Category: English

It was two in the morning, and my phone was having a seizure. I finally fumbled for it on my nightstand, the screen a blinding white in the darkness. Mrs. Wallace. Of course. “Ava,” she slurred, her voice thick with what sounded like wine and entitlement. “The thermostat in the rendering. It’s set to 24 degrees Celsius. The numerology is all wrong. Bad energy. Make it 26.” For a second, my sleep-fogged brain struggled to connect. Then it clicked. The full-home design commission. I forced my eyes open, the grit in them almost audible. “Of course, Mrs. Wallace. I’ll make that change first thing in the morning.” Ten minutes later, a FaceTime request lit up the room. I let it ring. It stopped, then immediately started again. I sighed and accepted. Her face, slick with some expensive night cream, filled the screen. “The entryway,” she commanded, pointing a manicured finger somewhere off-screen. “The shoes you placed by the door. I would never wear those. Fix it.” I mumbled an incoherent agreement. A few minutes passed. Another FaceTime call. “The windowsill,” she snapped. “The planter is white. My husband prefers blue. A cobalt blue. And the pattern on it needs to be symmetrical.” I fought the primal urge to hang up. “Mrs. Wallace,” I said, my voice strained with forced patience, “these are just placeholder details for the initial rendering. You’ll be able to arrange the decor however you like once the renovation is complete.” I thought that was the end of it. I was wrong. Just as I was drifting back to sleep, a sound ripped through the quiet of my apartment. BAM. BAM. BAM. Someone was pounding on my door. 1 All traces of sleep vanished, replaced by a surge of adrenaline. I crept out of bed and peered through the peephole. My blood ran cold. It was her. Sharon Wallace. I unlatched the door, and before I could even process the shock, she was towering over me, radiating fury. “From 2:00 AM to 4:43 AM, I initiated 132 video calls. Why didn’t you answer?” The sheer audacity of the question left me speechless. “Don’t you dare use ‘I was sleeping’ as an excuse,” she sneered. “Your job is to be on call. 24/7.” I glanced at my phone. The call log was a solid, unrelenting block of her name. A hundred and thirty-two calls. Then driving across the city to hammer on my door. The dam of my professionalism broke. “I am not obligated to answer your calls in the middle of the night, Mrs. Wallace. That is my personal time.” Her face contorted. “Personal time?” she screeched. “The client isn’t resting, so what gives you the right to rest?” She pushed past me into my apartment. “Now, open your laptop and make these changes exactly as I say.” She began rattling off a list. “One, the desk mouse is wired. I use a wireless mouse. Change it. Two, turn off that accent lighting in the living room. Are you trying to run up my electricity bill? Three, the fruit bowl on the coffee table. Pears? Pears are for farewells. Are you trying to jinx my marriage? Change them to pomegranates. For abundance.” She finally paused, glaring at me. “You have ten minutes. Send it to me for review.” That was it. I was done. “You are my client,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “You do not have the right to give me orders, and you certainly do not have the right to show up at my home and pound on my door.” In all my years working my way up in my family’s business, I’d seen my share of difficult clients. But this level of aggressive, unhinged entitlement was new. “Are you leaving now, or should I wait for the police to escort you out?” I raised my phone, my thumb hovering over the 9-1-1 shortcut. She let out a string of curses and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. I thought the harassment would end there. The next day, I went into the office early to revise her files. The moment I opened the design software, a video call came through from her. “Well, look who’s alive,” she chirped. “I told you to make those changes at five this morning. What have you been doing?” Before I could answer, she cut me off. “I’m going to watch you work. Go on. Faster!” I clenched my jaw. I am the daughter of the CEO of this entire corporation. The only reason I was here, hiding my identity and taking this abuse, was to understand the company from the ground up. On my screen, Sharon Wallace was lounging on a plush sofa, a green mask on her face, pointing at the design. “The plant in the living room. The third leaf from the top has a spot on it. Get rid of it.” I said nothing, but my internal monologue was a stream of pure venom. “And white flowers in the entryway? Are you trying to curse me? Change them to roses!” I took a deep breath and swapped the lilies for roses. Then we got to the master bedroom. Her eyes narrowed. She pointed a trembling finger at the pillows on the king-sized bed. “You bitch, Ava!” she screamed. “You want my husband and me to break up so you can crawl into his bed, don’t you!” My patience snapped. “And what evidence do you have for that insane accusation?” “Evidence? The pillows! They’re green, and they’re so far apart! What kind of sick game are you playing? I see right through you!” I slammed my mouse down on the desk. “My sick game? You’re the one who requested a sage green linen set! You’re the one who said a wider spacing on the pillows looked more ‘aesthetically pleasing’ for a California king! Have you lost your mind, Sharon?” I ended the call and silenced my phone. The world was finally, blessedly quiet. The quiet lasted less than five minutes. My supervisor, Mr. Davies, burst into the office, his face a thundercloud. He marched straight to my desk. “Ava, who the hell gave you the nerve to upset Mrs. Wallace?” he boomed. “You will call her, on video, and apologize immediately. Or you can pack your things and get out.” Apologize? I hadn’t done anything wrong. I suppressed my rage, pulled up the security footage from my apartment building’s hallway, and showed him the log of 132 missed calls. “Sharon Wallace harassed me all night, and when I didn’t answer, she showed up at my apartment and tried to break down my door,” I explained calmly. “Just now, she accused me of trying to sleep with her husband. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s her.” Smack. Davies slapped his hand on my desk, the veins in his forehead bulging. “If you want to keep your job, you will apologize. Now. Otherwise, you’re fired.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a hiss. “And your final paycheck? That five thousand dollars goes straight to Mrs. Wallace as compensation for your attitude.” Every word was a command. I felt my composure cracking. I looked him dead in the eye. “Dream on.” A cold, ugly smile spread across his face. “You’re forcing my hand, Ava.” He turned and raised his voice to address the entire office. “Listen up, everyone! Since Ava refuses to take responsibility for her actions, the whole department will pay the price! For every hour she refuses to apologize, five hundred dollars will be deducted from each of your paychecks!” The room erupted in groans and angry murmurs. “Just say you’re sorry, Ava,” someone whined. “It’s not a big deal. Don’t make us all suffer for it.” Greg, from two desks over, shot to his feet. “You want to be a martyr? Fine. But don’t drag us down with you. Some of us have mortgages to pay!” Then Quinn, who sat next to me, the one I’d always considered a friend, stood up. “Guys, don’t be too hard on Ava,” she said in a placating tone. “She just… only ever thinks about herself.” She looked at me with pity. “She’s not trying to get us all fined. She’s just petty like that.” Her words were a slap in the face. I laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. “Quinn, if I recall correctly, you only got this job because my family pulled some strings, didn’t you?” Her face went pale. “I have the power to get you in here, and I have the power to get you thrown out.” She sank back into her chair, her head bowed. I looked around at the faces of my colleagues, the people I’d covered shifts for, helped with deadlines, brought coffee for. The people now glaring at me as if I were the enemy. My heart turned to ice. In front of everyone, I ripped my employee ID from its lanyard and tossed it on the desk. If the choice was between screwing over my colleagues and screwing over myself, I’d rather go back to corporate headquarters. Back to the position my father had waiting for me. “I quit.” Davies strode over, a smug look on his face. “Ava, Ava, Ava,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “A girl like you, with no connections, no special talent. Who’s going to hire you after you leave us? This firm has been good to you. Out there? You won’t even be able to afford rent.” I had lost all patience. I turned and walked toward the door. Let someone else have this godforsaken job. Just as my hand touched the handle, my phone rang. It was the corporate Compliance Department. “Ms. Scott?” a stern voice said. “Per the request of your client, Mrs. Sharon Wallace, you are required to complete her design draft as specified. Failure to do so will result in a breach of contract, and you will be liable for a penalty of two hundred thousand dollars.” I laughed in disbelief. “She’s the one making baseless demands, and you’re siding with her without even investigating?” It seemed the entire department needed a complete overhaul. I was about to hang up when the voice on the other end added, “And given your history of insubordination, this penalty will be passed to your official mentor to be paid out of his medical leave fund.” My blood ran cold. William. “This has nothing to do with him!” William was the only person in this entire office who had been genuinely kind to me. He was in the hospital, recovering from a sudden illness. He didn’t have family money; he had a wife and two kids. Without that fund, he’d be ruined. I couldn’t let a good man suffer because of me. I swallowed my pride and my rage. “Fine,” I bit out. “I’ll finish the project before I resign.” The person on the other end chuckled. “Wise choice.” They had no idea what I was really thinking. A department this corrupt didn’t need an overhaul. It needed to be dismantled, and every single person in it needed to be fired for gross negligence. I walked back to my desk. Davies smirked when he saw me. “Changed your mind? I told you. Someone like you could never survive without this company.” He then placed a small, white device on the corner of my desk—a pet monitoring camera. Before I could ask, a shrill, tinny voice erupted from its speaker. “Ava! What are you waiting for? Get back to work!” My phone pinged. An email from Sharon. I opened it. It was a 20-page document titled “Working Protocol.” I scanned the list, each rule more insane than the last. If your hand leaves the mouse for more than three seconds during work hours, this month’s performance bonus is forfeited. Bathroom breaks may not exceed three minutes. Any longer will be considered an unauthorized absence. All messages from me must be answered within 20 seconds, including nights, weekends, and holidays. When communicating with me, you must address me as ‘Mrs. Wallace.’ The final rule, on page twenty, was the kicker. If any of the above protocols are violated, you must kneel on the floor and continue your work until I am satisfied. What fresh hell is this? I rolled my eyes and deleted the file. Trying my best to ignore the camera spying on me, I quickly finished a new version of the design and sent it to Sharon. A few seconds later, her voice shrieked from the camera. “Ava! You did not address me as ‘Mrs. Wallace’ in your email!” The command followed instantly. “Kneel! Now! And state the reason for your violation!” Her voice was so loud that the entire office turned to stare. Davies rushed over and put a heavy hand on my shoulder, his face beaded with sweat. “Just do it, Ava! Are you trying to get us all fined again?” Sharon’s voice, dripping with smug satisfaction, floated from the speaker. “Let me tell you something, sweetheart. In here, I am the law. And when you break the law, you get punished.” The threat was clear. “I’ll count to three. If you’re not on your knees, your entire company will be kneeling with you.” She laughed, a low, cruel sound. “What else is a bottom-feeder like you good for, anyway? Your only purpose is to kneel and keep me happy.” That was it. I couldn’t take another second. Helping my father, learning the business—none of it was worth this level of degradation. But if I didn’t kneel, all these innocent—well, mostly innocent—people would be dragged down with me. “Three… two…” I snatched the heavy ceramic mug from my desk. With a roar of pure frustration, I hurled it at the camera. It shattered on impact. “Kneel for my ancestors!” I screamed, my voice raw. “Who the hell do you think you are to command me? Fuck your rules! I’ve had it with you, you entitled, sadistic bitch! Get the hell out of my life!” I yanked the camera’s cord from the wall and threw the useless plastic on the floor. The office was dead silent. Davies’s face was a mottled purple. “Ava,” he hissed, “do you have any idea who you just insulted? That is the fiancée of the richest man in this city’s son!” An older employee, who had been quiet until now, stood up and pointed a trembling finger at me. “You’re insane, Ava! Don’t you know Mrs. Wallace could have us all blacklisted from the industry with a single phone call? You’ve ruined us! All of us!” Quinn jumped to her feet, her face twisted in rage. “You troublemaker! The future daughter-in-law of Robert Sinclair! Are you happy now that you’ve dragged us all into your mess?” She swung her arm, aiming to slap me across the face. I caught her wrist in a vice grip and twisted. She cried out in pain. “The son of the city’s wealthiest man,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “You mean Leo Sinclair?” Davies froze, then let out a derisive snort. “So, now you realize who you’ve crossed?” I nodded slowly and pulled out my phone, opening my photo gallery to a recent family picture. In it, my brother had his arm slung casually around my shoulders. Standing behind us, beaming, was the man they all feared: Robert Sinclair. “Let me properly introduce myself,” I said, turning the screen for them to see. “My name is Ava Sinclair. And Leo? He’s my idiot younger brother.” The office was silent for a full thirty seconds. Then, it erupted in laughter. “Keep lying,” Davies choked out, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “I could photoshop something more convincing than that.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Alright, Ms. Sinclair. If Robert Sinclair is your father, call him right now. If he shows up, we’ll all apologize to you. On our knees. We’ll even slap ourselves ten times each.” I smiled grimly and dialed my father. “Dad, it’s me—” CRASH! The office door flew open, kicked in with tremendous force. My phone was snatched from my hand and smashed against the floor. Sharon Wallace stood there, flanked by two burly men who looked like hired thugs. “You worthless piece of trash!” she shrieked, her face a mask of fury. “I gave you the honor of kneeling for me, and you dare to curse me?” She lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back. I was forced to look at her two goons. “She broke the rules, and she defied me,” Sharon said to them. “Tell me, what do we do with lowlife scum like this?” “She needs to be taught a lesson, Mrs. Wallace!” they chanted in unison. I tried to break free, but one of them kicked the back of my knee, sending me crashing to the floor. The other pinned my arms behind my back. My kneecaps hit the hard floor with a sickening thud. I struggled, but their grip was like iron. Davies scurried to offer Sharon a chair. She sat, crossing her legs, looking down at me like a queen surveying a particularly disgusting insect. She extended one leg, the razor-sharp heel of her stiletto pressing into the back of my head. “Ava, since you can’t seem to learn the rules, I guess I’ll have to teach them to you myself.” At her nod, one goon twisted my arm while the other tightened his grip on my hair. A bolt of agony shot through me, and my body went limp, pitching forward. Thump. My forehead hit the tile. The world exploded in a flash of black and white. “Again,” Sharon’s vicious voice cut through the ringing in my ears. “Until I’m satisfied.” She pressed her heel down, grinding it into the floor, my head trapped beneath it. The pain was so intense I thought I would pass out. Thump. “What’s wrong, Ava?” she taunted. “Where’s all that fight? Where’s that backbone? Look at you now, kneeling like a pathetic dog.” Thump. Thump. Thump. The goon slammed my head against the floor again and again. A warm stream of liquid trickled down my forehead, blurring my vision. I bit my lip, tasting blood, and forced myself to look up at her. “When my dad gets here,” I squeezed the words through clenched teeth, “you’re finished.” Sharon froze for a second, then burst into maniacal laughter. “Your dad? What, is he some construction worker from a job site down the street?” Her eyes glittered with a new, venomous idea. “Fine. Let him come. Let him see what his daughter really is.” She leisurely stood up and retrieved a utility knife from her purse. I tried to turn my head away, but the goon held me fast. Click. The blade slid out, glinting under the office lights. “A worthless bitch like you should have it carved on your face for the whole world to see.” The cold metal traced a path along my cheek, sending a tremor of pure terror through me. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the searing pain. It’s over. It’s really over… The instant before the blade could cut— BANG! The main door of the firm was thrown open with such force it slammed against the wall. A powerful voice, filled with a familiar, grounding authority, echoed through the room. “You dare lay a hand on my daughter? Grant, liquidate every asset tied to the Wallace name. Terminate all our contracts with their family’s companies. Immediately.”

