Category: English

I spent three years caring for my comatose boyfriend after a horrific car accident. But the moment he finally opened his eyes, he grabbed my best friend’s hand and called her “wife.” My best friend blushed, accepted the title, and turned to me with a pitying look. “Val, we shouldn’t stress the patient right now.” I smiled, reached into my bag, and pulled out every single medical bill from the last three years. “A total of $200,000. How would you like to pay?” “Also, since I’ve been acting as a full-time nurse for ‘your’ husband for three years, please reimburse me according to standard market rates.” On that rainy night three years ago, Julian was driving me to the airport when a truck swerved into our lane. He slammed on the steering wheel to take the hit. Because of his quick reflex, I only got minor scratches. But the impact shattered his skull. I sat outside the ICU for seven agonizing hours, signing three consecutive critical condition notices. The doctor told me he might remain in a permanent vegetative state. I was only twenty-three then. I had graduated a year prior and was working as a copywriter at an ad agency, making a meager salary. Julian was my first love. We had been together since college, our parents had already met, and we were planning our spring wedding. But after the crash, I canceled my flights, quit my job, and rented a tiny, cheap apartment right next to the hospital. Julian’s mother, Martha, cried her eyes out at first. She held my hand tightly and sobbed, “Valerie, I’m trusting you with Julian. I know how much you love him. The moment he wakes up, we’ll get you two married.” She was genuinely devastated back then, and genuinely grateful to me. But that gratitude started to rot by the third month. “Valerie, my back is acting up again. Can you pull the night shift at the hospital?” “Valerie, private nurses are just too expensive. Since you don’t have a job anyway, why don’t you just care for him yourself?” “Valerie, Julian’s physical therapy bills are due… How much savings do you have left?” I had about $15,000 in savings, which vanished in less than six months. To survive, I started freelancing. I wrote ad copy and marketing proposals, working on a shaky folding table right next to Julian’s hospital bed in the dead of night. During the day, I bathed him, turned him over to prevent bedsores, massaged his stiff muscles, and read him the news. At night, I pulled all-nighters to meet deadlines. My best friend, Chloe, only visited a handful of times. Every time, she showed up in full makeup, sat for ten minutes, took a selfie, and posted it on Instagram with the caption: *“Visiting my dear friend. My heart is breaking.”* I watched her post rack up hundreds of likes while I quietly knelt by the bed, clipping Julian’s toenails. In the first year, the doctor said there were signs of brain activity. I was so excited I couldn’t sleep all night. In the second year, Julian’s fingers twitched. I recorded over three hundred videos of his progress, crying and laughing at the camera. In the third year—just last month—the doctor told me he was finally showing signs of waking up. Over those three years, I spent $200,000. I sold the small condo my parents had bought for my future. I borrowed money from every friend who would reply to my texts. I maxed out three credit cards. Martha contributed a measly $30,000 before claiming she was completely out of money and needed to save the rest for her retirement. Yesterday, Julian finally opened his eyes. I held his hand, my tears splashing onto his knuckles. I was so choked up I couldn’t utter a single word. His eyes rolled slowly, his gaze bypassing me entirely to look at the space behind me. Then, his cracked lips parted. His voice was raspy, but the word he spoke was brutally clear: “Wife…” I froze. There was only one person standing behind me. Chloe. I didn’t even know when she had walked in. She was holding a bouquet of fresh lilies. The expression on her face shifted from shock to pure ecstasy, and then to a triumphant, gentle smile I had never seen before. “Julian…” She rushed to the bedside, squeezing his hand. “You’re awake! Oh my god, you’re finally awake!” Julian’s fingers tightened around hers, holding onto her as if she were his lifeline. His eyes never left her face. I was treated like thin air. I stood there frozen, my hands still hovering in the air in the shape of holding his hand. Martha burst into the room. Seeing the scene, she paused for a second before quickly walking over— And shoved me out of the way. “Chloe! Julian is calling you!” Her face lit up with joy. “Oh, thank God! You two are finally reunited!” *You two?* I opened my mouth, but my throat felt like it had been sealed with concrete. “Martha…” My voice shook. “I’ve been the one taking care of him for three years.” Martha finally looked at me. Her eyes flickered with guilt before she sighed, grabbing my hand with fake sympathy. “Valerie, I know you’ve been good to Julian. But look, he just woke up. His memory is a mess, and the doctor said we can’t stress him. Chloe is the girl he loved growing up. His subconscious remembers her. Doesn’t that prove they are meant to be?” I ripped my hand out of her grip. “I took care of him for three years,” I repeated, enunciating every single word. “I sold my condo. I went into massive debt. I quit my career. And now that he’s awake, you’re telling me to get lost?” “How can you say that?!” Martha’s face darkened instantly. “Who’s telling you to get lost? I’m saying we need to prioritize Julian’s health! Once his memory recovers, we’ll straighten this out. If you throw a tantrum now and cause him to relapse, can you take responsibility for that?” Chloe turned around, her eyes red, looking like a helpless victim. “Val, I’m so sorry… I don’t know why this is happening either. But Julian just woke up, and we really can’t stress him. Why don’t… why don’t you go home and get some rest for a few days? Let me handle things here.” She sounded so sincere, as if she had been the one sleeping on a hospital cot for three years. I looked down at Julian. He was staring at Chloe with absolute tenderness, gently tracing her palm with his thumb. I knew that look all too well. He used to look at me the exact same way. Now, he didn’t even spare me a glance. Suddenly, I laughed. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll leave first.” I turned and walked out of the room. Behind me, I heard Martha whispering, “See? Chloe is so much more sensible, unlike some people…” I shut the door, leaned against the sterile hallway wall, and pulled a cigarette from my bag. I didn’t smoke, but I kept them to stay awake during late-night shifts. I lit it but didn’t inhale. I just watched the smoke rise and fade. Three years. $200,000. I pulled out my phone and opened my camera roll. The latest video was recorded just yesterday. In it, I whispered to a comatose Julian: *”The doctor says you might wake up soon. I bought your favorite blueberries. When you wake up, I’ll feed them to you. Let’s get married, Julian. I’m so tired. I want a home.”* In the video, I had dark circles under my eyes, but I was smiling. I locked my phone and took a deep breath. Did they really think I, Valerie, was a pushover? Did they think they could just swipe three years of my youth and two hundred grand under the rug? I crushed the cigarette, tossed it in the trash, and walked toward the elevator with long, confident strides.

I went back to my rented apartment and slept for ten straight hours. For the first time in three years, there was no alarm, no nurse’s call button, and no need to wake up in the middle of the night to turn Julian over. When I finally woke up, it was 3:00 PM. I had seventeen unread messages on my phone from Martha and Chloe. Martha: *“Valerie, Julian is doing well today. You don’t need to worry.”* Martha: *“Valerie, I thought about it. We will repay the money you advanced. Don’t overthink things.”* Martha: *“Julian asked who you were. I told him you were a hired nurse, and he didn’t question it. Don’t come by for now, we don’t want to trigger him.”* The last message was from Chloe: *“Val, I’m so sorry, but Julian only recognizes me right now. When he gets better, I’ll explain everything to him. Thank you for the last three years. When we get married, I’ll definitely make you my maid of honor.”* I stared at the screen and laughed out loud. *Maid of honor?* I typed a quick reply: *“I’ll be at the hospital tomorrow at 10:00 AM.”* Then, I turned off my phone, took a long shower, put on a full face of makeup, and squeezed into a dress I bought three years ago. I used to wear a small, but now I was thin enough to fit into an extra-small. I looked at myself in the mirror and practiced my smile. It wasn’t a warm smile. It was the kind of smile that made people’s skin crawl. The next morning, I showed up at the hospital room right on time. I pushed the door open to a picture-perfect family scene. Chloe was gently spoon-feeding Julian some oatmeal. Martha was sitting nearby, peeling an apple. Julian was propped up against the pillows, pale but alert, smiling warmly at Chloe. “…And then you insisted on climbing that tree to pick peaches,” Chloe giggled. “You fell, scraped your knee, and lied to your mom saying I pushed you!” “I remember that,” Julian said, his voice weak but filled with affection. “You cried all afternoon and said you’d never play with me again.” “Well, you blamed me!” “Alright, alright. My bad.” They laughed together, looking like a couple straight out of a romance movie. I tapped on the open door. Three heads turned instantly. Julian looked at me with a cold, guarded gaze. “Who are you?” I didn’t answer. I walked straight in, tossed my bag onto the nightstand, and pulled out a thick folder. “I’m Valerie,” I said. “The woman who took care of you for three years.” Chloe stood up immediately, blocking Julian. “Val, why are you here? I thought we agreed—” “Move.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it made Chloe flinch. Surprisingly, she took a step back. I opened the folder and dumped a massive pile of receipts onto the bed. “These are the medical bills from the last three years,” I said. “The grand total is $205,340. That includes $150,000 in direct medical bills, $35,000 for physical rehab, and $20,340 for nursing fees—which is my labor cost, calculated strictly at the local minimum wage.” I pulled out the last piece of paper: my bank statements. “I sold my condo and took out $80,000 in personal loans. I have $25,000 in outstanding credit card debt. Martha, I kept track of the $30,000 you contributed. That leaves a balance of $175,340.” I looked up at the three stunned faces and smiled. “So, how would you like to pay?” The room fell into a dead silence. Julian frowned, looking back and forth between me and Chloe. “Chloe… what is she talking about?” Chloe’s face flushed bright red. “Valerie! Are you insane? Julian just woke up! Why are you bringing this up now?!” “Why am I bringing this up?” I tilted my head. “I’m collecting a debt. Chloe, you’re the new ‘Mrs. Miller,’ right? It’s only natural for a married couple to pay off their debts together.” “Who… who is Mrs. Miller!” Chloe panicked. “Julian is just confused right now. Once he recovers…” “Once he recovers, you two will get married and make me your maid of honor.” I cut her off, unlocking my phone and pulling up her text message from yesterday. I zoomed in and held it right in front of her face. “Isn’t that what you wrote?” Chloe turned white. Martha rushed forward, trying to grab my phone. “Valerie! You’ve gone too far! Julian just woke up and you’re here starting drama! What is wrong with you?!” I dodged her easily, my voice turning icy and loud: “What is wrong with me? I am here to get my money back!” I pointed at Julian. He flinched, pulling back toward the headboard. “Julian, listen to me. I don’t care what you call me. I don’t care if you pretend not to remember me. But I spent $200,000 on you. I quit my career, sold my home, and went from a healthy young woman to this skeletal version of myself. You don’t have to love me, but you are going to pay me back.” I pulled a USB drive from my bag and slammed it onto the nightstand. “On this drive, there is a record of every single payment made to this hospital. There is also a log of my caregiving hours. I’ve already consulted a lawyer, and by law, my labor costs are fully reimbursable. And…” I paused, staring into his eyes, “there are 387 video logs I recorded during your coma. In every single video, I state the date, what I did for you, and how much money I spent that day.” I leaned in closer to Julian. “You can play the amnesia card all you want, but the law doesn’t have amnesia. If you don’t pay me, I will file a police report and sue you. I have absolutely nothing left to lose. I don’t mind taking this to the local news.” I stood up straight and brushed some imaginary dust off my dress. “Three days. Get me my money in three days, and we’re even. Otherwise, I’ll see you in court.” I turned on my heel and walked out. Behind me, Martha screamed, “Valerie! You heartless bitch! You’ll rot in hell!” I didn’t look back. But the moment I stepped into the empty hallway, my knees buckled slightly. Yet, deep down, I had never felt so alive.

