Category: English

Three months into our relationship, Rick took me to meet his friends. A few of them scanned me from head to toe with predatory grins. The only other woman there, sitting in the center of the group, offered her critique. “Damn, Rick. This one’s got a better body than any of the others.” “Yeah, but the makeup on her face is so thick you could use it for shoe insoles.” Rick tossed his jacket at her. “Knock it off. Stop talking crap. Stella’s a good girl, a virgin. Don’t you go corrupting her.” “Rick’s living the dream, man. Only the best, only the fresh, am I right? Hahaha.” The woman, Jenna, let out a dramatic sigh. “Wow, so protective. I’m starting to feel a little threatened!” Rick just laughed and turned to me. “Don’t mind her. Jenna’s just blunt, but she’s got a heart of gold. She’s the glue that holds our whole crew together.” In the dim light of the bar’s private lounge, I smiled innocently, my eyes shimmering with an excitement they couldn’t see. A “pick-me” girl who thrives on being the only woman in a pack of guys? Let’s see how long they keep worshipping her when a walking, talking ATM machine shows up. … The guys kept teasing Rick, and I just stood there, wearing a perfectly calibrated smile. Jenna tossed the jacket back at him. “You wore the wrong coat last night, and you’re giving it back to me without even washing it?” One of the guys, always eager to stir the pot, chimed in. “Rick, looks like you’ve found yourself a princess. If you ask me, a man needs a woman who knows her place.” “She should be washing your clothes by hand, cooking fresh meals every night, and maybe even buying her man a little gift every month. Gotta test them out for a few years before you even think about marrying them!” Jenna nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! And back when I was helping you survive in that basement apartment, you used to mix up our laundry all the time. Now that you’ve got a girlfriend, you better keep your distance!” A flush crept up Rick’s neck. He laughed it off. “Don’t talk nonsense.” Another guy, Kyle, leaned close to Jenna’s ear. “The new girl seems pretty clueless. You think she even gets what we’re talking about?” They were close, but they weren’t whispering. The whole group chuckled. Rick finally remembered me, the forgotten accessory, and pulled me toward the center of the sofa. “Everyone, this is my girlfriend, Stella. And none of you are allowed to mess with her.” The second I sat down, someone shoved a drink into my hand. “Welcome, Stella. To hang with us, you gotta be able to drink. No backing out.” Rick took the glass from me. “Stella’s allergic to alcohol. I’ll drink for her.” Jenna’s face instantly hardened. “Rick,” she said, her voice cold, “we’ve been friends for years. You haven’t forgotten the rules, have you?” “Who was it that promised any girl he got serious with would have to be able to drink?” “Are you really going to throw away our friendship for her?” Rick swallowed the liquor in his mouth and tried to placate her. “I chased Stella for six months. We’re finally together, and we’re going to get married. Don’t cause trouble.” A chorus of whoops and hollers filled the room. “So that’s why you’ve been MIA! Rick’s actually serious this time!” “Oh, so it’s not a girlfriend, it’s a wife!” “Damn, man, I thought Jenna was a catch, but you outdid yourself. Found a real beauty!” Jenna’s hand paused, her wine glass halfway to her lips. She playfully punched the guy who said it. “I don’t need to plaster my face with makeup like some other girls,” she muttered, but the look she shot me was pure venom. Rick was starting to get annoyed. He whispered to me, “Stella, you want to go see a movie instead?” I feigned surprise. “Why? We just got here.” My voice was soft, but loud enough for everyone to hear. Kyle clicked his tongue. “Trying to run away already? You used to do whatever Jenna said. What happened…” “That’s enough.” Rick’s face was grim, cutting him off. The mood soured instantly, and for a moment, only the bar’s music filled the silence. The friends exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes eventually settling on Jenna, waiting for her next move. She poured two more drinks, one for herself, one for Rick. “Rick, since you’re ignoring the rules, I’ve got nothing more to say. Drink this with me, and we’ll go our separate ways.” Rick clearly hadn’t expected that. He hesitated, then turned to me. “Stella, maybe just have one? If you really feel sick, I’ll take you to the hospital.” I gave him a wounded smile. “It’s fine, Rick. It’s a nice gesture from your friends.” The foul stench of the cheap liquor made me want to gag. Rick looked conflicted but didn’t stop me. Jenna downed her glass in one go. “Come on, sweetheart. If you don’t drink it, Rick might just have to break up with you.” “Right, Rick?” He avoided my eyes. I held the glass for a moment, then set it back down on the table. A triumphant smirk spread across Jenna’s face. Before she could speak, I said softly, “I really don’t want to drink. But I’ll accept a punishment. Truth or dare, anything.” Finn, the group’s self-appointed hype man, scoffed. “We play that stuff between us, but you’re an outsider. You think you can just join in?” “How about this? You don’t want to drink, you pay. Five hundred bucks a glass. How about that?” Jenna gave him an approving smile, clearly backing the idea. The others stirred, eager to watch me squirm. Under their collective gaze, I slowly nodded. “Okay. I’ll Venmo you.” Seeing I was serious, Finn hesitantly pulled out his phone and opened the app. A second later, a loud cha-ching notification echoed from his phone. “Venmo payment received: fifty thousand dollars.” Finn froze, staring at his screen as if it were an alien artifact. “That should cover about a hundred glasses, right? I can send the next round’s payment now if you want.” I picked up my phone, my own bank balance flashing for a split second, a number with too many digits to count. Finn’s eyes were practically bulging out of his head. He rushed to stop me, his voice suddenly syrupy sweet. “No, no, that’s plenty! I didn’t realize you were… I was just kidding, Miss! Please, don’t be mad.” The rest of the group dropped their act. They scrambled, clawing at Finn’s phone. “You think you can handle a hundred drinks with her? Share the wealth!” “I’ll drink with her! Don’t be greedy!” “We’re Rick’s friends too! That money belongs to all of us!” Rick pulled me into his arms. “Hey, be careful! You bump into my wife, and you’ll have my billionaire father-in-law to answer to!” “It’s just fifty grand. You guys are pathetic.” The friends who were fighting over the phone froze, their eyes meeting mid-air. Fifty grand, which Rick now dismissed as pocket change. And that last part… “billionaire father-in-law.” It hit them like a lightning bolt. They weren’t just hanging out with a rich girl; they had struck gold. The richest family in the city was the Sterling family. Which meant I must be… “Stella, my name is Finn. You can just call me Finn.” “I’m Mike…” They all started introducing themselves, the earlier arrogance completely gone. Even Kyle, Jenna’s loyal lapdog, looked tempted until she shot him a death glare. “Stella, if you’re going to act like this, you can just get out. We don’t…” “Alright, Jenna, that’s enough. Stella just got here, why are you targeting her?” “Yeah, nobody said paying wasn’t an option. If you don’t like it, you can pay too.” Jenna was cut off by a chorus of dissent. Her face went pale, then red, and she stomped her foot in frustration. “Don’t be mad,” Rick said, patting her head. “We came out to have fun. You’re making a scene.” “Even you think I’m making a scene?!” Jenna’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. She started downing glass after glass of wine. Before Rick could intervene, I took the bottle from her. “Jenna, we’re both women. I’ve heard drinking too much can cause birth defects. Even if you’re not thinking about yourself, you should think about your future husband.” Jenna’s hand, which had been reaching for the bottle, froze and retreated. “But you did have a drink for me earlier,” I added sweetly. “I’ll pay the five hundred for that.” Jenna’s first instinct was that I was humiliating her. Before she could snap back, Kyle jumped in. “Stella, you can just send it to me. I’ll hold it for Jenna.” I nodded. “Of course.” Another fifty-thousand-dollar notification sound, and the room erupted. I spoke calmly over the noise. “And please, give the rest of that money to Jenna. She should use it to get a full medical check-up at the hospital.” Kyle, blinded by the money, had completely forgotten his allegiance to Jenna. He sidled up to me, his voice dripping with sycophancy. “Stella, what can I get you to drink? I’ll go buy it!” “Get lost!” Rick shoved him away. “Back off.” The party was a success for everyone except Jenna. Before we left, I put a hundred grand on a tab at the bar, telling them to use my card whenever they came to hang out. After the party, Finn added me to their group chat. I knew they had accepted me. But as I looked at the group chat’s name—Jenna’s Wolf Pack—I knew it would take something much stronger to break them apart for good. Later that night, Rick saw I was still on my phone and grumbled. “Stella, is your family really that strict? We can’t… until we’re married?” The last few words were muffled as he buried his face in the pillows. I looked down, my expression pained. “I’m sorry, Rick. I know it’s hard for you…” Seeing my guilt, Rick softened. “Didn’t you say you wanted a new car a few days ago? I’ll have the dealership deliver it to your door tomorrow.” Rick’s jaw dropped, his lips trembling with excitement. “Are you serious?” I nodded. “Of course. When have I ever lied to you?” He gave me an ecstatic kiss and pulled me into his arms. As his breathing evened out into sleep, I slipped out of his grasp. In the bathroom, I scrubbed one side of my face until it was raw and red. Staring at my trembling right arm, covered in a network of old scars, my nose stung and tears began to fall. Soon. It’s almost time. I will make these monsters pay for what they did. I unlocked my phone and sent a friend request to Jenna. She accepted instantly. Her first message came through: Rick sent you to apologize to me? I smiled and sent the message I had prepared. As expected, I was immediately deleted and blocked. I looked at the chat log with satisfaction. People like Jenna were so predictable. The next day, when Rick pulled up in a brand-new sports car, his friends went wild. Basking in their admiration, he announced, “It’s a gift from Stella. Haven’t even had a chance to really open it up yet!” Jenna, ignored again, snapped, “You all promised you’d go shopping with me today. Are we still going or not?” They all muttered agreements, but their eyes were glued to the car. Seeing their envy, I made a suggestion. “If you guys like it so much, we could take it to a racetrack.” Finn was the first to agree. “Hell yeah! I’ve never driven a car like this!” But someone else hesitated. “What if we crash? That would cost a fortune to repair.” I smiled. “Then we’ll just rent out the entire track.”

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I was at Landon’s parents’ house for dinner. His mother, all graciousness and pearls, was serving him soup. “I’ve done a preliminary seating chart for the engagement party next month. Do you see anything you want to adjust?” My hand, poised to lift a piece of chicken, froze. Landon took the phone and answered dismissively. “Mom, whatever you think is best.” The dining room quieted for a beat. His mother laughed, trying to smooth over the awkwardness. “Calla, honey, why are you being shy? We’ve reached this point now.” Landon finally looked up. “Mom, engagement is on the table, yes, but the bride isn’t Calla. “Delilah is coming home soon. We’re going to start over.” My spoon clattered into the soup bowl, and a splash of hot liquid scalded the back of my hand. Landon’s mother rushed over, dabbing my skin with a napkin. “Oh dear, Calla! This… Landon, what kind of joke is this?” Landon put down his chopsticks. “It’s not a joke. Calla knows. We had an agreement from the beginning—when Delilah came back, we’d end it.” I slowly pulled my hand away. The red burn was already starting to sting. “That’s right,” I said. “We did.” His mother’s eyes were tearing up. “But your past few years…” Landon answered for me. “It was transactional, Mom. We both got what we needed. Don’t overthink it.” I nodded, lowered my head, and took a sip of the soup. It was rich and savory, but my throat was tight, making it hard to swallow. It felt like all the swallowed years of hurt and silent humiliation, finally, it wouldn’t go down. 1 Landon lit a cigarette once we were in the car. The window was half-down, and the early autumn wind whipped inside, making my eyes water. “Are you upset?” he asked. “No. Just surprised it’s happening so fast.” He exhaled a plume of smoke. “Delilah’s flight is next Wednesday. We need to clear things out before then. I have a few things at your apartment; I’ll swing by tomorrow to get them.” “Okay.” “The things you left at my place, I’ll have them boxed up and sent to you.” “Okay.” He was quiet for a moment. “Calla, don’t be like this.” “How should I be?” I finally turned to face him. “Should I cry? Should I demand an explanation? Or should I ask you, like I did before, why you always choose her over me?” Landon crushed out the cigarette. “We had an agreement, Calla. From the jump.” He repeated the phrase, as if trying to convince himself. “You remember, don’t you? The day Delilah left for Europe, you came to me. I was clear: when she comes back, we stop.” I remembered. I remembered it all too well. I had thought I would be satisfied. But the human heart is a greedy thing. Five years of silent longing had made me foolishly hopeful. What if? “I didn’t forget,” I said flatly. Landon’s jaw tightened. “Do you have to use that tone?” “What tone should I use?” I laughed. “Should I thank you for letting me be Delilah’s stand-in for three years? Or thank you for finally proving that I can never win against a ghost who’s been three thousand miles away?” The car pulled up outside my apartment building. Landon didn’t unbuckle his seatbelt. He looked at me. “I won’t take the apartment back; you can stay as long as you need. I’ve also wired a substantial amount of money to your account. It’s for your time, your…” “Severance package?” I finished for him. He didn’t deny it. I nodded and pushed the door open. The night air was cool. I hugged my arms as I walked toward the building, hearing him call out behind me. “Calla!” I looked back. He was sitting in the car, his face flickering in the streetlamp’s harsh light. “We can still be friends,” he said. I smiled. “Landon. The one thing I’d never stoop to is being your damn friend.” 2 The beginning of my story with Landon wasn’t something I was proud of. I was his girlfriend, Delilah’s, best friend. And I’d been secretly in love with him for five long years. I confessed my teenage crush to Delilah. A month later, she brought Landon to me, introducing him with a dazzling, innocent smile. He was her boyfriend. The day Delilah left for her graduate program overseas, I went to the airport to see her off. She hugged me, crying. “Calla, keep an eye on Landon for me. Don’t let any other girls get close to him.” I promised I would. Then, I watched her walk through security, turned around, and went straight to Landon. He was wasted that day, sobbing on my living room sofa like a puppy that had been abandoned. I knelt in front of him, my fingers brushing away his tears. “Landon. She doesn’t want you right now. But I do.” He opened his bloodshot eyes. Then he kissed me. It was savage, laced with liquor and a desperate, bitter edge—a raw act of vengeance against a phantom. When he woke up the next morning, he looked at the bloodstain on the sheets and was silent for a long time. “Calla. I don’t love you.” I said I knew. “When Delilah comes back, we stop.” I said okay. You see, I knew it was a losing bet from the first moment. But I played anyway. I bet that three years would be long enough for one person to get used to another’s presence. I bet I could win against a shadow a continent away. Clearly, I lost. I lost everything. 