Okay, I’m nearby. I’ll be right there.” I hung up, my heart pounding. Grandma, you are a genius. Claiming to be lost? It was brilliant. Efficient and deniable. I saved the number immediately, fixed my hair, smoothed my dress, and walked toward the intersection. Under the shade of a large oak tree, my crush was standing with one hand in his pocket, holding my grandma’s hand with the other. Grandma looked like a kid who just stole a cookie jar. “Grandma!” I called out. Grandma winked at me, then turned to the guy with an innocent face. “Ethan, my granddaughter is here.” I stopped in front of them. Up close, he was even more devastatingly handsome. My face burned. He extended a hand, smiling lazily. “Hi, I’m Ethan.” Even his name was hot. “I’m Lily,” I said, shaking his hand. His palm was warm and dry, his grip firm. “Thank you for helping my grandma.” “No problem.” Grandma clapped her hands. “Oh, Ethan, I don’t know what I would have done without you. I wanted to treat you to dinner as a thank you, but you said you were busy. Such a shame.” Ethan looked at me, his eyes twinkling. “Actually, Grandma,” he drawled, “I think my schedule just cleared up.” 3 Fifteen minutes later, the three of us were sitting in a private booth at a nice restaurant. Ethan excused himself to wash his hands. Watching his back as he walked away, I sighed internally. So handsome. Just then, a greasy, familiar voice drifted from the next table. “Lily!” I turned. It was my former boss, Frank. He was smiling, but it looked like a layer of oil floating on water. “What a coincidence,” he said, walking over. His eyes gleamed unpleasantly. “I’ve been calling you since you quit. Why didn’t you answer? I asked everyone where you went, but no one knew. I even went to your old apartment, but the neighbors said you moved. Why are you hiding from me?” I ignored him, staring at the menu. Grandma’s face hardened. Frank had harassed me relentlessly at my old job. He even threatened Grandma when she tried to intervene. I quit the moment he went on a business trip. I didn’t think he’d still be stalking me. “I wasn’t trying to touch your leg that night,” Frank continued, his voice dripping with fake sincerity. “I was just drunk. You overreacted. Lily, why aren’t you talking? Still mad?” He stepped closer, reaching out to put a hand on my shoulder. Just as I was about to stand up and kick him, a bottle of ice-cold soda flew through the air and smashed into his hand. “Argh!” Frank screamed, clutching his hand. His face turned purple. “Who did that?!” Ethan stood in front of me, rolling up his sleeves. His voice was calm and cold. “Your daddy.” 4 Frank pointed a trembling finger at him. “You dare hit me? Do you know who I am?” Ethan looked unimpressed. “Don’t care. Just know you need a beating.” “I work for the Far East Group! The richest family in the city! You better watch your back, kid.” Ethan paused, then let out a scoff. “Hey, buddy. Come here. Let me whisper something to you. I promise I won’t hit you.” Frank leaned in suspiciously. Ethan whispered something in his ear. Frank’s face drained of all color. He stumbled back, staring at Ethan with wide, terrified eyes. His arrogance vanished instantly. I could see his legs shaking. “You… you…” Ethan raised an eyebrow, looking bored. “Shut up. And get lost.” Frank scrambled away like his life depended on it. Ethan sat down calmly. “Thanks,” I said, still stunned. “Don’t mention it.” Grandma handed him the menu, her eyes misty. “Ethan, order whatever you want. Thank goodness we met you today.” Ethan smiled at me. “It’s fine. He won’t bother you again. Lily, what do you like to eat?” The sudden shift in topic threw me. “Uh, sweet and sour ribs, spicy pork… why?” “Just asking,” he said softly. He checked off both dishes on the menu. I scratched my cheek, feeling shy but curious. “Ethan, what did you say to him? He looked like he saw a ghost.” Ethan grinned mischievously. “I told him I saw him in one of Red’s VIP videos. Holding a gallon of cooking oil. Told him if he didn’t want to be famous on the internet, he should behave.” “…” I was shocked. What a disgusting man Frank was. Thank god I quit.

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I was scrolling through social media when a video titled “The Cutest Couple at Comic-Con” popped up. The comments explained that the girl cosplaying the female lead was a recent graduate, an intern. The man with her was her boss, whom she’d dragged along to fill in. “How come other people’s bosses are so handsome and doting? I’m so jealous!” “Right? My boss is a bald, penny-pinching fossil who only knows how to exploit us!” I shook my head and chuckled, my thoughts drifting to my own husband. Arthur, a software engineer with a STEM background, was the very definition of a strict, demanding boss. His shirts were always meticulously buttoned to the top, and he showed no mercy to anyone. Even during the two years I worked as his assistant, the smallest mistake would earn me a public berating until I cried. His employees secretly called him “The Ice King.” Curiosity piqued, I zoomed in on the video. It felt like a lightning strike. The man in full cosplay makeup, his costume open to reveal a set of defined abs… The man spinning the young intern under a shower of confetti petals… It was my husband, Arthur. 1 I stared at the screen, my fingers digging into the back of my phone until they ached. I couldn’t believe the man on the screen, so transformed and carefree, was the same husband who approached every aspect of his life with rigid precision. My hand trembled as I looked up the date of the convention. Last Saturday. My birthday. The same day Arthur told me he had a work dinner and wouldn’t be home. I had never once doubted his word. In my mind, Arthur was more earnest and serious than anyone I knew; he didn’t have the capacity to lie. But this video was a vicious slap in the face. The front door clicked open. Arthur was home. My neck was stiff as I remained on the sofa, not getting up to greet him as I usually did. He walked a few steps into the living room, his brow slowly furrowing. “Is dinner not ready yet?” I blinked. The dry, perfunctory question, so typical of our married life, sounded especially jarring after watching the video. Forcing a smile, I stood and took the jacket he handed me. “I’ll… go get the food.” As he moved his arm, a pink crystal bracelet slipped out from under his cuff. My breath hitched. I instinctively grabbed his hand. “Where did this come from?” Arthur’s expression flickered with something unnatural when he saw my shocked gaze. But just as quickly, his face settled back into its usual cool indifference. “It’s a gift from an employee. She said it’s good for the company’s finances. What’s wrong?” Arthur, the man who only ever wore a single watch and sometimes found even his wedding ring too much of a hassle, suddenly believed in good luck charms? I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “It doesn’t suit you. Take it off.” “If you want financial luck, I got that charm from the temple, remember? I’ll go get it for you.” His brow tightened, and he shut me down with an impatient tone. “No need. I think the pink crystal is fine.” “I’m hungry. Can you serve dinner?” With that, he turned and walked to the dining table. I went into the kitchen, borrowed a friend’s account, and sent a friend request to the intern whose name I’d just looked up. Her most recent post was a picture of two wrists, one wearing the pink bracelet, intertwined. The caption read: “Hehe, bought matching bracelets with my first intern paycheck. My grumpy boss loves it! ;)” The phone slipped from my grasp, clattering onto the counter. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. I scrolled through the intern’s profile—Chloe’s profile—like a form of self-torture. Traces of Arthur were everywhere in the vibrant life she documented. “Oopsie, spilled coffee on my grumpy boss’s files today! Luckily, a few pastries made everything better. He wasn’t even mad! Hehe!” “Told my grumpy boss if he didn’t go to Comic-Con with me as my cosplay partner, I was gonna quit. Hmph.” 2 Looking at my bloodshot eyes in the mirror, I made a decision. The next day at noon, I took the soup I’d prepared and went to Arthur’s office. As luck would have it, he was in a meeting. I waited in his office, my eyes idly scanning the stack of documents on his desk. A frown immediately creased my brow. The formatting was a mess, riddled with typos, and, to my astonishment, sprinkled with cutesy emoticons. Stunned, I immediately called for his assistant, Sean. “Who did this? How did this sloppy mess end up on Mr. Hayes’ desk?” “Get it out of here and have them redo it. Now.” I knew Arthur’s standards. If he saw this, he would explode and verbally tear the person responsible to shreds. But Sean looked incredibly uncomfortable. He stammered that it was fine, that Mr. Hayes wouldn’t mind. Frustrated, I grabbed the document and walked out of the office, demanding to know who had prepared it. Better for me to point out the mistake now so it could be fixed, rather than wait for Arthur’s inevitable wrath. Everyone exchanged strange, awkward glances. Then, a sweet, chirpy voice came from behind me. “I did it. What’s wrong with it? Why does it need to be changed?” I turned around to see a group of people emerging from the main conference room. Arthur was at the front. And pressed close to his side was Chloe. Arthur’s gaze fell on the document in my hand, and his brow furrowed slightly. My heart skipped