The very next day, the money hit my account. $175,340, down to the last cent. Staring at the bank notification, tears finally spilled over my eyes. But before I could even finish crying, my phone rang. It was Martha. “Valerie, you got your money. Are you happy now? But let me tell you, that money didn’t come from us. Chloe paid it! She had to sell her car and borrow money from her parents! Look at you, forcing a young girl who just started her career to sell her car. How do you sleep at night?!” I wiped my tears, my voice dead calm. “I don’t care where the money came from. I only care that the debt is settled.” “You!” Martha gasped in rage. “Julian said he doesn’t even know who you are! You chose to take care of him for three years; nobody forced you to! Now take your money and stay the hell away from us!” “Don’t worry,” I said. “You won’t be seeing me again.” I hung up and immediately blocked her number. Then, I opened my Instagram account—which had been practically abandoned for three years—and posted a single status: *“Three years. $205,340. Paid in full today. We are officially even.”* I attached a screenshot of the bank wire transfer confirmation. My comment section blew up instantly. Though I rarely posted, the few times I did over the last three years were hospital check-ins or late-night coffee cups. My friends knew I was caring for my boyfriend, but they had no idea about the financial toll. *“Wait, what? You guys broke up?”* *“Over 200k? Val, you spent that much on him?!”* *“Did he wake up? What happened?”* I didn’t reply to anyone. I just shut off my phone. I thought that would be the end of it. I was wrong. A week later, I landed a new job as a senior editor at a digital media company. The interview went incredibly well. Even though I hadn’t had a corporate job in three years, my freelance portfolio was stellar. On my third day of work, my assistant, Emma, crept over to my desk, looking concerned. “Hey, Val… have you seen this?” She handed me her phone, opened to TikTok. In the video, Chloe was wearing a pristine white dress, sitting at a piano, looking angelic. The caption read: *“True love is about staying. When he got into a car accident three years ago protecting me, he fell into a coma. I stayed by his side for three years. Today, he finally woke up.”* The comments were overflowing with praise: *“This is real love!”* *“Three years of loyalty? I’m crying!”* *“She is literally an angel. Wishing them a lifetime of happiness!”* My fingers trembled as I scrolled down. The second video featured Julian. He was sitting in a wheelchair, and Chloe was pushing him through a sunny park. He looked up at her with adoring eyes. *”Thank you for never giving up on me, Chloe.”* The third video was a “belated” proposal. Julian was on one knee, Chloe was crying into her hands, surrounded by red balloons and roses. And then, in the comment section of that video, I saw my own name. Someone asked: *“Wait, wasn’t there another girl taking care of him for three years? Is that true?”* Chloe had replied: *“You must mean Valerie. She was Julian’s ex. She actually broke up with him a month after the accident. I guess she felt guilty later and came back to help for a short while, but she left soon after. Martha and I were the ones who took care of him for the last three years.”* The replies below her comment were vicious: *“The ex sounds clout-chasing and disgusting.”* *“I heard she scammed them out of over a hundred grand! That’s literally criminal!”* *“Thank god Julian woke up, otherwise he would’ve been ruined by that leech!”* I stared at the screen, my blood running cold. They didn’t just want to steal credit. They wanted to drag my name through the mud. They wanted to paint me as a gold-digging villain just to make their “epic love story” go viral. Emma looked at me worriedly. “Val… this isn’t true, is it? When you took time off before, you said you were taking care of your boyfriend…” I locked the phone and took a slow, deep breath. “It’s a lie,” I said. “I took care of him for three years, spent over 200k, got kicked out, and now they’re claiming I abandoned him and scammed them.” Emma’s eyes widened. “What are you going to do? This video is trending! It has over half a million likes!” I smiled. “Good,” I said. “The higher they climb, the harder they fall.” I opened the folder containing the files from my USB drive. I had 387 video logs. Every single one was a hard piece of evidence. I opened my banking app. Every transfer to the hospital was documented. I opened my Snapchat and iMessage. My chat history with Martha and Chloe was fully intact. I even found my flight booking from three years ago—the dream job interview in New York I had canceled. If Julian hadn’t crashed the car, I would have been a director at a major agency by now. I looked out the window at the city skyline. “Emma, how do we get a video to go viral on TikTok?” Emma blinked. “Well… we post it with the right hashtags and let the algorithm do its magic. Val, what are you planning?” “What am I planning?” I opened TikTok, created a new account, and typed in the username: *Valerie_TheRealCaregiver*. Bio: *“Three years, $205,340, 387 video logs. Accused of being a scammer and abandoning him. Today, I’m bringing the receipts.”* I uploaded the first video. In the clip, I was wearing a stained, oversized t-shirt, my hair was greasy, and I was wiping Julian’s face with a warm towel. I turned to the camera and smiled tiredly: *”March 15, 2022. Day 58 of Julian’s coma. When I moved his fingers today, they twitched. The doctor says it might just be a reflex, but I’ve been happy all day. Julian, please wake up soon. I miss you so much.”* I set the post to go public at exactly 8:00 AM the next morning. Right during rush hour. I shut my laptop and looked at Emma. “Come on, let’s go get some coffee. My treat.” “Val, aren’t you scared?” she asked. “They have a huge following now…” “Scared?” I took a sip of my freshly brewed coffee. “Emma, I spent three years taking care of a comatose man. There is absolutely nothing left on this earth that scares me.” I watched the sunset outside, my mind completely at peace. It wasn’t the calm of surrender. It was the cold patience of a predator watching its prey step right into the trap. Chloe. Julian. Martha. You wanted the spotlight? I’m about to give you a stage.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “455524”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I was scrolling through Reddit while eating breakfast. A title caught my eye: 【Documenting how my wife dies today.】 I thought it was just some idiot writing creative fiction and was about to swipe away. But the very first sentence froze me in my tracks. 【She should be finished with breakfast by now, the one I personally made for her. What she doesn’t know is that I slipped something into her milk.】 I looked down at the glass in my hand. Empty. I had just finished it. My fingers trembled slightly as I scrolled down. 【In three hours, she will drive to pick up our daughter. I tampered with her brake lines. They will completely fail when she crosses the bay bridge.】 【There are no cameras on that stretch of the road, no emergency lane, and the bridge is ninety feet above the water. She can’t swim.】 【Once she’s dead, everyone will think it was just a tragic accident.】 【I will be the heartbroken husband, clutching her photo and sobbing until I pass out. Everyone will pity me.】 【Perfect.】

The comment section was already blowing up. 【Is OP writing a thriller novel here?】 【I swear I’ve seen this exact plot on a true crime podcast.】 【Bro, does your wife know you’re fantasizing about her death on here? Lmao.】 【Someone call the cops, this guy is giving off major psycho vibes.】 But a few comments made a chill run down my spine. 【Wait, OP’s IP is in Riverdale? The bay bridge? Is he talking about the suspension bridge?】 【What time did OP post this? What time is it now? If you do the math, isn’t the time almost up?】 【Holy crap, is anyone going to go check on this??】 I stared at the screen, my hands shaking. Not out of fear. But because— My husband, Julian, was born and raised in Riverdale. We lived in the Riverdale district. Every single morning, I drank a glass of warm milk he prepared for me. I did plan to drive and pick up our daughter today. And that suspension bridge was the only route to her school. I raised my head and looked toward the kitchen. Julian was washing the dishes, his back to me. His shoulder blades moved slightly with his motions. We had been married for five years. Every morning, he got up earlier than me to make breakfast and warm up my milk. Everyone envied me, saying I married the most perfect, loving man in the world. “All done?” He turned around and smiled at me. “Want another glass?” “N-No, thank you,” I said, my voice sounding incredibly dry. He walked over and took the empty glass from my hand. As he passed by, he naturally placed a hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Come back early today. I’ll make your favorite lasagna for dinner.” I nodded. The moment he walked back into the kitchen, I grabbed my phone and reopened the Reddit thread. Post time: 7:03 AM. Current time: 7:48 AM. The post said she would drive to pick up the kid in three hours. That would be around ten o’clock. I looked at the clock on the wall, then out the window— Our car, a silver Toyota, was parked in the driveway below. Julian had taken it in for maintenance last week. He told me it was just a routine checkup. Only now did I remember that the mechanic shop he used was owned by Marcus, his childhood best friend. I dialed my daughter’s preschool. “Miss Chloe, what time does Lily get dismissed today?” “Dismissal is at 4:20 PM as usual, Maya. Is everything okay?” “Yes, just checking. Thank you.” 4:20 PM. The post said she would go pick up the kid. But my pickup time was in the afternoon. Unless— My phone suddenly vibrated. It was an iMessage from Julian: 【Hey babe, can you pick up my mom today? She suddenly decided to come visit Lily. Her train gets to the station at 11:30 AM.】 【You should drive. I have to meet a client this afternoon.】 11:30 AM. To get to the train station by then, I would have to cross the suspension bridge at exactly ten o’clock. Holding my phone, I stared at the message, my entire body turning cold. Julian’s mother had visited us three months ago. She gets terrible motion sickness and absolutely hates traveling. Why would she suddenly want to visit her granddaughter now? And the train station— To get there, taking the suspension bridge was unavoidable. I slowly stood up, walked to the window, and looked down at the car. The silver Toyota gleamed under the morning sun. It looked completely normal. But if that Reddit post was true… I took a deep breath, opened my phone, and tapped back into the thread. I scrolled down to the latest update. It was from OP. 【7:52 AM. She finished the milk. Now she’s going to change her clothes.】 My hand clenched around my phone so hard my knuckles turned white. I had indeed just finished the milk. I was indeed about to go change. I whipped my head around. In the kitchen, Julian was still washing dishes. The sound of running water filled the air. His back was toward me, his shoulders relaxed. But then, I noticed a detail— His phone was sitting right on the counter next to the stove. The screen was lit. I couldn’t read the text from this distance, but I could see the layout— It was Reddit. In Dark Mode. The exact same interface I was looking at.

I don’t even remember how I managed to change my clothes. My fingers wouldn’t stop shaking, and it took me three tries just to zip up my dress. When I walked out of the bedroom, Julian was already sitting on the couch. Seeing me, he smiled. “Ready? Let me walk you down to the car.” “No need!” the words spilled out of my mouth. He blinked, looking surprised. Realizing I had overreacted, I quickly added, “Don’t you have to meet your client soon? I can walk down myself.” “I’ve got time.” He stood up, walked over, and naturally wrapped his arm around my waist. “I’ll walk you to the garage.” His arm was warm and strong, just like it had been every day for the past five years. But right now, it felt like a snake wrapping itself around my body. We were the only two people in the elevator. The mirrored walls reflected our reflection—he was half a head taller than me, looking down at me with gentle, loving eyes. Just like he did every time we went out. But today, I didn’t dare to look into his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “N-Nothing.” “Your hands are so cold.” He took my hand and frowned. “Did you skip breakfast again?” “No, I ate. I finished everything you made.” “Good.” The elevator doors opened at the garage level. He walked me to the car and pulled open the driver’s side door. I got in, and he leaned over to buckle my seatbelt for me. He had done this for five years, always meticulous and gentle. But today, his hand lingered on the seatbelt buckle for a second. Very brief. Maybe just a second or two. Then he stood back up and waved. “Drive safe. Let me know when you pick up Mom.” I nodded and started the engine. In the rearview mirror, he stood in his spot, watching me back out, turn, and drive out of the garage. Only when his figure completely disappeared did I dare to breathe heavily. I pulled over just outside our residential complex. The car sat idle. I took out my phone and reopened the Reddit thread. OP had updated again. 【8:47 AM. She’s out.】 【She’s driving the silver Toyota, license plate ending in 327. If you guys see her on the road, give her some space—not like she’ll need it for much longer anyway.】 【By the way, she seemed a little off just now. Maybe she noticed something? Doesn’t matter, she’ll still go. She’s far too obedient.】 My hands were shaking violently. “Too obedient.” That was what Julian always said to me. “You’re so obedient, Maya,” he would say, running his fingers through my hair, his tone so affectionate as if it were my greatest virtue. I didn’t know what to do. Call the police? Tell them I saw a post on Reddit saying my husband is trying to kill me? Would they even believe me? Call a friend? And say what? That I suspect my husband is trying to orchestrate a car crash to murder me? Even to my own ears, it sounded completely insane. I looked at the post again. 【9:12 AM. One hour left.】 One hour. In one hour, if I drove onto that bridge— I slammed my foot on the gas and turned into a narrow side alley. This road did not lead to the train station. I parked by the curb of a random street and dialed the school again. “Miss Chloe, it’s me.” “Maya? Is everything okay?” “I just wanted to ask… did Lily eat her lunch today?” “Yes, she did. She just finished. Is something wrong?” “No, nothing. I just… suddenly missed her.” “Haha, that’s totally normal for a mom. Dismissal is at 4:20 PM. Don’t be late!” 4:20 PM. 4:20 PM. The post said she would crash on her way to pick up the kid. But my pickup was in the afternoon. If I didn’t go pick up my mother-in-law— My phone rang. It was Julian. I stared at his name flashing on the screen. I took three deep breaths before sliding to answer. “Hey.” “Did you pick up Mom yet?” His voice was as gentle as ever. “Not yet, traffic is a bit backed up.” “Oh, then drive slowly, no rush. By the way, Maya—” “Yeah?” “Did you forget something in your purse?” I froze. “What do you mean?” “The ring in your bag. The one I gave you. I just saw it sitting on the couch.” The ring. I instinctively reached into my bag. It was empty. The ring engraved with the word “Substitute”—the one I had found in the car this morning and tossed into my bag. When I was changing my clothes, it must have slipped out. “Oh, yes, that’s mine,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “That’s a relief.” He chuckled. “I thought you picked up someone else’s. It’s a nice ring. The engraving is quite interesting.” The engraving. “Substitute.” How did he know what was engraved on it? I had never told him. I hadn’t even had the chance to. “Maya?” his voice came through the line. “Are you still there?” “Yeah.” “Good,” he said. “Be careful on the road. Drive slowly when you cross the bridge, it’s really windy today.” The bridge. He knew I had to cross the bridge. I had never told him his mother was taking the train. He was the one who told me. He was the one who sent me to pick her up. “Maya?” “I’m listening.” “Are you okay? Your voice sounds a bit strange.” “I’m fine,” I said. “Just a little tired.” “Then go straight home after you get Mom. I’ll head home right after my client meeting. I’ll make that lasagna tonight.” “Okay.” The call ended. I gripped my phone, sitting in the car, watching the minutes tick away. 9:24 AM. Thirty-six minutes left. The silver Toyota sat quietly. The brake lines had been tampered with. They would fail the moment I got onto the bridge. Ninety feet high. I couldn’t swim. I closed my eyes, and my mind flooded with memories of the last five years. The way he warmed up my milk. The way he buckled my seatbelt. The way he stayed up all night taking care of me when I was sick. The way he sobbed until he passed out at my sister’s funeral. My sister. My eyes snapped open. Three years ago, my twin sister, Serena, died in a car accident. A rainy night. Losing control on the highway. The car plunged off the embankment. Everyone, including me, thought it was a tragic accident. But what if— What if it wasn’t?