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I opened my eyes in a new body, and my phone buzzed with a text. Are you dead yet? If not, get your ass over here and apologize. If Sarah forgives you, I’ll consider not breaking up with you. I dragged the System out and demanded an explanation. “…It’s like this. The original owner of this body completed the male lead’s 100 demands and has already returned to her original world to save her lover. So, I dropped you in here.” I grabbed my head and screamed, “I asked you to find me a man, not a scumbag!” “Don’t panic! I didn’t say you have to be with the male lead. There are plenty of hot guys here. Plus, the original owner saved up tens of millions of dollars that she didn’t spend. I brought you here to enjoy life!” Tens of millions? Suddenly, I felt much better. My phone vibrated again. Be in this VIP room in 30 minutes. Fix your attitude. Don’t be stubborn. My fingers flew across the screen: Account owner deceased. I hacked this account. Blocked. 1 ? You’re dead, so a ghost is replying to me? Stop playing these childish games. You know I don’t have much patience. Tsk. Technically, when the original owner left this world, if the System hadn’t dropped me in, this body would be dead. So I didn’t lie. Whatever. I’ve seen this script a million times. This male lead’s “100 demands” were definitely inhumane. Kneeling in the rain at midnight, donating corneas, kidneys, livers—the usual “abused heroine” tropes. I never understood the System’s twisted tastes. Seeing this kind of guy makes me lose my appetite. I have zero interest in dealing with him. After all, I’m rich now! Tens of millions! “System, check my account. Exactly how many millions are we talking?” “Let me see… eighty million. Why are you looking at me like that? You want to spend it now?” I was so happy I almost threw my pillow at the ceiling. “Spend! Of course I’m spending it! Having money and not spending it is a crime! Quick, find me the most expensive, most luxurious club in the city with the hottest male models!” “I want to order eight of them at once!” I was poor my entire last life. Finally, it’s my turn to be a sugar mama! 2 I quickly applied a cold, glamorous “ice queen” makeup look, picked out a stunning bright red dress, and spun a few times in front of the mirror. Great body. Curves in all the right places. Just like the real me. Satisfied. Just as I was about to leave, the phone rang. No caller ID. I answered it directly. “Chloe, it’s been thirty minutes. Why aren’t you here yet?” “Don’t think just because you’re my girlfriend you can do whatever you want. When you make a mistake, you apologize. Did you forget how to be a decent human being?” The disgust and impatience in his voice were practically dripping through the phone. I realized immediately—it was the scumbag. Gross. But I was in a good mood, so I decided to explain one last time. “Buddy, your girlfriend kicked the bucket. I’m a possessing spirit. So no, I won’t be coming.” “This person has absolutely nothing to do with you anymore. Don’t contact me again. Byeee~” I hung up swiftly and blocked the number. Flipped my hair, stepped into my heels. “Let’s go! Platinum Club!” 3 When the manager heard I wanted the most luxurious VIP suite and the most expensive male models, his smile nearly split his face. He hurriedly had someone show me the way and promised to bring their top guys over shortly. I was grinning ear to ear too. Never enjoyed life like this before. But before I even reached the suite, someone stopped me. “Yo, isn’t that Chloe?” “I thought you had a backbone. You kept saying you wouldn’t come, but here you are, rolling over like a dog.” “Liam! Your girl is here!” I looked the guy up and down, confused. He was dressed decently, but his face screamed “NPC.” Then, a stream of people poured out of the adjacent room. Someone started clapping. “I won the bet! I told you, she’s trained like Liam’s dog. Even if she throws a tantrum, she always comes back obediently.” “Ten grand. Pay up.” Another guy shook his head, sighing as he took out his phone to transfer the money. A man and a woman walked out from the center of the group. Judging by their looks and positioning, they were the alpha couple of the pack. The man sneered. “You finally decided to show up? I thought you were dead.” I silently assessed the group and called the System. “System, who are these people? Is that the male lead?” “…Yes. I didn’t know he was here.” So this is the male lead, Liam. And the woman next to him must be the female antagonist, Sarah, that he mentioned. But— What does that have to do with me? I smiled and gave him an OK sign. “Yes, that’s right. You should treat me as dead.” “If you see me in the future, act like you saw a ghost. Pretend you didn’t see me, okay?” I turned to enter my suite, but my arm was grabbed. Liam’s face was long. “You’re not apologizing?” “Why should I apologize?” “You knew Sarah was allergic to mangoes, yet you ordered a fruit platter with mangoes. She almost went into shock and had to go to the hospital. Shouldn’t you apologize?” I laughed. “She knew she was allergic to mangoes, yet she ate from a fruit platter with mangoes. Is she brain-dead?” A weird silence fell over the scene. Until a sob broke it. “Liam, don’t make it hard for Chloe. I believe she didn’t do it on purpose. It was dark in the room, I ate the wrong thing by mistake. Let’s just let it go.” I immediately jumped on that. “Hear that? The Pick-me Girl said she ate it by mistake. What’s wrong with you, forcing me to apologize?” “Let go. Let go.” I shook his paw off my arm. Looking back, everyone’s expressions were colorful. Sarah pointed at herself in disbelief. “…Did you call me a Pick-me Girl?” “Yeah, I speak my mind, don’t take it personally. Besides, your face looks pretty green right now, any problem?” “Chloe, don’t push it!” Liam roared. “If you didn’t come to apologize, then why are you here?” “To beg me not to break up with you?” “Is this your attitude when begging me?” I crossed my arms, narrowed my eyes, and looked at him like he was an idiot. “Beg my ass. Dude, this is a club. What do you think I’m here for?” Just then, the manager arrived leading a row of flamboyantly dressed male models right to me. Every type you could imagine. The manager bowed fawningly. “Ms. Fang, I brought the guys. are you satisfied?” Silence fell over the hallway. I scanned the line, my eyes lighting up. “Yes! Yes! Bring them all in!” I told the manager to bring them into the suite and ordered several bottles of expensive wine. Looking back, Liam’s group stood there, dumbfounded, staring at me like they had actually seen a ghost. 4 Just as I was about to enter the suite, my hand was grabbed for the second time. Again? Liam gritted his teeth. “Chloe, you came here to find men?!” I rolled a massive eye. “None of your business. I told you already, I’m not your girlfriend. Go accompany your high-maintenance tea set and stop annoying me.” I tried to shake him off but couldn’t. So I lifted my high heel and stomped down hard with the pointed stiletto. No mercy. Liam’s face turned green, and he let go instantly. He wanted to scream but held it in, his face twisting, mouth twitching. “Fine, Chloe. You’re really something.” “Don’t come crawling back to beg for my forgiveness later. Let’s go!” Liam waved his hand, leading his group back into their room in a huff. But the people behind him seemed reluctant, clearly wanting to watch more drama. I flipped them off with zero class and click-clacked into my suite. As expected of the city’s biggest gold mine. The quality of the male models was top-tier. Tan skin, pale skin, everyone had an eight-pack. Calling me “Sister” sweetly enough to melt my heart. I opened 6 bottles of champagne and touched enough abs to last a lifetime. I picked up the microphone and started singing my heart out. The boys were very supportive. Even though I sang terribly, they listened as if entranced. My piercing high notes occasionally attracted people passing by to peek in. Whatever. A diva naturally attracts an audience. I sat on the shoulders of the tallest, most muscular boy, singing with abandon. Just as I was about to hit a high note, Boom! The door was kicked open. Simultaneously, the 7 boys around me popped their party poppers. Confetti and petals filled the room, covering the intruder. Seeing the scene inside, the group at the door gasped. Liam was shaking with rage. “Chloe, get down!” … This dog again! I patted the muscle boy’s shoulder, signaling him to put me down. “Bro, you’re haunting me. What do you want now?”

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After three years abroad, I stumbled upon a livestream that was absolutely blowing up. The clickbait title read: “A-List Starlet DESTROYS OnlyFans Wannabe! You Won’t Believe What Happens Next!” I was about to scroll past, laughing at the trashy headline, when I froze. The woman being labeled an “OnlyFans wannabe” wasn’t some random stranger. It was my best friend, the one trying to make it as a serious actress in Hollywood. She was stripped down to her underwear, kneeling on the floor, shaking uncontrollably. And the backdrop? It was my $50 million Hamptons estate that I let her stay in. Surrounding her was a clique of flashy, over-dressed influencers and B-list celebrities, mocking her relentlessly. “What do you mean this is your friend’s house?” sneered a woman in a white designer dress, acting like she owned the place. “Everyone knows this is the location Liam secured for me to film in!” She flipped her hair, feigning generosity. “Look, Liam gave me this estate. If you want inside, fine. But you’re gonna have to crawl in naked.” “I mean, you’re basically an adult film star anyway, right? Being naked shouldn’t be a big deal for you.” The live chat was toxic: Yaaas Chloe! Drag her! That shameless tramp deserves it! Her ‘friend’ is probably just another sugar baby! Liam? Liam Sterling? That was my fiancé. Who the hell was this squatter acting like the queen of my castle, bullying my best friend right in front of my eyes? I saw red. I booked the next flight to New York immediately. Then I called my fiancé. “You have ten minutes to get your ass over here.” “And you better be ready to explain to these people who actually owns the Hamptons estate.” 1. I clicked into the stream, ready to drop a few thousand dollars in “Super Chats” to support my best friend, Anna. Instead, I watched as she was blocked at the massive iron gates of my property. Even though she had the keys. No matter how many times she repeated, “This is my best friend’s house, she let me stay here!”, the security guards—people I didn’t recognize—wouldn’t budge. “Mr. Sterling gave us strict orders,” one guard said coldly. “Today, the estate belongs to Ms. Chloe Vance.” I was stunned. This was supposed to be Anna’s big break—a livestream reality show debut. The premise was simple: the cast brings the venues, and they live together for a week. Even though I hadn’t been in the States for a few years, I never skimped on supporting her. I immediately offered her my Hamptons estate, “The Dune House,” for filming. So what the hell was happening? On screen, the group of women surrounded Anna, laughing. “You? A nobody with a sketchy background knows someone with a house like this?” “Don’t compare yourself to us. You probably rented this for an hour to flex. This is obviously the location Liam got for Chloe!” “Your ‘best friend’ is probably imaginary, or just some other girl trying to bag a rich guy. Hilarious!” Chloe Vance, looking like the lady of the manor in her white dress, looked down at Anna with fake sympathy that barely masked her smugness. “Anna, honey, if you couldn’t secure a venue, just say so. We’d understand. You don’t have to lie and say the house Liam gave me belongs to your friend.” Anna flinched just looking at Chloe. But thinking of me seemed to give her strength. “It really is my friend’s house. I have proof…” Before she could finish, someone splashed a full glass of water right in her face. Her shirt soaked through instantly, clinging to her skin. Instead of cutting the feed, the camera crew zoomed in on my friend, who was desperately trying to cover her chest, looking humiliated. Chloe smirked. It was obviously intentional, but she gasped, covering her mouth with zero sincerity. “Oops! My bad, Anna. Hand slipped.” “But we can’t delay filming. Why don’t you take off that wet shirt before you come inside?” “Even though Liam gave me this place, I have to take care of it. If you drip water on the antique rugs or the art, you definitely couldn’t afford to replace them.” She looked Anna up and down, sneering. “Besides, considering your… past work, showing some skin for views is just another Tuesday for you, right?” Anna’s face went pale. She tried to defend herself, but Chloe’s posse was already reaching out, tugging at her clothes. The chat went wild. LMAO finally! Can’t stand her! She’s always acting innocent but we know she’s thirsty. Show us what you got! Chloe is the queen of calling out fakes! I rubbed my eyes. I thought I was hallucinating. But no. That was Anna. My Anna. And that was my house. It was the property old Mr. Sterling begged me to accept when Liam and I got engaged. I bought it as our future wedding home. My money. My name on the deed. I left it empty when I went abroad to be with my parents for their retirement. So since when did it belong to Chloe and “Liam”? On screen, Anna was outnumbered. Her buttons popped off. She was down to her bra, sobbing. “Please! I’m done! I quit! Just let me go!” Chloe laughed, delivering the final blow. “Honey, you signed a contract. You can’t just quit.” “As the owner of this house, I make the rules today.” “Either strip naked and crawl inside, or pay the $5 million breach of contract fee. Your choice.” Seeing Anna’s despair, my rage burned away all reason. Who was this absolute trash acting like she owned the place? I boarded my flight. Just wait until the real owner shows up. 2. By the time I landed in New York and drove out to the Hamptons, the crew had started filming Day 2. I rolled up with a team of bodyguards and stormed past the confused security at the gate. I burst into the living room just in time to see Anna kneeling on the floor, shivering. She was wearing a humiliatingly short maid outfit. In front of her was a pile of chewed-up food someone had spit onto the marble floor. Chloe frowned, acting distressed. “Anna, your punishment yesterday was to serve us today. But look at this mess. You haven’t even cleaned the floor properly.” “Here, let me help you.” She lifted her foot and stomped on Anna’s head, trying to force her face into the vomit-like mess. My pupils dilated. I didn’t think. I sprinted forward and slapped Chloe across the face with everything I had. Crack. Chloe stumbled back, screaming. I pulled Anna up. She was a wreck. My heart broke. “I’m sorry,” I choked out, hugging her tight. “I’m so sorry I’m late.” Anna realized it was me and stopped shaking for a second. But then panic set in. She tried to push me away. She turned to kneel before Chloe again. “Ms. Vance, I’m sorry! It’s my fault! Don’t be mad at her! I’ll clean it up right now!” Chloe recovered from the shock of the slap. She clutched her red, swelling cheek, the “gentle girl” mask slipping completely. “You bitch! You hit me?! Do you have any idea who I am?!” I looked at Anna. Before I left, she was bright, confident, ready to take on the world. Three years later, she was broken. I grabbed Anna, forcing her to stand. “Get up! Do not kneel! I am here now!” I turned and kicked Chloe square in the stomach. “I don’t care who you are. The President could be here and I’d still beat your ass.” “Let’s see who dares to stop me!” Chloe shrieked and fell backward—landing right in the pile of gross food. The other celebrities finally snapped out of it, rushing to help her but recoiling at the mess on her dress. They turned on me instead. “Who the hell is this psycho?! Don’t you know Chloe is Liam Sterling’s girl?!” “Liam will literally kill you for touching her!” The livestream chat was exploding: Is this the ‘friend’? Looks like another escort. Probably sleeps with some old oil tycoon and thinks she’s tough. Chloe has Liam Sterling backing her! He buys her million-dollar diamonds like they’re candy! This girl is dead meat. Liam Sterling. Liam Sterling. I finally laughed. Last night, Liam sent me a voice note whining about when I was coming back for our wedding. And now he was apparently Chloe’s knight in shining armor? 