a beat. So it was her. Well, she’d walked right into the line of fire. Arthur might be lenient about trivial matters, but when it came to his work, he was an absolute perfectionist. But his next words sent a chill through my veins. “Sean, didn’t I have you go over this with her three times? How is it still wrong?” Chloe, completely unafraid, stuck her tongue out playfully. “Oh, come on, Sean explains things so fast! I couldn’t keep up.” Arthur rubbed his temples. His expression was one of weary resignation, but there wasn’t a hint of anger. “Fine. Come to my office after work. I’ll teach you how to do it myself.” I looked up, my eyes wide with disbelief. In that moment, the man in front of me felt like a complete stranger. Not the Arthur I had loved for ten years and been married to for six. The stares from the surrounding employees felt like invisible slaps across my face. Some were amused, some were scornful, and some were tinged with pity. “Who is that woman? Acting so high and mighty. Doesn’t she know Chloe is special to the boss?” “Yeah, the Ice King only ever yells at us. Chloe could probably burn the building down and get away with it.” “Shh, keep it down. That’s his wife!” Just moments ago, I was the one laying down the law. Now, my face was burning with humiliation. Arthur, however, seemed completely oblivious to my discomfort. His tone was cool and detached. “What are you doing here?” My arm fell to my side, all my strength gone. “I made your favorite soup and brought it for you…” Before I could finish, Chloe let out another theatrical gasp. “Oh, Mr. Hayes, I ordered you fried chicken and coke for lunch! I even used two of my coupons for it.” A small smile touched Arthur’s lips, as if he found her antics charming. “Alright. We can’t let those coupons go to waste.” To me, he offered only a single, dismissive sentence. “Take the soup home. Stop acting like a damn housekeeper.” 3 By the time I got home, the soup was cold. So was my heart. Arthur had never been good at taking care of himself. He’d worked himself to the bone during the start-up phase of his company and developed serious stomach problems. I was the one who had quit my job to meticulously research healthy recipes and medicinal broths, nursing him back to health. All those small, detailed acts of love, in his eyes, were no different from what a housekeeper did. A bitter, self-mocking laugh escaped me. In the ten years I’d been with Arthur, I never knew he was capable of such blatant favoritism. That evening, Arthur came home. As he walked in, he instinctively pressed a hand to his stomach. I knew the fried chicken and coke would have upset it. A bowl of warm, stomach-soothing soup was already on the table. When he saw it, his expression softened slightly. As he began to eat, his movements familiar and routine, I suddenly spoke. “Arthur, if you’ve had a change of heart, if you’re cheating on me, you can just tell me.” Arthur nearly choked. He wiped his mouth, his face flushing with irritation. “Chloe is just an intern. She’s young and a bit playful. Why are you making a big deal out of it?” “Besides,” he added, “she went to our university. She’s an underclassman. It’s only natural I’d look out for her a bit more.” Tears suddenly streamed down my face, a profound sadness washing over me. “I didn’t even say her name, and you’re already jumping to her defense.” And he had the audacity to claim there was nothing between them? Arthur was speechless. I pulled up the Comic-Con video, still trending, and showed it to him. Then I showed him Chloe’s social media posts. As he looked at the evidence, his expression slowly hardened, a cool disappointment filling his eyes. “Sarah, when did you become so… common?” “Snooping on people’s social media, showing up at my office to check on me… You had a comfortable life as Mrs. Hayes. Was that not enough? Did you have to stir up all this drama?” He slammed his bowl down on the table with a loud crack. A chip flew off the rim. I was so stunned I forgot to cry. “It’s just a young girl’s fantasies posted online. Am I supposed to police what my employees post on their personal accounts?” He insisted that nothing had crossed the line between him and Chloe. The only reason he was looking out for her, he claimed, was to maintain a good boss-employee relationship and retain a promising new hire. “If you don’t believe me, there’s nothing more I can say.” “Sarah, I expected you to mature with me, to grow. Not to regress into this foolish, paranoid woman. You’re disappointing me.” After that night, Arthur started staying at the office, using the excuse of being busy. Until our sixth wedding anniversary arrived. The doorbell rang. It was a delivery guy. “Mrs. Hayes, a cake from your husband.” A flicker of hope ignited within me. This was the first time Arthur had ever proactively arranged for an anniversary cake. Had he really matured? Had he learned how to show affection? I opened the box and froze. A large, mocking number “4” was formed by the candles. It pierced my heart. Arthur, the man who’d aced his college entrance exams, who could recall hundreds of data sets with perfect accuracy, couldn’t even remember how many years we’d been married. A strangled laugh escaped me, tears rolling down my cheeks as I did. My phone rang. It was Arthur, his voice as flat and robotic as ever. “Did you get the cake? Are you still upset?” I quietly wiped my tears away. “Will you see a movie with me tonight?” Animal Romance 2 was out. The first one had been released right after we got married. I had begged and pleaded for him to go with me. He had paused his typing, tapping his watch. “Do you have any idea how many lines of code I could write in the 120 minutes we’d waste at a movie theater?” “Sarah, time is valuable. I need your support.” I took a deep breath, pushing away the unpleasant memory. “Arthur, please. It’s my only request for our anniversary.” 4 His tone hardened with impatience. “How old are you? You still want me to watch that childish nonsense?” “I have a work dinner tonight. I won’t be home. Just eat the cake and go to bed early.” He hung up before I could say another word. I threw the cake in the trash and bought a single movie ticket. But at the theater, I saw two familiar figures. Chloe was clinging to Arthur’s arm, happily bouncing in line to collect the movie’s limited-edition couple’s merchandise. She playfully snapped a fox-ear headband onto Arthur’s head and put on a pair of bunny ears herself. They pressed their cheeks together for a selfie. I opened my phone. A new post had just appeared on my feed. “Yay! At Animal Romance with my grumpy boss! This is my reward for being such a hardworking little intern and helping him with his overtime! ;)” In that moment, all the patience and restraint I had mustered shattered. I stormed over and slammed the bucket of popcorn and the large soda down on both of their heads. Chloe let out a piercing scream. Arthur instinctively pulled her into his arms, shielding her. When he saw my face, his eyes blazed with anger. “Sarah, are you following me? When is this going to end?!” I slapped him hard across the face, my voice breaking as I screamed, “Being with me was a waste of your precious time, wasn’t it? You were never willing to compromise or change for me! But you can waste day after day with Chloe, going to conventions, wearing cheap matching bracelets?” “Arthur, do you even have a heart? Why are you being so cruel to me?!” A crowd gathered around us, phones out, recording everything. Chloe buried her face in her hands, sobbing. Realizing the situation was escalating, Arthur shoved me aside, threw his coat over Chloe, and rushed her out of the theater. But it was too late. The video went viral. “Isn’t that the ‘cutest couple’ from Comic-Con? Turns out the guy is married! Gross.” “An intern seducing her boss and then flaunting it online? The nerve of these young homewreckers.” “And he did it on his SIXTH wedding anniversary with his wife. I’m disgusted. I hope the cheater and the mistress both get what they deserve.” A few days later, Arthur, who hadn’t been home, video-called me, his face a mask of fury. “Chloe is being destroyed online. She’s too scared to even leave her apartment. The cyberbullying got so bad she tried to kill herself with sleeping pills!” “Are you happy now? You got what you wanted with your cheap, underhanded tricks, didn’t you?” Through the screen, the man I had loved for a decade looked terrifyingly alien. “I’m warning you, Sarah. You will record a video apologizing to Chloe. You will admit you were wrong and clarify that she is innocent in all of this!” I bit my lip, refusing. Arthur’s expression turned to ice. “Either you apologize, or we get a divorce. You have two choices.” There was a knock on the door. Just as he’d planned, a lawyer was there with divorce papers, already signed by Arthur. “I’m not forcing you, Sarah. You brought this on yourself. You dug your own grave.” His tone was calm, confident. He was handling this like a business negotiation, certain I would choose the first option. He gave me an ultimatum. A video of my apology had to be online before Chloe woke up. “Otherwise, wife or not, I will handle this professionally.” “You can expect a lawsuit from the company’s legal department.” With that final threat, he ended the call. The screen went dark, reflecting my determined face. An hour later, the lawyer’s phone rang right on schedule. “Well? Has she recorded the apology video?” “Mr. Hayes… Mrs. Hayes has signed the divorce papers.”