3 The day Landon came to collect his things, Delilah was already back in Boston. When I opened the door, she was standing there, effortlessly radiant, her arm looped through his. “Calla, long time no see.” It had been three years. She hadn’t changed at all—still bright, outgoing, like a sunflower perpetually facing the sun. And I was already forgetting what it felt like to stand in the light. “Come in,” I said, stepping aside. Landon didn’t look at me, walking straight to the bedroom. Delilah followed, surveying my apartment. “The décor is different. Didn’t you use to like warmer colors?” “People change,” I said. Landon emerged from the bedroom, holding a bag containing his clothes. Delilah went to him and, very naturally, took the bag and looked inside, pulling out a man’s shirt. “This doesn’t look like yours, hon,” she said, looking at Landon. Landon took it, looked, and then turned to me. “Why is your shirt in my bag?” My chest ached, but I forced a casual shrug. “Must have gotten mixed in when I did your laundry.” Delilah smiled sweetly. “Be more careful next time, Calla. Landon is very particular about his clothes.” She tossed the shirt back into the bag, as if it were something dirty. Then she seemed to remember something else. “Oh, Calla. Landon and I are having our engagement party next month. You should come, shouldn’t she, Landon? You’re our best friend, after all.” Landon frowned. “Delilah.” “What?” Delilah blinked innocently. “Calla wouldn’t mind, right?” I looked at Landon. He was looking away. “I’ll see. Work might be busy.” “Where are you working again? That little ad agency?” Delilah asked. “Still there,” I said. She gave me a look of pity. “Still? After all this time? Should I have Landon introduce you? He needs people at his company.” “No, thank you. I’m doing fine.” Landon finally spoke. “If you ever need anything, Calla, just let me know.” “I won’t,” I answered quickly. He glanced at me, his eyes unreadable. But Delilah was already tugging his hand. “Let’s go. Our parents are waiting for us for dinner.” They left. The moment the door shut, I slid down the wall, collapsing onto the floor. My knees hit the hardwood with a dull thud. But I didn’t feel the pain. The emptiness where my heart used to be hurt far more. 4 I didn’t go to the engagement party. But I received the invitation. Landon and Delilah’s names were printed side-by-side in embossed gold lettering, searing my eyes. That day, I worked late and bought a bottle of expensive bourbon on the way home. I drank alone in the silent apartment. Halfway through the bottle, my phone rang. It was Landon. I answered but didn’t speak. His voice was slurred. “Calla. Why didn’t you come?” “Didn’t want to. Do you need anything else? I’m tired.” He was silent for a moment. “I’m downstairs.” I walked to the window. The familiar luxury sedan was indeed parked on the street. He was leaning against the car door, holding his phone, looking up toward my window. The groom-to-be, in his tuxedo, was outside his ex-lover’s apartment. How utterly pathetic. “Come down. We need to talk.” “Talk about what?” I asked. “How the groom-to-be drank too much at his own party and suddenly remembered he had a spare woman he used for three years?” He inhaled sharply. “Calla, stop it.” I laughed, a harsh, dry sound. “How else should I be? Landon, you should be holding your fiancée right now, not harassing me.” “I don’t want to get engaged,” he suddenly said. I froze. “What?” “I don’t want to get engaged,” he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. “But I can’t—Delilah, her family… they’ve helped me so much. The company needs their resources right now…” I cut him off. “So you’re calling to tell me how conflicted you are? How much of a victim you are?” “I just…” He paused. “I feel awful about what I did to you.” That sentence was the final straw. I snapped. I screamed into the phone. “Landon! You feel awful now? For three years, you used me as her replacement, you called me her name, you even asked me, in bed, why I couldn’t be more like her—and now you feel awful?” “I…” I was crying, choking on my breath. “Do you know what the worst part is? The worst part is that I knew you didn’t love me, I knew you were just using me to fill a void, but I was so damn pathetic I loved you anyway!” “Calla…” “Get out!” I shrieked. “Go back to your engagement party! Go back to Delilah! I hope I never have to see you again!” I hung up and turned off my phone. Then I sank to the floor, shaking uncontrollably. Five years of longing, three years of sacrifice. Eight years of my life, exchanged for his pathetic “I feel awful” and someone else’s gold-embossed wedding invitation. 5 I took a sick day. My eyes were too swollen to face anyone, so I just slept. In the evening, the doorbell rang. I assumed it was a delivery, but when I opened the door, it was Delilah. She was holding a sleek gift box, smiling brightly. “You missed the party yesterday. This is your gift box.” I didn’t take it. “Is there something else you need?” She pushed past me, stepping inside and looking around. “Aren’t you going to invite me to sit down?” I stood in the doorway. “Thanks for the gift. You can go now.” “What’s the rush?” She sat on the sofa and opened the box. “Want to try one? This brand of dark chocolate—Landon picked it specifically. He said you liked dark chocolate.” I stared at her. The smugness of the victor was unconcealed on her face. “Delilah. Just tell me what you came here to gloat about.” She smiled. “Calla, you’re always so direct.” She stood up and walked toward me. “Fine, I’ll be direct. Thank you for looking after Landon for me all these years. “He’s a little boy, really. Needs to be coddled. It must have been hard for you while I was gone. “But I’m back now, so you don’t have to worry about it anymore.” “Oh, and one more thing,” she added, her smile fading slightly. “Landon came looking for you last night, didn’t he?” I stayed silent. “He was drunk and talking nonsense. Don’t take it to heart. We’re getting married. We can still be friends, right?” I looked at the hand she extended. Her nails were manicured and painted a pale pink lacquer. Exactly the color Landon loved. “No,” I said. Her face stiffened. “Delilah, not everything in this world can be fixed with ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘Let’s still be friends.’ “You took the person I loved most, and now you want me to smile and wish you well? Why should I?” “Took him?” She raised an eyebrow. “Calla, Landon was always mine. You just took advantage of my absence.” I nodded. “You’re right. I deserved this.” I met her eyes. “But don’t get too comfortable. A man who can sleep with another woman for three years behind your back—do you really think he loves you all that much?” Delilah’s face finally fell completely. “At least he’s marrying me,” she said, each word deliberate. “Calla, you’ll always be the understudy.” She left. The moment the door closed, I leaned against the wall and laughed. I laughed, and then the tears started again. She was right. The understudy. For three years, I had lived a joke. 6 I couldn’t sleep. Nights turned into blank, agonizing stretches. The moment I closed my eyes, Landon’s face was there. Sometimes the boy on the basketball court who smiled at me for the first time. Sometimes the man who cried in my arms when he was drunk. Sometimes the cold Landon who said, “When Delilah comes back, we stop.” They rotated, tearing my fragile peace to shreds. I went to a doctor. The diagnosis was mild depression. Recommended rest, recommended moving away from the source of stress. I laughed. Source of stress? Landon was the stress. But the city of Boston was huge, and everywhere I looked, there were traces of him. The restaurants we frequented, the stores we browsed, even the corner bodega had a memory attached to it. I decided to leave. When I submitted my resignation, my boss was surprised. “Calla, you’re doing great work. Why leave now?” “Need a change of scenery,” I said. He probed. “Did you find a better offer? We can discuss salary.” I shook my head. It wasn’t about the money. It was about survival. If I stayed, I was afraid I would genuinely break. The day I packed up my desk, a quiet colleague I rarely spoke to slipped me a small piece of paper with a phone number on it. “My friend runs a counseling center,” she whispered. “Call if you need to.” I clutched the paper, my nose stinging with emotion. Even a near-stranger could see I was falling apart. And Landon, who slept next to me for three years, never noticed when I was unhappy, when I was crying. Because he never cared. Those who don’t care, don’t look closely. 7 The day before I left Boston, I went to the bank. I wired the substantial sum Landon had deposited, every penny, back to his account. The note attached to the transfer was just one word: Settled. Then I deleted every form of contact I had for him. Phone, texts, email, social media. When I got to the last app, my finger hovered over the confirmation button. I didn’t press it. I told myself to leave one open. Just one window, so I could look in and see how spectacularly happy he was. See how the life I’d desperately dreamed of was so easily acquired by another person. It was pathetic. But humans are like that: the thing that hurts us the most, we need to stare at. As if watching the poison work will eventually make us immune. That evening, I got an unknown call. I answered. It was Landon.

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I was checking into my sister’s emergency room for an allergic reaction when I ran straight into the resident who was hopelessly obsessed with her. The kid overheard the kind of “intimate” conversation only siblings have, and then saw my sister, in a classic move, habitually punch my shoulder. He went from jealous to frantic in about three seconds. He saw me as his ultimate nemesis, his eyes burning with pure, protective fury. I just stared, dumbfounded, ready to open my mouth and say, We’re siblings, you idiot. But before I could, he screamed, batting my sister’s hand away: “Dr. Pierce, break up with him! Don’t let this sick man fool you! That’s not an allergy!” “He’s got… lesions all over his rear!” “That’s a textbook sign of Secondary Syphilis! He has an STD!” 01 The entire emergency room fell into a deathly silence. Every single pair of eyes swiveled, swoosh, to focus on my exposed upper back and… my jeans, which I’d only managed to pull halfway back up after the initial assessment. My head went THWACK. All the blood drained from my face and rushed straight to my skull. “What the hell are you talking about?!” I was the first one to snap out of it, shaking with cold, pure rage. I whirled on him. Elijah Grant. The name was stitched on his scrubs. My vision was tunneling. “What is your name? What is your employee number? Do you have any idea you are leveling a felony accusation right now?!” My fury scared him; Eli flinched, and a fat tear plop-ped onto his chest. But he didn’t back down. He looked past me at my sister, Adriana Pierce, who was frozen in place. The look in his eyes was a bizarre mix of righteous indignation, agonizing heartbreak, and some kind of savior complex I couldn’t comprehend. “Dr. Pierce! I am not making this up! I’ve studied medicine for five years, I know what I saw!” He sobbed harder, pointing a finger at me. “I just don’t want to watch you be manipulated by a man like this! He has such a disgusting private life—he doesn’t deserve you! Look at him—he’s still trying to lie his way out of it!” Adriana’s expression was a perfect portrait of Who am I? Where am I? I yanked my jeans up instantly, ignoring the sharp, friction-induced pain on my irritated skin. I stood up straight, towering over Eli, and stared him down. “Say it again,” I ground out through clenched teeth. “The disease I have. What is it?” “I—” Eli stammered, intimidated by my gaze. But one glance at Addy standing beside me, and his courage flared up again. He puffed out his chest. “Don’t you know what you’ve been doing?!” “Fine,” I said, and the ridiculousness of the situation made me laugh—a cold, humorless sound. “You know what? Fine.” I stopped wasting time. I pulled out my phone and, right in front of him, started dialing. “Hello, 911? I need to report defamation. There’s a man at Metropolitan General who is publicly lying and slandering me, violating my civil rights…” “Hey! Hey! Mr. Pierce! Mr. Pierce, calm down!” Dr. Evelyn Shaw, the Chief of Emergency Medicine, rushed in, having clearly heard the commotion. She took one look at the scene—me shaking with rage, my sister’s face like granite—and she looked ready to faint. “Dr. Pierce, what… what in God’s name is happening here?” Adriana’s voice was dangerously flat. “Dr. Shaw, this doctor here just told the entire waiting room that my ‘dear one’ has Secondary Syphilis.” Dr. Shaw’s face went white. She spun on Eli, practically chewing him out in a whispered snarl. “Eli! Are you insane?! You’re giving a definitive diagnosis based on sight?! Are you a damned X-Ray machine?!” “I… I…” Eli’s tears flowed faster. He looked desperately at Addy. “Dr. Pierce, I was only trying to protect you! I—” “Shut up!” Dr. Shaw rubbed her temples. She knew Addy held administrative weight, and if this blew up, the entire ER department would face the fallout. “You will apologize to Mr. Pierce and Dr. Pierce immediately! Do you want to lose your residency spot before you even start?!” The words “residency spot” hit Eli like a physical blow. He shuddered, biting his lower lip, his face etched with humiliation and resentment. He gave me the most grudging, shallow bow imaginable. “I… I’m sorry.” His voice was a mosquito’s hum, but the murderous venom in his eyes was strong enough to peel paint off the wall. “I don’t want your apology,” I cut him off, my gaze sharp as glass as it swept over both him and Dr. Shaw. “Right now, in your hospital, I’m getting a full panel STD screening.” I paused, speaking each word slowly and distinctly. “If the results show I’m clean, I won’t just sue you, Eli Grant, for slander. I’ll sue this hospital for gross mismanagement and allowing an intern to disseminate false, life-altering medical information!” Dr. Shaw’s face was slick with a cold sweat. “Mr. Pierce, please, let’s calm down,” she quickly put on a professional smile. “This is a terrible misunderstanding! Eli, you are suspended immediately. You will write a ten-thousand-word apology. And this will be reported across the hospital.” I didn’t wait for the ensuing drama. I turned and walked away. Addy immediately followed, helping me re-register and get my blood drawn. I was exhausted. I was the one who jammed the needle in, who drew the sample, who filled out the paperwork. After fighting the hospital system for half the night, I dragged my inflamed body and my boiling rage back home, took the medicine, and fell into a heavy, feverish sleep. I slept for exactly as long as the internet was cancelling me. When I finally woke up, it was to the frantic, repeated ringing of my phone. Addy. “Hello…” My voice was a shredded whisper. “Cam, my god! You finally picked up! Check TikTok! It’s insane!” A cold dread clenched my gut. I opened the app. The barrage of DMs and comments (999+) instantly turned my phone into a slideshow. A local trending video was plastered on the front page. The screen showed a young man in a collared shirt, his face contorted in sorrow and injustice. It was Eli Grant. The caption read: #DidIDoSomethingWrong? I just wanted to be a good doctor. He didn’t name me, but the background was clearly the ER hallway from last night. Between sobs, he narrated: “…I was just trying to kindly warn that young woman that her ‘boyfriend’s’ symptoms were highly suspicious. If it wasthat kind of disease, it’s highly contagious. But I never imagined her boyfriend would react so violently, threatening to sue me…” “…Now, to smooth things over, my supervisors have suspended me and ordered a full review. I studied medicine for five years, and I truly don’t know what I did wrong…” “…Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten involved, but I just couldn’t stand the thought of that poor woman being kept in the dark. I didn’t do anything wrong! I’m still the best little lamb!” That last line—“I’m still the best little lamb”—was his calculated tag. The comment section had fully detonated. 02 @HealingHearts: OMG, baby don’t cry! You did the right thing! You are so pure! @TruthSayer: Some men are just pigs, they live a dirty life and then get mad when someone calls them out. @SheepLover: That patient definitely felt guilty and panicked, that’s why he sued! Hugs to the little lamb! @LocalGossip: Wait, isn’t this Metropolitan General? I think I was there last night, that dude was furious! @JusticeForSheep: Dig up the guy’s profile! Don’t let him hurt that beautiful woman anymore! I was physically trembling with disbelief and rage. The audacity of this sanctimonious, two-faced “Sweetest Little Lamb”! He was even replying to comments, painting a vivid picture of me. @TheLittleLamb: The guy looked pale and sickly, but he had the worst temper. I don’t know how he tricked a woman like her—she’s beautiful and classy, total night-and-day difference! @TheLittleLamb: I hear the beautiful woman is an admin at the hospital, too! Such a kind soul! It’s just so unfair! My anger reached a fever pitch. I typed a furious response in the comment section: @CamPierce: I am the “patient” you are referring to. The full story is… I’d managed to type out half the story when a cold, indifferent notification box popped up: [Your account has been temporarily disabled due to multiple reports of policy violation.] My vision blurred. When I gathered my senses, I immediately contacted the platform support, only to be told it would take three business days for the review process. Three business days? The damage would be irreversible by then! Addy, on the line, was frantic. “Cam, I already talked to the Hospital CEO! They said they’ll issue a public statement immediately!” “Addy,” I took a deep breath, forcing myself into a semblance of calm. “Don’t. You are currently ‘the poor, manipulated victim.’ The more you defend me, the more they’ll see me as some ‘privileged jerk’ abusing my ‘deep connections.’” “Then what do we do? Just let him get away with this character assassination?” I hung up, staring at Eli Grant’s tear-streaked face on the screen. Something clicked. That look he gave Addy in the ER last night. It wasn’t the way an intern looks at a colleague. It was obsession. Jealousy. Resentment. He kept saying, “For your own good,” and “He doesn’t deserve you.” Why would a brand-new intern be this fiercely protective of my sister? Unless… he’d known her for a while. A crazy, chilling idea flashed through my mind. I shot upright and dialed Addy back. “Addy, I need you to do something for me. Right now. I need you to log into the hospital’s internal network forum.” “The intranet? Now? Why?” “Don’t ask. Just search for a post.” I relayed the keywords, pulling from a hazy memory. “Keywords: Dr. Pierce, Boyfriend, Not Good Enough.” Silence on the other end. Addy was in Administration; logging into the intranet took her seconds. Five minutes later, she called back, her voice a mix of shock and utter bewilderment. “Cam… how… how did you know?” She sent me a screenshot. It was a post from three months ago, buried deep in the hospital’s anonymous gossip section. Title: [Treehouse] I feel bad for Dr. Pierce. Her boyfriend seems like such a demanding jerk. Body: The (OP) is a new intern. Today in the cafeteria, I saw Dr. Pierce eating, and her ‘boyfriend’ (I assume) called her. She had to drop her lunch and run all the way to the first-floor coffee shop to get him some kind of limited-edition seasonal cold brew. Last week, I saw her carrying his shopping bag for him in the hospital garden. He was acting so entitled and condescending, but Dr. Pierce just smiled through it all. And I heard he spends money like crazy. I think she hands over most of her salary to him. Seriously, what is so great about this guy? Why is Dr. Pierce with him? I feel so bad for her! The replies were varied. @GossipQueen: OP, are you secretly crushing on Dr. Pierce? LOL. @AdminBuddy: Ha! Our Addy is the hospital’s sweetheart. She’s got a line of admirers out the door. @Rando: I’ve seen that guy. He’s handsome, but he looks like a total tool. The OP, when asked if he was crushing, replied in an excited, lengthy defense: @OP: I am NOT! I don’t know why you’d say that! I’m just looking out for Dr. Pierce! She’s too good for a man who would manipulate and use her like that! I stared at the screenshot, my hands ice-cold. Three months ago, I was at the hospital for a dental check-up. Addy bought me a coffee, and I, being a typical younger brother, complained it was the wrong flavor and made her get the special one. Last week, my mom made us pick up her annual physical results. I had just finished some retail therapy and made her carry my bags. And her salary? Her bank account was confiscated by our mother years ago because she has zero impulse control. It’s in my name. I give her a monthly allowance. I drew a long, shaky breath, my voice now like shards of ice. “Addy, check the IP address of that post.” Addy: “…It’s the Interns’ Dorm, Building A.” “Who lives in Building A?” “…Dermatology, and a few Internal Med residents.” Addy paused, and I heard the click of a mouse. “Eli Grant. He’s in Building A.” 03 I smiled. The laughter was almost hysterical; tears pricked my eyes. It wasn’t a medical mistake. It wasn’t a random incident. This was a meticulously plotted, malice-driven act of retaliation, fueled by obsession. Eli hadn’t misdiagnosed me. He had sentenced me. He wasn’t trying to cure me; he was trying to punish me. He wanted to punish me, the “bad man” who “didn’t deserve” Addy and was “manipulating” her. Okay. You want to play this out on the internet? Game on. Just then, a WhatsApp notification popped up—a contact request. The profile picture was Eli Grant’s tear-stained, self-pitying face. I accepted it. His message came immediately. Eli: Mr. Pierce? I truly didn’t expect things to go this viral online. Eli: I know I messed up, and I’m asking for your forgiveness. As a doctor, though, I still advise you to take better care of yourself. You need to stop living such a messy lifestyle. That condescending, self-righteous tone made him sound like a goddamn savior. I stared at the text, shaking my head and letting out a final, furious laugh. My instinct was to unleash a torrent of profanity, but my finger froze over the screen. What was the point? It would only fuel his ego. I deleted the long string of insults I’d typed, and calmly sent a reply. Cam: Are you at the hospital right now? Eli clearly hadn’t expected that. After a few seconds, a lone “?” came back. Seeing that question mark, a cold, predatory smirk curved my lips. I ignored him and immediately called Addy. “Addy, I need your help.” “Name it, Cam!” “Take your TikTok account live.” “Huh?” “The title: Regarding ‘The Sweetest Little Lamb’s’ Slander Campaign: The ‘Dirty Man’s’ Sister Speaks.” 04 The next morning, Addy and I walked back into Metropolitan General. Addy’s TikTok account had tens of thousands of followers from her fitness videos and hospital admin tips. The moment she went live, the title alone pulled in thousands of viewers instantly. Most of them were the people who’d followed Eli’s story last night, rushing to curse out the “scumbag” and the “poor, manipulated girlfriend.” @ToxicTruth: Ugh, this dude actually came back to the hospital? @GossipGirl: She must be crazy! That gorgeous, classy woman with a guy who has Secondary Syphilis? @JudgeJudy: City folks playin’ too rough! I ignored the comments and walked straight into the ER lobby. Eli was still there. He wasn’t in scrubs, but in casual clothes, chatting and laughing with another nurse—no signs of a man facing a serious suspension. He saw me and froze. Then, he gave me a slight, dismissive sneer. But when his gaze darted past me to Addy, who was holding her phone up and live-streaming, the color drained completely from his face. The next second, his whole demeanor flipped. He rushed toward us, bowing deeply over and over again. “Dr. Pierce! Mr. Pierce! I am so sorry, truly!” “I never meant for the internet to react so intensely… I shouldn’t have revealed your medical condition, I was just so worried you might infect someone else…” He kept the weeping act up, subtly glancing at Addy, putting on a performance of sincere remorse. The live chat instantly exploded. @AHA! Did you hear that! He admitted it was a ‘medical condition,’ not an ‘allergy’!’ @PIG! I’m sick to my stomach! This guy brings his ‘girlfriend’ here to intimidate the poor doctor? I contained my volcanic fury and cut through his performance with a cold voice. “Medical condition? Fine.” I held up a manila folder. “My initial lab results from last night are in here.” Eli’s sobbing instantly stopped. “But I’m afraid you and the internet will say we’re ‘abusing power,’ forcing the hospital to alter the report.” I turned to the camera, sweeping my gaze over the crowd of onlookers. “So, right now, in front of everyone watching this stream, I’m registering again, drawing blood again, and doing a full, new panel.” “Not only that,” I said, turning to Addy. She understood immediately. She pulled out her work phone and dialed. “Hello, Public Notary’s Office? I need expedited, on-site document witnessing services…” “This…” Eli’s face had completely melted. Just then, Dr. Shaw rushed over, her face furious. “This is chaos! This is a hospital, not a goddamn television studio!” She was clearly trying to shut it down. Addy walked up to her, silent, and whispered a few words in her ear. I caught the words “CEO,” “Intranet Forum,” and “Malicious Slander.” Dr. Shaw’s face changed in an instant, from white to green to absolute black. She glared at Eli, then spat out three words through gritted teeth. “Let him test!” I took Addy’s phone, registered, and paid the fees. I ignored the vitriol in the chat. Blood draw, urine sample, other tests… The Notary officials arrived quickly, setting up their cameras to record the entire chain of custody. I remained perfectly calm throughout the process. Eli tried to slip away a couple of times, but Addy, standing like a stone statue at the lab door, blocked him. His face got paler, and his panic grew visible. When all the tests were done, I crossed my arms and sat in a chair in the lobby to wait. The stream had hit over a hundred thousand viewers, all waiting for the conclusion of this unprecedented scandal. Two hours later, I received the stack of printed reports. I didn’t look at them. I handed the entire stack, along with the Notary’s paperwork, to Dr. Shaw. “Dr. Shaw,” I managed a small, frigid smile. “You’re the Chief of Medicine. You’re the professional. Do me a favor: read the results of my new panel for the internet.” Dr. Shaw’s lab coat was damp with sweat. She took the stack of papers, her hands visibly trembling. She cleared her throat and started reading them one by one. “Complete Blood Count… Normal.” “Liver Function… Normal.” “Kidney Function… Normal.” She read quickly, until she turned to the last page. Her voice cut off abruptly. She looked up, giving me a strange, unreadable glance, then looked back down, her eyes full of hesitation and a hint of… pity? The live chat noticed the pause immediately. @WHAT Why did she stop? What’s on the last page? @TELLUS Spit it out! You’re killing us! With hundreds of thousands of people urging her on, Dr. Shaw swallowed hard. She lifted the final page to the camera and forced out the last few words: “Treponema Pallidum Antibody… Positive (+).” “Diagnosis: Syphilis, Secondary Stage.”

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Every New Year’s Eve, my boyfriend ditches me last minute for his childhood sweetheart. This year, I booked the best view, expecting to count down with him. But before the clock struck twelve, I received a text: “Stella is being forced by her mom to go on a blind date again. I’ll accompany her. You go ahead and celebrate first.” This time, I didn’t cry or make a scene. Instead, amidst the sky full of fireworks, I said: “In the new year, Gavin, I don’t want you anymore.” When Gavin called, I was sleeping peacefully. “Mia, where are you? No one at the restaurant? Why didn’t you wait for me?” I answered sleepily, “No need. You accompany Stella. I don’t mind.” Chapter 1 Hanging up the phone, I continued to sleep. Gavin came back soon, asking puzzledly: “Why are you sleeping in the guest room?” “Nothing, too sleepy. Let’s talk tomorrow.” I didn’t even open my eyes, pulling the quilt over my head. He was relentless, “What’s wrong with you? Said you didn’t mind, why throw a tantrum?” I didn’t make a sound. Gavin sighed, wanted to hug me, but I dodged. He froze slightly, explaining helplessly: “It’s late at night, unsafe for a girl like Stella to run around…” I nodded calmly. “I really understand, no need to explain. Go take care of her.” He was completely stunned, obviously not expecting this reaction from me. Stella is his childhood sweetheart, and also the hurdle Gavin and I couldn’t get over in our five years of dating. Before, whenever he left me to accompany Stella, I would cry, throw tantrums, and argue with him like a shrew. But now, I’m too tired. I just want to have a good sleep. Gavin still wouldn’t leave, face full of displeasure. “I explained countless times, why are you still angry?” I sighed helplessly, forcing myself to sit up despite fatigue. “I have things to do tomorrow, must sleep now. I’m really not angry.” “But you clearly…” I turned off the light in the guest room directly, buried my head and slept. Gavin stood quietly for a long time, finally sighed, turned and left. In the dark, my tight nerves finally relaxed. This is our fifth New Year’s Eve together, and the fifth time he stood me up. The first time, he said Stella broke the water tap and needed him to save her. I waited until the restaurant closed, waiters were getting off work. The third time, he said Stella sprained her ankle, no one to take care of her. I was provoked and mocked by a couple at the next table alone, hit by a bottle, head stitched seven stitches. This year is the fifth time. He said Stella was forced to blind date, in a bad mood. Every time it was because of her, leaving me behind. My heart, in these abandonments time after time, gradually stopped hurting. So this year, I made a wish. In the new year, I really don’t want him anymore. Slept well all night, I got up early. Didn’t prepare exquisite breakfast for Gavin as usual, didn’t even ask for a morning kiss, just went out directly. Chapter 2 In the afternoon, while I was negotiating a contract with a client, Gavin texted. “I put Stella in a hotel last night. Today she says it’s too noisy to sleep well. Can I bring her to our home?” Looking at his text, I suddenly thought of three years ago. My parents rarely came to visit me, wanted to stay in our home, but he refused. “I don’t like my private life disturbed by others. Better let them stay in a hotel.” My parents are “others.” But Stella is not. How ridiculous. I calmly put down the phone, ignored it. Until I came home after a busy day, opened the door and saw Stella holding half a watermelon, sitting on Gavin’s favorite designer sofa. Last time I accidentally dripped a drop of water on it, he said angrily “Don’t touch it anymore.” But now, watermelon juice dripping on the sofa surface, he was smiling dotingly on the side. Seeing me back, Gavin’s smile froze. “Mia don’t misunderstand, I was just afraid if I didn’t let her sit, she would cry to my mom again…” I nodded indifferently, expression unchanged, “Understand, no need to explain.” Gavin’s expression relaxed instantly, asking me in a low voice: “Not angry anymore? What do we eat tonight?” I shrugged. “I was never angry, you just didn’t believe it.” He looked me up and down suspiciously, as if distinguishing if I was telling the truth. I ignored him. Just as I wanted to let them solve dinner themselves, Stella jumped onto Gavin’s back. “Brother Gavin, I want to eat at Chez Pierre, take me there okay?” Gavin naturally supported her butt with his hands behind his back, responding dotingly: “Of course no problem, brother takes you.” Finished speaking, remembered me, turned back asking hesitantly: “Mia, you… want to eat together?” I shook my head, face calm. “Not going. I don’t like the taste there. You guys go.” His brows furrowed tight, gaze hesitant: “Really? Didn’t you love clamoring to eat out most? Why not go?” I looked at him calmly, smiling but silent. Five years, he never remembered, I’m allergic to the special sauce at Chez Pierre, never go there. But because Stella loves it, every time we wanted to eat out, he always chose there. I said dozens of times he didn’t remember, later I stopped saying. Gavin looked at me for a long time, expression obscure. Finally turned and left. I was surprised to find myself not sad about this anymore. Even calmly ordered a favorite takeout, eating deliciously while watching a movie. Halfway, Mom called. “Baby, happy New Year?” I responded smiling: “Pretty good.” Mom hesitated, after a while spoke with heartache: “Don’t lie to Mom, you are unhappy right? Why spent New Year alone? Where is Gavin?” The smile on my face faded. “He went to accompany his neighbor sister. It’s okay Mom, I’m used to it.” Mom coaxed me for a long time before hanging up. The rice in front of me was cold. I stared blankly at the movie ending on screen, heroine said: “In this world, anyone can live without anyone.” But Gavin told me countless times, “Mia, I really can’t live without Stella.” Vision a bit sour, but not a drop of tear. I seem to really let go of Gavin. Almost midnight, Gavin came back. He smilingly pulled down Stella’s arms around his neck, pinching her cheek dotingly, “Stop messing around.” Turned to see me, stunned for a moment, panic flashed in eyes. “Mia, not what you think, we…” I twitched lips indifferently. “I don’t mind.” He froze there for a long time, before asking uneasily. “Mia, what exactly is wrong with you?” I was about to go back to the guest room to sleep, looking puzzled, “Nothing. By the way, was the food good?” “Still that taste… but why aren’t you angry?” “Why should I be angry?” Gavin choked. Couldn’t say a word. Past five years, he questioned me why I was angry in my hysteria countless times. Now I’m not angry, he unaccustomedly suspects why I’m not angry. Too hard to serve. Chapter 3 After that, I left early and returned late every day, avoiding all chances to meet Gavin. Gavin asked me to a concert, I replied four hours later, “Sorry, too busy didn’t hear.” He wanted me to play squash with him, I refused with regret, “Client trouble, need to revise plan.” He wanted couple time, candlelit dinner, I agreed then canceled, “Sorry, my best friend is sick, need to accompany.” He gradually couldn’t stand it, complaining everything is more important than boyfriend in my heart. I didn’t refute, didn’t coax him, didn’t explain. After all, in his world, I’m not the most important person either. Even my home is gradually filled with traces of another woman, disgusting. I wasn’t willing to torture myself anymore, submitted application for transfer to Boston branch to the company. Weekend night, I was filling out work handover form on tablet at dining table, colleague called. “Mia, you leave, what about your boyfriend?” I said lightly, “Everyone is adult, no one can’t live without anyone.” “You guys wouldn’t… be breaking up right?” I fell silent, didn’t answer. Hung up and continued filling form. Gavin, who was playing games with Stella in living room, came for water, glanced at tablet accidentally. Suddenly exploded: “Mia, you leaving New York?” I looked up, glanced at him, “Yes.” Gavin stood in front of me, breathing heavy, “Why? Just because Stella moved in?” I laughed out loud, expression