3. I pulled out my phone and dialed Liam. He answered instantly, sounding excited. “Tara! Babe! You called! Did you miss me? I’m flying out to see you as soon as I wrap up this deal!” My voice was ice. “Save the flight. Get your ass to The Dune House. Right now.” “You have ten minutes. Come tell everyone here who this house actually belongs to.” The room erupted in laughter. Chloe and her squad were losing it. “Did she just pretend to call Liam? That acting is worse than Anna’s!” “Birds of a feather! You’re both delusional trash!” “If Liam isn’t here in ten minutes, you’re stripping down and scrubbing the floors with your tongue!” Anna was trembling, tugging my sleeve. “Tara, let’s go… we can’t fight them.” I smirked. “There is no one in New York I can’t fight.” Ten minutes later, the roar of a sports car engine cut through the air. Liam strode in wearing a sharp black suit. “Tara!” He started, smiling, until he saw Chloe sobbing on the floor behind me. His expression shifted to annoyance. He frowned at me. “Tara, did you hit Chloe?!” I was waiting for an explanation, and he was questioning me? Whack. I slapped him too. “I hit her, and now I’m hitting you.” “Watch your tone when you speak to me.” Chloe screamed and threw herself into Liam’s arms. “Liam! She’s crazy! She’s jealous you gave me the house!” I crossed my arms, staring Liam down. “The deed is in my name. I paid for it. Since when do you have the right to give my property away?” Chloe looked up at him, wide-eyed. “Liam… is that true?” Liam froze. His face turned red with embarrassment, then anger. He lowered his voice, hissing at me. “Tara, stop making a scene! I already promised her. Just sign the transfer papers later. It’s supposed to be our marital home anyway, so I own half of it in spirit!” I laughed so hard I nearly choked. Then I slapped him again. “You broke ass, gold-digging loser. You beg me for a marriage alliance and then act like a big shot with my assets?” Liam’s eyes bulged. “Tara!” I didn’t stop there. I grabbed Anna’s hand and walked up to Chloe. Slap. “That’s for lying about her career.” Slap. “That’s for squatting in my house.” Slap. “And that is for breaking her spirit!” My bodyguards blocked anyone who tried to intervene. The chat, previously full of Chloe fans, started turning. Wait… is this security for real? She just slapped Liam Sterling! Is this scripted? I’m calling the cops! This is assault! Chloe, the “Sweetheart of America,” was now swollen-faced and shaking. I massaged my wrist, glaring at Liam. “You’ve clearly forgotten that the Sterling family only survived because of my family.” “Last chance. Get these people out of my house. And tell them who owns it.” Before Liam could speak, a furious roar came from the entrance. “Who owns it? Chloe owns it!” 4. I stared at the man walking through the door, my jaw practically hitting the floor. “Tyler?! What the hell?” Chloe saw him and lit up like she’d seen God. She threw herself into his arms. “Tyler! Baby! It hurts so much!” My brother, Tyler Vance, looked heartbroken. Then he walked over and slapped me. Hard. “Tara, you spoiled brat!” “It’s just a house! How dare you hurt Chloe like that!” My ears rang. I stumbled, tasting blood. “You…” I gasped. “Why don’t you ask what she did to Anna?!” Tyler glanced at Anna, who was bruised and disheveled. In the past, he treated Anna like a second sister. Now, he just frowned, dismissing her. “It’s just girl drama. Does it warrant this violence?” “Apologize to Chloe. Now. Or don’t blame me for what happens next.” I saw the light go out in Anna’s eyes. I realized then: Liam wasn’t Chloe’s biggest backer. My own brother was. I spit blood on the floor. “Apologize? She’s not worth the dirt on my shoe.” Chloe started crying on cue. “If Tara is your sister, Tyler, then forget it. I deserve it. I’m just an outsider.” Tyler melted. He looked at me with pure hatred. “Tara, if you won’t learn, I’ll teach you.” He snapped his fingers. “Restrain her!” Ten bodyguards rushed me, pinning me to the ground. Thud. My head hit the marble. Blood trickled down my forehead. “You won’t admit you’re wrong? I’ll beat it out of you!” Tyler yelled. “Hit her ten times for every slap she gave Chloe!” Blow after blow landed on me. Anna screamed. She dropped to her knees. “Tyler… Mr. Vance! Please! It’s my fault! Punish me! Leave Tara alone!” She banged her head against the floor, begging. Tyler ignored her, cooing at Chloe. “Whatever you want, babe. I’m doing this for you.” Chloe pretended to be conflicted, but her eyes were venomous as she looked at Anna. “Well, since Tara won’t apologize… I guess Anna has to take the blame.” “I won’t be mean. Anna, since you’re an ‘adult actress’ anyway… just strip naked and walk around the room once. Then I’ll forgive you.” The room went silent. Anna froze. She had fought so hard against those rumors. She was a serious actor. Yesterday she slammed her head against a wall to avoid stripping, ending up in the ER. Now Chloe wouldn’t let her go. “If you don’t…” Chloe sighed. “Then I guess Tara keeps getting hit.” I felt like my eardrums were going to burst from the slaps. Anna looked at me, then at the camera. If she did this, her life was over. I screamed, struggling against the guards. “ANNA! NO! DO NOT DO IT!” “I apologize! I’m sorry! Stop!” Tyler scoffed. “Too late. Lesson number one: missed opportunities don’t come back.” “Either she strips, or you take a hundred slaps.” Anna looked at me, tears streaming down her face. She mouthed, I’m sorry. She closed her eyes and took off her jacket. Then her shirt. Her pants. Until she was just in her underwear. The men in the room leered. The chat was disgusting. Knew she was a slut! Couldn’t wait to show it off! Gross. She’s probably diseased. She deserves this. Anna covered herself with her arms, shaking. Chloe blinked innocently. “Anna? I said naked. Why are you half-assing this? Do you want Tara to suffer?” Anna flinched. I screamed until my throat tore. “ANNA! STOP!” She smiled at me. A sad, broken smile. Her fingers went to the clasp of her bra. Click. Just as it was about to fall, the front doors were blown off their hinges. A convoy of Rolls Royces screeched into the driveway. Dozens of elite security operatives swarmed the room. And then, two voices I loved more than anything thundered through the hall. “Who the FUCK dares to touch my daughter?!”

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In the fifth year of our marriage, a third person entered the picture between my husband, the diplomat Jerry Lembeck, and me. His new protégé, Rosie. “She took three days on a translation brief that should’ve taken a few hours. She’s hopelessly incompetent!” “I don’t know what the higher-ups were thinking, saddling a diplomat with a college intern!” Jerry, who always prided himself on his unshakable composure, became an irritable, frustrated mentor whenever Rosie was involved. Driven by a sense of duty, Jerry was constantly cleaning up Rosie’s messes, often berating the young woman to the point of tears. I didn’t think much of it, until the day we were at an art exhibition. He pointed at a sculpture of a goofy-looking goose and chuckled. “Hahaha, that’s Rosie to a T. Yesterday, she insisted on eating ice cream even though she was on her period. Such a glutton!” My brow twitched. “How do you know she was on her period?” … 1 The smile on Jerry’s face froze for a second before he nonchalantly explained. “Oh, I was helping her with a spreadsheet yesterday and saw a box of tampons on her desk.” I bit my lip, a sour taste filling my mouth. Jerry was a career man, through and through. When he worked, he was completely focused. The fact that he’d notice a detail like that was unsettling. I said nothing. Jerry, lost in his own world, snapped a picture of the goose and sent it to a group chat. “This is so Rosie. I have to send this to the group and roast her for it.” “She’s a total noob but thinks she’s a pro.” Hearing gaming slang come out of Jerry’s mouth was so jarring I thought I’d misheard him. As the youngest and most ambitious diplomat in his division, Jerry never allowed himself to get sucked into online distractions. “You’ve started playing video games?” I asked, surprised. He shook his head casually. “No, that’s Rosie. She’s the gamer, always talking in that kid slang.” I spoke calmly. “If you know it’s ‘kid slang,’ then you probably shouldn’t be using it, right?” Jerry’s hand, busy texting, paused. He looked up at me, his brow furrowed. “Are you angry?” “Rosie’s my intern, Elara. She’s just a kid. Why are you getting worked up over her?” I almost laughed. “She’s twenty years old.” “And I don’t think it’s normal for my husband to constantly bring up another adult woman.” Jerry just stood there, dumbfounded for a moment, before a patronizing smile spread across his face. He cupped my face in his hands and gave me a kiss. “My darling Elara, you’re so beautiful when you’re jealous.” “Don’t worry. Don’t overthink it. Rosie is just my intern, nothing more. If you don’t like her, I’ll never mention her in front of you again, okay?” For the next two months, the name “Rosie” truly vanished from my world. Jerry reverted to the composed, unreadable diplomat he’d always been, his mind consumed by work. He practically lived at the office. “Elara, I have to work late tonight. Go to bed early.” I looked at the candlelit dinner I had painstakingly prepared, a hollow feeling echoing in my chest. Then I saw the bottle of antacids on the table, and my heart clenched. Jerry had a sensitive stomach. A flare-up during a late night at work would be awful. The early winter night was frigid. I stood outside Jerry’s office door in my thin silk pajamas, shivering, a container of food in one hand and his medication in the other. Inside, Jerry was laughing with a young woman. His hand rested casually on her shoulder, his face relaxed and joyful in a way I hadn’t seen in years. “Rosie, I’m serious, you need to lay off the junk food. It’s terrible for your stomach.” The girl winked playfully and, as Jerry opened his mouth to speak, shoved a piece of her hamburger right into it. “Mentor, it’s really, really good. Just try it~” Her eyes sparkled with bright anticipation. Jerry stared at her for a few seconds, hesitated, and then actually began to chew. I clutched the box of medicine in my hand so tightly I almost crushed it, fighting the urge to storm in. Jerry’s stomach was incredibly fragile; his diet was always meticulously controlled. Yet here he was, risking a painful episode because he couldn’t bring himself to refuse his little intern. He swallowed with some difficulty and gave her a confirming smile. “Delicious.” “Hehe, see? I told you! No one can resist the allure of a burger!” Jerry chuckled, then his expression turned serious. “Don’t get cocky. If I wasn’t here helping you with your files, I’d be home having dinner with my wife right now.” His tone was stern, but laced with an undercurrent of indulgence I couldn’t miss. The girl put her hands together and bowed playfully. “Aww, my mentor is the bestest!” The sight of their chummy “mentor-protégé” dynamic was a physical pain in my eyes. I opened my chat with Jerry and slowly typed out a single line. “Do you remember what today is?” Jerry looked at his phone. The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a slight frown. “Elara, be good. I’ll make up for our fifth-anniversary gift later.” Ha. So he did remember. I dragged my frozen body away, dumping the food and medicine into the nearest trash can. Once I was out of the building, I sent Jerry one last message. “Divorce.” 2 After sending the message, I put my phone on Do Not Disturb, took a sleeping pill, and slept soundly through the night. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Jerry, sitting by the bed, his eyes webbed with red veins. “You’re awake?” “Mmm.” I stretched languidly, which only made Jerry’s frown deepen. “You’re going to divorce me just because I worked late and didn’t spend the evening with you?” “Elara, you know how stressful my job is. Can you please stop with these jokes?” I opened my mouth to tell him about Rosie, then decided against it. It was pointless. He’d know I wasn’t joking when the divorce papers arrived at his office. Half an hour later, Jerry was called away. The divorce papers I’d sent caused an uproar at the State Department. Everyone knew Jerry and I had always been the picture of a happy couple. And everyone knew that Jerry and Rosie had recently become inseparable. For a diplomat, marital stability was paramount; it could significantly impact their career. The following month, Ambassador Ford personally removed Jerry from the list of attendees for a major international conference. Rosie clutched at the sleeve of Jerry’s shirt, her face a picture of misery. “Mentor… did your wife misunderstand something about us?” “It’s all my fault. I’m just so stupid, I can’t do anything right. Maybe I should go apologize to her.” Jerry waved a dismissive hand, sighing in frustration. “Don’t worry about it. She’s prone to these little tantrums. She would never actually divorce me.” But as he looked down, his eyes caught the empty medicine box in the trash can. In an instant, everything clicked into place. When Jerry’s mother heard, she called me, her voice filled with sincere apologies, begging me to forgive him for the sake of our eight years together. “Elara, dear, I promise you, this will never happen again.” “Ambassador Ford himself is looking into this. If you divorce Jerry now, his entire future will be ruined!” My own parents were gone, and Jerry’s mother had always treated me like her own daughter. I couldn’t ignore her plea. That evening, right in front of me, Jerry reassigned Rosie to another mentor and deleted all of her contact information. He held up three fingers and swore an oath. “Elara, I’m sorry. I was careless and I hurt you.” “I promise, I will never neglect you for another woman again.” His expression was solemn, as earnest as the day he first confessed his love for me. My eyes stung. I stepped out onto the balcony to take a call. “I’m fine, Uncle Ford. I know how to handle things with Jerry.” The New Year passed peacefully. Perhaps out of guilt, Jerry threw me an incredibly elaborate birthday party. Flowers, candles, stuffed animals, a towering cake… He smiled at me, his eyes filled with love and conviction. “Happy birthday, Elara. Make a wish.” I clasped my hands together and closed my eyes. The romantic atmosphere made me feel, for a moment, as if I had never lost his love. When I opened my eyes, Jerry was just putting his phone down, a worried look briefly crossing his face. “What’s wrong?” He smiled and shook his head. “Nothing, just a little work thing. Today is all about my princess Elara’s birthday. No one is allowed to interrupt.” I smiled back without a word and began to eat my cake. But Jerry glanced at his phone ten times in the next five minutes. Finally, he couldn’t sit still any longer. He stood up, his face a mask of apology and urgency. “I’m so sorry, Elara. There’s an error in a critical document, and they need it fixed right away. I have to go take care of it.” “Be good, Elara. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.” He left in such a hurry that he forgot his work laptop. I casually opened it. A message from Rosie had just popped up. “Mentor, where are you? sniffle sniffle I’m so scared.” 3 My heart slammed against my ribs as if struck by a sledgehammer. Jerry. He had broken his promise. Once again, he had abandoned me for Rosie. I clicked open the chat window. Five minutes ago, during the half-minute I was making my wish, Rosie had messaged him. “Mentor, what do I do? I was trying to cook at home, and the pan caught on fire!” Jerry had rapidly typed out instructions on how to extinguish a grease fire. But she never replied. How laughable. My birthday had become a prop in a game between my husband and some other girl. I scrolled up through their chat history. I realized they had never broken off contact at all. Even though Rosie had been reassigned, she still went to Jerry with every little thing. At first, Jerry’s replies were curt and dismissive. But slowly, their conversations drifted from work to their personal lives. “Mentor, look. Does the pink dress suit me better, or the yellow one?” “You’d look beautiful in either.” “Hmph! You’re just saying that to be nice. Well, what if it were your wife wearing them? Which would be better?” Jerry was silent for a moment. “Her age isn’t suited for such… vibrant colors.” … There were countless chats just like that. I sat on the edge of the bed and read through them all night. By seven in the morning, Jerry still hadn’t come home. I clutched my empty, aching stomach. Even though I had prepared myself, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. Because Jerry’s stomach was so sensitive, he knew better than anyone how important regular meals were. So on our wedding day, he had promised me. “Elara, no matter how busy I get with work, I will always be home before seven.” “So that when you wake up, a hot breakfast will be waiting for you.” A promise he had kept, like clockwork, for five years. Today, it was finally broken. I rubbed my throbbing temples and picked up my phone, only to see a new post from Rosie on her social media. It was a picture of a breakfast spread. A heart-shaped fried egg, sandwiches, dumplings, oatmeal with milk… The caption read: “Thanks to my amazing mentor for the lovely breakfast! You’re the best! ♡” Right. Just perfect. My eyes burned. My mind was flooded with the memory of the first time Jerry cooked for me. He was wearing an apron, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up. The early morning sun caught the sharp angles of his face, making him so handsome it took my breath away. I’d gotten a little jealous then, my voice tinged with poutiness. “You’re so handsome when you cook. You could charm a whole army of girls.” Jerry had laughed and stroked my hair. “Silly girl. For the rest of my life, I’ll only ever cook for one person: you.” I wiped away my tears, got dressed, put on my makeup, and walked out the door. I took the divorce papers and drove to Jerry’s office myself. But the moment I got out of my car, two men cornered me. A sharp, dull pain exploded at the back of my neck, and the world went black. When I woke up, I was tied to a chair in what looked like an abandoned factory. Rosie’s cheerful voice came from above. “Awake, are we?” The young woman walked over, a curious smile on her face. It was the first time I’d seen her up close. The pink dress really did suit her. That was the first thought that popped into my head. Her skin was flawless, plump with collagen, so smooth it looked like you could squeeze water from it. The delicate pink made her look exquisite. Rosie flashed a pair of cute little canine teeth. She looked me up and down, then let out a contemptuous laugh. “I thought the woman Jerry was protecting would be special. Turns out, you’re just some old woman who can’t even have kids.” Can’t have kids? A knot of pain formed in my chest. I couldn’t believe Jerry had told her even that. Rosie pulled down the strap of her dress, revealing a prominent hickey on the smooth, white curve of her breast. “Listen, lady, if I were you, I wouldn’t be shamelessly clinging to the title of Mrs. Lembeck!” “After all, the one who isn’t loved is the real third wheel!” I scoffed. “You think the position of Mrs. Lembeck is built on nothing but my eight-year relationship with…” “Oh, spare me!” Rosie cut me off impatiently. “Don’t give me that eight-year sob story. Love has an expiration date. Otherwise, how about we make a little bet?” 4 I raised an eyebrow. “What do you want to bet?” “Let’s bet on who Jerry loves right now. Me, or you.” … When Jerry arrived, Rosie and I were both tied to chairs. The moment she saw him, she burst into hysterical tears. “Mentor! sob You’re finally here! I was so scared!” Jerry threw a bag of cash toward the men standing over us. “I brought the money! Now let them go!” One of the men checked the bag, then grinned maliciously. “The amount’s right, but you’re five minutes late. So now, this money is only enough to buy one of them back.” “You’d better think carefully. Who’s it gonna be?” Jerry froze, his face flushing with a rare, desperate anger. “No! I’m taking both of them!” The man spat on the ground. “Like hell you are! I said, this only buys you one!” “You waste any more of my time, and you’re leaving with neither!” Jerry’s fists clenched. His gaze darted first to me, then to Rosie. He was hesitating. But I was perfectly calm. It never occurred to me that Jerry would choose Rosie. On my eighteenth birthday, I was kidnapped. It was Jerry who risked his life to save me. The abuse I suffered during that time left me infertile and with deep psychological scars that took a full decade to heal. He knew how terrified I was of situations like this. “I… I choose…” “Mentor!” Jerry was pointing at me, but before he could finish, Rosie screamed. She pushed her hair aside, revealing the other side of her face. It was swollen and purple with a brutal handprint. “Mentor, I’m so scared, it hurts so much! Please, please don’t leave me! sob” Jerry’s face twisted in pain and anger. He roared at the kidnappers. “You hit her!” “She’s just a girl!” Without another moment of hesitation, he pointed at Rosie, his voice firm. “I choose her! Let her go, now!” A roaring sound filled my ears. My heart felt like it had been carved out, leaving a hollow space. I called his name instinctively. “Jerry?” He couldn’t quite meet my eyes, but his voice was as gentle as ever. “Elara, you’ve… you’ve been through this before. You’re mentally prepared. But Rosie hasn’t. It would break her.” “Don’t worry. I’ll go get the rest of the money and come right back for you. Be good.” I didn’t say a word. I just watched as Jerry untied Rosie’s ropes and cradled her head, whispering comforts. It was like watching a ghost of our past. Back then, Jerry had been just as gentle. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here now.” Like a knight protecting his princess, he had lifted me into his arms and carried me away with steady, determined steps. The knight was the same. But he had a new princess. Rosie, nestled in Jerry’s arms, looked back over his shoulder and mouthed two words at me. “I win.” I watched until Jerry’s figure was a tiny speck in the distance before I turned my head stiffly. “The game is over. Untie me.” The two men exchanged a look. A rough hand slid up my thigh, and they laughed lewdly. “Miss Rosie said the loser has to face a penalty.” “Hey, beautiful. Your husband doesn’t appreciate you, but we sure do.” Alarm bells screamed in my head. “What do you think you’re doing? I’m warning you, don’t try anything stupid. I am…” A rough cloth was stuffed into my mouth, silencing me. “Who are you? Just some housewife living off her husband’s money? You should be grateful we’re even interested!” I tried to struggle, but my strength was draining away. … Jerry drove Rosie home, but a gnawing unease chewed at him the entire way. The image of my despairing eyes was burned into his mind. His heart ached. A sickening feeling began to creep in, the feeling that he had made the wrong choice. He quickly gathered more money and was about to race back to save me when his phone rang. “Sir, you need to see the news! It’s your wife! Something’s happened!” “Breaking news: a woman’s body has been discovered in an abandoned factory, the victim of a rape and murder. The body has sustained eighty-seven separate injuries…”

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After getting “canceled” online, my dad shipped me off to our family farm to take care of piglets with my grandpa. Thinking it would be funny, I started a livestream to name the piglets. Netizens were roasting me? Fine, I’ll just use their usernames as names. But when it came to the last piglet—a super cute, chubby white one—no matter how much the internet screamed at me, I insisted on naming it “Julian Hayes.” Later, this hit the trending topics. And to everyone’s shock, the usually cold and aloof A-list actor Julian Hayes posted on Weibo to clap back. The picture showed Julian holding a Golden Retriever puppy. Caption: “This one is named Ann.” 1 My name is Ann Jiang. I’m a D-list celebrity. During a variety show, in an attempt to save a teammate, I accidentally pushed the mega-star Bella down. Boom. Instant cancellation. The internet swarmed me, calling me malicious, heartless, a bully, blah blah blah. Eventually, the news reached my billionaire dad. He solemnly told me to get my butt back home. My dad wanted me to inherit his billion-dollar empire. I wasn’t interested, so I snuck off to join the entertainment industry behind his back. This scandal was the perfect excuse for him. No matter how I begged or promised, he was determined to drag me back. So, I was exiled to the family farm’s pigsty. Daily routine: Feed pigs, watch pigs, open gate, close gate, shovel feed. Later, the sows gave birth to a lot of cute piglets. But some… weren’t exactly lookers. Bored out of my mind, I decided to entertain myself. I started a livestream to let netizens name the piglets. 2 As soon as I went live, tens of thousands of people flooded in. It scared me. You’d think I was actually famous. But really, I’ve always been “black-red” (famous for being hated). My web dramas flop, and in variety shows… well, I do whatever it takes to win. Watching the viewer count climb, I gathered the piglets together and cleared my throat. “Hi everyone, I’m Ann Jiang. I want to name my piglets, does anyone have any good suggestions?” The comments were scrolling fast, full of hate. CilantroHater: [Ann Jiang is raising pigs now? That desperate?] WolfKing: [I knew she was a hillbilly lol] Looking at the comments, I was a bit worried. They were just cursing at me, which wasn’t helping with the names. Then I saw a comment that gave me an idea. Did_Bella_Poop_Today: [Pusher Girl dares to show her face? Disgusting.] Since they were using words to hurt me, why couldn’t I use their names for the pigs? 3 I looked at the comment cursing me, then turned to look at the piglets. I picked one out. This one was pitch black with an underbite. Definitely the ugliest one. Okay, little piggie, you’re the chosen one. I pulled the little black pig over and said to the phone, “Okay friends, this ugliest piglet is now named Bella_No_Poop.” The comments stopped for a second, then exploded with “HAHAHAHAHA”. Someone even sent me a small gift, a few lollipops. [Hahahahahaha this is too funny sisters] [How dare you, the person above is ridiculous, hahahaha] [You got guts, kid] As the comments scrolled, another one caught my eye. Bella_Loves_Hot_Guys: [Why are you always chasing clout? So cringe.] Coincidentally, a piglet nudged my leg. I picked it up and shoved its face into the camera. “Mm, this second-ugliest pig is now named Bella_Loves_Ugly_Guys.” [Hahahahaha, this girl is hilarious] [Piglet: No one is speaking up for me?] [Piglet: You think you’re noble? You’re using me as a weapon!] [Is the vibe shifting? She’s clearly malicious, full of bad intentions] Watching the arguments in the chat, I couldn’t help but laugh. Then I got flamed. I_Want_Money: [You pushed someone and think you’re right? You’re everywhere.] I picked another piglet and booped the phone with its nose. “This ugly pig is named You_Got_No_Money.” [Hahahaha, that’s a personal attack] [Hahaha, you’re broke too] While everyone was mocking me, suddenly the user named I_Want_Money sent me a Carnival (expensive gift). It was my first livestream, first time seeing this. Watching the big spender drop Carnivals was dazzling. Whoa, playing hard? The big spender kept sending gifts, only the expensive ones. Other netizens joined in like they were starting a riot, and my livestream became chaos. Seeing it getting out of hand, I spoke up, “Enough, enough. Keep sending and you won’t have any money left.” [This kid really doesn’t care.] [Was she always this funny? Converting from hater to fan.] [Same here ^] … Only one piglet left. A white, chubby, super cute one. Netizens urged me to grab someone’s name quickly. “Nope. This piglet can only be named Julian Hayes.” [???!!!!] 4 When it came to the last piglet, the netizens were active. [Hurry up, name this one!] [This piglet is so cute!!!!] [Use my name, I curse better] [The person above is sinister, use mine] Watching the comments, I turned to look at the piglet, gently stroking its ears. “Can’t do that. I have a plan for this one’s name.” [What is it what is it] Seeing their questions, I smiled slightly. “This one is Julian Hayes.” The chat exploded. [What???! Say that again??!!] [Huh?!!!!] [No!!!! You can read my ID card number, I can be your pig, but you can’t make my god a pig!] [Cringe girl chasing clout again, hehe] Seeing their reaction, I repeated it. “This piglet is named Julian Hayes, no negotiation.” Ignoring the netizens’ thoughts, I picked up the piglet and ended the stream. For a nobody like me, this stream wouldn’t mean much. At worst, I just leached off Julian’s fame again. Bad publicity is still publicity. Use all available resources. After a few years in this industry, I’ve learned that thick skin takes you far. I’m stuck in a pigsty thanks to him anyway. Leeching a bit is fair game. But what I didn’t expect was that after this livestream, my life was about to get interesting.