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I took a job as a tutor, but the kid I was teaching, Leo, was obsessed with gossip. One day, he looked at me mysteriously and whispered: “My cousin is broken.” “Broken where?” I asked. “You know… down there. It’s been broken since he was little.” My jaw dropped. I felt a wave of sympathy for the poor guy. Just then, Leo shouted: “Cousin!” I turned around, and my eyes nearly popped out of my head. “That’s your cousin?” “Yup.” Holy crap. That’s my crush. 01 Ethan was just as surprised as I was. He raised an eyebrow at me. “What a coincidence.” “My aunt said she found a tutor for Leo. I didn’t expect it to be you.” “Haha, yeah… small world,” I laughed dryly. Ethan walked over, ruffled Leo’s hair, and turned to me. “Are you done with the lesson? Heading back to campus? I can give you a ride.” “No thanks!” I rejected him instantly. My reaction was so intense I startled myself. Afraid he might misunderstand, I quickly added: “I… uh… dropped something on the way here. I was just going to walk back and look for it.” Before he could say anything else, I grabbed my backpack and fled. But ten minutes later. Ethan’s car pulled up beside me. He rolled down the window. “Did you find it?” “Not yet…” “Tell me what it is. I can help you look.” Ha. Haha. What was I looking for? An excuse. How was he supposed to help me find that? I shook my head miserably. “Really, it’s fine. You go ahead.” My mind was a mess. I had no idea how to face him now. 02 I hadn’t known Ethan long. We met last month at a board game cafe near campus. Ethan lost a game, and his dare was to get a girl’s number. Yes, he asked for mine. When I looked up and saw his objectively perfect face, my breath hitched. Heat crept up my neck. “Is that okay?” he asked again. I tried to act cool as I pulled out my phone for him to scan. My roommates saw right through me. They exchanged glances and immediately launched a full-scale offensive, enthusiastically inviting him to join our table. They kept creating opportunities for me. They claimed I knew palmistry and insisted I read Ethan’s palm. “Sure,” he said, extending his hand. I had no choice but to take his fingertips. I don’t know if it was his nervousness or mine, but our skin grew damp where we touched. I let go quickly and made something up: “Your palm lines… looks like you have a lot of romantic luck. Many suitors.” “Really?” His voice was soft, like a feather brushing my ear. I nodded solemnly. His smile deepened. Warmth spread from his eyes. “Are you one of them?” I froze, my heart skipping a beat. Before I could respond, he laughed. “Just kidding. Not offended, right?” I admit, I have double standards. If a guy I’m not interested in says “hello,” it’s harassment. But if I’m interested? That’s a different story. Since that day, we’ve been chatting on and off. It was getting more and more ambiguous… Just two days ago, he asked me to go for a walk on the track. Trying to look cute, I wore a miniskirt. He wore three layers and was sweating. We walked slowly around the track. It was freezing at night. I sneezed. Without missing a beat: “So cold.” “Thank god, you’re finally cold.” He took off his jacket and draped it over me. I realized something. “You wore so many layers just to give this to me?” “Yeah.” He looked at me calmly. His beautiful eyes didn’t waver. My face burned hotter. And yesterday, I asked him to help design a logo for a competition. He revised it over and over, working until late at night. Feeling guilty, I sent him a red packet (money transfer). [Sorry for the trouble.] He didn’t accept it. He replied: [Not trouble. I’m happy to be needed by you.] My desire to date him was at an all-time high. But who could have predicted— Life would slap me in the face today. Why? Why, God? I’ve been a good person all my life. Is this my karma? Falling in love with a eunuch? 03 Friday afternoon, I went back to tutor Leo. Ethan was already sitting in the living room. I awkwardly changed my shoes, tripping over my own feet. Ethan was as friendly as ever. Pouring me water, complimenting my outfit, asking if I wanted to stay for dinner. “Haha.” I laugh when I’m uncomfortable. I brushed him off and dove into Leo’s room. The little brat was ready, sitting primly at his desk. I wiped the small whiteboard and started the lesson. As usual, thirty minutes was his limit. Once the clock hit the half-hour mark, he melted onto the desk like a boneless chicken and started gossiping. “Teacher, did you know? The father and son upstairs are chasing the same girl.” “Oh, and my dad is dating again. He matched with one of his former students. Can you believe it?” “My mom seems to be dating someone too…” “Leo,” I interrupted. “Can we talk after the lesson?” “Please, Teacher! Let me finish this sentence or I’ll explode.” I took a deep breath. “Go ahead.” “I heard my mom on the phone yesterday. She said whoever wants to be her boyfriend has to solve two math problems first. And the guy agreed! He even wrote her a love poem. Want to hear it? I memorized it.” “No thanks.” I was speechless. No wonder his mom, a math teacher herself, hired a tutor for him. This kid was born in a gossip column. Finally, the lesson ended. I picked two questions from a test paper to check his progress. He finished quickly. I graded them. One right, one wrong. Okay, I guess. I told him to correct the mistake, but he went “Huh?” “But I wrote the same thing as the answer key.” “The answer key is wrong.” “Really?” Leo picked at his face, unconvinced. This kid is stubborn. I had to call Ethan in for backup. Ethan walked in and smiled immediately. “What? Are you going to test me with math problems too?” 04 I paused. Then I realized— He was sitting in the living room looking proper, but he was eavesdropping the whole time. A few days ago, my heart would have fluttered. Now, it felt like a herd of alpacas stampeding through my chest. Who understands my complex feelings? With Ethan and me double-checking, we confirmed the answer key was wrong. Leo finally accepted defeat and started correcting his work. I packed my bag to leave. Ethan stopped me. “Stay for dinner.” “No,” I refused instinctively. “I…” “Please,” he interrupted. “I started cooking before you arrived. If you say no, it’ll all go to waste.” The words caught in my throat. I heard myself say: “Okay then.” I have to admit, Ethan is a great cook. Handsome, can cook… major bonus points. But… My eyes drifted down to his jeans. He seemed to sense it and looked at me weirdly. I quickly looked up at the ceiling. “By the way—” “Big.” He blurted it out. I froze. Two seconds later, my face exploded with heat. What? What the hell?! Did he think I was making a dirty joke? “I meant—” “It’s our department’s turn for the physical fitness test next week. I saw your department already finished.” “I wanted to ask if it was strict. Can I slack off?” I was done. Done. This man’s mouth was harder than diamond. Even if the sky falls, his mouth will hold it up. It’s gone, and he says it’s big! Big ghost! Ethan stayed calm, quickly recovering. “Some groups are strict, some are okay. Try to get the short-haired female teacher.” “Okay.” Silence fell over the table. Suddenly, Leo reconnected to the conversation. “What’s big?” “This chicken leg.” I put a drumstick in his bowl. “Oh.” He looked skeptical. After dinner, Ethan offered to drive me back. Luckily, I anticipated this and called an Uber in advance. I greased my feet and ran faster than a rabbit.