unchanged. “I’m not angry, just normal work transfer.” “Such a big thing, why didn’t you tell me?” I turned off tablet and stood up. “I don’t think it’s a big deal, and it’s not decided yet.” Finished, about to go back to bedroom. He held my hand, unwilling to let go, “But I am your boyfriend!” “You are not only my boyfriend,” I looked straight into his eyes, answering him with his own words. “You are also Stella’s neighbor brother. You just take good care of her first.” Gavin froze. “Mia, are you mocking me?” I turned into the bedroom. No answer. Next day noon, Gavin unprecedentedly ran to company to find me. “Passed by, came up to see you. Dinner together after work okay?” I didn’t even lift my head, “Not today, a document needed urgently, might have overtime.” He changed face immediately, reached out grabbing my hand. I finally looked up at him. “Mia, are you sure you are not avoiding me? It’s been over a week!” “My attitude was bad last night. Can you not go for transfer? Let’s talk properly okay?” “Stella is really just my sister. The one I love is you. Can we stop making a scene?” He said a lot of questions in a row. The person chattering when encountering things changed from me to him. I felt even dealing with him was troublesome. “I really didn’t make a scene, all normal work.” “Go back to work quickly, I have to report work to boss upstairs.” Finished, holding documents left office. Leaving Gavin on spot, looking at me for a long time. Chapter 4 A week before leaving for transfer, I was accidentally hit by a motorcycle while out. Large area of abrasions all over body, blood dyed clothes red. On the way to hospital, driver asked if I wanted to call family. I hesitated a moment but still texted Gavin. “I was hit by a motorcycle, got some injuries.” He called, opening with: “Then go to pharmacy buy some ointment to apply, don’t work today.” I was silent for a moment, twitched lips self-deprecatingly. Calmly hung up phone. Medical treatment, go home, take medicine. Body hurt tearing heart and lungs, cold sweat layer after layer. Didn’t eat a mouthful all day, until night waited for Gavin’s call. “Mia, Stella has period cramps unbearable today, I sent her to hospital for injection, you rest early.” I looked at my hideous wounds, tears finally fell. Until early morning, Gavin came home. Door opening sound woke me up. I heard him settling Stella after entering, then left quickly. “I go buy pads for you, rest quick.” After a long time, outside movement finally quieted completely. He then pushed open my door. Saw my full body wounds at a glance. “Mia, how did you become like this?” “Get up quick, I take you to hospital!” Saying that wanted to come support me, I pushed away coldly directly. “No need, already went, all skin trauma.” Gavin seemed relieved, tucked me in. “Alright then, you rest well, I go see Stella again.” Then got up and left, didn’t say one more word. I looked blankly at the closed bedroom door. Stella just period cramps, he busy before and after, hospital, buying pads. I car accident full body contusion laceration, even standing up hard, he said rest well. I couldn’t help asking myself. “Mia, do you still love Gavin?” Until about to fall asleep, I suddenly shook my head. “Not anymore.” … Next day, I slept until sun high. Got up with difficulty, preparing to wash. But saw Gavin didn’t go to work either, kneeling on one knee on ground, fiddling with something. I moved over looking at him, “Why didn’t you go to work?” He looked up smiling, “Stella period cramps too severe, might faint anytime, I’m worried.” My whole body stiffened. Just wanted to speak, saw “might faint anytime” Stella walking out of bedroom radiantly. “Brother Gavin, luckily you warmed my belly all night last night, I feel much better. Knew you love me most.” Gavin smiled dotingly. “Of course, who does brother love if not you?” “Look, I bought you a heated coffee table rug, so your belly won’t freeze when watching TV on sofa.” I stood there, watching them talking and laughing, feeling like an outsider. Gavin finally seemed to remember me. “Mia, there is some black chicken soup I made for Stella in the morning in the kitchen, heat it up and drink some.” Chicken soup. Seemingly nutritious and healthy. But something I never touch. I suddenly felt, between us, should end. I looked up at Gavin, asking back. “Do you still remember what I love to eat?”

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While scrolling on company time, my phone pushed a Reddit thread to me. [AITA for falling in love with the new intern at first sight, even though his girlfriend is also interning at the company?] Top comment: [If he has a girlfriend, give up. Do you want to be a homewrecker?] The OP replied with a long paragraph. [Let me introduce myself: 30, single, no kids, own a car and house, have savings. Except for being 8 years older than him, I don’t lose to his girlfriend in any way.] [Is it really right to give up when I finally found someone I like?] Immediately, a bunch of people popped up to give her advice. [The young couple just graduated, haven’t experienced the beatings of society or conflicts of interest. If you drive a wedge between them, they’ll probably break up!] [Support OP to pursue love bravely. I think the comment above is right. Be nice to his girlfriend, so the guy feels unbalanced. Once they argue, they’ll definitely break up.] [Then you can block the girl’s full-time offer. Won’t the company just be left with you and the guy?] I cursed silently in my heart, “Psycho,” and didn’t take it to heart. Who knew, that afternoon, Director Mandy called me and my boyfriend into her office. She said to us: “Corporate sent down a key project. Whoever gets this interview can be converted to full-time early!” Chapter 1 Hearing this, I frowned subconsciously. Probably because I just came out of that thread not long ago. So, I almost immediately associated it with the content inside. But within a second, I shook my head, throwing this thought out. How could there be such a coincidence in this world? Hearing my boyfriend Kyle say “No problem,” I quickly responded, “Yes, Director.” Seeing us both agree, Director Mandy nodded and let us leave. She doesn’t look like the OP in the thread at all. I was overthinking. I instantly threw this matter to the back of my mind. Out of the office, Kyle and I verbally drafted a gentleman’s agreement. “No matter who wins or loses, no one is allowed to be unhappy!” “No matter who gets this interview, we go out to celebrate!” We laughed tacitly. Actually, when we decided to intern at the same company, we anticipated competition. But neither of us thought this would affect our relationship. At least, a month has passed, and we both adapted very well. We don’t worry about fitting in, going to work, eating, and leaving work together every day. Boyfriend and girlfriend, and also best work buddies. I’ve said more than once that I love our current state. Kyle too. After work today, we didn’t go home together as usual but went our separate ways. I guessed Kyle would definitely go to block that CEO. So, I decided to take a different approach and contacted the CEO’s daughter. It is said that this CEO, Mr. Sterling, is a daughter-slave. Starting from his daughter might be easier to succeed. Probably because the chat was pleasant, she promised to put in a good word for me. When I returned home satisfied, I found Kyle had already cooked dinner. And he looked in a good mood. My heart skipped a beat, thinking, am I a step too late? Just thinking that, I heard Kyle say to me: “Babe, Mr. Sterling has agreed to accept my interview. You were a step late, don’t be unhappy, okay?” He couldn’t hide his joy, but there was no intention to show off. Moreover, he cooked so many dishes I love, I naturally felt happy for him. “Then congratulations in advance on becoming full-time!” I smiled. He patted my head, coaxing me: “My baby is so great, converting to full-time won’t be a problem either. When I get my salary, I’ll give it all to you to manage.” I nodded, not feeling lost because of this. Even felt sweet because of his words. So much so that I forgot to message Miss Sterling. Until I woke up the next day, I didn’t remember this. When we arrived at the company the next day, Director Mandy called me and Kyle into the office. I knew she definitely wanted to talk about the interview and the full-time offer. I was prepared to be criticized. The workplace is like this. But what I didn’t expect was that Director Mandy walked up to me. Smiling, she said: “Zoe, congratulations on getting this interview opportunity. Perform well!” As her words fell, the smiles on my and Kyle’s lips froze. Chapter 2 In the end, I reacted first, explaining subconsciously: “Director Mandy, is there a misunderstanding? Kyle got the interview opportunity!” Kyle also came back to his senses. However, he didn’t blame me immediately. Just asked with equal confusion. “Yesterday afternoon, Mr. Sterling personally agreed to accept my interview. Did something change?” Director Mandy seemed not to expect there was such a story inside. She immediately showed a surprised expression. Said: “But Mr. Sterling called me this morning, explicitly naming Zoe for the interview.” I frowned. Don’t know why, a bad premonition rose in my heart. Before I could speak, I heard Director Mandy say to me earnestly: “Zoe, I know you are boyfriend and girlfriend, but at work, there’s no need to yield to each other like this!” “I believe you have this ability. Good luck.” After speaking, she looked at Kyle again. Speaking in an educational tone: “Kyle! Competition at work is completely normal. It’s okay, missed this time, there’s always next time!” Kyle nodded. Although there was disappointment on his face. But he still said: “No matter what, this is beneficial to the company.” Director Mandy nodded, didn’t say more, and shooed us out. Outside, Kyle said to me: “It’s okay babe, do the interview well, accumulate experience!” “Don’t feel burdened, work hard.” I nodded absently, always feeling something was wrong. Just then, I received a message from Miss Sterling. I realized maybe the change was due to Miss Sterling. I hurriedly explained to her and asked her to clarify with Mr. Sterling. Miss Sterling called directly and scolded me. “If you didn’t beg me, I wouldn’t have spoken for you in front of my dad!” “Shouldn’t you be happy snatching this interview from your boyfriend? Why pretend now!” “Don’t contact me again!” With that, she hung up. Then, the message I sent turned into a red exclamation mark. I sighed in confusion, turned around, and saw Kyle standing behind me. Obviously heard the words from the phone just now, a look of disbelief on his face. I opened my mouth, about to explain. Heard him say angrily: “Zoe, if you wanted this interview opportunity, I could have given it up to you, but calculating behind my back is meaningless, right?” I was sure I didn’t calculate Kyle. But someone definitely calculated me. Just as I was about to explain my matter with Miss Sterling. I heard Director Mandy’s voice behind me. “Kyle, come to my office!” When Kyle came out of the office, it was already half an hour later. But work was busy later, and I didn’t find a chance to talk. Finally waited until lunch break, Kyle left a cold sentence: “I have something to do this noon, won’t eat with you.” With that, he turned and left. I knew he must have believed Miss Sterling’s words on the phone. No chance to explain face to face, I had to message him. But until he came back from lunch break, until off work, he didn’t reply to me. On the way back, silence all the way. After getting home, I couldn’t help asking. “Kyle, did you see what I sent you…” Before I finished, I saw him pulling out a suitcase and starting to pack. I panicked instantly, asking anxiously: “Kyle, what do you mean!?” I’ve been with Kyle since freshman year. Counting now, we’ve been together for four years. Is he going to break up with me just because of this? I grabbed his arm, trying to stop him. Heard him say: “Zoe, the interview project is yours, do it well. Director Mandy asked me to accompany her on a business trip. We’ll talk when I get back.” “Let’s both adjust our mindset.” With that, he dragged the suitcase and left the house. Accompany Director Mandy on a business trip? I frowned, thinking of something, ghost-driven, I found that thread from yesterday and clicked in. Sure enough, the OP updated. Chapter 3 [I arranged an interview project for them, let my old acquaintance agree to the guy first, then made him change to name the girl for the interview. Today the two argued in the break room.] [I’ve arranged for the guy to go on a business trip with me. Sisters, wait for my good news!] Everything matched. Now, I finally confirmed that this thread was posted by Director Mandy. I didn’t expect her to be such a person! Under this update, many netizens were camping for updates. I was furious, trembling hands commenting. [What’s the difference between this behavior and a homewrecker? You are disgusting!] My sentence quickly got a reply from Mandy. [Although taking advantage of a crisis is shameful, isn’t it useful? If I can really pry him away, maybe the other party should thank me!] Although her words made sense, I still felt suffocated. Before I could reply again, netizens started questioning me. [WTF! Same IP address. The poster is so angry, could she be the girlfriend?] [Why argue with the OP here? Getting your boyfriend back is the priority!] I knew these netizens weren’t considering for me. Just purely want to watch the drama. However, within two seconds, my comment was deleted. I gritted my teeth, clicked into WeChat, and called Kyle. He answered quickly. “Zoe, no need to explain, I saw it. I know, this isn’t your fault!” “I’ll bring you gifts when I come back from the trip.” He said to me in that gentle tone he used to have. Hearing his words, my heart calmed down inexplicably. Yeah! I’ve been with Kyle for so long, we have so many beautiful memories. How could I doubt him because of a thread! Mandy said one thing right, if she could really pry Kyle away. It would help me see Kyle clearly instead. Thinking this way, I wasn’t angry anymore. However, uncontrollably, I couldn’t help but click into the thread. Mandy didn’t update for a long time, Kyle reported to me all the time. As if this conflict didn’t affect our relationship. I gradually felt relieved. Until the night before he came back from the trip, we were FaceTiming as usual. Not long after, there was a knock on the door over there. Immediately, I heard Mandy’s voice. “Little Song (Kyle), the shower in my room is broken, can I borrow yours?” Kyle obviously didn’t think much, agreed immediately. I became alert. Wanted to ask Kyle to go out and call me. But unexpectedly, before I could speak, Kyle hung up hurriedly. My good mood vanished instantly. [Don’t hang up on me! Call me back right now!] [Kyle, I’m going to be angry!] No reply to the messages sent. I called back. Still unable to connect. Several minutes passed before Kyle replied to my message. [Zoe, I have something to do, talk later.] What could he have to do? A man and a woman alone, what could happen? I wanted to trust him, but found it hard in this situation. I kept refreshing the page, but didn’t get his “talk later.” Until 3 AM, my heart gradually became cold and numb. I stopped messaging him. But seeing the thread update, I couldn’t help clicking in. Saw Mandy’s latest update at a glance. [These days I’ve been trying physical contact with him. Although he avoided it, I can feel he doesn’t resist me.] [Going back tomorrow. I used the excuse of a broken shower to enter his room. Yes, we kissed. I asked if he did this with his girlfriend, he said no.] [I asked if he wanted to try with me. He was moved, but stopped in the end. Said he couldn’t sorry his girlfriend.] [Sisters! What should I do now?] These words stabbed my heart like needles, making me breathless. I knew Mandy might have written this for me to see, maybe not true. But if not true, why didn’t Kyle reply to me? My eyes reddened, already deciding to break up with Kyle. I even packed my luggage. But unexpectedly, just before I said breakup. Kyle suddenly said to me: “Zoe, I plan to resign.” Chapter 4 I froze then. Didn’t know what he meant by saying this now. Because we were at work, he didn’t explain much, and I didn’t ask. I only knew he wrote a resignation letter and submitted it then. But I couldn’t be happy at all. Didn’t sleep all night, eyes sore and dry, mind chaotic. Normally, I should be happy now. But thinking of those words I saw yesterday, I couldn’t smile. Thought, let’s make it clear after work. Not long after Kyle submitted his resignation, he was called into the office. Came out ten minutes later. When he came out, I saw a very obvious wound on the corner of his mouth. And this wound wasn’t there before entering the office. Almost without thinking deep, I knew what happened. I curled my lips mockingly, finding my thought just now funny. Since betrayal is a fact, there’s nothing to talk about. During lunch, I clicked into the thread again. Sure enough, Mandy updated again. [The little boy is quite innocent, actually wants to resign! Pity, I didn’t agree.] [I said if he sleeps with me for one night, I’ll approve his resignation, and won’t trouble his girlfriend in the future.] Seeing her words, I felt disgusted instantly, lost appetite. Ate two bites