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My husband has severe social anxiety and a stutter. When we went to City Hall to get our marriage license, he was so nervous he couldn’t say “I do.” We became a running joke for the clerks. When my father had a sudden heart attack, I cried and begged him to call 911, but his stutter was so bad he couldn’t get the address out clearly. He delayed the paramedics past the golden hour of survival. At my father’s funeral, my relatives all tried to console me. “He didn’t do it on purpose. It’s an illness. Your father wouldn’t blame him. You two need to move forward and live your lives.” I nodded numbly and believed them. Until I was sorting through my father’s belongings and found a security recording. In the video, right after my father collapsed, my husband took out his phone. In a smooth, perfectly articulate voice, he called a woman named “Zoe.” “Babe, don’t be mad anymore. The old man is finally out of the picture. As soon as I handle the funeral, I’ll pick you up from the airport. We’re going to the Maldives.” He hung up, looked down at my father’s dying body, and practiced his stutter three times before finally dialing 911. It turned out his fluency was never meant for me or my family. … The funeral was over. I clutched my father’s black-and-white portrait, my nails digging so deep into my palms that they drew blood. But the sharp sting was nothing, not even a tenth of the pain tearing my heart apart. Leo’s stammering voice came from behind me. “St-Stella… I’m… I’m s-so sorry.” “I’m… I’m u-useless… I… I k-killed Dad…” I didn’t turn around. He spoke again, his voice choked with sobs. “H-hit me… yell at m-me… just… just d-don’t ignore me…” I walked into the bedroom with the portrait and locked the door behind me. Leo pounded on the door, his cries muffled. “Stella… o-open the door… I was wr-wrong…” I leaned against the cool wood, listening to him weep, and a single thought echoed in my mind. The son of a bitch is a damn good actor. I sat down at my computer and plugged in the USB drive from my father’s study. The security footage flickered to life. My father was on the floor, clutching his chest. Leo stood over him, pulled out his phone, and made a call. “Babe, don’t be mad anymore. The old man is finally out of the picture.” His voice was clear, fluid, without a hint of a stutter. “As soon as I handle the funeral, I’ll pick you up from the airport. We’re going to the Maldives. I’ve already booked that hotel you wanted.” He was smiling, his eyes filled with a tenderness I had never seen. After he hung up, he walked over to my father, squatted down, and began to rehearse over his dying body. “I… I… I c-can’t… c-can’t get through… I’m s-so s-sorry…” Once. Twice. Three times. He practiced with the focus of a stage actor perfecting a line. Only then did he dial 911, reporting the address in that pathetic, broken voice. I watched the entire video, my hand shaking so violently I couldn’t control the mouse. I didn’t sleep that night. The next morning, I put on makeup and took out the divorce papers I had already prepared. When Leo saw me emerge from the bedroom, his eyes darted away. “St-Stella… d-did you sleep… at all? I… I m-made you some oatmeal…” I slid the papers across the table to him. “Sign them.” He froze for a second before his eyes focused on the document. The words “Divorce Agreement” were printed in bold at the top. The color drained from his face. He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around my legs. “N-no… d-don’t… Stella…” “If… if you l-leave me… I… I can’t live w-without you…” I looked down at him. He was a mess of tears and snot, his words barely intelligible. “I… I kn-know… I’m useless…” “B-but… I r-really love you… please… d-don’t… don’t leave me…” I had seen this act countless times. Whenever he felt slighted or bullied out in the world, he would come home and cling to me just like this, crying. And I would feel a pang of sympathy, comfort him, and tell him, “It’s okay. I’m here.” Now, it just made my stomach turn. The front door was suddenly thrown open. Leo’s sister, Sarah, stormed in and shoved me hard. “Stella, have you lost your mind?” “Your father was just buried, and you’re forcing Leo to divorce you? Do you have any humanity at all?” I stumbled back a few steps. She wasn’t finished. “He has an illness, you know that! He’s already blaming himself. Are you trying to push him over the edge?” she shrieked. “What happened to your dad was an accident! Leo didn’t want it to happen! After everything he’s done for you all these years, how can you treat him like this?” I laughed. She stopped, stunned. “What are you laughing at?” I didn’t answer. I just bent down and picked up the divorce papers she had kicked aside. Leo was still on the floor, shaking. “S-Sarah… stop… It’s n-not her fault… it’s all m-me…” His sister helped him up, her voice softening with pity. “Don’t be scared, Leo. I won’t let her bully you.” She then shot me a venomous look. “I’m telling you, Stella, you can forget about this divorce! Do you have any idea how many opportunities Leo gave up for you? He could have been at a top firm, but he stayed in this dead-end town to help take care of your father!” I looked from her to Leo. His head was bowed, his shoulders trembling even more violently. I folded the divorce papers and went back to my room. Behind me, I heard Sarah’s triumphant sneer. “Good. You know what’s good for you.” I closed the door and leaned against it. I knew a divorce wasn’t happening today. The next day, the entire family descended. The living room was packed with Leo’s parents, his sister, and the whole clan of aunts and uncles. Leo’s mother started. “Stella, dear, your father just passed away. If you try to divorce Leo now, your father won’t be able to rest in peace.” “Leo has his condition, it’s true, but his love for you is real.” She started to cry, grabbing my hand. “It’s our Leo who has wronged you, but you know about his illness. Please, just be patient with him. Our family will make it up to you, I promise.” Sarah immediately chimed in. “Exactly! Leo has sacrificed so much for you. How can you be so heartless? What happened to your dad was a tragic accident.” I sat on the sofa, watching them perform. Leo knelt before me, his eyes red and swollen. “St-Stella… I… I was wrong… p-please… don’t leave me…” His mother dabbed her eyes. “Look at him. You’re driving him mad.” Just as I was about to speak, the doorbell rang. My father’s lawyer stood on the doorstep, holding a file. “Ms. Davis, according to your father’s will, I am required to read it in the presence of the family.” The living room fell silent. The lawyer cleared his throat. “Mr. Davis leaves all company shares, properties, and savings entirely to his daughter, Stella Davis.” The moment he finished, the expressions on every one of their faces changed. Leo’s mother dropped my hand and plastered on a smile. “Oh, my! My dear father-in-law truly doted on Stella.” Sarah’s tone shifted instantly. “Stella, I was a bit harsh earlier. Don’t take it to heart. Leo is so lucky to have you.” The aunts and uncles all started nodding and agreeing, praising me for being a capable and virtuous wife. Leo was frozen in place, a flicker of panic in his eyes. He clearly hadn’t expected this. I watched him, a cold smile touching my lips. After the lawyer left, the family’s act shifted into high gear. Leo’s mother clutched my arm. “Stella, dear, you’ll be running such a large company now. You must be overwhelmed. Why don’t you let Leo help you? His speech isn’t great, but he’s a very steady worker.” Sarah leaned in. “She’s right. You’re husband and wife. You should share your fortunes and your burdens.” I nodded. “I’ll think about it.” That night, my phone buzzed. It was a picture from Zoe. She and Leo were leaning close, and he was smiling that same tender smile. The caption read: Your dad’s dead and you’re worried about a company? Let my Leo handle it. You should focus on your grief. I stared at the photo for a long moment, then a slow, deliberate smile spread across my face. The next day, I slipped a document into a folder of procurement contracts. On top were several supplier agreements that needed to be signed. At the very bottom, I placed a “Full Power of Attorney for Corporate Affairs,” which included a clause voluntarily relinquishing all personal claims to shareholdings under specific circumstances. I handed the folder to Leo. “There’s some company business. Can you sign these for me? I’m in no mood to look at them.” He took the folder, a flash of triumph in his eyes. He thought I was relying on him, that I couldn’t function without him. He picked up a pen and, in each signature box, he scrawled his name with a confident flourish. His handwriting was fluid, not the cramped script of someone with social anxiety. He signed the last page without even looking at it. I took the folder back and returned to my room. Behind me, I heard his stammering voice. “St-Stella… y-you should… get some r-rest…” I closed the door and opened the folder. On the last page, under “Full Power of Attorney,” Leo’s bold signature was perfectly clear. He thought he now held the real power in the company. He became busy, frequently staying out late, if he came home at all. When I asked, it was always the same excuse. “C-company… b-busy… h-had to… entertain clients…” The ambition and glee were practically spilling out of his eyes. He thought I couldn’t see it. The truth was, I didn’t have time for him. Every day, I went to my father’s favorite tea house and personally sorted through the books and tea sets he had left behind. The fragrant steam calmed me, and for the first time in a long time, my heart felt at peace. One day, I was polishing a clay teapot when the building manager called. “Ms. Davis? Someone is here to move furniture into your apartment. They say they’re family, but we needed to confirm with you.” Family? My father was gone, my mother passed years ago. I had no other family. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. I drove home immediately. In the parking lot, movers were unloading brand-new, ornate European furniture from a large truck. And in the hallway outside my apartment, the custom mahogany bedroom set my parents had commissioned for their wedding was piled up haphazardly, covered in dust. A woman in a flashy dress was directing the movers with her hands on her hips. It was Zoe. She saw me and didn’t even flinch. She just crossed her arms, a smug grin on her face. “Stella, you’re back!” she chirped, walking over as if we were old friends. “These old antiques take up so much space, and the style is so dated. I’m helping you upgrade to something modern. You’ll love it.” I looked at the furniture, tossed aside like garbage—the testament to my parents’ love—and my body started to shake with rage. My voice was ice. “Who told you you could touch my things?” “Get out.” Zoe laughed as if I’d told the world’s funniest joke. She pulled a set of keys from her purse and dangled them in my face. “Leo gave them to me. He said this is my home now, too. He was worried you’d be lonely and wanted me to keep you company.” “Oh, and by the way,” she added, pointing to my father’s study. “That room is so depressing. It has that old man smell. I’m going to turn it into a media room, with the best surround sound system and a projector. We can watch movies at home. Won’t that be great?” My father’s study. The room that held his life’s work, his most treasured collections. My reason snapped. I grabbed a porcelain vase from the entryway table—one of my father’s favorites—and without a second thought, I drew my arm back to smash it into her gloating face.

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I have a constitution made of glass. Or at least, that’s what I was always told. The first time I went to my boyfriend Jared’s house for dinner, he handed his mother a printed sheet of paper. “Riley is allergic to seafood, mangoes, strawberries, eggs, dairy, beef, and lamb… pretty much everything,” Jared explained earnestly. “Please make sure none of this is in the food.” The list was so long it was almost comical. But after dinner, Jared’s mom suddenly gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh no… I just realized. I put a spoonful of oyster sauce in the sautéed broccoli for flavor. Riley, honey, are you feeling okay?” Under the terrified, caring gaze of both mother and son, I froze. I waited for the throat closure, the hives, the panic. But I slowly shook my head. “I… I feel fine. But I’m supposed to be deathly allergic to seafood…” These allergies were the gospel truth according to my parents. Because of them, since I was a child, my plate only ever held plain boiled vegetables, while the steaks, burgers, and fish were piled high on my younger brother’s plate. My brother, Tyler, used to mock me constantly: “Guess you were just born with bad luck, Sis. No good food for you.” I still couldn’t believe it. Back at my apartment, after hours of mental preparation, I decided to test fate. I drank a glass of milk. Then I ate a mango. Then I ordered a medium-rare steak and devoured the whole thing. Nothing happened. No reaction. Absolutely nothing. I curled up on my floor and wept uncontrollably. 1 Jared’s mom, Mrs. Davis, is an incredibly thoughtful woman. She knew about my “condition.” The dinner table was spread with eight dishes, all vegan, all carefully prepared. She untied her apron, looking at me with a warm, apologetic smile. “Riley, I know you can’t have seafood, dairy, or red meat—Jared gave me the list of twenty items. So I made everything vegetarian, and I went light on the salt, too. I hope you like it.” That gentle, cautious kindness warmed my chest. I picked at my rice, feeling shy but deeply grateful. But when I took a bite of the broccoli, I paused. It was savory. Richer and more delicious than any vegetable I’d ever eaten at home. I couldn’t help but blurt out, “Mrs. Davis, this broccoli is amazing! It tastes so much better than what I eat at home. Did you use a special spice?” That’s when her face went pale. She slapped her thigh. “Oh my god! I forgot! I added a spoonful of oyster sauce to boost the flavor. Oyster sauce… it has oyster extract! That’s seafood!” The air in the room solidified. Jared’s face drained of color. He threw down his fork and grabbed my arm, practically dragging me toward the bathroom. “Is your throat tight? Can you breathe? We need to get you to the ER, now!” His mom was right behind us, her voice trembling. “Rinse your mouth out! Hurry!” I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, the sound of running water filling my ears. I stared at my reflection. “I don’t feel anything,” I whispered. “But I’m allergic to seafood…” My reflection stared back. Rosy cheeks. Clear eyes. No swelling. No rash. I took a deep breath. Then another. My lungs filled easily. My heart beat steadily. My parents had always told me I had severe, anaphylactic reactions. That a single touch of an allergen could send me into shock or kill me. “Riley, let’s go to urgent care just to be safe,” Mrs. Davis said, handing me a glass of water, her hands shaking. Her genuine fear made the absurdity of my reality crash down on me. I shook my head. For the first time in twenty-seven years, I doubted the “illness” that defined my life. “Mrs. Davis,” my voice was raspy, “I think… I think I’m actually okay.” Jared let go of my arm, but his brow remained furrowed. “But your parents said it’s severe. Even a trace amount…” His mom interrupted, sensing something heavy in the air. “As long as she’s okay. That’s all that matters.” The rest of the meal tasted like ash. 2 When Jared drove me home, the silence in the car was thick. He tried to speak a few times but stopped himself, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. When he pulled up to my rundown apartment complex, he finally turned to me. “You okay?” “I’m so sorry,” I managed a weak smile. “First time meeting your parents and I caused a scene. I must have scared them.” Jared sighed and gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Don’t be silly. My mom isn’t mad, she was just worried. Go upstairs, take a hot shower, and get some sleep. It’ll be better in the morning.” “Okay.” “Riley,” he called out as I opened the door. “Don’t overthink it. Call me if you need anything.” But how could I not overthink it? My entire life felt like a carefully constructed lie, and someone had just pulled the loose thread that unraveled everything. Back in my tiny rental, I didn’t even turn on the lights. I sat in the dark and ordered takeout. I ordered everything I was forbidden to touch. A cheeseburger. A strawberry milkshake. A shrimp basket. Mango sticky rice. When the food arrived, I laid it all out like a chaotic banquet. I opened the milkshake—the liquid that terrified me for years—and took a sip. Sweet, creamy coldness slid down my throat. I waited for the itch. The choke. Nothing. I shoved a piece of shrimp into my mouth. Then a bite of the burger. Then the mango. I ate like a starving animal, bite after bite, until my stomach hurt from fullness, but my heart felt like a gaping black hole. I stared at the empty containers and burst into tears. A tsunami of grief washed over me. 3 The dinner table at my childhood home was a battlefield divided by an invisible line. On my parents’ and brother’s side: steaming roast beef, buttery crab legs, rich stews. The smell alone was intoxicating. On my side: a plate of boiled cabbage and a bowl of plain white rice. No oil, just a pinch of salt. A soggy green pile. My brother Tyler would sit across from me, grease on his chin, laughing with malicious glee. “Riley, you really have no luck. Look at you, eating grass like a rabbit.” He would deliberately wave a greasy rib under my nose, watching me flinch, enjoying my longing and my fear. My mom would place the last piece of steak on Tyler’s plate, never even glancing at me, muttering the mantra I heard every day: “Riley can’t eat that. She’ll die. Her allergies are fatal.” Those words were my shackles. In school, while other kids bought hot lunches—pizza, tacos, nuggets—I sat in the corner with my cold Tupperware of boiled greens. I ate quickly, terrified someone would ask, “Riley, why do you only eat that?” Malnutrition made me small and frail. My hair was brittle, my skin pale. In gym class, I couldn’t finish a mile run without nearly fainting. The teachers were concerned, but my parents just shrugged. “She has a weak constitution. Born that way.” When I was seven, I watched Tyler eat a hard-boiled egg. It looked so soft, so perfect. When Mom went to the kitchen, I snatched a tiny piece of the white and popped it in my mouth. It was delicious. But before I could swallow, a hand clamped onto my jaw. Mom screamed, her face twisted in rage. “What did you eat?!” She dragged me to the bathroom, forced my mouth open, and poured salt water down my throat until I choked. She shoved her fingers down my gullet. “Spit it out! Do you want to die?!” I vomited until there was nothing left but bile. The humiliation and pain of that day branded a physiological fear into my brain. My body learned to reject those foods out of terror. But tonight? Tonight I ate everything. And I was fine. I lay on the cold floor, sobbing until my body convulsed. Twenty-seven years. I had been a donkey blindfolded and forced to grind the mill, stripped of the simple joy of food, labeled “sickly” to cover up their cruelty. 4 The next day was Sunday. My mom summoned me home for lunch. The table was set with that familiar, ironic divide. For them: Braised pork knuckles, sweet and sour ribs, a steamed sea bass. For me: Boiled spinach. Plain rice. Yesterday, the smell of the meat might have made me feel pathetic. Today, it just made me feel cold. “So,” Mom started, picking the bones out of a piece of fish and placing the meat in Tyler’s bowl. “How is Jared’s mom? Did she give you a ‘meeting gift’?” Her eyes darted around, greedy and sharp. Mrs. Davis had given me a check for $10,001—a symbolic gesture meaning “one in ten thousand.” I looked at my mother’s calculating face. “No.” Mom’s fake smile vanished. “No? What do you mean no?” “That is so tacky! First time meeting the parents and not a dime? That family is cheap. You’re going to suffer if you marry into that.” She immediately started calculating. “Since they’re stingy, the wedding contribution needs to be higher. We need at least $50,000. Cash. I raised you, fed you well all these years, I can’t give you away for free.” Fed me well? I looked at the limp spinach. What a joke. “What about my dowry then? What are you giving me?” I asked. Mom paused, then scoffed. “Dowry? Girls don’t get dowries. We’ll buy you some nice new bedding sheets. That’s enough.” “Oh,” I nodded. “Actually, Jared and I talked about it. We aren’t asking for any money from his parents. We’re modern.” “No!” Tyler stopped chewing on his rib. “Sis, if you don’t get that money, how am I supposed to get married? My girlfriend said if I don’t have a $40,000 down payment for a condo, she won’t marry me!” Mom glared at him to shut up, then turned her “gentle” face back to me. “Riley, don’t talk nonsense. Eat your dinner.” “Okay. I’ll eat.” Under their shocked gazes, I reached my chopsticks across the invisible border. I picked up a massive, greasy chunk of the braised pork knuckle from Tyler’s side. And I took a huge bite. “Are you crazy?!” Mom shrieked, jumping up from her chair. “Spit it out! You’ll die!” Her voice was the same frequency as it was when I was seven. “But Mom,” I chewed slowly, swallowing. “I don’t feel sick at all.”