I called a roadside assistance service. “Hi, what is your current location and what seems to be the problem with your vehicle?” “I’m on Elm Street in the Riverdale district. My car won’t start,” I said. “Can you send someone over to take a look?” “Sure thing, ma’am. We should have a technician there in about twenty minutes.” “Thank you.” The moment I hung up, I dialed another number. “911, what is your emergency?” Ten minutes later, two police cruisers pulled up in front of me. I handed my phone to the officers and showed them the Reddit thread. “Just because of this?” The younger officer frowned. “Ma’am, this looks like a typical creepy-pasta post. We can’t really—” “You can track the IP address,” I interrupted him. “The person posting this is very likely my husband.” “Your husband?” “He said he slipped something into my milk. I did drink the milk he made this morning. He said my brake lines were tampered with. He was the one who took this car for maintenance last week. He said I would crash on the suspension bridge. My mother-in-law is supposedly coming by train today, and I was supposed to cross that bridge to pick her up.” The two officers exchanged a look. The older officer spoke up. “Have you and your husband been having marital issues lately?” “No.” “How is your relationship?” “Perfect,” I said. “Everyone says we are the perfect couple.” “Then why—” “I don’t know,” I shook my head. “But you can investigate. Find out who wrote this post. Check if my car has been tampered with.” The tow truck arrived before the police could make a move. A mechanic in a jumpsuit hopped out. “Hey ma’am, which car is the one that won’t start?” I pointed to the silver Toyota. He popped the hood and tinkered around for a few minutes before sticking his head out. “Ma’am, there’s nothing wrong with your engine. It starts right up.” “I know,” I said. “But I need you to check something else.” “What’s that?” “The brake lines.” He looked puzzled but crawled underneath the car anyway. A few minutes later, he emerged, his expression looking grim. “Ma’am… your brake lines are indeed messed up.” “What’s wrong with them?” “The connection valve is completely loose. Almost all the brake fluid has leaked out. If you drove another ten miles, your brakes would have failed completely.” He stared at me. “You said you just got this serviced? Whoever did this did a horribly sloppy job.” The two police officers’ expressions instantly changed. “Sir, can you tell if this was intentional or an accident?” The mechanic scratched his head. “Hard to say for sure. But the valve was loosened very cleanly, doesn’t look like natural wear and tear. And given the location, a normal mechanic wouldn’t touch this part during a routine service.” The older officer looked at me. “Does your husband know you’re out driving today?” “Yes. He sent me to pick up his mother.” “Is his mother definitely arriving today?” “That’s what he told me.” The officer stepped aside to make a phone call. Five minutes later, he walked back over. “We checked the train registry. No one by that name has a ticket booked to Riverdale today.” I closed my eyes. Of course. There was no visiting mother-in-law. There was no train. There was only a husband who wanted me dead. “Ma’am,” the older officer said, putting his phone away. “We need you to come to the station to give a formal statement.” I nodded. But my mind was elsewhere. I was thinking about— Serena. That rainy night three years ago. Did she also drink a glass of warm milk prepared by her husband on some ordinary morning? Were her brakes also “accidentally” tampered with? In the final moments of her plunge, did she realize what was happening?

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An emergency dispatch came in at midnight. An apartment building was on fire, with a couple trapped inside. When I burst through the flames, I saw Samantha, my wife of seven years, lying naked and wrapping her arms around another man. Both of them were semi-unconscious from the heavy smoke, but Samantha was still mumbling that man’s name. Later, I let go of the past and filed for divorce to start my new life. But Samantha regretted it. She held onto me tightly, crying and claiming I was her only true love. She thought I would soft-hearted again, but everyone around us just laughed at her: “Is she crazy? His kid is already in school, and she’s still here begging for a second chance!” Thick smoke billowed through the hallway. I navigated through the darkness, breathing heavily through my oxygen mask. Our station got the dispatch call in the middle of the night. It happened to be my shift. A neighbor had called 911. The fire started in the kitchen of the adjacent apartment. By the time the neighbor woke up coughing from the smoke and called for help, the fire had already spread. It was a messy situation. “The caller said a young couple lives here. Once we’re inside, we split into two search-and-rescue teams,” I ordered. I took the lead and kicked the door open. But before I could give the signal to split up, I froze. Right past the doorway, a naked woman lay slumped on the floor. It looked like she had used every ounce of her strength to crawl to the exit, only to collapse at the very last second. Not far from her lay a naked man. Their bodies were tangled together. The woman’s face was one I knew better than my own—it was Samantha, my wife, whom I had loved for eight years. And the man beside her was no stranger either. It was Julian, her childhood best friend. Standing in the swirling black smoke, I felt like I had been hit by a bolt of lightning. My mind went completely blank. Just before I left for my shift tonight, Samantha had wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing me passionately. Because of the danger of my job, I went into every shift prepared for the worst. Samantha always worried about me. Every time she saw me off, she would cling to me, refusing to let go. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I prayed the toxic smoke was making me hallucinate. Was I dying? Was this a nightmare? Beside me was Mason, my best friend on the squad. He knew Samantha. He recognized her instantly, lying there completely naked. I could feel him stiffen beside me, shocked into silence. Through the haze, Samantha wasn’t fully unconscious yet. Spotting the flashlights of the rescue crew, she found a burst of weak strength. She mumbled: “Julian… Julian… don’t be scared… they’re here to save us… hold on…” My body shook violently. My last shred of hope shattered into dust. It was so disgusting. So painful. My head felt like it was going to explode. Someone nudged me from behind. It was my teammates. I forced my body to move like a machine. I didn’t even remember how we carried out the rescue. I didn’t remember how we dragged those two naked bodies out of the burning apartment. I threw a blanket over them. Even as they were loaded into the ambulance, barely conscious, their hands remained tightly clasped together. I collapsed onto the pavement. My teammates rushed over, checking on me in confusion. They had never seen me like this and thought I was physically hurt. I was hurt. In my rush to get out, I had scraped my wrist against a sharp metal hook on the doorframe. A chunk of flesh was gone, and blood was dripping onto the concrete. An EMT rushed over to bandage me. Surrounded by the flashing red and blue lights, I was pushed toward an ambulance. I didn’t know where I was going, and I didn’t care. The pain was unbearable. But it wasn’t my wrist. My entire body felt numb. It was weird. The cut was deep, and there was so much blood. It should have stung. But I felt nothing. All I knew was that tonight, Samantha, the woman I had cherished for eight years, had dealt me a fatal blow. It hurt a hundred times worse than dying in that fire.

I curled up on a bench in the hospital hallway. Just a wall away, Samantha and her beloved Julian were being treated. I was in a daze, unable to separate reality from a nightmare. Samantha was my first love, the first girl I had ever opened my heart to. I loved her with everything I had. I did everything to make her happy. Our first meeting felt like a gentle touch of fate. It was a sunny afternoon at the college library. She was sitting by the window, a soft beam of light catching the edges of her hair. At that moment, time had stopped. Samantha was beautiful and smart. Her smile could warm the coldest winter, and I fell hard and fast. Our love grew deeper with each passing season, solid and comforting. Then Julian came back, like a sudden storm that wrecked our quiet life. He was Samantha’s childhood friend, a fashion designer. We had met a few times. At first, I thought he was just a charming, artsy guy. My job as a firefighter meant I worked long, grueling shifts. Overtime was normal. I spent my rare free days working on side gigs, wanting to build a better financial future for Samantha. Samantha used to tease me, calling me an “unromantic block of wood.” But her eyes had always been full of love. But as Julian hung around more and more, things changed. Julian always knew how to make her laugh. He took her to fancy art galleries and trendy parties—things I couldn’t afford or didn’t have time for. With my crazy schedule, I started to feel inadequate. I kept telling myself that Samantha’s feelings for Julian were strictly platonic. But insecurity grew in my heart like weeds. His presence threw a shadow over our marriage. Still, I trusted her. Our bond was built on years of shared dreams. I started blaming myself. I realized I shouldn’t neglect her just because I was working hard. In fact, I had planned to take her on a romantic getaway to Hawaii right after this shift. I never, not even in my worst nightmares, thought Samantha would cheat on me. That was why the pain was so agonizing. The trust I had held onto so fiercely had turned into a knife in my chest. Footsteps echoed in the hallway. I buried my face in my knees, too broken to let anyone see me. “Logan?” A soft, gentle voice called out. I blinked and looked up. A nurse holding a medical tray stood before me, looking incredibly worried. “I’m on duty tonight,” she said softly. “Mason told me what happened. He asked me to check on you.” It was Lily, Mason’s younger sister. Seeing a familiar, kind face, the dam broke. All my agony rushed to the surface. I choked back a sob, desperate to let it out: “Why? Why would she do this to me?” “What did I do wrong?” Samantha, why?

I cried like a child, completely losing my grip. Lily placed her tray on the bench and sat beside me, gently patting my shoulder. “Let it out, Logan. You don’t have to be strong right now.” “I checked her chart. Samantha is fine. Just some mild smoke inhalation. She’ll be discharged tomorrow after a quick checkup. But that guy…” “He has some minor burns on his legs. They’re keeping him for another day.” “Logan… what are you going to do?” I shook my head in utter despair. My mind drifted back to the past. I remembered the day we stood at the altar. Our vows echoed in my ears like they were spoken yesterday. I had been so full of hope. Samantha and I had a whirlwind romance, but her parents disapproved of us from the start. I was an orphan. I had no family, and my job as a firefighter was dangerous and demanding. Samantha was a girl who wanted to be pampered and showered with romantic gestures. My life was rough. I spent my days surrounded by gruff men and burning buildings. My hands were calloused, and my life was simple. Her parents told her flat out that I couldn’t give her the dream lifestyle she wanted. I almost walked away back then, but Samantha fought for us. When her parents tried to set her up with rich ivy-league guys, she screamed: “No! I love Logan! Why are you doing this to me?” “He’s the only one I’ll ever marry!” At that moment, I swore to myself I would spend the rest of my life making her happy. On the day I finally proposed, Samantha looked into my eyes and said: “Everyone says I’m being childish, but I know what I want. I want to spend forever with you.” “I don’t know how long forever is, but I want you to come home safe from every shift.” “I’ll always be waiting at home to give you a big hug.” Those memories used to be my sanctuary. Now, they were poison. The numbness wore off, and the cut on my wrist began to throb with intense pain. “Lily, you know…” I whispered, my voice cracking. “When I was just a rookie making pennies, I had no idea what the future held.” “But Samantha told me I was her future.” “When I kicked that door open tonight, I expected a lot of things. But not her.” “They were naked, Lily. And she was screaming his name. It hurts so bad…” Lily wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Logan, you’re an amazing guy. Maybe… maybe it’s a misunderstanding?” “Think about it. She’s loved you for years. Maybe there’s an explanation.” “But no matter what you decide, Mason and I have your back.” I was an orphan. Samantha had given me my very first home. We had loved each other so deeply. I decided to give her one last chance. I would do it for the brave girl who had fought her family for me. Just one chance. If she came clean and begged for forgiveness, I would pretend this night never happened. Please, Samantha. Don’t make me regret this.

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I was slacking off at work when I stumbled across a juicy Reddit thread. The title read: [Gen Z Intern Exposes the So-Called “Most Employee-Friendly” Company.] As I scrolled through the details, my brow furrowed. The description looked suspiciously familiar. I immediately called an all-hands meeting to ask if anyone was unhappy with our company benefits. Before I could even finish my sentence, Georgina, our newly hired intern, stood up. “Honestly, Jessica, I don’t think our benefits are that great,” she said, tossing her hair. “If we’re really trying to build a ‘humane’ workplace, the company should provide free housing and a private shuttle service to pick us up and drop us off every day.” I literally gave each employee a $1,500 monthly stipend to cover rent and transit. That was more than enough for anyone to rent a nice place and Uber to work. So, I shut her down. But to be fair, I told everyone they could vote: they could either keep the cash stipends or switch to company-provided housing. Once they reached a consensus, they could let me know. I didn’t expect that very night, the Reddit OP would update the post. [Update: The boss totally lost her mind and is threatening to cancel housing stipends. Huge red flag. Avoid Firefly Creative at all costs!]