hurriedly, returned to my desk. Mandy’s thread continued updating. Netizens asked her: [Then what do you do? Giving up?] [Sigh, listening to OP’s description, feels the guy is interested in you too. Probably conflicted. Feels hard to make the guy initiate breakup, better let the girl break up!] [Hiss! Sister you’re bold! The guy hasn’t done it yet, just make him addicted to your body!] Mandy liked the last comment. Replied: [Men, can’t withstand temptation!] Then replied to everyone: [Don’t worry, I have a plan. Not only can I make him initiate breakup, but also make the girl resign voluntarily!] Under this sentence, everyone commented waiting for her good news. I felt uneasy. I can accept Kyle falling for someone else, can accept work not going smoothly. But I can’t accept work and relationship failing simultaneously. I don’t know what she wants to do, but felt this is an opportunity. Since she wants to harm me so much, I’ll let her know what harming others eventually harms oneself means. After work, I stopped Kyle. “I have something to tell you!” “We…” Let’s break up. Before the last three words came out, Kyle interrupted. “Zoe, I have something to tell you too, but I have something tonight, tell you tomorrow!” With that, he turned and left. Instantly, I thought of the thread content. Looking at the direction he disappeared, I couldn’t help curling my lips. Until this moment, I was finally completely disappointed in this man. Mandy was right, men can’t withstand temptation. Since he can’t hold the bottom line, I don’t want him! That night back home, I moved my luggage to my friend’s house. Knowing this, my friend angrily scolded Mandy in the thread for over an hour. But the other party was probably busy with “business,” didn’t see the post. Instead, many netizens came to watch the drama. “Pissing me off!” Hearing my friend’s voice, I patted her arm. Smiled: “Busy is good, busy is good!” Before my friend could react to what I meant. I clicked the share link on the top right, sharing this thread to the company group chat. Accurately, the big company group. Then sent two messages: [Bestie, help me look, why do I feel the people in this thread look like my boss and boyfriend?] [They just went on a business trip together two days ago, today my boyfriend isn’t coming home either.] My friend’s eyes widened, silently giving me a thumbs up. In a while, surprised emojis appeared in the group chat. My heart felt instantly refreshed! However, within two seconds, the phone rang. It was Kyle calling. Answering, heard his questioning voice from over there: “Zoe, what are you posting in the company group? Recall it quickly!”

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1 Two years after my husband vanished, presumed dead, I sold everything for his mother’s medical bills. It wasn’t enough. On the day of her funeral, he returned. Seeing the sales contracts and her urn, he didn’t look at me with love, but with pure hatred. “I gave you my world, Sarah. The moment I was gone, you sold everything and let my mother die alone.” He never let me explain. The man I knew died that day, replaced by a cold playboy. He spent lavishly on other women but wouldn’t spare a dollar for the medicine I needed. When I was diagnosed, I bought myself a simple urn with my last money. He laughed and gave it to his new girlfriend for her dog’s water bowl. Seeing that, I didn’t break. I smiled. He looked confused. “Tired of playing the victim? Trying a new tactic?” he sneered. … A ripple of laughter went through the room from his latest conquest. I just shook my head, my smile never wavering. “No,” I said, my voice calm and clear. “I’m just grateful. You’ve finally allowed my heart to die completely. Now I can leave with no attachments.” Hearing that, Declan’s gaze turned to ice. “Leave?” He scoffed. “Sarah, you’re an orphan. You have no one. You’ve only survived this long because of me. Without me, without the Blackwood name, where could you possibly go?” I listened to his contemptuous words and felt nothing. I offered no defense. I simply turned and walked toward the small, forgotten room he’d relegated me to, the one he used for storage. As I reached the door, a searing pain ripped through my lungs. I stumbled, gripping the doorframe, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood to keep from coughing. Behind me, his girlfriend’s voice dripped with saccharine poison. “Declan, darling, look at her. She’s such a mess, it’s depressing. Let’s just go upstairs and watch a movie.” Declan let out an impatient sigh. “Fine. Let’s go. Don’t let her ruin the evening.” Their footsteps faded as they headed upstairs. I shuffled into the small room, each step an agony. I collapsed onto the old, lumpy mattress, curling into a ball as pain radiated through me. It felt like my bones were being pulled apart and crudely snapped back together. Every movement was a fresh wave of torture. There was no point in asking him for help again. I’d tried, just last week. The pain had been unbearable, and I had dragged myself into the living room where he was lounging on the sofa, feeding slices of mango to his flavor of the week. “Declan,” I’d hesitated, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m in so much pain. Could you… could you spare some money for painkillers?” He’d glanced up, a mocking smirk on his face. “Faking an illness for attention again? Sarah, you’ve played this card a thousand times. Can’t you come up with something new?” The girl beside him giggled, covering her mouth. “Declan, I think she’s just jealous seeing us so happy. She’s trying to make you feel sorry for her.” Declan pulled out his wallet, peeled off a thick wad of cash, and threw it on the floor. “You want money? There it is. Kneel and pick it up. Every bill you grab is yours.” I didn’t kneel. I just swallowed the pain and the humiliation, turned around, and walked back to my storage room. From that day on, I never asked him for another cent. As night deepened, the pain intensified until I couldn’t bear it. I fumbled under the mattress for my savings. Seventy-three dollars and fifty cents. It was all I had left, scraped together from the meager food budget I allowed myself. I hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days. Swallowing solid food was like swallowing glass, so I’d been living on thin broth, just enough to keep me alive. Seventy-three dollars and fifty cents. Not even enough for a single dose of the good painkillers. Just then, I heard footsteps outside my door, followed by the sound of laughter. I quickly shoved the small bundle of cash back under the bed and curled up in the corner, feigning sleep. It was Tiffany’s cloying voice. “Declan, is that sick little thing still here? Isn’t she just taking up space?” Declan’s voice was laced with annoyance. “Let her stay. It’s not like she can do anything.” Tiffany whined, “But I don’t like her. Having her around just gives me the creeps.” Declan chuckled, his tone shifting to one of indulgence. “Shh, baby. Just ignore her. Let’s go upstairs.” But she wasn’t done. “No, I mean it! I’m bringing my dog over tomorrow, and I don’t want her scaring him.” Declan sighed, a sound of weary surrender. “Alright, alright, whatever you want. Bring the dog tomorrow. He can have the whole yard to himself.” Their voices and footsteps receded down the hall until there was only silence. I knew he didn’t really not care. He kept me here for a reason. He wanted to watch me suffer, to see me waste away in this dark corner like a stray dog. He wanted to see me broken and full of regret. He was convinced I couldn’t live without him, that I was clinging to the Blackwood family for money and status. He believed my entire life, my every action, was just a performance. 2 By the time the pain subsided to a dull ache, the sky was already turning a pale grey. I pulled an old tin box from beneath my bed, a secret I had guarded for a long time. Inside were the small trinkets Declan had given me before he disappeared. The stubs from our first movie date. We sat in the back row, and he’d secretly taken my hand in the dark. He had leaned in, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered, “Sarah, I promise I’m going to give you the best life. I’ll give you everything.” A faded photograph of the ugliest cake imaginable. He had tried to bake it for my birthday himself. The frosting was lumpy, the fruit was sliding off one side. “It’s one-of-a-kind, Sarah. Just for you.” He hadn’t had money for a fancy cake back then, so he’d spent the entire afternoon destroying the kitchen to make me one. I stared at these relics, a familiar warmth spreading behind my eyes, but there was no hope left in my heart. For a year, during his absence, these things had been my lifeline. I’d look at them every single day, praying he was still alive somewhere, imagining how he would hold me and soothe my pain when he finally came home. But when he came home, all he saw were sales contracts and an urn. He didn’t want an explanation. He only believed the story he saw with his own eyes. He had decided I was a gold-digger who had stolen everything and left his mother to die. Suddenly, the door was kicked open with a deafening crash. I jumped, and the photograph slipped from my fingers, fluttering to the floor. Declan stood in the doorway, his face a thunderous mask. He reeked of whiskey, and his eyes held a vicious glint I’d never seen before. His gaze fell to the open box in my hands, then to the scattered tickets and the photo on the floor. The coldness in his eyes deepened into a glacial frost. He strode into the room, snatched the tin box from my grasp, and slammed it onto the ground. Its contents scattered across the dirty floor. The ticket stubs were crumpled, and he brought his heel down on the photograph, grinding it into the floorboards. A sharp sting went through my chest as I watched my memories being destroyed. But my face remained a blank canvas. I just looked at him. He sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “What’s this? Taking a trip down memory lane with this junk? Trying to make me feel sorry for you?” Looking at his twisted, hateful face, I felt a strange sense of release. All the sweet memories that had been carved into my soul, the hope that had carried me through countless nights of despair—it was all a joke. I shook my head slowly. “None of this matters anymore. I just want you to leave me in peace for my final days.” Declan looked at me as if I’d told the world’s most absurd joke and let out a harsh, barking laugh. “Your final days? You really commit to the act, don’t you? What’s the endgame here, a big fat severance check?” He looked down at me, his lip curled. “Name your price. How much will it take for you to get out of my house and out of my life? I’ll give you enough to live comfortably for the rest of your miserable years.” I didn’t answer him. I just slowly knelt and began to gather the scattered pieces of my past. 3 The movie stubs were torn. The photograph was cracked. I picked up the fragments, one by one, and placed them back into the dented tin box. The pain in my lungs flared again, sharper this time. I clenched my jaw, refusing to let him see me cough. Declan watched me, his frown deepening. “What game are you playing now, Sarah? Do you think this pathetic display will make me pity you?” “You know exactly what you did!” he roared. “It was always about the money, wasn’t it? Is money really that important to you?” I ignored him, continuing my quiet task. Suddenly, he lunged forward and kicked the box out of my hands. “Stop picking up that trash! It should have been thrown out years ago.” I looked up at him, my voice eerily calm. “Declan, you win.” “You succeeded in making me love you, and you succeeded in making me fall out of love.” He froze, clearly not expecting those words. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. “What did you say?” I pushed myself to my feet, the pain so intense I couldn’t stand up straight. I remained hunched over, my body trembling. “I won’t ask you for another penny. I won’t cling to you. And I won’t play the victim anymore.” “I just want to leave. Quietly.” Declan’s expression shifted. “Leave? Where do you think you’re going?” A small, tired smile touched my lips. “Anywhere is better than here. As long as it’s not in the Blackwood house. As long as it’s not near you.” “I’d rather be a nobody in a town where no one knows my name. I’d rather lie on the side of the road than stay by your side for another minute.” He stared at me, a flicker of something—was it panic?—in his eyes. His tone changed abruptly. “You think you can just walk out of here? The gates to this house aren’t a revolving door.” I didn’t reply. I just slowly turned away from him. The wind outside howled, whipping my hair around my face, but I felt lighter than I had in years. I knew I might not make it out of the Blackwood estate. I knew my body was failing. But I didn’t care anymore. When your heart is dead, what’s the difference between living and dying? The burning in my lungs became unbearable. A cough escaped my lips, then another. The metallic taste of blood filled my throat. I pressed a hand to my mouth, but it was too late. A violent spasm wracked my body, and I coughed up blood onto the floor. Declan saw the crimson drops. His pupils constricted in shock. “You’re coughing up blood?” I didn’t turn around. “It’s nothing,” I whispered. He rushed forward, reaching for my arm. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I recoiled from his touch, my voice barely audible but sharp as a razor. “Don’t touch me, Declan. Don’t you dare touch me.” “You’re filthy.” His hand froze in mid-air. The panic in his eyes was undeniable now. “Are you… are you really sick?” I didn’t answer. I just gathered my few belongings. “I have to go.” He hesitated, his gaze flicking between me and the blood on the floor. Just then, Tiffany pranced into the room, her little dog trotting at her heels. In that moment of his indecision, I walked out. A friend found me a small place to stay. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for the time I had left. I started writing my will. I had nothing of value to leave, just a few words I needed to say. 4 Back at the Blackwood mansion, Declan was a storm of restless energy. Ever since I’d left, an unbearable agitation had taken root in his heart. He locked himself in his study, smashing priceless vases against the wall. When Tiffany tried to coax him out, he threw her out of the room without a second thought. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. Something felt profoundly, fundamentally wrong, but a part of him refused to examine it too closely. He had built his entire reality on a single, unwavering belief: I was a greedy, heartless woman who had stolen his fortune and caused his mother’s death. Then he remembered his assistant had organized some old files from that year. He decided to find them, to look at the proof one last time, to solidify his hatred and kill this gnawing uncertainty for good. He searched for what felt like hours before finally locating the correct file. But as he read through the documents—bank transfers, hospital invoices, pharmacy receipts—a cold dread began to creep into his veins. It felt like the very foundation of his world was cracking beneath his feet. Without a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed his car keys and sped to the city hospital. He burst into the office of his mother’s former physician. “Tell me what really happened when my mother was sick,” he demanded. “Sarah… did she use the money from selling my assets to pay for my mother’s treatment?” The doctor looked at Declan, his expression one of pure confusion. “Mr. Blackwood, why are you asking this? Surely you knew how dire your mother’s condition was? She was in the final stages. She could have been gone at any moment. It was your wife, Ms. Sarah, who fought to give her more time. She sold everything she could.” The doctor continued, his voice softening. “I saw her once, in the hospital corridor, eating a dry piece of bread. She was just sitting there, chewing and crying silently. When I asked what was wrong, she just shook her head and said she felt like she’d failed your mother, that she couldn’t make her well again.” “Every single dollar from those sales was wired directly to the hospital’s account to cover medical fees and surgical procedures. As her primary physician, I saw every transaction. If it weren’t for her, your mother would never have held on long enough for you to come back. She would have been gone months earlier.” “Mr. Blackwood, your wife sacrificed everything for your mother, for your family. How could you not know? How could you ever doubt her?” Declan stood frozen, his body rigid, his mind a roaring void. The facts he had clung to, the reasons for his burning hatred, had all just turned to ash. The doctor was still speaking, but the words were a meaningless buzz in Declan’s ears. The world tilted, black spots dancing in his vision. After a long silence, he finally managed to force out a question, his voice a ragged whisper. “Doctor… Sarah… how is she now? Her health?” The doctor’s face fell. He shook his head and let out a heavy sigh. “Ms. Sarah came in for a check-up a while ago. It’s late-stage lung cancer, Mr. Blackwood. She doesn’t have much time left.” “She said she didn’t want treatment. She just wants to live out her final days in peace.”