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After my sugar daddy went bankrupt, he wanted to end it all. I pretended not to notice. “Babe, your birthday is next month. I saw this watch that would look perfect on you. It’s a shame it’s five million dollars. I don’t have enough money.” My sugar daddy’s eyes went red with emotion. “I can’t believe you remembered.” So, he went out to haul bricks, deliver takeout, and sell off his properties until he finally scraped together five million. I didn’t even look at the money. I spent it all immediately. Then I pouted, “That new bag that just dropped is so cute too. I really want it…” He completely gave up on dying. Now, the moment he opens his eyes every morning, all he thinks about is making money. 1 In my third year as Dominic’s trophy girlfriend, he seemed to go bankrupt. While Dominic was still away on a business trip, the house staff started clearing out one by one. Mrs. Higgins, the housekeeper I was somewhat close with, tried to give me a heads-up before she left. “Miss Meng, pack up whatever valuables you can and run while there’s still something to grab.” Did she think I didn’t want to run? But after three years of being pampered by Dominic, I was spoiled rotten. Sure, I was a “canary in a gilded cage,” but Dominic was sweet, generous, and surprisingly easygoing. I hadn’t suffered a day in three years; it was pure luxury. If I left him, where was I going to find another sucker willing to spend money on me and cater to my every whim? Maybe the rumors were false? I decided to hold out a little longer. 2 The day the bankruptcy news was confirmed, Dominic came back. His suit was wrinkled, and the dark circles under his eyes told me he hadn’t slept in days. He sat on the floor, leaning against the sofa. In his hand was a small fruit knife, glinting in the dim light. His expression was flat, his eyes dead. He twirled the knife in his fingers, aiming it toward his wrist. Everyone else had left. The house was dark. It took me a while to fumble for the light switch. Hearing the noise, Dominic turned his head, stunned. “Cece… you’re still here?” I pretended I didn’t understand what was happening, acting blind to the knife in his hand. I threw myself at him with my usual exaggerated affection. “Babe! You’re finally back! I missed you so much!” Habitually, my hand slid into his pocket. Empty. Nothing there. It seemed he really was broke. Dominic used to bring me expensive gifts after every trip. Realizing what I was looking for, a flash of desolate sadness crossed his eyes. “Cece, I’m sorry, I…” I cut him off, sitting in his lap with a look of regret, playing with his fingers. “Babe, your birthday is next month. I saw this Patek Philippe that fits you perfectly. But it’s five million dollars. I don’t have enough.” Interrupted, Dominic forgot his suicide speech. Once he processed my words, his eyes reddened. “My birthday… you remembered?” I gave him a coquettish look. “How could I forget your birthday?” He looked incredibly moved. His hands were trembling. “It’s just five million. I’ll transfer it to you right now…” Then he remembered. He was broke. I stared at him with wide, expectant eyes. Dominic wiped his eyes, his voice dropping to a whisper. “There’s a slight issue with liquidity. I’ll transfer it in a couple of days.” “Forget it. I’m going to handle this now.” He stood up, trying to leave. I pushed him back down. “Since you were gone, all the staff left for some reason. There’s no one to cook.” Dominic’s face looked terrible. He clenched his fists, then relaxed them. “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault.” He took off his jacket and headed to the kitchen. “I’ll make dinner right now.” There were still ingredients in the fridge. Dominic put on an apron and got to work. I hadn’t seen him in two weeks. He looked thinner, but his body was still top-tier—broad chest, tight ass. After eating so well with Dominic, how could I ever settle for another man? Sob. I was trapped. 3 Dominic learned to cook while studying abroad. It wasn’t gourmet, but it wasn’t bad. Luckily, I wasn’t just hungry for food. The real feast was later. After eating, Dominic tried to leave again. I dragged him straight to the bedroom. “Babe, you’re acting so weird since you got back. Did something happen?” Dominic’s eyes flickered. His resistance weakened. “No, I just want to sort out the funds quickly.” I traced circles on his chest, my voice dripping with grievance. “Work again? Don’t you miss me after being gone so long?” My leg hooked around his waist. His Adam’s apple bobbed. I didn’t give him a chance to speak. I kissed him. I needed to get my fill first. Halfway through, Dominic hugged me tightly, choking back a sob, looking fragile. “Cece, you’re so good to me.” I quickly covered his mouth. Okay, stop talking. You’re making me feel guilty. 4 When I woke up, Dominic was gone. Probably out looking for work. I took my time getting ready. Breakfast was already made and sitting on the table. After eating, I was a bit stuffed, so I walked around the garden. My best friend texted me a string of exclamation marks. “I feel like I’m hallucinating. Why does my delivery guy look exactly like your man?” Attached was a blurry, abstract paparazzi-style photo. I clicked it open and zoomed in. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. He’s 6’2″, but she managed to make him look 4’11”. Despite the terrible angle, I recognized Dominic instantly. He used to be a CEO. How did he fall this far? I asked around in my circle. Turns out someone was deliberately sabotaging him. His resume was being thrown in the trash everywhere he applied. Damn it. My heart actually hurt for him. Truth be told, I had assets. Dominic had been generous over the years, and since I only love money, I’d converted all his gifts into cold, hard cash. Worst case scenario, we swap roles. I’ll keep him. It’s too cruel to watch him like this. When Dominic came back, I stopped him. “Babe, maybe we should go live in my hometown for a while.” Visibly relieved, he nodded. “Okay.” With his agreement, I started packing. Clothes, shoes—all essentials. This bag is worth $20k, this one $50k. They’re basically money. Gotta take them. The jewelry Dominic bought me at auctions? Expensive. Packing that. I filled several huge suitcases. Looking at the pile of luggage, I realized Dominic was being too quiet. I went to find him. He was sitting on the sofa, motionless. Something felt off. “Why aren’t you packing?” He finally reacted. “I don’t have much. Just some toiletries.” He casually threw a few things into a backpack. That night, Dominic went to sleep early. He hugged the blanket, his brow relaxed, sleeping peacefully. It made my heart soft. If only I hadn’t seen the drafted text on his phone: I liquidated everything under my name. It’s exactly five million. Cece, take the money and live a good life. And the bottle of sleeping pills hidden in the back of his nightstand. 5 The next day, Dominic slept in, which was rare. When he got up, he seemed energetic. He put on a suit, looking like he was going on a long trip. “Cece, I transferred the five million to your account.” “I have to go on a business trip. I might be gone for a month. Go back to your hometown first. I’ll find you there.” As he was putting on his shoes, I pretended to just see the notification. I didn’t even blink. I spent it all immediately. Dominic, who saw everything, froze in place. I put down my phone, looking innocent. “Babe, what’s wrong? You look pale.” “Are you going on a trip? Oh, look! That new limited-edition bag is so pretty too. I really want it…” You want to die behind my back? Earn me another hundred million first. The alarm I had set beforehand went off. Dominic forced a smile and answered it. “The trip is canceled? Okay, I understand.” I saw the despair beneath his blank expression. According to my character setting, I should be comforting him right now. Being the understanding girlfriend. But I’ve gone dark side. I ignored his pain and shoved my phone screen in his face. “Babe, look! Should I get this pattern or that one? They’re both so cute. I can’t choose.” Before the bankruptcy, Dominic wouldn’t have even looked up. He would’ve just said, “Buy both.” Now, he secretly pinched his thigh to stay conscious. “The blue one.” I pouted. “But the pink one is cute too.” He quickly pivoted. “Then buy the pink one.” I looked down, twiddling my fingers. “But the blue one is also nice. What do I do, Babe? I love them both.” It took him a long time to squeeze the words out of his throat. “Then buy both.” After saying it, he fled toward the door. “I can’t talk right now. I’m going to be late for work. Bye.” His back looked aged and weary. For a moment, I wondered if his desire to strangle me outweighed his desire to kill himself. After Dominic left, I looked at my packed bags and started unpacking. Guess we aren’t going to my hometown anytime soon.