Reading the post, I was finally certain of the OP’s identity. It was Georgina, our new intern. After all, Firefly Creative was the boutique company I had founded. Under her post, the comment section was already blowing up. [OMG! Is this Firefly? That’s literally my dream company! I heard they have an amazing four-day workweek!] Georgina replied: [You guys are so naive. Sure, it’s a four-day workweek, but you’ll end up working until midnight every single day.] [No way! Firefly is famous for its perks. My company only gives me a $50 transit allowance. I heard Firefly gives like a grand.] Georgina argued back: [So what? What if you live far away? A grand sounds like a lot, but it doesn’t buy back the time you waste commuting!] The commenter actually bought her logic and agreed. Then, someone else chimed in: [I heard a rumor that the owner of Firefly is actually a billionaire heiress. She only started the company for fun.] I had no idea where they got that gossip. But they weren’t wrong. My family is rich. Very, very rich. Even if I did absolutely nothing for the rest of my life, my generational wealth could easily fund ten lifetimes of luxury. I only started this company because I was bored out of my mind. In the beginning, I didn’t care about scaling up or making massive profits. I just wanted to create a highly humane, stress-free workplace. That’s why I made the benefits ridiculously good. We worked two days, took a day off, worked another two days, and then had a two-day weekend. It basically amounted to a four-day workweek. Not only that, but the $1,500 stipend was always paid on time. If anyone struggled with their first month’s rent deposit, they could even get an advance on that money. Whenever I wanted iced coffee, I ordered Starbucks for the entire office. For holidays and birthdays, I always curated personalized gifts and surprises. Compared to actual management, I just enjoyed the vibe of taking care of people. Even if the company didn’t make a dime, I had more than enough money to feed everyone forever. However, because the benefits were too good, my employees used to feel incredibly guilty. To repay my kindness, they worked their butts off. In three years, instead of burning money, we actually made a killer profit. Even my parents were shocked by my success. That was the only reason I had kept the company running for three years. But the internet trolls didn’t see it that way. The comments were turning into a total warzone. [Oh, so she’s a trust-fund baby? No wonder she doesn’t know how to run a real business. She’s just playing house.] [The only reason the company hasn’t gone bankrupt is because her daddy funds it.] [Exactly. That’s why none of their employees brag online. Who knows if the perks are even real?] [Working for a boss like that is lowkey terrifying. If you offend her, she could blackball you from the whole industry.] I stared at my phone, completely speechless. Did it ever occur to them that my employees didn’t brag online because they didn’t want the competition? After all, my turnover rate was virtually zero. Over the last three years, the number of people who had voluntarily resigned could be counted on one hand. Instead of commenting, I copied the Reddit link and dropped it directly into our company Slack channel. I wanted to see exactly how Georgina would react.

After I shared the link, the Slack channel went dead silent for a solid thirty minutes. Finally, the first notification popped up. It was Georgina. [Yeah, I made the post. So what? I’m just starting a healthy workplace discussion!] A “healthy discussion”? She was literally spreading flat-out lies. I didn’t bother arguing with her on Slack. I just typed out a brief message. [Meeting tomorrow at 9 AM. We’re putting this to rest once and for all.] I thought I had made myself clear yesterday. I wasn’t against company-provided housing. I just told them to discuss it, come to a unanimous decision, and let me know so I could make the arrangements. Who knew they would turn it into a conspiracy theory? Moreover, I noticed that although the other employees remained silent, they were clearly swaying. Having worked with them for so long, I knew them inside out. They loved the company perks, and usually, they loved interacting with me. Before this, no matter what I posted in Slack, everyone would react with emojis and sweet messages. Today? Crickets. It looked like Georgina hadn’t just been whispering behind my back—she had successfully brainwashed them. The next morning, when I walked into the conference room, everyone was already seated. The atmosphere was completely different from yesterday. It was heavy, tense, and cold. I walked to the front of the room, rested my hands on the table, and before I could even open my mouth, a voice cut through the silence. “So, Jessica, have you figured out how you’re going to fix this?” I followed the voice and saw Georgina looking at me, her chin tilted up with sheer arrogance. For a second, I couldn’t tell if she was just young and stupid, or if she was actively trying to sabotage my company. I ignored her completely, turned my gaze to the rest of the team, and asked, “What do the rest of you think?” Silence stretched for a few agonizing seconds. Finally, Sarah, one of our senior employees, spoke up. “Jessica, honestly, I also think company housing would be much more convenient. Georgina might be young, but she has a point.” “We didn’t think about it before, but since Georgina brought it up, I support the idea.” I nodded, keeping my face blank. I remembered when Sarah first interviewed here. I had asked about her career gap, and she told me how hard it was for a mother to re-enter the corporate world. So, I hired her. For three years, she had been a dedicated, hardworking employee who always expressed how grateful she was for this job. This was the very first time she had ever challenged me. Then, another employee chimed in. “Yeah! Last month, my landlord suddenly decided to sell the place, and I had to scramble to move. If the company provided housing, we wouldn’t have to deal with that kind of stress.” With Sarah taking the lead, the floodgates opened. “I agree! It would take a huge load off our shoulders so we can focus on work.” Throughout the discussion, I could feel Georgina smirking at me from the corner of my eye. When almost everyone had spoken, the two quiet girls sitting in the back, Grace and Margaret, stood up. “Jessica, we don’t have any complaints. We’re happy with whatever the company decides.” These two had joined last year. They were extremely introverted and had struggled to find jobs elsewhere because of it. Although they weren’t big talkers in the office, their Slack DMs to me were always filled with genuine gratitude. To say I didn’t feel hurt by the others would be a lie. But these two girls managed to warm my heart, bringing a sense of calm back to me. But before I could speak, Georgina let out a loud, dramatic sigh. “Are you guys stupid? We’re literally trying to fight for our rights here. Unbelievable!” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at her. She was a fresh graduate. During her interview a week ago, she seemed like a sweet, polite girl. I had no idea she was actually a toxic drama queen. I curled my lips into a cold smile and said quietly, “Since you’ve all reached a consensus, we will implement this starting next month.” “The company will provide shared housing and a daily shuttle. Consequently, all housing and commuting cash stipends are canceled.” I gave them exactly what they asked for. Yet, the moment the words left my mouth, their faces turned pale.

I didn’t care about their reaction. I simply closed my laptop. “If there’s nothing else, meeting adjourned.” I waited two seconds. No one spoke, so I turned to walk out of the room. But just as my hand touched the doorknob, Georgina’s voice shrilled behind me again. “Jessica, what is that supposed to mean? Are you trying to threaten us by taking away our stipends?” I turned around, looking at her in genuine confusion. “How on earth did you reach that conclusion?” She crossed her arms, her tone incredibly self-righteous. “If you aren’t trying to threaten us, why are you canceling our $1,500 cash stipends?” For a second, I didn’t grasp the level of audacity she was operating on. I asked flatly, “Didn’t you guys just say you wanted company-provided housing?” “Yeah, but why do we have to lose our cash stipends just because you’re giving us housing?” Georgina barked. “Aren’t you a billionaire heiress? How can you be so cheap?!” Hearing the sheer entitlement in her voice, I almost laughed out loud. If I didn’t get what they were playing at now, I’d be a complete idiot. I swept my eyes over the rest of the room. Every single one of them had a look of silent agreement on their faces. Wow. So after all this drama, they wanted both. They wanted the $1,500 cash and free luxury housing with a private chauffeur. Did they think money grew on trees? Since they chose to treat me like a brainless cash cow instead of a boss, I had no intention of spoiling them anymore. I grew up with parents who never let me suffer a single day of disrespect. Why should I take attitude from my own employees? I slammed my laptop onto the table, my voice dropping to a freezing temperature. “You want free housing, private shuttles, and the cash stipends? Are you guys delusional, or do you just think I’m an idiot?” “Look at the market. Tell me, which company offers better perks than I do?” “And yet, you’re letting a fresh-out-of-college intern manipulate you like puppets. Pathetic.” Seeing my genuine anger, the rest of the employees finally looked guilty. They shifted in their seats, refusing to meet my eyes. Clearly, I had been too nice for too long, making them believe I had no spine. While the others stayed quiet, Georgina kept barking. “It’s just $1,500! Do you really need to be this dramatic? It’s not like you’re hurting for cash!” “Or is that billionaire heiress title of yours actually fake?” I didn’t understand where her intense malice came from. But I didn’t care to investigate. Whether she was just young and dumb, or consumed by jealousy, she was absolutely nothing to me. I didn’t need her approval, and I certainly didn’t owe her an explanation. I gave her a long, cold stare before addressing the room. “Since none of you actually care about reasonable perks, this discussion is over.” “We will keep the current system as it is. And from now on, I will no longer accept any requests for benefits changes.” Then, I locked my eyes onto Georgina, my voice laced with warning. “And you—instead of wasting your time plotting workplace rebellions, you should start worrying about whether you’ll even pass your internship.” “Because if you don’t, the company’s amazing benefits won’t have anything to do with you.” I rarely fired anyone, but she had officially blacklisted herself in my book. Hearing my underlying threat, Georgina’s face flushed a deep, angry red. I let out a mental scoff and turned to the rest of the room. “If anyone is unhappy with the company’s current benefits, you are free to hand in your resignation. I won’t stop you.” “But if anyone tries to pull another stunt like this under my roof, don’t blame me for getting ugly.” This time, when I walked out, nobody dared to say a word. However, by the end of the workday, not a single person had resigned. I didn’t think much of it and headed straight home. But that night, when I opened Reddit to check on the thread, I saw that Georgina had updated it again. This time, the post read: [Billionaire heiress my ass. She’s just some old rich guy’s kept sugar baby.] [No wonder she’s so cheap. Guess her sugar daddy isn’t giving her enough allowance!]

I zoomed in on the attached photo. It was a picture of my dad picking me up from work today. The photo only caught the back of my head, but my dad’s face was clear as day. Judging by the angle, it was taken secretly from the office lobby. As soon as the photo was posted, the internet mob immediately began tearing me apart. [Ew, that guy looks old enough to be her dad.] [Society is so trash. Even side chicks can open companies now. Anyone know who his wife is?] [I do! Isn’t that the CEO of SKY Group? I’m going to DM their official Instagram right now!] [This sugar baby is disgusting. If I were the wife, I’d ruin her life.] Of course, there were a few rational people in the comments. [Isn’t it a bit much to make up rumors like this? What if that’s literally just her dad? Didn’t you guys say she’s a billionaire heiress?] Georgina immediately clapped back at the rational commenter. [Are you seriously defending her? Are you a side chick too?] [Also, I’m not making things up. I looked it up online. The CEO of SKY Group is named Mr. Rodriguez, but Jessica’s last name is Vance!] I let out a cold laugh. She had done some homework, but unfortunately, she was still an idiot. The CEO of SKY Group was indeed Mr. Rodriguez. But the actual Chairman of the entire conglomerate was Mrs. Vance—my mother. My dad had married into my mother’s old-money family, which meant he basically worked for my mom. I proudly carried my mother’s surname. Instead of arguing in the comments, I forwarded the link to my family’s personal attorney. [Please send a cease-and-desist letter and prepare a defamation lawsuit for everyone in this thread who is fabricating rumors about me, starting with Georgina.] I hated drama. I preferred solving my problems with quick, brutal efficiency. Once my lawyer replied with a professional ‘Understood,’ I went to sleep. But to my surprise, before my lawyer’s letters could even be sent, my employees decided to double down. The next morning, as soon as I sat down in my office, my laptop kept pinging with new email notifications. I clicked on them. Every single one was a resignation letter. Even the reasons they wrote were identical. It was clearly a coordinated strike. If they thought they could intimidate me with a mass walkout, they were sorely mistaken. I chuckled, and right on cue, someone tagged me in the Slack group chat. “Jessica, please approve my resignation. Thanks!” “Jessica, mine too.” I took a screenshot of my flooded inbox and dropped it into the group chat. I typed: [Georgina convinced you all to quit, yet she hasn’t sent in her own resignation.] The chat went dead silent. A few minutes later, Georgina typed back defensively: [My internet was just lagging!] Almost instantly, her resignation letter popped up in my inbox. I nodded in satisfaction. Since they wanted to stand in solidarity, they might as well go down together. I didn’t reply to any of them, nor did I approve the letters yet. Instead, I called Grace and Margaret into my office. Nobody knew what we discussed during that hour. All I knew was that the moment they stepped out, the rest of the office pounced on them. “Grace, what did Jessica say to you? Did she ask you to convince us to stay?” Before Grace could even answer, Georgina scoffed loudly. “Of course she did! If we all leave, the company will literally fall apart. She’s desperate.” Grace ignored the noise and simply looked at them with pity. “You guys are going to regret this.” The office erupted into mocking laughter. It was at that exact moment that I opened my office door and stepped out. The laughter died down instantly. I swept my gaze across the smug faces in the room and said calmly, “Everyone, conference room. Now.” Once everyone was seated, their faces practically glowing with triumph, I couldn’t help but curl my lips into a smile. “I didn’t approve your resignations immediately because I wanted to make sure your final paychecks are calculated correctly before you leave.” “We will do this one by one. Once your paycheck is settled, I’ll approve your resignation. Let’s begin.”