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In the third year of my secret marriage to a movie star, a photo of us making out on the street went viral. Usually mild-mannered, my husband, Lucas Hale, flew into a rage. “Gather all the evidence! I’m suing! I’ll handle the situation with Claire myself!” Handle me? I drafted a divorce agreement and threw it in front of Lucas. But his eyes turned red, and he demanded: “Babe, am I that shameful to you?” “Just because I paid someone to expose our relationship, you want to divorce me?” Me: ? 1 I was having dinner when I got a call from Lucas’s assistant. His voice was frantic: “Claire, Lucas is drunk. He’s making a scene and demanding to see you. Can you come pick him up? It’ll look bad if he gets paparazzied.” Before I could answer, I heard Lucas’s deep voice in the background: “Babe, I feel sick.” I coaxed him gently: “Lucas, let your assistant drive you home. I’ll meet you there, okay?” “No! I’m waiting right here on the curb. Come pick me up, please?” At the same time, I heard his assistant let out a high-pitched screech of panic. When I rushed over, Lucas was sitting on the curb, collar undone, eyes rimmed with red. “Why are you actually sitting on the ground?” Hearing my voice, he looked up. His eyes were hazy with drunkenness, but he smiled. “Babe, you’re finally here. I waited so long.” He stumbled to his feet. His assistant tried to help, but Lucas pushed him away. “You can go. My wife is here.” As soon as I got close, he pulled me into a hug. The scent of wood and faint alcohol wrapped around me. He buried his face in my neck, his voice raspy and whining. “Babe, my head is spinning.” I rubbed his head. “Just sleep it off at home.” “Kiss me first. If you kiss me, I won’t feel bad anymore.” I looked around nervously. “Let’s go home first. What if someone takes a picture?” He pulled me into a nearby alley and lowered his voice. “There’s no one here. Is it okay now?” Before I could react, he cupped my face. A kiss laced with alcohol landed on my lips. My mind went blank, and my heart hammered. I spent the whole night worrying about paparazzi. He, on the other hand, slept peacefully with a smile on his face, holding me tight. 2 I was woken up by my phone ringing off the hook. Groggy, I answered, only to hear my agent, Jen, screaming. “Girl, what did you do last night? You broke the internet!” I opened Twitter with trembling hands. Breaking! #LucasHaleMysteryWomanKiss Breaking! #LucasHaleDating I clicked the hashtag. It was a video. Under the dim streetlights, Lucas, dressed in all black, had a woman wrapped in his trench coat. One arm was around her waist, the other shielding her face. The kiss was deep, lingering, and passionate. At the end of the video, Lucas looked up, his gaze locking straight onto the camera. I blushed watching it. I couldn’t believe we got caught. But the comments were… weird. My man hasn’t done a kiss scene in three years, and now he’s trending for making out on the street? Sister-in-law looks hot. My bro has taste. That body, that hair… it’s definitely his first love, Bella. Stop trying to make Bella happen. She’s been irrelevant for years. One user named @ClaireIsMyWife caught my eye. He was replying to almost every comment. @ClaireIsMyWife: Fun fact: Lucas Hale wakes up smiling because he sees his beautiful wife next to him. That silhouette is 100% Claire Shen. Bet they’re already married. Someone argued with him: Were you there? Stop making stuff up. @ClaireIsMyWife swore an oath: It is absolutely Claire Shen. If I’m wrong, I will eat sht on livestream.* I gulped. Isn’t that… a bit extreme?! 3 By the time I finished reading the comments, I realized Lucas was gone. I got up to discuss damage control, but I heard his furious voice coming from the study. “Contact the lawyers! Gather all evidence! Sue them at all costs!” He paused, his tone softening. “I’ll handle the situation with Claire. Don’t tell her about this.” I froze. He was going to “handle” me? Suddenly, the door opened. Seeing me, panic flashed in Lucas’s eyes. “Babe, when did you get here?” “Just… now.” He visibly relaxed and kissed my forehead. “Don’t worry about the trending topic. I’ll take care of it.” “Are you sure? Can I help?” “Everything is arranged. Just take bodyguards when you go out.” I let it go. But throughout the day, the rumors didn’t die down. In fact, they got worse. Wasn’t he handling it? Comments mentioning “Bella” were multiplying. Then, paparazzi shots of Bella returning to the country surfaced. Simultaneously, I got a text from Lucas: Dinner with a director tonight. Don’t wait up. 4 At 11 PM, a new hashtag appeared. #LucasAndBellaDating #BellaLucasDinnerDate My heart sank. Ten minutes ago, Bella posted a photo with the caption: Had a great dinner with someone special. In the corner of the photo was a man’s hand. I recognized it instantly. The bracelet on his wrist was one I braided for him. I tried to delude myself, thinking it was a coincidence. But internet sleuths found Lucas’s reflection in a spoon. My hope died. The CP (Couple Pairing) fans went wild. OMG, my ship has sailed! It’s been three years! This is an announcement! So the mystery woman last night was Bella? Some of you are delusional. Bella just landed today. Did she mail her lips over last night? Maybe she’s just chasing clout? (Just my opinion, don’t come for me.) Maybe Lucas is trying to win her back? Hence the dinner date. I gripped my phone tightly, debating whether to text him. Then I heard the front door open. I turned off my phone and pretended to sleep. 5 The bed dipped. Warm breath hit my face, carrying an unfamiliar perfume scent. I kept my eyes shut, my heart stinging. Was he with Bella all night? Did that scent rub off on him while they were intimate? A moment later, his phone vibrated. Lucas got up and left the room, closing the door softly. I didn’t move, straining my ears. Bella, delete the photo now. If my wife finds out… His voice faded, but I could guess the rest. I tossed and turned all night. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I sat up abruptly. Next to me, Lucas was sleeping soundly, a smile on his lips. Probably dreaming about Bella. Rage boiled over. Smack! I slapped him. Lucas grabbed my hand groggily, kissing my palm. “Babe, what’s wrong?” “Tell me, who were you with tonight? Why are you home so late?” He jolted awake, stammering. “Just a director. Do you know something?” Know what? That he was secretly dating Bella? Or that he was planning to “handle” me to get back with his first love? Tears welled up in my eyes. In the dark, only our breathing was audible. “Forget it. Sleep.” I yanked the blanket over myself. “Okay, let’s sleep.” He reached out to hug me. I elbowed him hard. He gasped in pain. “Ouch! Babe, what is it?” “You’re dirty,” I said, my voice trembling. Lucas looked confused. He sniffed his shirt. “But I showered.” Could a shower wash away the scent of Bella? His romance was exposed, and he rushed to announce it with his first love while planning to deal with me. The only option was divorce!