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Will Orlando’s love for me was once an ocean. Now, the tide has gone out. To be with another girl, he had me hypnotized—tricked into falling for his best friend, Adrian. I broke up with him, just as he planned, my heart supposedly belonging to Adrian now. But now, he’s desperate to undo it all. What he doesn’t know is, the hypnosis never worked. I just… I really don’t love him anymore. 1 I was standing just outside the private lounge, listening to Will and Adrian talk. “You’re actually going to have Lara hypnotized?” That was Adrian’s voice, sharp with disbelief. “Lara and I are engaged,” Will replied, his tone chillingly casual. “But the thought of spending the rest of my life with just one woman… it’s starting to feel claustrophobic. So, I’ll have a hypnotist make her think she’s fallen for you. She’ll break up with me.” He paused, the sound of ice clinking in a glass. “Then, when I’ve had my fun, we’ll reverse it, and things will go back to the way they were.” “Right,” Adrian said, his voice unreadable. “And you want her to fall for me?” “Of course. You’re the only one I can trust. I know you’ve never liked her, and you wouldn’t touch her even if she threw herself at you. If she fell for anyone else, I couldn’t be sure they’d keep their hands to themselves.” Will’s logic was as flawless as it was cruel. “How thoughtful of you,” Adrian scoffed. “Just itching to go public with that little intern, aren’t you?” “You get it,” Will said, a smirk in his voice. I backed away from the door, my movements silent, and walked away. 2 Will brought me to an office with a view of the city skyline, saying we were meeting a friend. I found myself settling into a plush recliner. Then, I was asleep. When I woke up, two handsome faces were looking down at me. Will and Adrian. “Lara, you fell asleep,” Will said, reaching for my hand. I pulled away, my eyes finding Adrian’s across the room. I held his gaze, letting him see the deep affection I was supposed to be feeling. Will and Adrian exchanged a look. It worked. I saw the tension leave Will’s shoulders in a quiet sigh of relief. … That night, we were in a private club with Will’s friends—the usual crowd of city heirs and trust-fund kids. Adrian sat across from us, nursing a drink. I was still seated next to Will, but on his other side was Lily, the new intern from his company. The way they leaned into each other, the small space between them, it was clear they were the couple. I was the third wheel. During a party game, Lily had to take a dare. One of the guys, Wes, grinned, knowing exactly what to do. “Pick someone in the room and kiss them for a full minute!” A blush crept up Lily’s neck, a perfect performance of innocent charm. She glanced at me, her eyes wide. “Lara, I really only know Will well… would you mind if I chose him?” “Oh, come on, it’s just a game! Of course she won’t mind,” Wes chimed in, shutting down any potential protest. “And once you’re picked, Will, you can’t say no.” The old me would never have allowed my fiancé to kiss another woman. But in the eyes of everyone who knew the plan, I was already in love with someone else. I just smiled and shrugged. Lily looked at Will with a shy, girlish hesitation before leaning in. He smirked, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her into a deep kiss. The room erupted in cheers, fueling the spectacle of our breakup. When they finally pulled apart, Lily buried her face in Will’s chest, the tips of her ears bright red. He held her close, stroking her hair. “Hey, nothing to be embarrassed about,” he murmured, his voice laced with a tenderness I hadn’t heard in years. Then, still tucked in his arms, Lily looked at me. “I’m so sorry, Lara,” she said, but her eyes shone with the unmistakable light of victory. The next round, I lost. Same dare. A hush fell over the room. Everyone watched me, waiting. Who would I choose? 3 Will kept his arm around Lily, pointedly not looking at me. He was practically begging me not to pick him. Across the room, Adrian shifted, a flicker of something uneasy in his expression. I played my part. My gaze landed on Adrian. “Can I choose you?” I felt Will relax beside me. Adrian looked at me, a slow smile spreading across his lips. He nodded. I walked over to him, and he stood to meet me. My hands went to the back of his neck, and I had to stand on my toes to reach him. He dipped his head, meeting my lips with his. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him, deepening the kiss. Another round of whistles and hoots filled the air. For me, the minute stretched into an eternity. When the time was up, I pulled away. I caught a glimpse of Will’s face—a flash of irritation he couldn’t hide. Good. “Well, guess I should give you two some space,” Wes said, getting up from his spot next to Adrian and sliding into my old seat beside Will. I sat down next to Adrian. For the rest of the night, Will doted on Lily. And my eyes, for all the world to see, never left Adrian. The party was a stage, and we all played our parts perfectly. Late that night, the four of us stood outside the club. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the diamond ring Will had proposed with a year ago. The promises of forever, once so vivid, now felt like a distant memory. I held it out to him. “I think it’s time I gave this back to you.” Will managed a smile and took it. “If this is your decision, I respect it. We can still be friends.” I nodded, my gaze flickering to the girl clinging to his arm. “I’ll come by to get my things tomorrow.” “Tonight, then…” Will started, then looked at Adrian. “My man, you wouldn’t mind putting her up for the night, would you?” Adrian gave a noncommittal shrug. “Plenty of room.” “Alright, we’re heading out.” Will gave Adrian a look brimming with trust, then wrapped his arm around Lily and led her to his car. I stood there, watching the man I had loved for years drive away with another woman, until their taillights blurred into nothing. “Second thoughts?” Adrian’s voice beside me was laced with curiosity. I turned to him. “Who I’m thinking about? I thought that was made pretty clear tonight. Just like it’s clear who Will is thinking about.” A corner of his mouth lifted. He led me to his car, and we drove to his place. 4 We arrived at a mansion in the city’s most exclusive neighborhood. He led me upstairs, and the moment the door to the hallway closed, he spun me around and kissed me. I froze, turning my head away. “What are you doing?” He raised an eyebrow. “What, you agree to come back to my place, and you don’t know what’s going to happen?” I blinked. Wasn’t I supposed to be the one in love with him? And didn’t he always hate me? Was this another test? A way to prove to his friend that the hypnosis was a complete success? I lowered my eyes. “I’m just… surprised. I thought you didn’t like me.” He pulled me back against him, his fingers tilting my chin up. “You’ve been staring at me all night. I’m just giving you what you want.” He studied my face. “Or am I wrong?” I held his gaze for a long moment, then lowered my head and kissed his fingers where they rested on my chin. I saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he swept me into his arms and carried me into his bedroom. That night, my body and my memories split apart. I remembered the year I’d spent caring for a bitter, broken Will after his accident, when he’d driven everyone else away with his rage. The day he finally walked again, he held me so tight I could barely breathe. I knew we were from different worlds, but he’d sworn he’d disown his family before he let me go. The year my mother died, he held me and promised he would always be there for me. Last year, he lit up the entire night sky with fireworks and asked me to be his wife. This year, he grew tired of me. He had my mind altered so I would fall for another man, just so he could sleep with someone new. He held a younger, prettier girl and said goodbye. … Sometime in the dead of night, I woke up thirsty. The dim light filtering through the window showed an empty space beside me in the bed. I padded barefoot out of the slightly ajar door and heard voices coming from the living room downstairs. 5 “Shouldn’t you be tucked in with your little bunny right now? Why are you calling me?” It was Adrian. “It’s just… weird,” Will’s voice crackled through the phone. “Not having Lara next to me. I’m not used to it.” “Is she okay over there? She’s in a guest room, right?” “Of course,” Adrian chuckled dryly. “Can’t have her sleeping on the couch, can we?” “Thanks, man. Seriously. But I have to admit, seeing her kiss you today… it didn’t feel good. I remember when she was a blank canvas, you know? And I was the only one who ever got to paint on it.” “Tsk. Getting sentimental? Your new canvas isn’t so bad, or you wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble,” Adrian shot back. “It’s different, Adrian. My subconscious just knows that Lara belongs to me, body and soul. So if she gets too close, you need to keep your distance. You don’t even like her, so it’ll just make you uncomfortable anyway.” “Relax. You know me. You, on the other hand, might want to hang up. Your girl might wake up and wonder why you’re on the phone asking about your ex-fiancée.” “Right. Talk later.” I turned and slipped back into the room as silently as I’d left. A moment later, the door opened and he came in. He saw me sitting up. “What’s wrong? Need the bathroom?” he asked, his voice soft as he walked toward me. “I’m thirsty,” I said. “Stay put. I’ll get you some water.” He returned with a glass, and I drank it down. He set the empty glass on the nightstand, then gathered me into his arms, his fingers gently tracing the line of my jaw. He leaned in, his lips brushing mine. “Since you’re awake,” he murmured, “how about another round?” He pressed me back against the pillows. My eyes were wide open. Will had just said those words on the phone. And his best friend was now doing this. Will had no idea that the brother he trusted with his little scheme was tangled up in the sheets with me on the very first night. 6 Adrian said he was taking me to a birthday party. It wasn’t until we arrived that I realized it was for Lily, hosted by Will. The lavish ballroom was a fantasy of fresh flower petals and balloons. All of Will’s friends were there, celebrating her. Lily, in a pristine white dress, looked like a princess, basking in the glow of adoration. She tugged playfully on Will’s arm, pulling him down to her level. She whispered something in his ear, then gave him a quick, darting kiss on the cheek before hiding her face, all innocent shyness. She was the perfect picture of a pure, harmless little bunny. Will was clearly smitten, giving her nose a playful tap. Then he looked up and saw me walking in with Adrian. His smile froze. For a split second, I saw a flicker of panic in his eyes before he masked it. “Oh, Adrian, Lara! Thank you so much for coming to my party!” Lily called out, her voice bright and cheerful. A moment later, a cascade of fireworks erupted over the lake outside. Will had arranged it for her. Lily gasped, her eyes wide with delight as she watched the sky. The other guests pointed and murmured in appreciation. These were the same friends who had been there last year, on my birthday. Will had set off fireworks for me, too. And as I’d watched them, overwhelmed with joy, he had dropped to one knee. He held up a ring. “Lara,” he’d said, his voice thick with emotion, “twenty-something years ago, your mother brought you into this world and gave you a past. Today, I want to take over for her. I want to be the one to love you and take care of you in your future.” I had cried, letting him slide the ring onto my finger. Now, he had made me a spectator, forced to watch him give all of that to someone else. “Do you like it?” he asked Lily softly. “Yes!” she nodded emphatically, leaning into his embrace. “I’m so happy, so incredibly happy. I wish this moment could last forever.” Will hugged her, stroking her hair. “Silly girl,” he chuckled. Suddenly, a jacket was draped over my shoulders. I turned to see Adrian beside me. “It’s getting cold,” he said simply. When the fireworks faded, we all went back inside. I was on my way back from the restroom when I heard voices from the stairwell. 7 “Adrian, why are you being so considerate, putting your coat on Lara?” It was Will. “Funny,” Adrian shot back. “In a moment like that, you had time to notice?” “I’m just surprised. Since when are you so thoughtful?” Will’s voice was laced with suspicion. “She’s staying at my place, isn’t she? If I don’t look out for her and she gets sick, am I supposed to take care of her? Or are you volunteering?” Adrian retorted. Will was silent for a moment. “You two looked pretty happy tonight,” Adrian continued. “Lily really seems to brighten you up.” “Yeah,” Will said, his voice softening. “Being with her feels like it did with Lara in the beginning. She’s sweet, she’s uncomplicated. It makes me want to spoil her.” “Lily’s another blank canvas for you. You’ve been with Lara for years, you’re bored. Why not just let this be the new reality? Let Lara find her own happiness somewhere else,” Adrian suggested. I didn’t wait for Will’s answer. I walked away. … Back at Adrian’s place, he pulled me into another kiss the moment we were through the door. Later, in bed, he was toying with my hair as I lay with my back to him. “I found an apartment,” I said suddenly. “I’ll move out tomorrow.” He went still. He turned me over to face him, his eyes narrowed. “You’re moving out? After all this?” I looked at him. “It’s not right, for us to be living like this…” He cupped my jaw. “So it was right to live with Will, but now that you’re my woman, it’s not right to live with me?” “I just… I remember you used to hate me,” I said, confused. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. “Aren’t you in love with me? I’m just making your wish come true. If we’re not together, you broke up with Will for nothing, didn’t you?” I stared into his eyes. “You’re so kind. What if this makes me love you even more?” A genuine smile broke across his face, and he kissed me hard. This man, it seemed, was genuinely happy that I loved him. I let him have his way, my mind already spinning, planning. 8 That weekend, the whole crew went to a villa on the coast. Lily brought along two of her old college friends, a move Will seemed to indulge without a second thought. I was lounging on a sofa chair by the shimmering pool, the vast blue ocean stretching out before me. I reached for the bowl of cherries on the table beside me. Just as my fingers brushed the fruit, the entire bowl was snatched away. “Lara, my friends and I were just craving these. You don’t mind if I take them, do you?” Lily asked, already walking away with the bowl in her hand. I watched as she took it over to where her friends were sitting. “Lily, isn’t she Adrian Vance’s girlfriend?” one of them whispered, clearly thinking it was a bold move. Lily scoffed. “Girlfriend? Please. After Will broke up with her for me, he felt sorry for her, so he asked his friend Adrian to look after her. Adrian can’t stand her.” Her friends’ eyes widened in understanding. “Oh, so that’s how it is.” “You’re amazing, Lily. We’re so lucky to know you.” “Seriously, getting to hang out in a place like this, meeting all these powerful, handsome men… it’s all thanks to you.” “We always knew you were destined for great things, Lily. And look at you now, with Will Orlando so in love with you. You’re going to be a lady of society.” “She could kick her out of that chair and no one would say a thing. She’s just Will’s ex. Lily’s being merciful by even letting her sit there.” The two friends fawned and flattered, echoing Lily’s own contempt. She sat there, preening under their praise, popping cherries into her mouth like a queen. It was so transparent—she’d brought them here to show off, to be admired. I shook my head slightly and settled back into the chair, too bored to care. Just then, Adrian walked out of the villa. “Oh, Adrian!” Lily called out sweetly. He ignored her completely and came straight to me. He leaned down, gently stroking my cheek. I wasn’t asleep, so I playfully pushed his hand away. He just chuckled, then lifted me up and settled me onto his lap. I rolled my eyes and slid off, but the lounge chair was big enough for two. I shifted to give him space. He sighed in mock defeat but settled for tucking me into the crook of his arm. He glanced at the empty table, frowned, and snapped his fingers. A server appeared instantly, and Adrian ordered a platter of fresh fruit. As Lily and her friends watched Adrian intimately nestle me against him and feed me a slice of mango, I saw them whispering again. “Lily, didn’t you say…” Lily’s expression soured. But then she saw Will approaching. “Will,” she cooed, her voice instantly soft. He walked over, but his eyes were fixed on me and Adrian. I saw his jaw tighten as Adrian held a grape to my lips. 9 He walked over to Lily’s side. She immediately shooed her friends away, and they scurried off. I took the grape from Adrian’s fingers and touched it to my own lips before playfully offering it to him. I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he opened his mouth to take it. At the last second, I pulled it back and popped it into my own mouth, laughing. “Lara…” Adrian groaned, then leaned in to steal a kiss. “Stop,” I giggled, turning my head. As I did, my eyes met Will’s. He was staring, his face a thundercloud. “Will?” Lily was trying to offer him a piece of fruit, but he wasn’t paying attention. He tore his gaze away from us, his lips a thin, hard line. I turned my back to him and took a bite of the strawberry Adrian was now offering me. It was true. There was a time when I was only ever like this with Will. I only laughed in his arms, only shared these playful moments with him. Now, it was time to learn how to give them to another man. … I went inside the villa to charge my phone and, once again, overheard a conversation from the stairwell. “Adrian, what the hell? Why are you suddenly all over her? We had a deal,” Will hissed, his voice tight with anger. “Will, don’t forget, you’re the one who made her fall in love with me. Her feelings for me are uncontrollable,” Adrian said calmly. “And since she’s living with me, did you really expect us to have zero contact? What am I supposed to do, keep her locked in my house as a platonic roommate? If she feels unwelcome, she’ll leave. And the next thing you know, while you’re off playing with your new toy, some other guy will have swept in and taken her.” I had to suppress a laugh. Adrian was a master manipulator. And Will was falling for it. “Just… keep your distance. You hate her, don’t you? You used to complain every time you saw her with me. So why are you acting so close now?” “You know how I am,” Adrian said with a dismissive wave in his voice. “Better the devil you know. Why sweat the small stuff?” There was a pause. Then Adrian added, “Of course, if you feel like she’s been… tainted, no longer pure enough for you, you could always choose to make a permanent change…” “Shut up, Adrian,” Will snapped. … Later that afternoon, we all went down to the beach. I was wearing a light, white button-down shirt over my bikini, my feet bare on the warm sand. Adrian had gone back to the villa to grab my phone. “Ouch!” Something sharp dug into the sole of my foot. I cried out, stumbling. Will, who was walking with Lily nearby, rushed over and grabbed my arm to steady me. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine.” I pulled my arm away and checked my foot. Just a sharp shell, no blood. “What the hell is that on your collarbone?” Will’s voice was suddenly low and dangerous, his eyes locked on my chest.