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My sister, Audrey, discovered my online relationship on Snapchat and immediately ratted me out to our parents. Little did she know, my online boyfriend was actually the sole heir to a massive billionaire empire. After his identity was revealed, our parents completely changed their attitude, treating me like royalty, and I successfully married into the elite class. Audrey, on the other hand, was forced to marry Oliver—the notorious abuser our parents had originally promised me to—and suffered endless domestic violence. While I lived a life of ultimate luxury and glamor, Audrey’s jealousy drove her mad. She eventually ran me over with her car, killing me on the spot. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back. I saw Audrey secretly copying down my online boyfriend’s Snapchat username. I knew right then that she had reborn too. She looked down at me with a smirk, declaring that in this life, she would be the one to marry the billionaire and crush me under her designer heels. What she didn’t realize was that the “billionaire heir” from our previous life was a trap I had carefully laid out just for her.

When I opened my eyes, Audrey was going through my phone. She was frowning, but instead of screaming and throwing a tantrum like she did in our past life, she pulled out her own phone and quickly wrote something down. I realized instantly: she had reborn with me. She had returned to the exact moment she first discovered my online romance. In our past life, the moment she found those messages, she couldn’t wait to run to Mom and Dad. She called me a slinger, accusing me of cheating on the fiancé our parents had chosen for me. That got me a brutal beating from Dad. But Audrey wasn’t satisfied. She actually invited my online boyfriend to our house. She wanted to watch Mom and Dad humiliate him. She wanted to see me break down in tears, forced to break up with the guy I loved. My parents were furious too, ready to kick the “broke loser” out of our house. But when my online boyfriend pulled up in a limited-edition Ferrari, wearing a bespoke suit and looking incredibly handsome and powerful, they were completely stunned. That was how they found out he was Royce, the sole heir to the multi-billion-dollar fortune. My parents’ attitude did a complete 180-degree turn. Audrey’s eyes had practically popped out of her head with rage. That single meeting completely swapped our destinies. I was originally supposed to be sold off to Oliver, a local brute, because our parents had taken a $100,000 “advance” from him. With Royce in the picture, Audrey was forced to take my place and marry Oliver. I married Royce and entered high society, while Audrey was beaten by Oliver so badly she spent half her life in the hospital. Eventually, unable to take the abuse and unable to stand my happiness, she found an opportunity and ran me over. It seemed that in this life, she had no intention of telling our parents about my online boyfriend. “Audrey, what are you doing with my phone?” I asked quietly. She jumped, startled to find me awake. “Elena, you already have a fiancé. How dare you cheat on him online?” “If I tell Mom and Dad, they’ll literally break your legs.” I didn’t say a word, just stared at her. She let out a cold snort. “Whatever. You’re my sister after all. I’ve already blocked and deleted him for you.” “Consider this a warning. If I catch you talking to this guy again, don’t blame me for what happens next.” I nodded obediently. She smirked triumphantly and walked out of my room, completely satisfied. I knew exactly what she was planning. She was going to add Royce on Snapchat using her own account, pretending she had just changed her username.

Over the next few days, Audrey couldn’t stop giggling at her phone. This morning, she suddenly gave me a smug, meaningful look before turning to our parents at the breakfast table. “Mom, Dad, I’m bringing my boyfriend over to meet you today.” “I’m marrying into the elite class.” My parents stared at her, their eyes wide with shock. They quickly asked if she was serious. Audrey raised her chin proudly. “Of course I am. And do you know who he is?” She paused for dramatic effect, making sure we were all looking at her, before letting out a slow, proud breath. “He’s the heir to a massive billionaire empire.” “I have a date with him today. I’ll bring him by so you can see how amazing he is.” I heard my parents gasp in disbelief. Audrey walked over to me, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “Elena, I’m in a great mood today, so I’ve prepared a little gift for you too.” I looked at her calmly. The malice and calculation in her eyes were practically dripping.

Just like in our previous life, our family stood on the driveway in front of our suburban house, waiting. In our past life, Audrey chose this spot because she wanted the entire neighborhood to watch me get humiliated. She didn’t expect that it would turn into my moment of glory. This time, she wanted that glory for herself. She had put on heavy, flawless makeup. The three of them stared down the street with intense anticipation. Finally, a sleek red Ferrari pulled up right in front of our driveway. Audrey’s eyes lit up, and she rushed forward immediately. My parents looked confused for a second, then hurried after her. Royce stepped out of the car, instantly capturing everyone’s attention. He was incredibly handsome, with a cold, aristocratic air that made him look like a Hollywood movie star. “Babe, you’re here!” Audrey blushed, instantly throwing herself toward Royce. My parents stood up straight, suddenly looking incredibly tense and out of place. “Are the Wellingtons getting rich? Audrey actually bagged a wealthy, handsome guy!” “What kind of luck is that?” “Audrey was always the smart one. No wonder her parents always preferred her.” “With a boyfriend like that, Elena won’t even be fit to wipe her shoes for the rest of her life.” Our neighbors, who were out mowing their lawns, gossiped with a mix of envy and jealousy. My parents beamed with pride, just like they did in our past life. Audrey turned and flashed a triumphant smile at me. She didn’t notice that when Royce looked down at her, his brow furrowed in slight irritation.

Royce drove off with Audrey in his Ferrari, leaving under the envious glares of the entire neighborhood. My parents stood taller than ever, bursting with pride. “See that? Audrey was born to be a princess. Some people are just born losers, destined to rot in the mud,” my dad sneered, glaring at me. My mom rolled her eyes at me with disgust. “Well, she’s marrying Oliver sooner or later anyway. The sooner she moves out, the better.” Just as she said that, a heavily built, intimidating man walked up our driveway. It was Oliver. “Audrey told me you guys wanted me to take Elena home to live with me. I’m here to pick her up.” He grinned, his dirty, predatory eyes scanning my body. My parents froze, then quickly called Audrey. On speakerphone, Audrey’s voice sounded cold and manipulative. “Mom, Dad, Elena is a curse to this family. I finally got a billionaire boyfriend.” “If she stays at home, she might scare him away! Since she has to marry Oliver anyway, she might as well move in with him now.” My parents exchanged a look and decided she was right. “Elena, pack your bags and go with Oliver,” Dad ordered. I looked at them with numb eyes. I wasn’t surprised by their decision at all. Oliver rubbed his hands together excitedly. He had a bit of money, but his favorite hobby was using women as punching bags. He had already beaten two of his previous wives to death. He always targeted girls whose families didn’t care about them. That way, even if he killed them, he could just pay a small settlement, and the family wouldn’t press charges. He had set his sights on me even before his last wife died in the hospital. Because everyone in our town knew my parents hated me. Once I married him, he could lock the doors and torture me however he wanted, and no one would care.

I grabbed my single suitcase and followed Oliver to his apartment. The moment he locked the door behind us, he turned and sized me up. “You have a pretty face, but you look so fragile. I wonder how long you’ll last with me.” I stared at him calmly. He rushed into his bedroom and came out with a pile of things. “Put this on, then get down on your knees and lick my boots clean.” He threw a skimpy, ridiculous outfit at me, kicked off his shoes, and sat back on his sofa. A foul, sweaty stench instantly filled the living room. I looked at the scraps of fabric, then smiled at him. He smirked, pleased with himself. “Good. You seem obedient. Those other bitches always cried and screamed the moment I asked them to do anything.” “It pissed me off, so they deserved every beating they got.” I nodded, walking slowly toward him. “You’re right. People who make others angry do deserve to be beaten.” “Exactly, so you’d better—ah! What the fuck!” Before Oliver could finish his sentence, I kicked him squarely in the stomach. I let out a cold laugh, and a rain of heavy, brutal punches crashed down on him. He screamed in agony, collapsing to the floor. Audrey thought that by putting me with Oliver, I would suffer the same brutal fate she did in our past life. But what she didn’t know was that the moment I realized my parents didn’t love me—the moment I realized they wanted to sell me to Oliver—I started training in Muay Thai for two hours every single day. I wasn’t the one who was going to be screaming on the floor. “Stop! Please, stop! Help! Help me!” Oliver couldn’t even fight back. I pinned him down, completely dominating him. I looked down at him with ice-cold eyes. “And here I thought you were tough. You’re just a coward who only knows how to abuse weak women.” “Elena, please stop! I’m sorry! I won’t ever touch you again, I swear!” He screamed, terrified. I stopped only after holding a fist inches from his nose, watching him tremble in pure terror. “If you ever annoy me again, I will beat you every single time I see you. Got it?” “Yes! Yes, I got it!” he nodded frantically, tears streaming down his face. Looking at his swollen, bruised face, I turned and walked out of the apartment.

That night, Audrey called me to gloat. Her voice was dripping with cruel excitement. “Elena, are you broken yet? Are you crying in some dark corner of his apartment?” “Let me tell you, Royce and I are getting married soon.” “You will always be a piece of trash compared to me.” I chuckled and hung up the phone. Honestly, when we were kids, my parents didn’t hate me this much. But Audrey was masterfully evil. She loved to manipulate them. She would break expensive things in the house and blame it on me. She spread disgusting rumors about me in school, making our relatives and neighbors think I was a juvenile delinquent. When my grades were better than hers, she accused me of cheating, leading to me being severely bullied at school. She would often look at our mother with a sigh and say: “Mom, I really wanted a little brother. It’s such a shame Elena was born a girl.” “Do you think she’s a curse? Since she was born, you haven’t been able to get pregnant again.” Over time, my parents started looking at me like I was their sworn enemy. They truly believed I was a curse on their lives, no matter how much I denied it. I used to fight it. I begged for their love, threw tantrums, and lost my mind. I was their daughter. I desperately wanted them to love me, even just a little bit. But over the years, countless moments taught me a harsh truth: some parents simply do not love their children. Once I accepted that, the pain faded, leaving me numb. Audrey thought that by stealing Royce, she could rewrite her destiny and keep me under her thumb. She probably never imagined in her wildest dreams that the billionaire heir was a trap I had prepared for her. I moved into my own apartment, and Oliver didn’t dare to stop me. Audrey kept posting photos of Royce’s luxury cars on her Instagram. She posted daily updates, bragging about how much Royce loved her. But people in her comment section kept asking: *“Why is the billionaire heir never in any of your photos?”* Audrey would reply: *“He values his privacy.”* I smiled when I saw that. Was it really about privacy? Today, my mom called me, saying Royce was coming over to discuss the wedding. She demanded I bring Oliver along. When Oliver and I arrived at the house, Royce was leaning elegantly against the sofa. His dark, unreadable eyes swept over me.

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I was Julian’s first love. But after years of marriage, he started looking for younger girls who looked just like me. When the car crash happened, Julian’s first instinct was to shield me with his body. Outside the emergency room, someone sighed emotionally, “An instinctive reaction like that doesn’t lie. That’s true love. I believe in love again.” I could only smile bitterly. What they didn’t know was that Julian and I had been sleeping in separate bedrooms for years. Even when I swallowed my pride and crawled into his bed at night, he would only look at me with cold indifference. “Sorry, Elena. I’m too tired. I’m not in the mood,” he would say, brushing me off. But on my birthday, the very day he claimed he was too busy with work, I saw him with my own eyes—kissing a young girl in the middle of a shopping mall. When I finally made up my mind to walk away, his eyes turned red, and he growled at me: “Elena, you never loved me. I was just a substitute for him, wasn’t I?” I discovered Julian’s secret in the fifth year of our marriage. My birthday party was supposed to be held at our estate in the suburbs. I put on my new pink dress, walked up to Julian, and asked him how I looked. Julian was smiling at his phone, texting someone. Hearing my voice, he looked up and spared me a casual glance. “Pink doesn’t suit you. Don’t wear it again.” I froze. A suffocating pain pierced my chest. I was seven years older than Julian, and I was no longer young. No matter how much money I spent on skincare, fine lines were starting to creep up under my eyes. My body was losing the firm youthfulness it once had. I didn’t even know when it started, but Julian and I had become a “separate bedroom” couple. Even when I just wanted a simple goodnight kiss, he would turn his head away impatiently. But Julian never used to be like this. The old Julian loved me with everything he had. I was his entire world. He would look at me with the gentlest eyes, telling me I was the most beautiful woman in the world. He would drive across the entire city of New York just to buy me my favorite sandwich. I clenched my fists, looking at the mocking expression on his face. Panic surged deep within me. I parted my lips, desperate to ask him. To ask him if he still loved me. Before I could speak, Julian stood up and prepared to leave the bedroom. “There’s an emergency meeting at the office. I won’t be able to make it to your birthday dinner tonight.” I grabbed the sleeve of his shirt. He pulled his arm back sharply, his voice laced with annoyance. “Can you stop being so needy for once?” Three years ago, Julian would have canceled a multi-million-dollar deal just to spend my birthday with me. Now, he just brushed me off and told me to grow up. I stared blankly at his cold, impatient face. After a long silence, he sighed and patted my head. “I’ll come back to celebrate with you as soon as the meeting is over.” I watched his retreating back in silence, slowly lowering my eyes. I used to ask Julian silly questions. I would grab his sleeve and ask, “Would you still love me if I turned into an ugly bug? What if I turned into a tiger?” Every single time, Julian would look at me tenderly and say, “No matter what you become, Elena, I will always love you.” Back then, I was sure of his love. But now, I didn’t even dare to ask him if he still loved me.