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My roommate, Sienna, has five boyfriends. My crush, Ethan, is one of them. She gave Ethan to me. She’s such a good person. Oh, wait. No. It was a dare. Give up one boyfriend. But that wasn’t dramatic enough for her. She had to take it a step further and try to set me, the only single girl in our dorm, up with Ethan. Our other roommates laughed, trying to smooth things over. “You don’t have to go that far. Look at her, she’s a total ice queen. She’s not the dating type.” Sienna just smiled, her tone breezy. “True. Good girls don’t date in college. I was just…” joking. I looked Sienna straight in the eye, my expression earnest. “I’ll do it.” 1 Sienna’s smile faltered. “Fine. I’ll send you his contact info.” The other roommates went silent. I knew it was awkward. But this was the guy I’d had a crush on for three years. From the moment I first saw him on stage at the freshman orientation, he’d captured my full attention. I held up our dorm’s star-shaped string light, my voice sincere. “You really don’t have to. It’s just a game. You can just take a shot as a penalty.” Sienna scoffed. “Me? Lose? I’m the queen of the nightlife!” “You think I’d lose a stupid game like this to a nerdy good-girl? Who do you think you’re talking to?” “Just you wait. In two weeks, I guarantee you’ll know exactly what it feels like to be in love.” I just said, “Oh,” and dropped it. It was just as I expected. Sienna would never allow herself to lose, not even in something so small, and certainly not to a bookworm like me. The other roommates couldn’t contain their curiosity. “Why Ethan? He’s handsome and rich.” In the soft glow of the starlight, Sienna’s face was grim. “I have my own money, and my other boyfriends spoil me too. He has a personality defect.” At this thought, her expression seemed to clear a little. “He’s rigid, boring, a total traditionalist. Barely says a word.” I nodded to myself. A quiet man is a good thing. Handsome, rich, smart, and quiet. His traditionalism meant he’d be responsible. No wonder he was my crush. A man who talked too much was an instant turn-off. He was total catnip for a sapiosexual. It was just a shame his taste in women was so poor. 2 A day passed. My friend request on social media was still pending. I sent it again, pausing for a moment before adding a note: Sienna’s roommate. Sienna watched me staring at my phone, a hint of amusement in her voice. “What, he hasn’t added you yet?” I nodded. A second later, a notification popped up. Ethan has accepted your friend request. Sienna’s expression soured. “I added that I was your roommate,” I explained. “That’s when he accepted.” Her face seemed to get even darker. But hadn’t she always said she dated so many guys to prove how desirable she was? Here was one of her exes, still clearly hung up on her, and she was… unhappy? 3 Sienna, who had promised to help me win over Ethan, made no move to do so. My chat with him remained stuck at our first exchange: Hello. Can I help you? I thought for a long time about what to send him first. Should I tell him Sienna had lost him to me in a dare? After much deliberation, I asked him why the core question behind this year’s Nobel Prize in Economics was so deceptively simple. He wrote back at length. He forwarded me article after article. Paper after paper. He even included some analysis from popular commentary blogs. It was thorough. Rational. Brilliant. He had access to information I could never find on my own. I found myself completely engrossed, reading on my bed. Suddenly, the dorm room door was thrown open violently. Sienna’s sharp voice cut through the air. “She’s such a slut. Who picks up their best friend’s cast-off boyfriend?” “She’s even worse. She practically begged for him.” Our other two roommates chimed in with agreement. I didn’t get it. They were the ones who had started this challenge. Sienna was the one who had upped the stakes. It just happened to align with my own secret wish, so I’d agreed. How did it turn into this? What if I’d said no? Would they have found another way to mock me? Look at her, we even offered her our richest, hottest boyfriend and she’s still a boring old stick-in-the-mud. My mom was right. Never argue with a fool, and don’t spend too much time around them. It messes with your energy. Find a partner who is smart. While they were in the middle of their tirade, I pulled back my bed curtain and smiled, a picture of innocence. “Are you guys talking about me?” Sienna crossed her arms, her eyes dripping with disdain. The other two roommates gave awkward laughs, trying to salvage the situation. “No, of course not. We were just talking about a character from that show we’re all watching.” And just like that, the matter was dropped. No one ever mentioned it again. After all, we still had to live together for another year. 4 Discussing academic questions, Ethan and I grew closer. He was the first man I’d spent a month with without getting bored. “Rigid and traditional” was just another way of saying self-disciplined. But today, Ethan was acting strange. He was distracted, his answers to my questions absentminded. “Is something wrong?” I asked. He frowned, thinking for a long time before his cool voice finally emerged, laced with conflict. “Did Sienna see that post on the school forum? Does she misunderstand what’s going on between us? She hasn’t spoken to me in a month.” I was a little surprised. Sienna… hadn’t told him they’d broken up? Or about the dare? And more importantly, our “relationship” was already gossip on the school forum? Meanwhile, the fact that Sienna was successfully juggling five boyfriends was nowhere to be found online. I furrowed my brow. “She didn’t tell you?” “A month ago, she lost a dare. She lost you to me.” Ethan’s brow furrowed even deeper, as if he couldn’t comprehend this kind of game. “So,” I added, “you’re my boyfriend now.” His mind seemed to short-circuit, unable to process the information. I sighed. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him he wasn’t Sienna’s only boyfriend. It wasn’t just that it would shatter his old-fashioned worldview. It was that slandering my new boyfriend’s ex felt… cheap. He might think I was making it up, and that would create a rift between us. After all, I had no proof. 5 I thought it would take Ethan some time to process the truth. I was wrong. The very next morning, he was standing outside my dorm building, holding the tackiest bouquet of black-gauze-wrapped red roses imaginable. Just as Sienna and one of her more “fun” boyfriends walked out. “With taste that tacky, who could possibly want you?” Sienna said, her voice dripping with scorn. I was on my way to the library. “Me, maybe?” I offered. Sienna shot me a look of pure disgust, then turned to her boyfriend and cooed, “Baby, you see? We have a boyfriend-stealer in our dorm. I’m so scared she’ll steal you away one day. Why don’t you rent an apartment for me off-campus?” I was… speechless. Utterly, completely speechless. But the stage was set. If Ethan didn’t take the opportunity, there was nothing I could do. I sighed and turned to leave. Maybe Ethan and I weren’t meant to be. I’d only taken a few steps when a massive bouquet of roses was thrust into my arms. The same tacky roses Sienna had just mocked. “Let’s be together,” he said. I gave a slight nod. He wasn’t a completely lost cause. There was room for improvement. That night, a new post appeared on the school forum. #StudentPursuesCampusQueenWithoutSuccess,SettlesForRoommate It was a picture of Ethan shoving the roses into my arms. The rumors flew. I was cast as the homewrecker who had stolen her roommate’s boyfriend. The perpetrator, Sienna, had already moved out of the dorm to live a life of blissful coupledom with her boyfriends. I didn’t really care. Ethan, however, was wracked with guilt. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have to deal with this.” I nodded, smiling faintly. “So, you’ll have to be extra nice to me from now on.” “Okay,” he said. His voice was stiff, but resolute. He was so easy to fool. Was his reputation for being a genius just a marketing ploy? My smile faded. “How did you and Sienna get together in the first place?” I asked quietly. Ethan seemed flustered, his clear eyes filled with confusion. “She asked me out.” “What did she say?” I pressed. He paused. “Is this a required part of dating? Asking about the ex-girlfriend?” “No,” I shook my head. “I’m just curious. Sienna doesn’t seem like the type to chase after anyone.” “She didn’t, really,” he corrected, ever the literalist. “She just happened to confess her feelings first. I wasn’t against the idea, so we got together.” He was a total rookie who’d run into a master of the game. No wonder he’d fallen so hard. Sienna was always talking about creating “tension” with her boyfriends. This didn’t feel like a time for tension. It felt like a time to actually build a relationship. “Ethan, let’s go on a date tomorrow.” The hand that had been scribbling equations on a notepad stilled. A soft “Okay” escaped his lips before he immediately returned to his work, as if I had imagined the whole thing. 6 “100 Things for Couples to Do.” It was the best dating guide I could find. First up: an escape room. Ethan was late. When he arrived, he was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, not a single crease on it. Even his hair was meticulously styled. He had clearly made an effort. The walk from campus to the escape room wasn’t far, but we turned a lot of heads. He looked so out of place standing there with me, a beacon of precision and formality. The girl working at the counter couldn’t stop staring at him. “Is your boyfriend a cosplayer?” she finally asked. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yep,” I nodded. “I don’t know which robot he’s supposed to be, but he’s really committed to the character. Never breaks.” Ethan looked lost. After a long moment, he asked, “Are you two speaking in code?” I smiled. “She said we look good together.” He nodded, and didn’t ask again. The escape room, which was supposed to bring us closer, was, in our opinion, full of logical fallacies. The only result was that Ethan’s suit got a few wrinkles. “You’re not having fun,” he stated. “It was a novel experience,” he said, his tone flat. “I look forward to our next date.” But his eyes were distant. He didn’t look forward to it at all. We worked our way through half of the “100 Things” list, but our relationship remained stagnant. He was always cooperative. Never argued. Never seemed to care. Wasn’t this exactly what my mom had said I needed? A partner who was perfectly, completely rational? He was perfect. Maybe too perfect.