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I like Xavier Vance, this is a secret. Because he and my sister Chloe are Childhood Sweethearts. Since childhood, the two grandfathers set an Arranged Marriage Pact for them. I thought I hid my little crush unknowingly. But Chloe accidentally discovered my secret diary. “Zoe, are you crazy? He is your future brother-in-law.” “How can you be so shameless?” That year, I actively applied for a school out of state. Packed up and moved out of the house, never went back. I thought I would never have any interaction with Xavier again in this life. Until tracking a news story. I was besieged by a group of mysterious bodyguards in a hotel. “Watch the fire exits and elevator exits. “Search every room!” … Chapter 1 Hearing rushed footsteps coming from the corridor outside the door. My entire back was soaked with sweat from nervousness. Last week, a junior reporter from our network, just because he interviewed a person involved. Was put in a sack in the underground garage and had three ribs broken. “Hello hello.” Assistant Mia’s anxious voice came from the earpiece. “What to do Zoe, how about I call the police first.” “You absolutely cannot have any mishaps, I’m scared.” I wiped cold sweat, looked at the suite terrace direction, gritted teeth and pried out the SD Card. “Don’t worry, I have a way to hide.” Just the moment I climbed over the terrace glass fence. The sound of key card swiping came from the door. Several bodyguards in black suits quickly rushed into the room. “Where is the person?” “This is the top floor, impossible to run away.” Watching the voices getting closer and closer. I stuffed the SD card into my mouth, dived headfirst into the open-air pool next door. Just swam a few steps, head suddenly hit a “wall”. I grabbed randomly twice, then suddenly realized the touch was not right. Why is there a person in the water? Water rippled, I didn’t see the person’s face clearly. But now can’t care so much. I bowed twice to him in the water, silently said. “Please, save me.” In the moment of crisis, that person just slightly stunned, then calmly surfaced. Then a big hand quickly wrapped around my neck. Pressed my long hair floating on the water surface down. Afraid of uncontrollably floating up. I could only rudely hug that person’s hard waist tight. I couldn’t hear what they said clearly. Could only feel the hard abs in front of me scraping my face with every sentence he spoke. Don’t know exactly how long passed. Before I felt my lungs were about to completely explode in the next second. That big hand wrapped again, fished me out of the water. Chapter 2 Mind full of thanks haven’t had chance to speak, even breath haven’t had time to catch. The moment I surfaced. I saw Xavier Vance’s cloud-light wind-light face. Heart fiercely twitched. How could it be him? I subconsciously grabbed a bath towel from the side and buckled it on my head. Xavier just stood in the water like that, didn’t move. He stared at my two exposed eyes for several seconds, then asked: “Need to call police?” I hurriedly shook my head like a rattle drum. “Wait for people outside to leave, I’ll have someone send you out.” No other way. I nodded while climbing up the pool edge embarrassedly. After getting ashore, didn’t forget to bow properly to Xavier to express thanks. But he directly treated me as air, dived into water and swam two laps again. Sitting on the chair by the pool, I couldn’t help secretly rejoicing. Good thing the light is dim. Good thing he didn’t have much impression of me originally. Just carefully wiping the SD card, Xavier’s phone on the table aside rang. I glanced at the screen from inside the tightly covered bath towel. Only one word on it. “Chloe.” Phone rang fully three times, Xavier then slowly walked ashore, directly pressed speaker. My eyes for a time didn’t know where to put, but ears still subconsciously pricked up. “Xavier, my birthday party in a few days, you must come.” “All old classmates, lively together.” Night wind blew a bit cold, I could only curl up body to cover myself tighter. Chatted for four or five minutes, but mostly Chloe talking herself. Before hanging up, she didn’t forget to add gently. “I also haven’t seen you for a long time.” When my thoughts drifted far away, hotel waiter pushed dining cart and sent many foods. Xavier pushed a plate of exquisite dim sum to me. I hurriedly waved hand, pressing voice pretending polite said: “You are too polite. But thanks, no need.” Xavier looked at me, then looked down at the dining plate. “Didn’t you like eating these when you were little?” “…” Chapter 3 A week has passed since accidentally bumping into Xavier at the hotel. The news about fake socialites plus plastic surgery yin-yang contracts I risked to shoot has also been successfully reported and broadcasted. But I still haven’t recovered from the panic, occasionally disconnecting suddenly. “Zoe.” Editor-in-chief called me several times, then pulled my three souls and seven spirits back. “This is Mr. Liu, our network’s biggest Sponsor this year.” “Hello, I am Zoe Sterling from Kyoto TV.” Originally just wanted to shake hands politely. Didn’t expect hand just extended was grabbed by Mr. Liu. Greasy fat fingertips rubbed back and forth on back of my hand several times. That mouth squeezing out some saliva with every move. Was full of irregular big yellow teeth. “Good, good.” He patted back of my hand twice again. “Really young and promising.” “I remember that quite hot social section headline of your network a few days ago, was Little Zoe’s right.” I smiled and withdrew my hand. “Mr. Liu you flatter me.” Editor-in-chief of course saw my non-cooperation. Glared at me without trace, whispered. “Zoe, ability is ability.” “But only having professional ethics, can’t survive in TV station.” “Your program ratings are good, but sponsorship you pull every year is always bottom.” “Being pulled hand won’t lose a piece of meat, don’t fake noble.” “Don’t forget my purpose of bringing you to dinner.” My heart felt physiological nausea, but still nodded. Suddenly, peripheral vision glimpsed outside private room door, seemed a somewhat familiar figure flashed past. But before my brain reacted, was pushed out by editor-in-chief. “Don’t always daze, go toast Mr. Liu a glass.” Chapter 4 Said one glass. Actually one glass after another. Not few rounds, I already started dizzy and brain swollen, walking like stepping on cotton. But I just drilled into restroom, editor-in-chief followed in. She was aggressive, a look of asking for guilt. “Zoe, everyone waiting for you a junior, is this good?” “Did you listen to my words or not?” “Such a good opportunity for you, you still push three push four.” “Do you know, how much money Liu invested in Pam’s program last year alone.” “Didn’t ask you to do anything, just drink two glasses of wine. Who are you showing this reluctant face to.” My tongue indeed not as useful as when sober. Mumbled for a long time didn’t say a word. Editor-in-chief rolled eyes, reached out to pull me back. At this time, a person slowly walked out from the men’s room aside. My heart fiercely jumped twice. Just now I indeed didn’t see wrong. Editor-in-chief’s action of pulling people, after seeing clearly the comer is Xavier, directly froze halfway. She probably froze for two or three seconds. Suddenly 360 degree face change. Piling full face smile, threw away my arm hurriedly leaned towards target. “Mr. Vance? Really is you.” “Our Director wanted to appoint a meeting with you before, always no chance.” “Isn’t this coincidental?” “Are you dining here? Really so coincidental hahaha.” “Don’t know when you have time, we really want to do an exclusive interview with you.” Xavier had no expression. Just while washing hands looked at me through mirror. Probably quiet for a few breaths, Xavier then lightly opened mouth. “Your network’s style of liking employees to accompany drinking for sponsorship, I don’t quite like.” “So, no need.” Editor-in-chief’s smile instantly froze on face. She dryly opened mouth several times, but didn’t say a word. Xavier pulled out handkerchief wiped, bypassed editor-in-chief and walked out. I actually was more nervous than editor-in-chief, clenched fists bit tight teeth. When he passed by me, I didn’t even dare to lift head. Just when Xavier walked to the door, he suddenly stopped, turned back. “Zoe, follow up.” Chapter 5 Under editor-in-chief’s pupil suddenly shrinking gaze. I awkwardly followed Xavier out of the restaurant. “Dizzy?” I shook head. “Want vomit?” I still shook head. “Live where?” I shook head again. Then suddenly woke up, hurriedly reported an address string. Car drove not fast not slow. A very light but familiar woody scent uncontrollably drilled into nose. Probably sophomore year high school, school anniversary party. Xavier as outstanding graduate was invited back to do opening speech. I was host of the party, but period came moment before going on stage. White dress was dyed red a big patch. Stage lights already on, simply no time for me to change clothes. Xavier took off his suit jacket handed to me. He said “Go, it’s okay.” Later when he gave speech he only wore that light blue shirt. And I draped that jacket whole time. From that day, my brain dead remembered Xavier’s scent. This jacket actually still with me. Because he didn’t ask me for it, I also greedily didn’t return. “Chloe’s birthday party, you going back?” I was interrupted thoughts by sudden question, hurriedly turned face to other side relieve guilt. “I, recently quite busy.” “Should, not go back right.” Xavier nodded, didn’t pursue asking. Car soon drove to community gate. “Can walk yourself?” I nodded like pounding garlic. “Can, actually I didn’t drink much.” I deliberately widened eyes stuck out chest, showing I am very energetic. But first step out of car, thump a kneel kowtowed to opposite big tree. Xavier wanted get off help me. “Don’t, you don’t move.” I hurriedly hugged big tree stood up on spot. “I just stepped on air.” “Thanks for sending me back, Bro…” Brother-in-law these two words finally didn’t shout out. I used all body strength, walked a straight line step by step forward. This moment, I just want hurry escape from behind that burning gaze range.