The birthday party was canceled. I sat alone in the dining room, staring at the cake on the table. In moments like this, I desperately wanted someone to be with me. But back when I chose to be with Julian, I had a massive falling out with my family. My parents refused to see me. After we got married, Julian kept me in his mansion. I quit my job and became a full-time housewife. My old friends had gradually drifted away. Now, besides Julian, I couldn’t find a single person to talk to. With trembling fingers, I placed the candles on the cake and made a quiet wish in my heart. “I hope Mom and Dad stay healthy.” “And finally, happy birthday to me.” I blew out the candles in one breath, wiped away my tears, and scooped a dollop of frosting into my mouth. The cream was too sweet—so sweet that it tasted bitter.

After we married, Julian gave me a credit card and deposited a large sum of money into it every month. But because I had made successful investments before our marriage, I had never touched his card. Today, I decided to use his card to buy myself a designer bag as a birthday gift from him. Since our driver was on leave, I had to take a cab to the mall. Just as I paid the driver and prepared to get out, a familiar black Bentley pulled up a few yards away. The door opened, and Julian stepped out, a soft smile playing on his lips. My heart skipped a beat. Was he lying about the emergency meeting just to surprise me with a birthday gift? He used to do things like this all the time. He would pretend he couldn’t make it, let me cry my eyes out, and then show up with flowers and gifts to wipe away my tears. He would say he just wanted to surprise me, and I would make him promise never to lie to me again. Back then, his eyes were full of love and tenderness. Was he doing it again? I smiled and made a face at him through the window. Just as I was about to roll down the window to tell him his little game was up, a young, pretty girl suddenly threw herself into his arms. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you?” she whined cutely. Julian looked down at her, his eyes filled with a tenderness I hadn’t seen in years. He whispered something in her ear. The girl blushed, tapping his chest playfully. “Be serious!” Julian chuckled, caught her wrist, and planted a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead. “I’ll always be here for you,” he murmured. They held each other tightly under the setting sun, looking like the perfect, madly-in-love couple.

Julian had said those exact words to me once. It was the year I turned twenty-five. James’s surgery had failed. In the middle of the night, I was wandering aimlessly down the cold streets of New York. Julian threw his jacket over my shoulders and followed me silently for blocks. Only when I broke down, having nowhere left to go, did he pull me into his arms. His voice was incredibly gentle. “Elena, I will always be here for you.” Julian was only eighteen that year. His love was fierce, raw, and honest. Whenever I rejected him, he would just kiss me anyway, forcing his way into my life with an unstoppable passion.

A light rain started to fall in the evening. When Julian came home, I was standing in front of the mirror, analyzing every inch of my face. My eyes were still bright, my skin fair, my lips rosy. But age doesn’t lie. I knew I was no longer young. I had lost that vibrant spark. I looked like a dead, stagnant lake. A warm, large hand suddenly wrapped around my waist. Julian leaned down and hugged me from behind. “Why are you crying?” he asked, surprised. I lowered my eyes, my voice flat. “I accidentally poked my eye while removing my makeup.” Julian let out a soft laugh, turned me around, and carefully examined my face. He gently rubbed my eyelid with his thumb. “Still so clumsy.” Feeling the warmth of his thumb, I looked at him through my tear-filled eyes and asked quietly, “Do you still love me?” His hand froze, then slowly pulled away. Julian leaned against the bathroom doorframe, his expression unreadable. “Why are you asking that?” I stood there, still clutching the edge of his sleeve, staring at him. After a long pause, he sighed, wiped the tears from my face, and carried me out of the bathroom. “You’re a grown woman. Why do you still need to be coddled like a little girl?” Before going to sleep, Julian brushed my hair aside and put a necklace around my neck. “Happy birthday, Elena.” I clenched my fists under the blanket, forcing my voice to sound calm. “Your meeting ran really late today. Did everything go well?” Julian paused for a second before replying smoothly, “Yes.” I stared at his back as he turned away from me. “It’s late. Go to sleep.” My eyes remained open all night. Only after I was sure Julian was fast asleep did I sit up. I quietly took his phone from the nightstand and unlocked it. A long time ago, Julian had registered my fingerprint on his phone. We had dated for two years and been married for five. I trusted him completely and had never once checked his phone. Perhaps because of that trust, Julian had no guard up against me. His Snapchat was filled with flirty, intimate messages with that young girl. Her name was Chloe, a new intern at his company. He had saved her contact name as “Sweet.” When Chloe complained about her long commute from her cheap apartment, Julian immediately rented a luxury high-rise apartment for her right next to the office. He even went furniture shopping with her. Pink bedsheets, a bright yellow sofa, even the kitchen plates—they had built a sweet little love nest together, piece by piece. My fingers trembled as I scrolled down. Before Julian came home tonight, Chloe had sent him a picture. She was wearing a pink topaz necklace around her delicate collarbone. “I love pink. Only old women wear that tacky blue tourmaline.” Julian’s reply: “You’re right. You’re the prettiest. You look way better than any gemstone.” I reached up and gripped the blue tourmaline necklace hanging around my neck. I felt like I was drowning in the deep ocean, suffocating. My tears dripped onto the screen. I wiped them away and kept scrolling. It turned out that six months ago, Julian had taken Chloe to Paris. They had held hands and carved “I love you” on a wall in Montmartre. Their last messages were from right before he came home. Chloe had demanded impatiently: “When are you going to divorce that old woman?” “I hate sharing you. The thought of you being in the same house as her makes me sick.” Julian’s reply was short: “I’ll handle it soon.” Looking at the cute emojis he used, I felt a wave of misery. Since when did the cold, mature Julian start using such childish emojis? Julian had also sent Chloe a thirty-three-second voice note. I transcribed it to read: “Sweet, don’t be sad. I love you, and I’m yours. We have a lifetime ahead of us. Don’t worry about the obstacles right now. I’ll handle everything and come to you.”

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My boyfriend was supposed to meet my parents today, but dinner time had passed, and he was nowhere to be seen. I sent three Snapchats and made two FaceTime calls. No response. In the private room of the restaurant, my parents asked me about him several times. I couldn’t even make up a decent lie anymore. Finally, my phone buzzed. His voice came through, filled with half-hearted apology: “Lily had an emergency, and I’m sorting it out. Go ahead and eat without me. Don’t wait.” I frowned. “Lily? That junior from your college?” “Yeah, she got scammed and desperately needs cash. I lent her that money we saved—all $15,000 of it. It’s tough for her being alone in this city, I had to help her get settled.” I held my phone, my fingertips turning icy cold. “So, you stood my parents up to deliver money to your college junior? And you used my money to do it?” “It’s an emergency, Chloe. Just explain it to your parents for me…” I cut him off: “No need. Go enjoy settling her in. We don’t need to see each other ever again.”

The other end of the line went dead silent for a second. He probably didn’t expect me to say that. “What do you mean by that?” Ethan’s voice carried a hint of confusion, mixed with a trace of impatience. “I’m just handling a temporary emergency. Why are you throwing such a tantrum?” I stared at the cheesy baked lobster on the table. My mom had specifically ordered it because she knew it was his favorite. “I’m not throwing a tantrum.” “I made myself very clear. We don’t need to see each other ever again.” “Chloe, can you please be reasonable? Lily is a young girl, and she’s going through a crisis alone in this city. How could I just ignore her? If it were you, would you want everyone to just stand by and do nothing?” I almost laughed out loud. “Ethan, out of that $15,000, ten grand was what I saved from my side hustles over the past two years. I don’t care who you lent it to. Give me my ten grand back within three days.” “Are you insane? The money is already gone! Where am I supposed to get ten thousand dollars in three days?” “That’s your problem.” I stood up and grabbed my coat from the back of the chair. “Three days. If I don’t see the money, I’m getting my lawyer involved.” “Chloe! Don’t be so dramatic!” “I’m being dramatic?” “Today was the first time my parents were supposed to meet you. I started booking the restaurant and researching the menu two weeks ago.” “I stayed awake until 3 a.m. last night, worrying you’d get stuck in traffic, worrying you’d be nervous, worrying my dad’s questions would be too hard on you. And what did you do? You took my hard-earned money to play the hero.” With that, I hung up and shut down my phone. My mom sat across from me. Her eyes were red, but she held back her tears. My dad took a sip of his coffee, then set it down. “Dad, Mom,” I forced a smile. “I’m sorry. I embarrassed you guys.” “Don’t say silly things like that,” My mom’s voice was a bit cracked. “Why should you be embarrassed? You’re not the one who did something shameful.” My dad remained silent. “The food is getting cold. I’ll ask the waiter to reheat it,” I said, pressing the service bell. “Chloe,” My dad finally spoke. “What do you plan to do about this guy?” “We are over.” My mom blinked. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep on it?” “Mom, he stood me and you guys up on a day like today just to take care of some college junior.” “What’s going to happen when we get married? When I’m giving birth in the hospital, is he going to run off to take care of her too?” My dad nodded. It was a very subtle gesture, but I saw it. “Break it off then,” My dad said. “It’s better to see his true colors now than later.” The waiter came in and took the dishes away. My mom took the opportunity to squeeze my hand. “Sweetie, I just feel so bad for you,” she whispered. “You prepared so long for today…” “I’m fine,” I squeezed her hand back. “Just think of it as a nice family dinner.” When the food was served again, my mom insisted on putting a piece of steak on my plate. “Eat up, don’t let it go to waste. The steak here is actually really good.” After dinner, I walked my parents to the subway station. Right before the turnstile, my mom suddenly turned around and gave me a tight hug. “If he doesn’t give you that money back, tell me. I have some savings.” “No need, Mom,” I patted her back. “I can handle this myself.”

My dad stood at the gate, looking back at me. He didn’t say anything, but he gave me a reassuring wave. Instead of calling an Uber, I decided to walk all the way back. It took me forty minutes to reach the apartment complex where I had lived for the past two years. It was an old, run-down brick walk-up. The hallway lights were perpetually broken. I pulled out my phone, turned on the flashlight, and climbed the stairs step by step. When I reached the door, I pulled out my keys. Before I could even insert them into the lock, I heard voices coming from inside. The door opened. The living room lights were on, and there was a pair of unfamiliar canvas shoes at the entrance. “Chloe?” A female voice came from inside, sounding a bit panicked. I looked up and saw Lily standing up from the living room couch. Behind her was Ethan. He was standing by the table, holding a disposable paper cup. “Why are you back?” Ethan frowned, his tone carrying an accusatory edge. I leaned against the doorframe. “This is my apartment. Why wouldn’t I come back?” “That’s not what I meant.” He paused. Lily stood there, looking incredibly awkward and uneasy. “Chloe, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. Ethan was just trying to help. Please don’t blame him…” “You don’t need to apologize to me,” I cut her off. “He’s the one who lent the money, not you.” Ethan slammed the paper cup onto the table and took a few steps toward me. “Chloe, don’t talk like that. Lily is really going through a tough time. She got scammed and couldn’t even pay her rent—” “So you brought her to our home?” “What do you mean ‘brought her home’? I’m just letting her crash here for a couple of days. She’ll leave as soon as she finds a place.” I glanced at the living room. A thin blanket was spread over the couch, and the pillow was the memory foam one Ethan usually used. “You’re sleeping on the couch?” “Yeah. She gets the bedroom, and I take the couch,” He nodded, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “It’s just for a few days.” “Ethan, did you even bother to ask me? This is a shared apartment. You let a third person move in without even consulting me?” He was stunned for a moment, then his expression turned impatient. “Well, weren’t you supposed to be staying at your parents’ place tonight anyway? Besides, it was an emergency. She had nowhere else to go tonight.” “So because she has nowhere to go, she gets to move into my home?” “Does she not have other friends? No coworkers? Can’t she stay at a hotel?” Lily’s eyes welled up with tears, and her voice began to tremble. “Chloe, I’m really, really sorry. I’ll leave right now…” “Where do you think you’re going?” Ethan turned and grabbed her arm to stop her, then looked back at me with absolute disapproval. “Chloe, that’s enough. She’s just a young girl who just started her internship in this city. She has nobody else to help her. Do you really have to be this heartless?” “I’m being heartless?” Suddenly, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion hit me. “You’re right. I don’t have to deal with this.” I walked straight into the bedroom, pulled open the closet, and started stuffing my clothes into a suitcase. Ethan followed me in. Seeing me packing, his voice finally lost its confident edge. “What are you doing?” “Moving out.” “Are you crazy? Over something this small?”