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I wanted to stroke the campus heartthrob’s cat. It was the middle of the night, and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I shot him a text. Avery: Hey, can I stroke it? Just once! His reply was immediate, and predictably formal. Rhys: Avery, that’s a bit forward. I pressed on. I knew I was good with my hands. Avery: I’ve got a great touch, I promise I’ll make it purr! One hand from head to tail, right? Silence. An hour later, he finally replied. Rhys: One hand won’t do it. Rhys: You won’t be able to grasp it. 1 Avery: No way! Avery: I can definitely grasp it! To prove my point, I immediately took a close-up photo of my hand and sent it to him. In the picture, my hand was cupped, angled just so to make my fingers look extra long and nimble. Avery: See? Plenty of room. I wasn’t delusional. His cat, Figaro, was only three months old. A tiny little thing. How could I not be able to grasp it? The top of the chat box flashed: Rhys is typing… It started, then stopped. Stopped, then started again. For a solid three minutes. All I could think about was the cat. I was getting impatient. Avery: How about you send me a close-up picture so I can check if it’s grown? 2 Rhys’s reply this time was surprisingly fast. Rhys: I’m a traditional man. I frowned, staring at the screen. What did being “traditional” have to do with sending a picture of a kitten? Rhys: It’s not appropriate at night. It’s already asleep. I was even more confused. Avery: Don’t lie. It’s definitely wide awake right now. Nighttime was prime zoomie-time for any kitten. I suspected Rhys was just using excuses. After that, he stopped replying. Rhys Alderidge was a legend in our department. First, because of his face—a chiseled, untouchable beauty that landed him the unofficial title of Campus Heartthrob. Second, because of his personality—infamously stiff, unapproachable, and stubbornly old-school. He’d broken a thousand hearts without even trying. We were in the same college, but different majors, so besides large lecture classes, we had zero overlap. Texting him at midnight about stroking his cat was, admittedly, a breach of social contract. This is going south, I thought, letting out a heavy sigh. Just as I was about to give up, my phone vibrated. Rhys had actually conceded. Rhys: If you want to stroke it so badly… fine. Rhys: But you have to come to my place. He added a familiar line. Rhys: I’m a traditional man. !!! He’d said yes! I was elated, scared he’d change his mind. Avery: Deal! No problem! Avery: Wherever you want to stroke it is fine by me! I’m flexible! The screen went quiet for a few seconds. Rhys: When did you… take an interest in it? 3 Why was I so obsessed with stroking Rhys Alderidge’s cat? Because it was my cat. Rhys was a kidnapper. He had effectively catnapped my beloved son, Figaro. Figaro was a scrappy, long-haired calico I’d found living under my dorm. He had a weird, chaotic patchwork of orange and black that made him look a little like a walking paint-spill—which is why no one adopted him. I’d been his biological human since he was a month old. I paid for his vet visits, built his little shelter, and fed him by hand. I couldn’t bring him into the dorm because my roommate was allergic, so I was saving up my scholarship money to rent an apartment. Rhys, however, had beaten me to it. He skipped straight past “adopt” and went directly to “steal.” But an opportunist never quits. I instantly developed a perfect new plan: Get close to Rhys. Lull him into a false sense of security. Then, steal my son back. 4 When did I take an interest in it? I thought back. Avery: Two months ago. Two months ago was when I first met Figaro next to the dumpsters behind my dorm. The top of the chat box flashed: Rhys is typing… After a long pause, he sent three words. Rhys: Me too. My fist clenched. What did that mean? He saw Figaro two months ago but didn’t take him in? He just watched while I did all the hard work—potty training him, getting him fed, turning him into a plump, healthy little creature—and then swooped in to claim him? This was a blatant theft of hard-won victory. It was infuriating. But I forced myself to calm down. Bigger picture, Avery. Bigger picture. I put on a friendly facade. Avery: Well, looks like we’re completely in sync then, aren’t we~ Avery: So, when can I come over and stroke it? 5 That night, Rhys just replied, It’s moving too fast, and then went radio silent. No specific date, no time. That wouldn’t do. A dedicated plotter like me hates uncertainty. I had to push him. The first thing I did in the morning was film myself applying hand cream and sent the video. In the clip, I massaged the milky lotion into my palms, smoothing it over my knuckles. Avery: Look, my hands are super soft. It’s going to be in pure ecstasy when I touch it. The chat box flashed Rhys is typing… for nearly a minute. Nothing ever came through. Why did he keep doing this? A bold thought crossed my mind—maybe Rhys just wasn’t good with phones. I decided to be more direct. Avery: Can you send me a video of you stroking it? Just to tide me over? (Stars-in-eyes emoji) He was silent for a while. Then, a familiar line popped up. Rhys: I’m a traditional man. Avery: … Was that a default auto-reply? Was something wrong with him? I didn’t know how to respond, so I just didn’t. About ten minutes later, my phone vibrated. Rhys had actually sent a video! 6 My heart did a little jump. I quickly tapped play. The frame held only a pair of hands. The fingers were long and slender, with distinct knuckles. Pale skin with faint blue veins underneath. The fingers were moving, sliding up and down in mid-air, a study in elegant motion. But they were trembling slightly, as if recording this brief clip had been a massive psychological barrier to overcome. I was momentarily confused. Why was he showing me his hands? Was I the type of person who just drooled over handsome men? I wanted the cat! With no Figaro content from Rhys, I resorted to trawling his old social media posts. I found an old video of him petting the cat. In the clip, Rhys was sitting down, his eyes lowered, silver-rimmed glasses resting on his nose. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up twice, exposing a clean, firm forearm. He looked gentle and studious. His long fingers were lightly petting the kitten’s head. The next second, the cat twisted its head and swiped a claw across his forearm, leaving a clear red scratch. He didn’t seem annoyed; a tiny, affectionate smile even touched the corner of his mouth. My roommate leaned over my shoulder. “He’s so handsome, and so emotionally regulated… I wish I were his cat.” She paused, then observed, “Look, he was just scratched and he’s still smiling.” She smirked suggestively. “Maybe he is a bit of a masochist. They say the quiet, buttoned-up ones are always the wildest ones in the sheets. Girl, whoever lands him is going to eat well.” Her words made me realize the reason for Rhys’s hesitation. 7 I sent a probing text. Avery: You never bring people you aren’t close with back to your place, do you? Rhys replied with a single word. Rhys: No. Aha! Case closed. He was so stiff and formal that he felt we weren’t close enough for me to come home and stroke his cat. I clicked over to his profile again, carefully scrolling through his posts. I needed a way to accelerate our relationship status. 