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I am the Billionaire CEO’s “The One That Got Away”. I’m dying of illness and want to return to New York for surgery, but my brother tries every way to stop me from returning. He firmly believes that if I return, the CEO will abandon his “Rebound” (the substitute). He is the ultimate Simp for the substitute. “If you’re sick, just endure it, no rush to save you.” “Surgery a few days later won’t kill anyone, they are about to get married.” To survive, I bit the bullet and called the CEO: “Heard I am the one that got away, can you pick me up to return to the country?” Heard when I called, they were holding the wedding. The CEO abandoned the bride and guests, took a flight overnight to rush over. … Chapter 1 In the hospital ward, other patients were surrounded by family members asking about their health, only I lay lonely on the bed. My brother Sebastian’s cold and scoffing voice came from the phone: “Not sick earlier, not sick later, just when Lila is about to hold a wedding with Julian Vance, you are sick to death?” “You really never change, lying becomes nature, do you think I will believe?” “I tell you, stop having crooked ideas, seeking life and death is useless to me, even if you are dying, you have to endure for me, endure until they finish the wedding.” I lay weakly on the bed, tears flowing chillingly, begging him with a trembling voice: “Brother, I didn’t act, beg you, let me go back to New York okay?” “The doctor said, this surgery only Dr. Foster, who has the most surgical experience in the country, can do it, only then I have hope to live.” “My illness, really can’t delay anymore, if you don’t believe, I let the doctor tell you.” I pressed the speaker button, begging the attending doctor to prove for me. The doctor said I didn’t lie, indeed critically ill, urgently need to return to the country for surgery. My brother was unmoved: “Surgery a few days later won’t kill anyone, they are about to get married, you endure a bit more.” The attending doctor was furious, scolding through the phone: “How do you be a brother? Your sister is critically ill, you still want her to endure? I tell you, delay any longer, miss the best surgery time, even if return to the country for surgery, it will be powerless to save, don’t regret then.” My brother laughed coldly: “I won’t regret. You doctors have nothing better to do, actually accompanying her to act against conscience. Just letting her return a few days late is powerless to save? If she insists on making trouble like this, then never come back.” I clenched the fabric over my heart, held back tears instantly burst. Turns out brother still doesn’t believe? “Brother, how can you believe, do you have to wait until I die, holding my Urn back to the country, then believe?” My voice was too hoarse, too indignant. My brother was silent for a while, seemed moved. At this time my dad’s voice came from the other end of the phone: “Serena’s call, what’s wrong with her?” “She said she is critically ill, needs to return immediately for surgery.” My dad disapproved: “What surgery can’t be done in London, must go back to New York? Foreign medical conditions are clearly better than domestic. Does this child want to come back to destroy Lila’s wedding? Find an excuse also don’t know to find a more reasonable one.” “I tell you, although Lila is only my stepdaughter, she is also your sister. As a brother, you can’t favor one over another, only love Serena, not love Lila.” “Lila is about to marry Julian, absolutely no moths can come out at this time. How lethal the return of ‘The One That Got Away’ is, you are also a man, you should understand.” My brother’s momentary hesitation was instantly washed away. “I know, forget it, ignore her first.” Then, the phone was abruptly hung up. The busy tone of “beep beep” came from the receiver, like a heartless slap, fiercely hitting the begging face of a dying person. So cold, so painful, painful that I couldn’t breathe. Turns out the brother who held me in his palm and loved me when I was young, really became Lila’s Simp. He is still that sister-spoiling maniac, but the one spoiled is no longer me, his biological sister, but the stepsister Lila who has no blood relation. Do I have to die of illness to get their cheap regret and collapse? But, what use is that? I don’t want the spiritual victory method of dead person literature. I want to save myself! Chapter 2 In the following days, I searched for famous doctors abroad, sent my medical records to them, but they all shook their heads. “Can’t do it, this surgery is very difficult, only Dr. Foster in New York, who has the most surgical experience, can do it personally, you have hope to live.” “Who said foreign medical skills are better than domestic? Talking about surgical experience, doctors in your country dare say second, no one dares say first, especially doctors in your public hospitals.” “Dr. Foster is the most authoritative surgeon in this field, known as the number one knife in surgery globally.” I emailed Dr. Foster, asking if he could go abroad to operate on me? Dr. Foster replied in the email: [Sorry, due to family reasons, I am restricted from leaving the country. Your illness allows no delay, I suggest you return immediately, come to the hospital to register my number, I can arrange surgery for you as soon as possible.] But I can’t return, passport confiscated, and bodyguards watching me 24 hours. Those bodyguards were long bought by Lila. That day I heard my brother call the bodyguard in the ward with my own ears: “Is Serena really sick?” The bodyguard stood outside the ward and said: “Young Master, Miss is not sick.” The attending doctor was more anxious than me. “Serena, no matter what, you must return immediately. I have contacted Dr. Foster, as soon as you get off the plane, they will send an ambulance to the airport to pick you up.” I closed my eyes, weeping in despair. “Is it that I don’t want to return?” The attending doctor turned to any doctor he could find: “Then call Julian Vance, don’t they all say you are Julian’s ‘The One That Got Away’? Can’t the billionaire come to pick you up if you don’t return?” But Julian doesn’t love me at all. Before it was me chasing him, chasing very hard. Saying I am his white moonlight, I don’t believe it a thousand times, don’t know who spread this word, too ridiculous. Hard to say, I could only say: “You also said, I just went abroad, not flew out of earth. If I am really his white moonlight, if I am really his must-have, he would have gone abroad to find me long ago, why find a substitute?” The attending doctor snatched my phone: “Still have to call, what is his number? I dial for you.” I reported a string of numbers, but I dared not hold any fantasy. Chapter 3 “Hello, are you Julian Vance? Heard Serena is your white moonlight, can you tell Serena’s family, even if white moonlight returns, you won’t abandon the substitute? She can’t return now because she is your white moonlight.” Julian sneered and refused: “She thinks too highly of herself. From the moment she stepped out of the country, I treat her as dead.” I couldn’t help choking, his words were like a slap on my burning face, extremely embarrassing. I shook my head to the attending doctor: “Forget it, I don’t want to humiliate myself.” The attending doctor was angry, roared at Julian through the phone: “What if she is really dying soon?” Julian was startled: “What do you mean?” “Literal meaning, she has a very serious illness, no one dares to do this surgery abroad, only Dr. Foster in your country’s Mount Sinai Hospital personally operates, she has possibility to live. But her brother doesn’t let her return. If you have no interest in her, make it clear to her brother, don’t let people misunderstand she is the white moonlight in your heart, causing her to die in a foreign land. Time left for her is really not much.” Yes, if I am not the white moonlight in Julian’s heart at all, can he tell my brother. As long as I am not a stumbling block on Lila’s road to happiness, my brother will allow me to return. Suddenly, Lila’s happy voice came from the phone: “Julian, who are you talking to? The priest is asking you, do you willing?” “Guests are all waiting, if not a particularly important call, can you wait until the wedding ceremony is over to continue?” I then realized, what was playing in the phone was the Wedding March. Really nice, melody of happiness. No wonder my brother said I have to wait a few more days to return. So at this moment, Julian is holding a wedding with Lila? Calling him at his wedding, indeed humiliating myself. Probably he thought I wanted to make trouble at his wedding? I have imagined the happy wedding banquet, full of guests, my dad, my brother are all watching this new couple. The priest repeated again: “Mr. Julian Vance, do you willing to take Lila as your wife? Whether she is rich or poor in the future, whether she is healthy or unwell in the future, are you willing to be with her forever?” I immediately snatched the phone back from the attending doctor, hung up. I don’t want to hear Julian say on the other end: “I do.” Chapter 4 This day, my illness worsened, repeatedly fever, fell into nightmare. Dreamed of childhood, Dad loved me, Brother loved me, but all this changed flavor after Lila mother and daughter came to the house. After Mom died, Dad planned never to marry again. Five years ago met Lila’s mom, that woman looked exactly like my mom, even Lila looked extremely like my mom when young, more like my mom than me. Dad finally couldn’t resist the temptation of substitute literature. Even my brother said: “You just imagine her as our mom, imagine Lila as a sister mom gave birth to again, can’t you?” Cannot! Of course cannot! That is my mom, how can I allow a woman to wear my mom’s face, occupy everything of my mom. Even the jewelry my mom liked most before death, the wedding ring dad gave mom when married, were worn on that woman. I cried, I made noise, I tried every way to drive that pair of mother and daughter out of the house, but became the unreasonable bad girl in everyone’s eyes. Family who once loved me hurt me, only left guard against me. Suddenly, persistent phone ring woke me up. Dazedly I saw “Brother” two words jumping on the screen. I immediately answered the phone, thinking if Julian and Lila’s wedding is done, my brother finally allowed me to return? But my brother’s furious voice came from the phone: “Must you be so vicious? Must you force Lila to death to be willing?” “You have love from me and Dad, what does Lila have?” “She is just a girl with no sense of security. For love she would rather be your substitute. She has sacrificed to this point for love, why do you still want to destroy her wedding?” “Do you know, your one phone call made Julian drop the wedding and abandon her. We all couldn’t pull him back. So many guests watching, everyone laughing at Lila overestimating herself, deluding to replace you, but slapped in face by white moonlight’s one call.” “Now Lila became the laughing stock of the whole city, forced unable to live, can only jump off building, you satisfied?” “Touch your own conscience, if she has any mishap, can you sleep peacefully in this life?” Pfft— Anxious fire attacked heart, I vomited a mouthful of blood. Doctor said I can’t be stimulated anymore, but did my brother speak human words? “Brother, why don’t you touch your own conscience and ask, do I really have love from you and Dad?” “Who would be loved to almost dying, crying and begging can’t return to country?” “Lila jumps off building, you heart ache. I lie lonely on foreign hospital bed, have you heart ached?” “I regret, I shouldn’t extravagantly hope you still love me like when young.” “You long aren’t that brother who loved me, you have no heart!” When I spoke, the medical instrument alarm kept beeping. Nurse ran over to look, shouted: “Not good, Bed 18 patient blood pressure rising rapidly, heart beating too fast, danger of sudden death anytime. Dr. Du, call Dr. Du quickly, Bed 18 critical…” My brother probably heard the nurse’s words, voice unstable: “What happened to you? Is someone cooperating with you to act again?” “Serena, you speak to me, not allowed to scare brother! Heard not? Speak!” “Not speak then give phone to bodyguard, I want to hear them say, immediately, right now!” Really funny, I am dying, he still firmly believes I am acting? My heart is desolate, what else to say? Give to bodyguard, let bodyguard open eyes tell lies, tell him I am not sick? Nothing is greater than heart death. I really don’t want to be the heroine of dead person literature, but fate refuses to give me a trace of favor. Wait, my brother seemed to say on the phone just now, Julian dropped wedding abandoned Lila, everyone couldn’t pull him back? Is this really not my hallucination? At this time, my brother’s assistant’s voice vaguely came from the other end: “Young Master, Julian went abroad. Old Master Vance ordered dozens of bodyguards to block him at airport but couldn’t block.” “He was like a beast suddenly went crazy, god block kill god, buddha block kill buddha. I have never seen such a terrifying man.” “Also, I just got news, Julian never thought of marrying Miss Lila. Even without Miss Serena’s call, Julian wouldn’t say ‘I do’ three words. He entered the trap himself, originally wanted to play this at the wedding scene to destroy Lila.” Play what to destroy Lila? I am too curious to see. Did Julian really come to pick me up back to country? But, seems, already too late. I saw many doctors swarming towards me, giving me shots, shining flashlight on my eyelids. But my vision became darker and darker, darker and darker…

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My phone buzzed. I was mid-meeting, pitching a new feature to the executive team, but I risked a glance at the screen. The family group chat. Adam had tagged me, attaching an Excel file. I tapped it open. The first cell: Jenna Thorne – Itemized Debt Ledger. Below it were 237 densely packed lines, dating from a $5 coffee I bought five years ago during our first year of marriage, all the way up to the $180 puffer coat he got me last winter. Every single penny. The final row, highlighted in red: TOTAL DUE: $180,000.00. My hand shook, rattling the phone against the table. My colleagues kept debating the implementation timeline, their words a muffled, distant sound. I couldn’t hear a thing. I closed the spreadsheet. Another message popped up in the chat. Adam: Repayment expected within 30 days. I stared at the sentence, and a sudden, hysterical laugh caught in my throat. Five years. In his eyes, I was just a debtor. 1. The meeting ended. I shut my laptop, the screen going black. My phone vibrated again, this time a direct call from my mother, Laura. “Jenna, what on earth is that spreadsheet Adam sent to the group?” I took a deep, steadying breath, then called her back. “Mom, it’s nothing. I’m handling it.” “What is wrong with that boy? Five years of marriage, and he’s calculating every cent?” My mother’s voice was tight with shock. “Don’t worry about it. I know what to do.” A text came in from my best friend, Samara (Sam). Sam: I saw the group message. Are you okay? Me: I’m fine. Sam: He’s lost his mind, right? Posting a ledger like that? Me: He probably thought it was perfectly reasonable. Samara sent a string of furious, all-caps emojis. I didn’t reply. I gathered my things and headed out. In the elevator, I ran into Mike, one of the HR directors. “Jenna, you look pale. Is the Q3 launch stressing you out?” “I’m fine, Mike. Thanks for the concern.” The doors opened and I stepped onto the street. The New York rush hour subway was predictably jammed. I stood pressed into a corner, completely isolated in the crush of people, and opened the ledger again. I scrolled down. 11/08/2019: Wedding Favors (My side of the guests) – $800.00 12/24/2019: Christmas Eve Coffee (Grande Latte) – $6.50 03/14/2020: Valentine’s Day Chocolates – $55.00 06/01/2020: Plush Toy (Gag Gift) – $22.00 Every item was there. It included the prenatal vitamins, the specialty tea, the maternity clothes, even the organic strawberries he’d bought me during my ten months of pregnancy. All accounted for. I lowered the phone and closed my eyes. The train announced the next stop: “”Grand Central. Transfer to the 4, 5, 6…”” I stayed put. I rode to the end of the line, then rode the train back. It was nine p.m. when I finally got home. Adam was on the couch, scrolling through his phone. “You’re home?” “Mhm.” I walked over and stood directly in front of him. “I saw the ledger you sent.” He set his phone down and turned his head up to me. “Good. I was meticulous. I didn’t overcharge you by a single dime.” “One hundred and eighty thousand dollars.” “Yes. That’s the amount I’ve spent on you over the last five years.” He said it so matter-of-factly. “You clear about $25,000 a month. You can pay it off in six or seven months.” I just stared at him. This man. My husband of five years. “You think this is reasonable?” “Of course, it is. We agreed to keep our finances separate, didn’t we? It’s our version of bill splitting.” “I don’t recall agreeing to this version of bill splitting.” “Well, you should have paid attention.” Adam stood up. “Jenna, we’re adults. Keeping a clear account ensures neither of us is taken advantage of. It’s fair.” “Fair?” “Yes. Modern couples should be practical.” I finally laughed—a short, sharp bark. “Did you know my mother called me, her voice shaking, today?” “Your mother is just old-fashioned.” “You posted that in the family group chat, Adam. Both our parents saw it.” “Perfect. Saves me having to explain it later.” I turned toward the bedroom. “Jenna, when are you going to pay?” I stopped at the doorway, not turning back. “I’ll think about it.” I closed the bedroom door behind me and leaned my back against it. My son, Toby, was asleep, his face rosy and peaceful. He was three years old, unaware that his father was calculating his mother’s value in the living room. I walked to his bed and pulled the blanket up to his chin. I opened my phone and looked at the spreadsheet one more time. 237 line items. Five years. An average of four transactions logged every single month. Me: Do you think this marriage is salvageable? Samara replied instantly: Are you thinking about divorce? Me: I don’t know. Samara: If you are, I’ve got your back. I turned off my phone and lay down on my side of the bed. There was a faint crack running across the ceiling. I stared at it for a long time. Five years. I thought we were partners. He thought I was a line item on his balance sheet. 