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Ten years. Ten years of playing wife to the man my runaway sister abandoned, mother to the child she left behind. And all it took to shatter that fragile peace was sitting in her armchair. The boy I raised pushed me from the third-floor landing. My spine was splintered, my body slick with blood, yet when I pleaded with him to call for help, he just looked down and sneered, a perfect echo of his father. “You don’t get to touch my mom’s things. Ever. I’m telling you, you will never be Audrey!” “You want help? I hope you end up paralyzed. I hope Dad throws you out on the street!” I stared up at the child who, since the moment he was handed to me in a blanket, had been my sole responsibility. The agonizing pain of my broken body was nothing compared to the slow, relentless flaying of my heart. After the emergency surgery, still woozy from the anesthesia, I found the strength to make a single international call. “Professor Warren,” I whispered into the receiver. “I’m ready to come home.” 1 I hung up just as Preston, Mom, and Dad swept into the room, Leo trailing behind them, his face a mask of furious, self-pitying innocence. “Why should I apologize to that… woman!” Leo snarled, pointing a vicious finger at me. “She went and sat in Mom’s chair first! I just shouted, and she got scared and fell down the stairs. She wasn’t even bleeding that much at first. I thought she was just putting on another one of her pathetic little shows.” The words grew crueler, yet the adults didn’t stop him. They just stood there, their expressions cold and accusatory, focused entirely on me. I didn’t bother to defend myself, just stared blankly out the window. Preston’s voice was a low, familiar burn. “Ainsley, Leo is talking to you. Look at him. What kind of mother ignores her own son?” I laughed, a dry, bitter sound. “What kind of son stands over his mother’s injured body, insults her, and never asks if she’s in pain?” Preston’s impatience sharpened. “That’s only because you’re not affectionate enough, Ainsley. You’re always trying to guilt him with your exaggerated dramatics.” Exaggerated dramatics? Leo was born with a delicate constitution, constantly battling illness. I was the one who kept vigil for ten years, learning specialized acupuncture and massage, brewing every obscure Chinese tonic and medicated broth imaginable. My long, pianist fingers—the ones that earned me a scholarship—were now calloused and swollen from endless hours of domestic labor. Leo once admitted he was scared of the dark, and I didn’t close my eyes for three straight days and nights, simply sitting by his crib. But Preston never saw it. Leo never saw it. “Ainsley,” Preston lectured, cutting into my thoughts, “when you married into the Hawthorne family, I had one requirement: Take care of Leo. Was that truly so difficult? If you couldn’t even manage that, then I told you I’d divorce you—” “Then let’s do it,” I cut in, my voice level. “Divorce me. I don’t want to be Mrs. Hawthorne anymore.” Preston froze, stunned. He hadn’t expected that. After all, my family had begged for this marriage. Ten years ago, my sister, Audrey, had married Preston—the original plan—but then her ‘Holy Grail,’ the one she’d always loved, came back to the States. Audrey abandoned her newborn son and vanished without a trace. The Hawthorne family was furious. My parents, desperate to save the Caldwell family business, tricked me. They lured me home from my Ph.D. program, drugged me, and pushed me into Preston’s bed. The scandal was massive. With an infant Leo needing care, Preston had no choice but to marry me. We had an agreement: ten years. When Leo was old enough, the sham marriage would end. But in every argument, Preston weaponized that promise, using divorce as a threat. Well, the threat had lost its power. My parents erupted first. “Ainsley, what are you talking about? You can’t leave! Who will take care of Leo if you go?” Their faces, etched with disappointment, were the same ones I’d faced when I initially refused to give up the engagement. The contract was originally for me, Ainsley Caldwell, the daughter my mother carried when the deal was struck. But later, when Audrey was heartbroken by her forbidden romance and impulsively decided to marry, my parents demanded I step aside. Seeing my silence, my mother quickly softened her tone. “Alright, alright. You’re hurt, so we won’t make you apologize to Leo. Just swallow your pride, honey. We’ll even give you your house keys back. You can come and go as you please.” After I married Preston, they took my key to the Caldwell family home. They instructed the security and the driver to deny me entry unless I was with Leo. “Ainsley, you have to burn your boats. You must have no retreat, no home base, only then will you truly treat the Hawthorne house as your own and Leo as your own son.” They were true to their word; once, when an enraged Preston threw me out, I spent the night on the porch in the rain, and they never let me in. Preston, seeing my silence, misread it as calculation. He offered a cynical olive branch. “Fine. It’s just a few cracked ribs, it’s not a big deal. Stop pouting. When you’re better, I’ll take you to get wedding photos done.” In ten years, we hadn’t taken a single photograph together. If a photo-bombing party guest accidentally caught us in the same frame, Preston would snap at me for trying to steal a moment. But now, I wanted none of it—not his mock affection, and certainly not my parents’ false pity. “It won’t be necessary,” I said flatly. “I’ll be gone next month.” The room plunged into a suffocating, dead silence. Then, my parents’ and Preston’s fury washed over me. “Are you listening to yourself, Ainsley?” “Leo has his Math Olympiad next month! Who will tutor him? Who will manage his schedule?” “You’re a mother! How can you be so selfish? Abandon your child over a stupid tantrum?” A mother? I looked at Leo, whose eyes were still burning with resentment. For a decade, he’d only called me ‘Ainsley-Auntie.’ For the past two years, he wouldn’t even use a name, preferring ‘that woman.’ He had called me ‘Mom’ once, when he was just learning to talk. Preston had exploded. He ripped the child from my arms and banished me from the house. “Don’t waste your energy, Ainsley. Leo only has one mother!” Even after Audrey had abandoned him, Preston reserved that title for her. Every time Leo slipped up and called me ‘Mom,’ Preston would punish him. Ten years, and I was just a highly paid, perpetually ignored nanny. But it was almost over. I faced them, calm now. “You all said it yourselves: I was only fit to occupy this position for ten years. The time is up. I’m leaving.” My parents looked at me with disappointment and irritation. “Nobody is forcing you out! Why bring that up now?” They were only worried about the Caldwell-Hawthorne business ties. Preston, surprisingly, did not look relieved. He frowned. “What kind of excuse is that? If you’d just begged, would I really have kicked you out?” He spoke with the entitlement of a king granting a favor. “Fine, if you’re worried about what people will say, I’ll post a single status update on social media. I’ll announce that you are officially the Mrs. Hawthorne.” He hadn’t even given me a wedding. When business partners or friends came over, he introduced me with a casual wave: “The one who keeps the house and watches the kid.” Everyone knew I was the desperate gold-digger who failed to climb the social ladder and whose decade-long grace period had expired. But a title was meaningless to me now. I replied with a cool detachment. “The doctor said I might have a permanent limp. A woman with a physical disability can’t possibly be the ideal Hawthorne wife, and she certainly shouldn’t raise the heir to the Hawthorne name.” Preston relaxed, assuming he had solved the riddle of my anger. “You’re worried about that? Don’t be silly. With my resources, no one will dare speak ill of you, and we can hire the best doctors. Stop sulking, Ainsley. What are you going to do, anyway? You’ve been a homemaker for ten years; you won’t survive without the Hawthornes or the Caldwells.” He continued, condescendingly, “If it means that much to you, I’ll have my secretary buy you a diamond ring. We’ll have one family dinner, and you’ll be the ‘official’ Mrs. Hawthorne. As for the public announcement? You can forget it. What if Audrey sees it? What if she decides not to come home?” He ushered my parents and Leo out, leaving only his secretary to discuss my recovery. Oh, and the offered ring. The secretary, aloof and judgmental, approached the bedside. “Miss Caldwell, Mr. Hawthorne approved a budget of one million dollars for the ring. We can only get you a ready-made piece. If you don’t know much about jewelry, just pick the most expensive one. It will count as your personal asset, by the way.” Preston always believed I was a mercenary woman who slept my way into his life, which is why he only allowed me a meager three-thousand-dollar monthly allowance from the house manager. The secretary obviously thought a million was an astonishing show of generosity. Yet the custom-made armchair I dared to sit in—the one commissioned for Audrey—cost ten million. The master suite, a room I had never been allowed to enter, was filled with Audrey’s sacred belongings, easily worth ten times that. I pushed the secretary’s tablet away. “Just pick something. I don’t care.” That ring, like everything else Preston had ever given me—even the cheap corporate gift baskets—would likely just be destroyed by Leo eventually. Besides, I wouldn’t be wearing it. Just as the secretary left, Leo came back. He opened a thermos and threw the scalding oatmeal at me. “You better wise up and disappear fast, or next time I’ll use something worse.” He was small, so the oatmeal mostly hit the sheets, but a few drops splashed my forearm. It was the same oatmeal I had woken up at four in the morning to prepare for him, yet it burned my skin like acid. Seeing the angry red marks, Leo’s face broke into a satisfied smirk, and he left. The nurse came in, changed the linens, and applied cream. As she was leaving, she paused, then spoke softly. “Some children, Miss Caldwell, are simply ungrateful.” I looked down at the bandages covering my body, and the tears finally started to fall. A stranger could see it, but I had blindly believed for ten years that genuine kindness would be returned in kind. But whether it was Preston, my childhood friend, or Leo, the boy I raised from birth—my sincerity was always met with malice. They didn’t visit me once during the next two weeks. I hired a private aide, and on the day I was released, I returned to the Hawthorne house in a wheelchair to collect my belongings. I opened the front door and saw them all in the living room, laughing, surrounded by warmth and joy. In the center, radiant and glowing, was Audrey, my sister, who hadn’t been seen or heard from in a decade. My parents clutched her, their eyes red. “Audrey, darling, you’re back. That’s all that matters. What do you want to eat? Your mother will cook it for you.” Leo was clinging to her like a baby koala. “Mom, you’re finally home! I won’t be the boy with no one who cares about him anymore.” Even Preston, the ice king, was smiling with undisguised adoration. “Audrey, I knew you couldn’t stay away from me.” They were united, ecstatic, as if Audrey’s sudden disappearance—the event that had nearly ruined them—had never happened. When my parents begged me to step in, one had claimed a heart attack and the other had cried until her eyes were nearly blind. They told me Audrey had no soul. I helped stabilize the family business, negotiated with the Hawthornes, and walked into what I knew was a marriage of fire, only because they pleaded with me. Preston, too, had spiraled into an alcoholic depression after Audrey left. I had stayed by his side, Leo in my arms, and helped him climb out of the darkness. He had solemnly promised me we would make a real life together. And Leo, when he finally realized his mother had abandoned him, had a massive breakdown, weeping day and night until I swore I would never leave him. Ten years of devotion, completely erased by Audrey’s sudden return. The sound of my wheelchair entering the room drew their attention. My parents’ faces flushed with embarrassment. “Ainsley, you’re back? Why didn’t you call ahead?” They looked at me as if I were a ghost who had ruined their perfect family portrait. I instructed my aide to push me toward the stairs. “I couldn’t reach any of you. I called hundreds of times.” I needed their signatures on medical forms. I needed to discuss Leo and Preston’s arrangements after my departure. Every message I sent over the past two weeks had vanished into a black hole. Yet now, they were angry at me for not calling. Preston looked away uncomfortably. “It was just a busy couple of weeks. Go on up and rest, Ainsley. Don’t strain yourself.” Rest? Since when was he attentive? He was only worried about me interrupting his reunion with Audrey. But I no longer cared. Leo spoke up from behind me, his voice dripping with malice. “Go crawl back into your hole! My real mother is home now. You coarse, ugly woman. You can’t compare to her little finger.” Audrey was dressed impeccably, her makeup flawless, her long, manicured nails sparkling. She did look beautiful compared to my makeup-free, oversized sweatshirt look. I used to care about my appearance, but I stopped when I was caring for Leo—I worried my long hair would tangle in his tiny fingers, my nails would scratch his delicate skin, and my perfume would irritate his lungs. Leo, apparently, never noticed or cared. I ignored him and continued upstairs. I had a phone call with Professor Warren, finalizing my arrangements. He asked one last question, his voice hesitant. “Ainsley, are you truly sure? That’s the boy you raised for ten years. And Preston… you two were childhood sweethearts. After a decade, those bonds only deepen.” Deepen? The moment Audrey appeared, I was instantly obsolete. “Professor,” I said firmly. “I’ve made up my mind. I don’t belong here.” I hung up and sat in silence. I turned and saw Preston standing in the doorway, watching me. Seeing my startlement, he scoffed. “Oh, come on. Stop acting. You make such a dramatic exit, and now you’re suddenly talking on the phone about leaving the country? It’s all for show, isn’t it? Audrey is back, so now you’re playing the run-away bride, trying to get me to chase you.” His familiar contempt was a dull ache. For a second, a complex mix of feelings—anger, nostalgia—floated up. Preston hadn’t always been like this. He had trusted me unconditionally once. When my parents tried to force me into a boarding school a thousand miles away to clear the field for Audrey, Preston had refused to eat for three days and risked losing his inheritance until his family finally agreed to send him to my school. I truly believed we would have a fairytale ending. I fought with all my strength against my parents’ attempts to cage me, to break my will and force me out of the engagement. But when I finally escaped the basement where they were holding me, the first thing I saw was him on bended knee, slipping a ring onto Audrey’s finger in a lavishly decorated hall. My parents told me Audrey was simply better than me, and Preston finally saw it. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t true, but the pure joy on Preston’s face when he held Audrey was undeniable. When my parents begged me to clean up Audrey’s mess, a selfish impulse was mixed into my agreement. I thought I could still get the old Preston back. Ten years of cold indifference had taught me the truth. Preston only had eyes for Audrey. “Dad! Did you go up to get that smelly woman to cook? What’s taking so long? Mom’s hungry downstairs!” Leo’s shrill voice cut through my memory. Preston glanced at me. “Stop playing your little games. Audrey specifically asked for your cooking. Go make her dinner. If you perform well, I might consider letting you stay on the property.” I gripped the arms of my wheelchair, choking down the rage. “I’m injured. You want me to cook for Audrey in this condition?” Leo shrieked again. “You don’t have a real injury, you fake! Stop pretending to be an invalid!” A few more hours, and the injury would have been permanent. That’s what the doctor said. That severe injury, in Leo’s eyes, was a minor inconvenience. I looked at the face I had woken up to every morning for ten years, now contorted with contempt. I couldn’t find a trace of the sweet boy who used to cling to me and say, “The heavens made a mistake. I chose you to be my mom.” I pushed the emotions down. Preston and Leo stood there, expecting compliance. The bitterness was overwhelming. “Fine,” I said, a self-deprecating smile touching my lips. “At least push me down there.” Preston scoffed and called the housekeeper. “Don’t try to find excuses to get close to me, Ainsley.” In the kitchen, Audrey strolled in like the queen returning to her throne. “Thank you so much, Sister, for watching the house. I’ll make sure Preston gives you a generous severance when you leave.” She then proceeded to list her dinner request: “Just keep it simple, you know my tastes. Bird’s nest porridge, braised sea cucumber, King Crab. Don’t make a fuss.” The housekeeper whispered nervously, “But Miss Caldwell, these are complex dishes. They require four to five hours of preparation, and you said we couldn’t help…” Audrey raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Are you saying my sister is too good to make me dinner?” My parents’ voices boomed from the living room. “Ainsley, your sister has just come home! Are you going to deny her this small request?” I had told myself I was numb, but their blatant bias still stung. This is the last time. I looked straight at Audrey. “I leave tomorrow. You don’t need to try and torture me anymore.” Audrey’s face instantly lit up. “You said it, not me! I’m not running you off.” She glanced at the housekeeper. “Fine, let them help you.” She then flounced off, responding to the urgent calls of Preston and my parents. With the housekeeper’s pitying gaze on me, I started to cook. Even with help prepping the ingredients, operating from a wheelchair was exhausting. After what felt like an eternity, and with my injured leg throbbing, the feast was complete. I rolled out of the kitchen. The villa was silent. The house manager approached me, looking troubled. “Miss Caldwell, Ms. Audrey said she wanted a late-night street food snack three hours ago. Mr. Hawthorne and your parents drove her out to get it.” I felt nothing. Not surprise. Not despair. I gave a quiet sigh. “I see. Please push me upstairs. I need to pack.” The next morning, before the sun was fully up, my arranged car arrived. The driver gasped as we were about to pull out. “Whoa! What’s this kid doing?” I craned my neck. It was Leo, standing directly in front of the car. He was still in yesterday’s crumpled clothes, shivering in the cold morning air.

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