8 Clutching a small pink gift bag, I found Rhys in his large lecture hall during the busiest break between classes. He was sitting alone, reading. He looked like a very serious ragdoll cat. “Rhys!” He visibly flinched when he saw me, blinking rapidly behind his glasses. His earlobes flushed pink. I pressed the pink bag into his hands, smiling brightly. “Open it, Rhys. See if you like it.” He took it, glancing nervously at the surrounding students, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Are you sure… you want me to open this in front of everyone?” I nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! Open it.” He carefully peeled back the tissue paper. Inside lay a small, hand-knitted scarf that I’d stayed up all night to finish. “Happy belated birthday, Rhys!” The afternoon sunlight streamed through the window, catching my radiant smile. Rhys froze, staring at me. When he finally registered what I’d said, his ear tips turned even redder. He adjusted his glasses to cover his confusion. “…Thank you.” The surrounding spectators immediately became alert. “Rhys actually accepted a gift from a girl?” “The Heartthrob is blushing…” I gave myself a mental high-five. Plan: Aced. Now that he’d accepted a gift and I’d wished him well, we were officially friends, right? It was time to claim my prize. “I knitted it myself,” I emphasized. He stroked the scarf, his eyes avoiding mine. “I love it.” “I was up all night working on it,” I pressed, following the momentum. He looked up at me, his eyes dark. “I understand your intentions.” The moment was now. I lowered my voice. “So, about what I asked last night…?” His Adam’s apple bobbed. He looked away. “I’m a bit traditional. I need some time. Maybe next month…” My smile instantly faltered. He saw my face drop and pursed his lips. “Next weekend,” he revised quickly. I immediately deployed the innocent, doe-eyed appeal, gently tugging the sleeve of his shirt. “The day after tomorrow! Tomorrow! Please?” He seemed burned by my touch. He grit his teeth. “Fine.” “Thank you!” My mood instantly shifted, and I beamed. “I’m going to make sure I’m completely ready!” He looked at me, his gaze heavy, and his voice held a strange, determined finality. “I will be, too.” I didn’t understand what he needed to prepare for. 9 On the walk back to the dorm, my roommate linked arms with me, shaking her head in amazement. “Avery, do you know what Rhys said when a freshman tried to give him a gift last month?” She mimicked Rhys’s stiff, upright posture. “‘I do not accept bribes for my position.’ He refused without even looking at it.” “He’s pathologically good.” She suddenly leaned in, elbowing me. “But he took yours and said he liked it!” I thought she was overthinking it. “He just likes hand-knitted things.” My roommate sighed, utterly defeated. “Avery, you are a ruthless opportunist, but also a monumental idiot.” “Poor Rhys.” I tuned her out. I only had one thing on my mind: Figaro. Tomorrow, I could finally go to Rhys’s place and stroke him! I hadn’t seen him in so long; I was going to inhale his scent until I passed out. 10 I was too excited to sleep. Tucked under my covers, I suddenly remembered an important detail. I texted Rhys. Avery: Did you shave its butt hair? If not, I can come over and clip it tomorrow. Figaro was a long-haired cat; his rear end needed regular maintenance, or things got messy. On the other end, Rhys seemed to be struggling. After a long input delay, he replied. Rhys: Isn’t that… moving a bit too fast? I frowned at the screen. I told him the truth. Avery: I can’t wait any longer! This time, his input was even slower. So long that I thought he might have fallen asleep. Finally, the message popped up. Rhys: I’ve never done it before, but for you… I can try. Rhys: I’m very much looking forward to it. I was wondering why he’d be looking forward to clipping a cat’s butt hair. Then, another message arrived. Rhys: Since I’ve agreed to all this, can I ask for a small favor in return? I bit my bottom lip, hovering my finger over the screen. After three seconds of deliberation. Fine, I need the cat more. Avery: Sure. He almost instantly replied. Rhys: Can I call you ‘Babe’? I was confused. Avery: Why? He replied with utter seriousness. Rhys: It seems like people in our situation often use that term for each other. Our situation? 11 I stared at the words, my brain momentarily fried. Then, a sudden realization struck me—I understood! We were cat-buddies! People online who shared pictures and advice about their cats often called each other “Babe” or “Sweetie.” The logic was flawless. Relieved, I readily agreed. Avery: Okay, sure. Go for it. He immediately sent a strange, slightly outdated floral emoji with the caption, “Happiness Lasts Forever,” radiating a kind of rigid, uncontainable joy. My goal achieved, I decided to end the conversation. Avery: Goodnight, see you tomorrow. I was about to put down my phone when a voice note popped up. I tapped it. His low, rich voice poured into my ear, sounding as if he were right behind me. “Goodnight, Babe.” “See you tomorrow.” 12 Following the address Rhys had sent, I found myself standing in front of a substantial, secluded villa. “This is next-level luxury,” I murmured, taking a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. The door opened. Rhys stood in the frame, his hair damp. He was wearing a white terry-cloth robe, and he’d taken off his glasses, making his features look sharper and his thick eyelashes more prominent. He seemed edgier than usual. I froze for a second. He spoke first. “My parents are at a visiting professorship abroad.” “…Oh.” So, he was completely alone? He held out a pair of fuzzy white kitten slippers. They were identical to the black ones he was wearing. I started to bend down, but he knelt first. “Let me.” “You don’t have to…” Before I could finish, his fingers deftly untied my shoelaces. His robe gaped slightly with the movement, and I accidentally glanced inside, catching a flash of taut, slightly pink-tinged muscle. My face went hot, and I snapped my head away. After I put the slippers on, Rhys gentlemanly ushered me inside. “So, can I stroke it now?” I asked, eager for the cat. “Has it gotten a lot bigger?” 13 Rhys’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He cleared his throat. “Y-yes,” he managed. I was impatient. “Where should I stroke it?” “You… where do you want to? Anywhere is fine.” “The living room couch, then.” I went straight to the point, plopping down and rubbing my hands together excitedly. “Bring Figaro out!” Rhys lightly coughed, the tips of his ears flushed red. He looked incredibly serious. “It’s not small,” he said solemnly. What did that mean? Was he bragging about how well he’d fed Figaro? As I wondered, Rhys very deliberately reached for a remote and closed all the living room blinds. ?? Then, he turned on a dim, amber-colored mood lamp. ??? I didn’t understand, but I respected the man’s eccentricities. The entire space was bathed in a hazy, slightly ambiguous light. He walked over to the sofa. Taking a deep breath, as if making a monumental decision, he sat down next to me. The bottom of his robe had slipped open slightly as he spread his legs. He leaned back against the cushions and lifted an arm to cover his eyes. He looked like a portrait of submission. His damp, dark hair, the half-open robe—in the dim light, he appeared both incredibly restrained and deeply ready to let go. I was stunned. This was what he meant by “traditional”? After a moment, he didn’t feel any movement, so he lowered the arm covering his eyes and looked at me, his expression wet with a kind of resigned vulnerability. “You… you don’t want to start?” I was just as antsy. “You have to bring Figaro out! If you don’t, how can I start?” The air froze.