“Something this small?” I slammed a sweater into the suitcase. “Ethan, do you have any idea where you were supposed to be today? You were supposed to be at the restaurant, sitting across from my parents.” My hands were shaking, but I didn’t stop. “And what happened? We waited for you for an hour. My parents asked me three times where you were, and I couldn’t even come up with a single lie.” “I was actually terrified that you had gotten into a car accident. I was literally about to start calling local hospitals to check on you.” I zipped the suitcase shut and stood up to look him dead in the eye. “And all that time, you were busy playing white knight to your junior. With my money. Ten thousand dollars! You didn’t even ask me before you transferred it out of our shared account.” He fell silent. “And now, you’re telling me she got scammed and couldn’t pay rent, so she’s living in our apartment.” “Ethan, tell me. If you lent her fifteen grand, how on earth is she still unable to afford rent?” I stared at Ethan, waiting for his answer. He opened his mouth, his eyes darting away. “She got scammed out of nine thousand. Out of that fifteen grand, I left her one thousand for her living expenses.” “So out of fifteen thousand, nine thousand went to pay off her scam debt, and you gave her another grand in cash?” “Yeah.” Lily, who had quietly crept to the bedroom door at some point, was now letting her tears stream down her face. “Chloe, I swear I didn’t know that money belonged to you. Ethan told me it was his own savings, that’s why I…” “Save your tears,” I pulled the handle of my suitcase up. “Crying won’t solve anything.” Ethan stepped forward, trying to grab my hand. “Chloe, don’t leave yet. Let’s talk about this.” “Talk about what?” Lily whispered from the doorway, “Chloe, how about I give you back that one thousand first…” “That one thousand was mine to begin with,” I looked at her. “You getting scammed out of nine grand is your own business. But my ten grand? I want every single cent back.” “How can you be so cold-hearted?” Ethan’s voice suddenly spiked. “She’s completely broke right now! Where do you expect her to get that kind of money?” “Like I said, that’s your problem.” Lily suddenly rushed forward and grabbed my arm. “Chloe, please don’t leave. I’ll go. I’ll leave right now. I won’t stay here anymore.” “Let go of me.” “Chloe, I beg you…” “I said, let go!” I yanked my arm back. The force made her stumble backward, bumping into the shoe rack with a loud thud. Ethan’s face went pale. He rushed to support her, then whipped his head around to glare at me as if I had committed some heinous crime. “Chloe! What is wrong with you?!” Looking at the way he shielded Lily, everything suddenly became crystal clear. “You have three days to return my ten thousand dollars. Otherwise, I will contact my lawyer immediately.” His expression shifted to one of sheer disbelief. “You wouldn’t dare.” “Try me.” I opened the door and dragged my suitcase out. The hallway light was still broken. I pulled out my phone and turned on the flashlight. Behind me, Lily’s crying voice echoed down the stairs, “Ethan, please go after her…”

After dragging my suitcase for twenty minutes, I checked into a cheap motel near our apartment. About ten minutes later, my phone rang. It was my mom. I took a deep breath and answered. “Hey, Mom.” “Did you get home safe?” Her voice was calm, as if nothing had happened this afternoon. “Yes, Mom. Don’t worry.” I didn’t tell her I was staying at a motel. “Good,” She paused. “Chloe, about that money… don’t stress too much. I’ll transfer you two thousand dollars tomorrow so you have some cash on hand.” “No need, Mom. I can handle it.” “Listen to me,” My mom’s voice suddenly turned serious. “You’re on your own out there, you need to have cash. That ten thousand was money you worked so hard to save. If he doesn’t pay it back, you can’t just let it go.” “I know, Mom. I gave him three days.” “Three days?” My mom was quiet for a moment. “What if he really doesn’t pay?” “Then I’m taking him to court.” Silence stretched over the line for a few seconds, and then my mom let out a soft laugh. “Good. Do exactly that.” After hanging up, I took a hot shower. When I got out, I saw six missed calls on my phone. All of them were from Ethan. After the sixth missed call, he had sent a Snapchat: “Chloe, you absolutely terrified Lily. She’s been crying in the living room for two hours. Do you even have a conscience?” I stared at the message for a long time. Even now, all he cared about was his precious junior. I didn’t reply. I turned off my phone and went to sleep. The next morning at 7 a.m., I was woken up by a loud knocking on my door. “Room service,” a man’s voice called out. I froze. I hadn’t ordered any room service. I walked to the door and peered through the peephole. It was Ethan. I had no idea how he had tracked me down to this motel. I didn’t open the door. “Chloe, I know you’re in there. Open the door.” I pulled my hand away from the doorknob and took a step back. “If you don’t open the door, I’ll just stand here all day.” “Suit yourself,” I muttered, then went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. By the time I finished washing my face and checked the peephole again, he was still there. He was leaning against the hallway wall, typing furiously on his phone. My phone vibrated. It was a text from an unknown number. “Chloe, let’s talk. I can explain everything about Lily, and I’ll find a way to get the money back. Please don’t shut me out like this, okay?” I put my phone down and packed my things. Ten minutes later, I dragged my suitcase and swung the door open. He immediately straightened up. “Chloe—” “Move.” “Can you just listen to me for five minutes?” “No.” I dragged my suitcase toward the elevator. He caught up and grabbed the handle of my suitcase. “Chloe! Just let me explain!” I stopped and looked at him. “Go ahead,” I let go of the handle and crossed my arms. “I’m listening.” “I didn’t handle the situation with Lily well,” He took a deep breath. “But Chloe, I swear I didn’t mean anything else by it. She’s just a young girl who just graduated. She didn’t know any better and got scammed out of nine thousand dollars.” “That money included the tuition fees her parents scraped together for her. She was so desperate she was having dark thoughts…” “And?” “So I couldn’t just stand by and watch. If it were you, you wouldn’t have ignored her either.” “Ethan, don’t bring me into this.” I looked directly into his eyes. “If it were me, I would have helped her file a police report. I would have helped her get free legal aid. I would have gone to the bank with her to freeze her accounts.” “But I would never have stolen our shared savings to pay off her debt, and I definitely wouldn’t have done it without consulting my partner first.” He fell silent. “Furthermore, you brought her into our apartment, let her stay in my room, and sleep in my bed. Did you even once consider how I would feel?” He opened his mouth, but no words came out. “Ethan, save your breath.” I grabbed my suitcase handle again. “You have two days left to return the money. Once you pay me back, we are completely done.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “455530”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

In the middle of the night, Buster, the dog who always kept me company while I collected plastic bottles, was hit by a car running a red light. Looking at Buster lying in a pool of blood, my whole body went numb. Shaking, I dialed Helen’s number. “Helen, Buster got hit by a car…” Before I could even finish, her screaming voice blasted through the receiver, cutting me off. “Where the hell are you, you useless brat? It’s the middle of the night! Why aren’t you sleeping instead of ruining my rest? How old are you? Can’t you just let me have one peaceful night?!” I clutched the two dimes in my hand, wiped my tears, and choked out, “I’m sorry, Helen. I just wanted to get enough money for my school field trip. You said as long as I didn’t make you spend money, you’d let me keep going to school…” Helen’s anger flared even hotter. “Are you blaming me now?! If it weren’t for you, I would have divorced John years ago and married a rich man!” “You’re nothing but a drag! No wonder John and Martha hate you!” “Calling me in the middle of the night over a stray dog? Are you trying to kill me?” Buster lay in the pool of blood in the middle of the road, listening to Helen’s screeching along with me. The only light on the empty night street was the dim, yellow glow of the streetlamp above us. I watched his bright eyes slowly grow dim. At his very last moment, he gently tapped my leg with his paw. It was as if he was saying, “Don’t be scared, Lily. Let’s go collect more bottles.” But he never stood up again. In the distance, a battered minivan silently pulled over to the curb. I heard a voice call out. “Hey kiddo, I have a ton of empty bottles at my house. Do you want them?” A crisp green hundred-dollar bill waved in front of my eyes. I hesitated for a second, then nodded. I carried Buster gently to the side of the road, then walked toward the man in the minivan. If he had that many bottles, I could save Buster. And I could go to school.

The screaming from the other end of the phone was colder than the winter wind howling down my collar. Holding the cheap prepaid flip phone Grandma Claire had left me, I stood frozen on the pavement. The car window rolled down, and a man leaned out with a warm, friendly smile. “Hey kiddo, I have a ton of plastic bottles and cans at my place. Do you want to come over and take them?” My swollen, tear-filled eyes instantly lit up. Bottles meant cash. And cash meant I could save Buster! His voice was so gentle. He didn’t sound annoyed like John, and he wasn’t screaming like Helen. I stared at him blankly. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a bill, and waved it. It was a brand-new, green hundred-dollar bill. I had never seen that much money in my life. The face of Benjamin Franklin on the bill seemed to be smiling at me under the streetlights. I hesitated, used all my strength to drag Buster to the grass by the curb, and whispered to him. “Buster, wait for me. I’ll be right back to save you.” I sniffled, a tiny spark of hope returning to my eyes. I walked toward the minivan. It was dark inside, smelling of something strange and chemical. The driver, Greg, glanced at me through the rearview mirror, still smiling. “Don’t be scared, sweetheart. I’m taking you to get those bottles.” He handed me a bottle of water and a wrapped sandwich. I couldn’t bring myself to eat it. I tightly clenched the hundred-dollar bill and the sandwich in my hand. In my head, I did the math over and over. A hundred dollars. That was enough for my school supplies, and enough to take Buster to the vet. And Greg had more bottles at his place. That meant even more money. As I thought about it, the fear began to fade. But the car kept driving. The streetlights grew sparse, and eventually, we plunged into total darkness. The familiar streets vanished, replaced by empty, desolate fields and dark, towering woods. I asked softly, “Mr. Greg, are we almost there?” The man driving didn’t turn around. He just gave a cold grunt. The warmth in his voice was completely gone. Fear gripped my chest. I wanted to go home. I wanted Helen. “Mr. Greg, I want to go home…” My voice trembled, thick with tears. “Shut up!” he suddenly roared, making me flinch. “Make another sound and I’ll throw you out moving!” I didn’t dare speak again. I curled into the corner of the seat, clutching the crumpled hundred-dollar bill like it was my final lifeline. I don’t know how much time passed before the van finally stopped. The door was violently slid open. A stench of mold and urine hit me, making me cough instantly. A much larger man, Marcus, dragged me out of the van and shoved me into a pitch-black room. It was freezing. In the dim light filtering through the door, I thought I saw a few other kids my age huddled in the corners. I tripped and fell hard onto the cold concrete floor. The sandwich rolled away, but I kept the hundred-dollar bill squeezed in my fist. The man who dragged me in clicked on a flashlight, blinding me. He pinched my chin, forcing my mouth open to inspect my teeth, then hoisted me up by my collar like a wet rag. “This one’s no good,” Marcus said, touching the red birthmark behind my right ear. He turned to Greg. “She’s got a mark. We can’t sell her whole. The buyers won’t take marked kids for adoption.” Greg walked over, shining his flashlight up and down my body. He shrugged carelessly. “Doesn’t matter. Her parts are fine. Look at her chest. Her heart and lungs must be in great shape. She’s young and fresh.” Parts? What did that mean? I didn’t understand, but the dark, damp room filled me with dread. The truth finally hit me. The bottles were just a lie to get me into the van. A suffocating terror wrapped around me like a heavy net. Marcus walked toward me, holding a syringe. Looking at the cold, gleaming needle, I thought of Buster in the pool of blood one last time. I thought of Helen screaming at me on the phone. Despair washed over me. Buster was probably already dead anyway… Just like Grandma Claire. Once they are gone, they don’t come back. Even if I sold all the bottles in the world, I couldn’t have saved him. When the needle pierced my skin, I didn’t cry. I didn’t even fight. My mind drifted into a vast, endless darkness. Maybe, starting now, I wouldn’t be a drag anymore… John, Helen… could you love me now?

The first day I went missing was a wonderfully peaceful evening for my parents. When Helen got home from work and pushed the door open, she wasn’t greeted by my timid, “Welcome home, Helen.” There was no steam or smell of food from the kitchen. Only cold, quiet emptiness. She paused, her mouth opening out of habit to yell, “Where the hell did you run off to, you brat? Why isn’t dinner ready?!” But looking at the silent, exceptionally clean apartment, she swallowed her words. A strange sensation washed over her. The place hadn’t been this quiet in years. There was no sound of my pencil scratching against paper as I did my homework. No sound of me scraping the chair quietly, terrified of making her angry. And certainly no sound of Buster’s paws padding across the floor. It was… truly peaceful. She shook her head, dismissing the weird feeling, and muttered to herself. “Fine. Starve then. Let’s see when you decide to crawl back.” She walked into the kitchen, boiled some water, and made herself a plate of pasta. With a warm meal in her stomach, she sat on the couch and turned on the TV. Watching a loud reality show, she realized this was the most relaxing, comfortable evening she had enjoyed in years. Later that night, John came home. Not seeing me when he took off his shoes, he frowned. “Where’s the kid?” “Who knows,” Helen replied, her eyes glued to the screen. “Probably out playing. No dinner tonight.” “Hmph. Good. Starving for a night won’t kill her. Saves us some food.” John didn’t care at all. He went to the kitchen and drank some leftover pasta water. That night, they slept better than they had in years. The next day, I still wasn’t home. When Helen woke up and saw my empty little bed, a tiny flicker of anxiety crossed her mind. But she quickly convinced herself that she was just annoyed because there was no one to make breakfast. John was already dressed. Seeing her standing there staring at the bed, he snapped impatiently. “What are you standing there for? Make breakfast already! I’m going to be late for work!” That tiny flicker of anxiety was instantly crushed by her husband’s shout and the rush of the morning. All day, neither of them made a single call. It wasn’t until that evening that Martha, John’s mother, called. Her loud, grating voice boomed through the phone. After beating around the bush with some gossip, she finally got to the point. “The neighbors said they didn’t see the girl all of yesterday, and she didn’t show up for school today. Where is she?” Helen’s heart skipped a beat. She stuttered into the receiver, “She… she’s probably staying over at a friend’s house.” “Staying over? She’s a girl, and her heart is already wild!” Martha’s voice turned incredibly sharp and demanding. “I say, it’s better that she’s not there! Less of an eyesore. You two can finally breathe. Don’t waste time—focus on what matters and get to work on giving me a proper grandson!” Those words hit Helen like a heavy stone. She had heard this for years. Every time, it came with John’s silent agreement and Martha’s cold glares. Yes. If she had given birth to a son, she wouldn’t have had to endure her husband’s contempt and her mother-in-law’s abuse all these years. If only that girl didn’t exist… Would everything be perfect? After hanging up, Helen repeated Martha’s words to John. Instead of showing any worry, John slapped his thigh. “My mother is right! The brat is old enough to find her way. She’s probably fooling around with some friends. Ignore her. Let’s see if she has the guts to never come back!” The couple reached a silent, unspoken agreement. By labeling me as a “rebellious, unmanageable kid,” they successfully excused themselves from worrying about my disappearance. That night, they were intimate for the first time in a very long time, trying to conceive the baby boy they always wanted. For the first time in a decade, this middle-aged couple stayed up all night—not to fight, but to celebrate. Without me, the entire house felt harmonious.