2. Saturday morning, I took Toby to my parents’ house. “Jenna, that debt statement…” My mother looked at me, struggling to find the words. “Mom, I’ve got it under control.” “Adam wasn’t always like this,” she sighed. My father, Frank, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke. “What’s your next move?” “I haven’t decided yet.” “Then don’t rush.” Dad’s eyes met mine. “But you need to understand, this isn’t about the money.” I nodded. I went home in the afternoon. Adam wasn’t there. I booted up his work computer. The password was his birthday—he’d never changed it. There was a folder on the desktop titled: Household Financials – MASTER. I clicked it open. Inside were over a dozen spreadsheets. The first was the “”Jenna Thorne Debt Ledger”” he’d sent to the chat. The second: Family Expenses Log (Adam’s Share). I opened it. Row 1: 11/2019 – 11/2024: Mortgage Payments Totaled $480,000. My contribution: $240,000. Row 2: General Living Expenses: My monthly average contribution $3,000. Five-year total: $180,000. Row 3: Child Expenses: My monthly average contribution $2,000. Three-year total: $72,000. … I scrolled down. Every contribution was itemized and logged. Then I clicked on the third file: Family Expenses Log (Jenna’s Share). Row 1: General Living Expenses: Jenna’s monthly average contribution $5,000. Five-year total: $300,000. Row 2: Child Expenses: Jenna’s monthly average contribution $7,000. Three-year total: $252,000. … I did the quick math. By his own accounting, I had contributed over $800,000 to the shared family fund over five years. He had contributed just over $500,000. Yet his public ledger only accounted for the $180,000 he’d spent directly on me. I kept digging. There was another folder, simply titled Personal Assets. I opened it. A screenshot of a bank account. Balance: $285,000. In the transaction history, several large deposits stood out. 01/2020: Christmas Bonus from Mom – $50,000. 01/2021: Birthday Gift from Mom – $50,000. 05/2023: Medical Expense Reimbursement (Mom) – $50,000. I froze at that last one: Medical Expense Reimbursement (Mom). I remembered May of last year. Adam’s mother, Ruth, had a serious health scare. Adam had asked me for $50,000. He’d said, “It’s my mother. You’re my wife. It’s only right that we split the major costs.” I transferred the $50,000 without a second thought. Her hospital stay cost $130,000 in total. Adam had told me he’d covered the remaining $80,000. Now I knew the truth. He’d only covered $30,000. His mother had reimbursed him $50,000 after being released. My $50,000, however, was gone. I closed the laptop. I walked to the balcony. Outside, a light, cold rain was falling. It was a bleak New York autumn. I suddenly recalled the $180 puffer coat from his ledger. He’d insisted on paying for it that day, saying, “Let me take care of this one.” I had felt touched by the gesture. Now I knew the cost was in his ledger. Meanwhile, his own $1,200 Patagonia jacket wasn’t in any of the shared family expense logs. I smiled—a cold, empty expression. So that was it. Adam returned late that evening. “Where were you?” I asked, meeting him at the door. “Dinner with a client.” “Oh.” He settled on the couch and picked up his phone. I walked over and sat down on the chair opposite him. “Adam, a question.” “Yeah?” “Does the money your mother gives you count as family income?” He looked up, wary now. “It’s a gift from my mother. It has nothing to do with you.” “But the $50,000 I gave you for your mother’s medical bill—that counted as a family expense?” “Of course, it did. You’re my wife.” I nodded slowly. “And everything you bought me during my ten months of pregnancy—the prenatal care, the clothes—that all counts as my debt to you?” “They were purchases for you. Yes, they count.” “But I was pregnant. I was creating your son.” “That was your choice,” Adam said, his voice hardening. “Jenna, why are you bringing all this up?” “I just wanted to clarify the accounting rules.” “There’s nothing unclear about it. I keep a ledger to keep things clear.” I looked at him, feeling a terrifying wave of unfamiliarity wash over me. “Adam, a marriage isn’t a limited partnership.” He frowned. “What are you talking about?” “I’m talking about the fact that I don’t owe you anything.” “So you’re refusing to pay?” “Yes. I’m not paying.” Adam stood up and crossed the space between us. “Jenna, don’t be unreasonable.” “I’m unreasonable?” “Yes! The ledger is clear. You can’t just refuse to pay what you owe!” “And why don’t you account for what I’ve contributed to this home?” “Your contributions? You benefited from them just as much as I did!” I took a sharp breath. “I understand now.” “Good. One month. $180,000. Don’t miss the deadline.” I stood up and walked into the bedroom. “Jenna!” I didn’t answer. I closed the door and messaged Samara. Me: Can you recommend a lawyer? Samara: What kind? Me: Divorce. Samara sent a shocked emoji, then a single word: Tomorrow. Me: Thank you. I turned off my phone and lay back. Toby slept peacefully beside me. I stroked his hair. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Your mom has to make a hard choice. But I can’t let you grow up thinking this is what love looks like. 3. Sunday afternoon, I met with the lawyer. Ms. Klein was a sharp, meticulous woman in her forties who looked like she’d won every case she’d ever taken. “Ms. Thorne, let’s go over the specifics.” I explained the ledger, the group chat, and the context of the $180,000. Ms. Klein listened, silently, for a few moments. “This situation is… unique,” she said. “I want a divorce.” “We can do that, but you need to consider three things,” Ms. Klein continued. “First, custody of your son. Second, asset division. Third, if he sues you for the $180,000, legally speaking…” “If he sues,” I cut her off, “I will countersue and submit my own itemized ledger for the last five years.” Ms. Klein paused, then a slight smile touched her lips. “Ms. Thorne, you are remarkably composed.” “I’m just done being naive.” “So, what’s your strategy?” “I’m creating my own ledger.” Ms. Klein nodded, pulling out a legal pad. “Excellent. But we need to structure it smartly. Marital common expenditures are shared. The key is to prove that your non-monetary contributions vastly outweigh his, and that his accounting system was designed to benefit himself.” “I have the proof.” “What proof?” I took out my phone and opened the photo album. “These are my bank statements for the last five years. I’ve already organized them.” Ms. Klein took the phone, scrolling briefly. “Very good. These will be useful.” “I also have photos of his hidden accounting files on his work computer.” Ms. Klein looked at me, her surprise evident. “Ms. Thorne, what is your profession?” “I’m a Product Manager.” “That explains it.” I offered a small smile. “So, what do I do next?” “First, finalize your counter-ledger,” Ms. Klein advised. “Second, gather all evidence: texts, transfer records, everything. Finally, we propose a mediated settlement. If he refuses, we file a complaint.” “Understood.” “And regarding custody: do you want primary custody?” “Absolutely.” “Then we must establish your competence and show that the child’s best interests are served by living with you.” “That won’t be an issue.” Ms. Klein covered a few more technical details, which I duly noted. I arrived home around seven p.m. Adam was in the kitchen, cooking dinner. “You’re back? Where were you?” “Met a friend.” “Right.” He served the food and called me to the table. I sat, but had no appetite. “So, about the $180,000. Have you thought about it?” I looked up at him. “I have. If you want to keep score, we’ll settle the books.” Adam paused, fork halfway to his mouth, then grinned. “You want to challenge my math?” “Yes.” “Go ahead. I’m an open book.” He wore a condescending expression, convinced I couldn’t possibly come up with anything substantial. I didn’t argue. I just ate quietly. For the next three days, I sat in front of my computer every night after putting Toby to bed. Five years of bank statements. Screenshots of every large transfer. And my own ledger. I used the same Excel template Adam had. The first cell: Adam Thorne – Itemized Compensation Due to Jenna Thorne Ledger. I began listing the items. Row 1: Opportunity Cost of 10-Month Pregnancy & Recovery. I consulted online resources, calculating the loss of potential promotion and salary increase for a high-earning woman. I settled on a conservative estimate: $300,000. Row 2: Physical & Emotional Toll of Childbirth. Quantifying the actual cost of physical damage and recovery time: $100,000. Row 3: Value of Uncompensated Childcare & Domestic Labor. I calculated the hours spent after my full-time job and on weekends doing primary childcare and household management. I calculated 3 hours per day, at a moderate rate of $50/hour, over five years. 3 hours x 365 days x 5 years x $50/hour = $273,750. I rounded it to a conservative: $250,000. Row 4: My Parents’ Down Payment Contribution (never returned or acknowledged). $30,000. Row 5: My $50,000 Contribution to Mother-in-Law’s Medical Bill (unreimbursed). $50,000. Row 6: Disparity in Monthly Shared Expenses (My overpayment of $2,000/month). $120,000. … I compiled twenty entries. The final row, highlighted in fluorescent green: TOTAL COMPENSATION DUE: $850,000.00. $850,000. I stared at the number and let out a genuine, albeit cynical, laugh. I had “earned” an $670,000 profit in this marriage. I saved the file and closed the laptop. It was 1 a.m. Adam was asleep in the bedroom. I didn’t go in. I lay on the living room sofa for the rest of the night. 4. Thursday evening, Adam asked again: “$180,000. What’s the plan?” “This weekend. I’ll give you my answer then.” “Fine. I’ll wait.” Saturday morning, I met Samara at our usual coffee shop. “Is the ledger ready?” “Yes.” I AirDropped the Excel file to her phone. Samara opened it, read for a moment, and burst out laughing. “Jenna, you are savage.” “I just used his own logic against him.” “The ‘Opportunity Cost of 10-Month Pregnancy.’ That’s genius.” “And it’s a conservative estimate, too.” “It’s brutal enough.” Samara put down her phone. “When are you going to send this to him?” “Tonight. In the family chat.” Samara’s jaw dropped, then she gave me a slow, emphatic thumbs-up. “You’re an icon.” “If he can humiliate me in the family chat, I can certainly return the favor.” “That’s the spirit.” That afternoon, I went to my parents’ house. Dad saw my face and asked, “What’s wrong, kiddo?” “Mom, Dad, I need to tell you something.” “What is it?” “I’m filing for divorce.” Mom gasped. Dad didn’t speak for a long moment. Finally, he asked, “Are you sure?””

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I was stressed about my AI hackathon entry. My husband Toby, usually just beside me, set down his book, removed his gold-rimmed glasses, and took my laptop—something he’d never shown interest in before. He rolled up his sleeves, and in the glow of the screen, his fingers flew across the keyboard. In under a minute, he solved a problem that had stumped me for a month. “Did you learn that recently?” I asked, my heart swelling, thinking he’d done it for me. He only smiled. A man focused on his work is irresistible. I snapped a photo of his handsome profile and posted it online. My usually quiet account blew up overnight. Comments flooded in: “It’s 2026 and I’m seeing those hands code again! The ultimate intellectual crush!” “‘Learned that recently?’ LOL, OP, you really don’t know your husband, do you?” “MY SHIP IS BACK FROM THE DEAD! I watched Isabelle teach Toby to code a hundred times. They were perfect.” “Wait… is OP Toby’s wife? My Toby-and-Isabelle ship is officially ancient history…” 1 The comments kept pouring in. “Props to you, though. Back in the day, Toby stayed up for nights on end optimizing the parameters for Isabelle’s AI competition. He collapsed in the lab from exhaustion right after it was over. That kind of devotion still hits hard!” “You think that’s something? What about the fact that after Isabelle left, Toby never touched a competitive AI project again? Is that not the ultimate tragic romance?” … Everyone was lamenting their unfinished love story. Over three thousand comments, all piecing together an Toby I had never known. This wasn’t the calm, dependable man I had fallen in love with, the man so steady that I was the one who had to propose marriage. This was a raw, impulsive young man who, when rumors spread that he was backing out of Isabelle’s project, ran through a torrential downpour to her apartment just to explain. The night before Isabelle left the country was Christmas Eve. That same day, Toby officially quit the AI lab, vowing never to work on core algorithms again. He locked himself in a server room all night and emerged with a hauntingly beautiful piece of AI-generated music—a melody whose title was a coded way of saying “I love you.” She was his muse, his inspiration. I scrolled through their entire story, comment by comment. The bright white screen stung my eyes until they started to water. The melody Toby had just generated for me… it was the same one. Was it because Christmas was approaching? Was he thinking of her again? “Hey, don’t cry over a bit of code.” Toby chuckled, his thumb, slightly calloused, brushing away a tear from the corner of my eye. I flinched away from his touch, forcing a weak smile. I tried to keep my voice even. “Have you competed in AI events before? You have a really deep understanding of these models.” “The lead algorithm engineer on my team is out sick. Honey, could you step in and help me out?” Everyone has a past. But his kindness to me over the years was real. More importantly, I had just found out I was pregnant. The family of three we had always dreamed of was finally within reach. If he agreed to help me, it would prove he had moved on. And if he had, I could pretend I never saw any of this. But Toby just froze. A long moment passed before he finally said, “I’ve never competed officially.” His words made my desperate hope feel pathetic. Official records of him and Isabelle winning AI competitions together were still online. Toby was the most meticulous, careful person I knew. And yet, he was telling me a lie so clumsy, so easily disproven. I lowered my gaze, my voice barely a whisper. “Really?” “Then what are all these comments about?” 2 With the last shred of denial torn away, I lost control, screaming at him, demanding to know why. Toby was silent for a long time. “There’s no why,” he said finally, his voice flat. “I was in love with her. I still think about her sometimes. It’s that simple.” He watched my frantic outburst with a calm detachment. “Olivia, we’re married now. You don’t need to obsess over my past.” The irony was suffocating. “What if she came back now?” I challenged him. “What if she asked you to join her new AI lab? Would you go?” He didn’t answer. He just reached for me, trying to pull me into an embrace. I slapped his hand away, my eyes locked on his, demanding an answer. Toby sighed. “Alright, stop overthinking this. Go to bed.” His composure made me feel like an irrational, shrewish wife. Tears welled in my eyes, but I wouldn’t let them fall. I pushed again, my voice trembling. “Would you go, or not?” The comment section had mentioned that Isabelle had just returned to the country to start her own AI lab and was looking for a head of algorithms. Her fans were ecstatic, convinced this was the epic reunion they’d been waiting for, completely disregarding me, his legal wife. Toby’s lips pressed into a thin line. After a long silence, he said, “No, I wouldn’t go. Happy now?” Before the words had even fully settled in the air, his phone rang. The caller ID displayed a single, glaring name: Isabelle. Without a second thought, Toby grabbed his phone and started to walk away. I lunged forward, my fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. A tear finally escaped, hitting the cloth and spreading into a small, dark stain. “Answer it here!” We stood locked in a standoff. The ringing weakened, and perhaps fearing he would miss the call, Toby actually answered it right in front of me. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “Isabelle.” Just one word, spoken with a depth of feeling that twisted my insides. A soft, gentle voice replied from the other end. “It’s me.” I felt Toby’s entire body go rigid. He was so stunned he forgot to pull his shirt from my grasp. Isabelle’s voice carried a hint of melancholy. “I’m so sorry to bother you this late. But… I didn’t know who else to call. The head of algorithms at my lab is causing a scene. He’s refusing to even show up for the final presentation, let alone come back to the States with me. But the project launch date here is fixed, and we can’t postpone it.” “I know this is a huge ask,” she continued, her voice soft and pleading, “but could you… could you come and save me? Just this once? Please, my algorithm genius.” 3 “But what about your international AI competition finals?” The question flew out of Toby’s mouth before he could stop it. Both Isabelle and I were stunned into silence. I never knew he could be so impulsive, especially when it came to her. My voice rose, sharp with disbelief. “You’re going to fly overseas to help her compete? Toby, tomorrow is Christmas Eve! Both our families are coming over for dinner!” I was going to announce my pregnancy then. For years, both our parents had been dropping hints. My mother-in-law would always sigh wistfully whenever she talked about her friends becoming grandparents. And Toby… Toby had always wanted a child. During our most intimate moments, he would whisper against my ear, his voice thick with tenderness, “Let’s have a baby, one just as sweet as you. What do you say?” On the phone, Isabelle’s voice suddenly cracked. “Toby… is that your… friend?” I cut in before he could answer. “We’re married.” There was a choked sound from the other end. Toby shot me a furious look, but still tried to reason with me. “It’s just technical support, Olivia.” Yes, just technical support. Then why was it “I’ve never competed” when I asked, but the moment she called, he was ready to drop everything and fly across the world for her? The silence crackled with tension. Isabelle was the first to speak. “You know what? Never mind.” “Wait,” Toby said hurriedly. He covered the receiver with his hand, pried my fingers from his shirt, and hissed, his voice dangerously low, “Can you please stop making a scene?” “She’s a girl, alone in a foreign country. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get to this point? What’s wrong with me helping her out as a friend?” I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. But it’s been hard for me to get here, too… This year was supposed to be my best chance at a promotion to team lead. But my performance had been unstable since I got pregnant. Our partners were worried about project delays and were even considering moving me off the core team. My friend had to fight to get me a spot in the post-holiday open-day presentation, but the algorithm engineer on my team said my code gave him anxiety and flat-out refused to partner with me. I’m not a genius. I’m the kind of person who has to code until my wrists ache just to keep up. Now, because of this pregnancy, I might lose everything I’ve worked for. But even so, I had never once regretted carrying his child. There was so much I wanted to say, so much pain I wanted to voice, but the moment I opened my mouth, the tears started to fall. Toby was already packing a bag, moving with a frantic urgency. He saw me crying and paused. I thought he would come hold me, like he always did. Or at the very least, offer a word of comfort. But all he said was a detached, “Drink some hot water when you’re done crying. I’m leaving.” My nails dug into my palms. My voice came out as a ragged whisper. “Are you really going? And you won’t regret this?” Toby stared at me for a long, hard moment, then lowered his eyes. “Get some sleep.” The front door clicked shut, leaving me alone in the vast, silent house. My hand rested gently on my stomach. I cried for a long, long time. Then, I picked up my phone and dialed a number. “Hello, I’d like to inquire about a painless abortion.”

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