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I took my coworkers out for drinks, only to realize I didn’t have enough money to cover the tab. Desperate, I walked up to the hottest guy in the VIP booth. “Hey, can you pay this for me? I’ll Venmo you later.” The guy tried to play it cool. “Miss, do we know each other?” I snatched the drink right out of his hand. “We don’t. But ask your bodyguard how many times he’s called me for a favor.” “I’ve saved your ass enough times. Can’t you return the favor once?” The man looked confused, but his bodyguard immediately covered his face with his hand. “Boss… it’s true. Every time you get blackout drunk, you attack anyone who comes near you. Except her.” “I’ve called her multiple times to beg her to take you home.” 1 The group of guys sitting around him perked up, looking at me like I was a unicorn. “Wait, for real? When Lu gets wasted, he’s like a rabid dog. No one can touch him.” “Yeah, I tried to help him to his room once and he nearly snapped my arm in half.” “Same. They say Lu is possessed by demons when he drinks. I didn’t believe it, tried to out-drink him, and ended up in the hospital for two months with multiple fractures.” “The doctor said it’s hyper-defensive instinct. He trusts no one when his inhibitions are down, so he attacks on sight. What makes this girl so special?” “I don’t buy it. Unless she proves it right now.” I raised an eyebrow and pulled out my phone, flashing my QR code. “Sure. Transfer me five hundred bucks first, and I’ll give you a show.” Someone actually whipped out their phone and sent me the money. Ding. Payment received. I pointed to the bar. “I’m gonna go pay my tab. Get him wasted, then come find me.” The whole booth started cheering and jeering. Only the man in the center, Luke Vance, narrowed his eyes at me dangerously. I wasn’t scared. I’ve seen him hugging a toilet bowl. I have photos. Heh. Look at him now, sitting there like a king in his VIP booth, all elegant and refined. A total fraud. I’d already seen him at his worst. I paid the bill and sent my coworkers home. Then I walked back to the booth. Hey, I took the five hundred, I had to deliver the show. Luke’s friends were trying their hardest to pour drinks down his throat. But Luke wasn’t having it. He grabbed my wrist, dragged me out of the club, and shoved me into his Maybach. Slam. The door shut so hard the car shook. Like a shaken soda bottle finally popping its cap. I rubbed my nose. “Hey, it’s not my fault you only trust me when you’re drunk. It’s annoying for me too, you know?” 2 It all started six months ago. I was leaving work late when I saw a guy sprawled out in the middle of the street, using a Citi Bike as a blanket. It was hilarious. Being terminally online, I had to take a video. But when I got closer… damn, what a face. Too bad he was wasted. Reeking of alcohol. He was muttering about being thirsty. I took out my water bottle and poured him a cup. He was surprisingly obedient, gulping it down. I tried to wake him up. “Hey, you can’t sleep on the street.” “Where’s your phone? I’ll call your friends.” He ignored me, snoozing away on the asphalt. I had no choice but to pat him down. Found his legs were incredibly long. Like, model long. I found his phone, unlocked it with Face ID (easy when they’re asleep), and FaceTime-d the first contact on his list. I pointed the camera at his face. “Hello? This phone’s owner is sleeping on the street. If you’re his friend, come get him.” The guy on the other end didn’t even ask for a location. He just screamed, “BACK AWAY FROM HIM! FIVE FEET! NOW!” I thought he was worried I was going to rob the hot guy. I scoffed. “Relax, I’m not interested in drunks.” “I’m sending you the location. Hurry up.” The guy yelled again, “Do not ignore me! Unless you want to die!” Psycho. I hung up. Then I sat on the curb to guard the guy. He decided my thigh was a better pillow than the bike. He slept like a baby under the moonlight. Ten minutes later, the friend arrived and looked at us like he was seeing a ghost. I swore, “Look, I didn’t touch him inappropriately.” As soon as I spoke, the guy shifted. He wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his face in my stomach, treating me like a body pillow. I couldn’t pry him off. I pulled his ear. “Hey! Wake up! Your friend is here. Let go!” He didn’t budge. I looked at the friend. “Help me out here. I can’t move his arms.” The friend stood five feet away, refusing to move. I was pissed. “Why are you just standing there?” He said, “I don’t want to die.” Me: “…” What? 3 The guy explained he wasn’t a friend, but a bodyguard. He pulled his car up, parking exactly five feet away. “You have to get him into the car.” “Are you sick? He’s your boss, not mine! I called you out of the goodness of my heart, and now I have to do the heavy lifting?” The bodyguard refused to help. He stood there with his arms crossed. I was furious. I took it out on the drunk guy, dragging him like a sack of potatoes. The bodyguard, probably afraid I’d damage the merchandise, finally stepped forward to help. Suddenly, the man who was dead to the world sprang up. Faster than I could blink, he pulled a Swiss Army knife from his belt. He shoved me behind him and slashed at the bodyguard in one fluid motion. The speed. The aggression. If the bodyguard hadn’t dodged, there would have been blood. I stared, jaw on the floor. What the hell? The bodyguard was back at the five-foot mark, smiling awkwardly. “See? That’s why I didn’t help.” “When the Boss is drunk, no one can get close. His defense mechanism is extreme.” I touched my neck instinctively. Okay, I’m out. But the drunk guy just put the knife away and rested his heavy head on my shoulder, falling back asleep. Me: “…” The bodyguard was baffled. “You are the only person I’ve ever seen get close to him when he’s like this.” Are you blind? He’s leaning on ME! I wanted to cry. “So what do we do?” “You have to put him in the car and drive him home. Can you drive?” “Ideally, yes. In practice… maybe?” “Please.” “Are you guys pranking me? Why only me? What about his parents?” “His parents died a long time ago. He only has a grandfather, and even he can’t get close.” This was insane. I had to use every ounce of strength to wrestle a 6’2″ man into a car and then drive him home. Afterward, the bodyguard added me on WeChat, saying he might need me again. “Get lost! Never again!” He transferred me five thousand dollars. I immediately typed back: “My pleasure! Call me anytime! But this is the rate every time.” 4 Two weeks later, late at night, the bodyguard sent me five thousand. [Miss Lin, emergency. Please come. Location sent.] I followed the GPS to the most exclusive club in the city. I opened the door to the VIP room and saw several powerful looking men knocked out cold on the floor. Paramedics arrived and wheeled them all out. The only one left was Luke Vance, holding his Swiss Army knife, backed into a corner, eyes bloodshot and scanning the room for threats. Honestly, he looked like a demon ready to kill. I didn’t dare approach him. My legs were shaking. I tried to return the money. “Nope. Can’t do it.” The bodyguard immediately sent another fifty thousand. “Understood. Danger pay. Is this enough?” “…” I didn’t mean that. But fifty grand! I’m just a corporate slave. I cannot say no to fifty grand. So, I walked up to him. Gently patted his shoulder. “Hey, don’t kill me. Put the knife down.” I really didn’t expect him to listen. He looked at me with blurry eyes for a long moment, then folded the knife away. Then he swayed and collapsed right into my arms. Oof! He was heavy. I lost my balance and we both went down. Luckily, right before we hit the floor, he twisted his body and became a human cushion. I landed softly on top of him.

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