From the third day to the seventh, Helen’s tiny remaining worry was completely replaced by the pure relief of having a quiet home. The apartment had never been this neat and peaceful. Helen didn’t have to come home to a noisy child. To be honest, she didn’t care where I was or what I was doing with that dumb dog. She didn’t have to buy clothes or shoes for me either. She even realized she was saving hundreds of dollars a month. On Friday, after getting her paycheck, she walked past a department store and found herself drawn inside. Using the money she had originally set aside for my school fees, she bought a luxury designer lipstick she had never dared to buy before. Back home, she stood before the mirror, clumsily applying the bright, vibrant red to her dry lips. The woman in the glass suddenly looked younger, more alive. John didn’t say a word about it. To him, my absence was as simple as having one less plate to wash. They never even considered calling the police. When neighbors occasionally asked, they used the same pre-written script. “She’s just going through a rebellious phase. Staying with a school friend. She’ll be back in a couple of days.” Together, they built a fragile, peaceful illusion. In this illusion, they were free parents, ready to start a beautiful new life. But on the seventh night, that illusion was violently shattered by a heavy, urgent knock on the door. Annoyed, John went to open it. Two police officers in uniform stood at the threshold, their faces grim. “Are you John and Helen?” “Yes, officers. Is there a problem?” John froze, a bad feeling creeping up his spine. “We need to verify some information.” The lead officer’s sharp eyes swept over the couple. “Do you have a daughter, about seven years old, named Lily?” Helen’s heart seized. Clutching her new lipstick, she stood up, trembling. “Yes… yes. She’s just staying at a friend’s house…” The officer ignored her excuse and spoke in a cold, professional tone. “This afternoon, we discovered the body of a young girl near an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. Based on the physical description, we believe it may be your daughter.” “That’s impossible!” John immediately snapped, his voice high-pitched. The officer glared at him, his voice dropping an octave. “The body matches your daughter’s description perfectly. For instance, she has a distinct red birthmark behind her right ear. Furthermore, we believe this is connected to a major child trafficking and illegal organ harvesting ring we’ve been tracking.” “What?” Helen’s mind went entirely blank. Only the words “red birthmark” and “organ harvesting” echoed in her skull. With a soft click, the luxury lipstick slipped from her fingers and hit the floor, snapping in half. The bright red tip smeared across the tile like a pool of fresh blood. The color that had recently returned to her face drained completely, leaving her looking paler than a corpse. Her lips trembled violently, but she couldn’t squeeze out a single word. A crushing terror squeezed her heart, cutting off her air. John jumped up from the couch, his face white as paper. But his expression wasn’t grief. It was sheer panic over the massive trouble this would bring them. He pointed at the officers, his voice shaking. “No way! You guys got it wrong! That kid was troublesome, but… but there’s no way she…” He couldn’t finish his sentence, silenced by the pity and disgust in the officer’s eyes.

Inside the freezing morgue, the corner of the white sheet was pulled back. It was enough to destroy any parent’s denial. Helen took one look, let out a piercing, inhuman scream, and collapsed cold onto the floor. John tried to play the strong man, but his hands shook so violently he looked like he was shivering. When he tried to sign the confirmation forms, the pen kept slipping from his fingers. The officer had to hold his hand steady just so he could scribble his name. When they got home, the silence in the apartment was suffocating. Helen lay paralyzed on the couch, her tears dried up, leaving only ragged, desperate gasps. John sat staring into space, lighting one cigarette after another, filling the room with a choking cloud of grey smoke. His mind was a mess. He wasn’t thinking of his daughter’s horrific death. He was thinking of the shame, how his boss at work would look at him, and how the neighbors would whisper behind his back. Finally, the silence was broken by his bitter, resentful voice. “…Even in death, she can’t let us live in peace!” He slammed his cigarette into the ashtray and cursed under his breath. “To have a useless liability like her, I must have been cursed in my past life! Now the whole block knows. She dragged my name through the mud!” Those words were like a red-hot iron rod shoved straight into Helen’s bleeding heart. She snapped her head up. In her swollen, bloodshot eyes, a wild, dangerous madness flared. Screaming like a wild animal, she lunged at John, clawing at his face. “John! Are you even human?! She was your daughter! Your own flesh and blood! How can you say that?! It’s you! It’s your family that killed her!!” John’s face stung from her nails. Furious, he shoved her hard onto the floor and roared back. “Shut your mouth, you psycho! If you weren’t so useless and could actually give me a son, would our house be like this? If you hadn’t kept making that miserable face every day, would I have hated looking at her? Would I have ignored her? Martha was right—you didn’t raise her right! You couldn’t even watch over a single kid!” “Can’t give me a son…” “Martha was right…” Those words acted like a key, unlocking seven years of buried resentment, abuse, and pain inside Helen’s soul. She remembered the disgust in Martha’s eyes every time she visited, and her venomous comments. She remembered how John always hid behind his mother, joining in to blame her. She remembered how I used to hide behind her, terrified, and how she—just to survive in this house, just to get a shred of validation from her husband and mother-in-law—started copying them. Hating me, screaming at me, using me as a punching bag for all her misery. It was them! They had turned her into a monster she herself despised! And together, they had killed her daughter! “Ahhh!!” Helen completely lost her mind. She scrambled up from the floor like a lunatic, crying and screaming as she grabbed mugs, the remote, and anything she could reach, smashing them violently against the walls of the suffocating apartment. “None of you are human! Martha wanted a grandson! She kept calling my baby a liability! And you? How many times did you ever hold her? Did you ever give her a single smile? Now she’s gone! She was cut open! Are you happy now?! You two drove her to death! You drove me crazy!!” “Smash! Crash!” The sound of shattering glass, a woman’s manic crying, and a man’s angry cursing echoed through the building, vibrating through the walls. Finally, the terrified neighbors dialed 911.

Inside the interrogation room of the police station, the harsh fluorescent lights shone down on two bruised, hateful people who looked more like mortal enemies than husband and wife. Even in front of the police, they screamed and hurled accusations at each other. Helen cried about John’s coldness and his family’s obsession with a male heir, while John screamed that Helen was a crazy bitch airing dirty laundry in public. An older detective, who had handled domestic disputes for decades, watched them in silence. He didn’t stop them. He just stared at the breaking woman. When they finally ran out of breath and their voices grew hoarse, he sighed and poured them each a cup of water. “Both of you, quiet down,” his voice was deep and heavy. “The child is dead. What’s the point of fighting over who’s right or wrong now? You built this life together, and you made it what it is. Treating a child as the source of your unhappiness and a punching bag—that was your biggest sin.” “If you, as parents, had shown her even a sliver of love, if you had actually paid attention to her, would a seven-year-old be out alone in the middle of the night? Would this have happened?” The detective’s words weren’t loud, but they hit Helen like a sledgehammer. She froze, her screaming stopping instantly as she sat there, stunned. It was as if a bolt of lightning had cleared the fog in her brain that had lingered for seven years. Countless memories she had tried so hard to bury rushed back. She remembered. She remembered when Lily was first born, and the nurse placed the baby in her arms. So tiny, so soft, with a wrinkled little face. Her heart had filled with an overwhelming warmth and maternal love. She had sworn to give that baby the best of everything. But when did it all change? It started when they came home, and Martha glared at the baby, her face long and disappointed because it wasn’t a boy. It started with John’s obvious disappointment and his weak excuses. Day after day, Martha whispered poison into her ear. “A girl is just a liability. She’ll belong to another family when she grows up.” “Look at so-and-so, she had a boy and holds her head high. You have no son, you have no standing in this house.” “It’s because of this girl that you have to work so hard, and my son is so tired.” And her husband, the man who was supposed to protect her, never said a word to defend her. He only agreed. “Martha is right.” “Why can’t you keep her quiet? She’s always crying. It’s driving me crazy.” “Look at her useless face. It makes me sick.” So, to survive in that suffocating household, to get a tiny nod of approval from Martha, to get a scrap of affection from John, Helen began to copy them. She began to despise me, scream at me, taking out her career frustrations, her life pressure, and her hatred of her in-laws on the most innocent life in the house. She had actually brainwashed herself into believing that my birth was what ruined her life. Only now, when her daughter had been torn from her life in the most brutal way, and when a complete stranger pointed it out—did she finally wake up. She wasn’t a bystander to my tragedy. She was the executioner! The root of the problem was never the “liability” child. It was the weak, selfish, cowardly husband sitting next to her. It was the toxic, misogynistic family behind him! And she, in her pathetic bid to survive, had chosen to join them. She became their accomplice! She had personally pushed her own daughter into hell. “No… no…” she whispered, tears streaming down her face again. But this time, it wasn’t out of self-pity. It was from a delayed, agonizing guilt that tore her soul apart. “I have to get justice… for my baby…” She looked up, a terrifying fire returning to her eyes as she glared at John. John, however, sneered at the detective’s words. Seeing Helen staring at him like that, he felt humiliated. He muttered to the officer, “Don’t listen to her, detective. She’s completely lost her mind.” He waved his hand dismissively at the detective’s attempts to comfort them. “Listen, officer, can we choose not to claim the body? She was just a girl anyway. Just let the state cremate her or bury her somewhere. We can’t afford a funeral.” The room fell into a deathly silence. Helen’s gaze on him became predatory.

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Frank Vance’s seafood warehouse almost went under during the off-season last year. Every restaurant on the wharf ditched him for other suppliers. I was the only one who stayed. I kept a locked-in order of three hundred thousand dollars a month, rain or shine. Back then, he held my hand, nearly in tears. “Clara, you saved my life. From now on, your restaurants get absolute priority. Always.” Now, the peak summer tourist season had arrived. I pre-ordered our stock a month in advance. He promised me up and down that we were good to go. But when I went to the warehouse to collect the shipment, three unfamiliar delivery trucks blocked the loading dock. Frank was signing a contract with a new client. I glanced over at the order sheet on his clipboard. It was the exact same batch of seafood I had locked in, but he was selling it to them for two dollars less per pound. He even threw in two hundred pounds of premium shrimp for free. I walked up to him. “Frank, where is my order?” He didn’t even look up from his paperwork. “Stock is tight today, Clara. New clients get priority. Your shipment will have to wait two days.” I frowned. “I locked in this inventory a month ago. And I’m paying a higher rate than them?” Frank crushed his cigarette in an ashtray. “The off-season has off-season prices. The peak season has peak season rules.” “You’re just a salaried employee, Clara. Saving a few grand for your company isn’t going to get you a bonus, is it?” “If you think it’s too expensive, buy from someone else. Don’t block my dock. I have business to run.” Several workers in the warehouse turned to stare at me. I didn’t say another word. I turned on my heel and walked back to my car. Sitting in the driver’s seat, I opened WhatsApp and sent a blast message to the group chat containing the managers of all eight of our restaurant locations: “Effective immediately, we are terminating our contract with Frank Vance. Reject all his deliveries. Treat any existing agreements as breached.”

“Clara, are you serious?” Leo, the manager of Store 4, was the first to explode in the WhatsApp group. Marcus from Store 2 chimed in next: “Switching suppliers during peak season? Do we have a backup source ready?” Abby from Store 7 sent a voice note. Just two words: “I’m in.” Within ten minutes, six of the eight managers had replied. Lucas from Store 1 kept quiet—he rarely spoke in the group anyway. Chloe from Store 5 was also silent. I didn’t wait. I called Chloe directly. “Did you see the message?” I asked. “I did,” Chloe replied, her voice slow and unbothered. “Clara, can I ask what happened? Why the sudden move?” I told her about the warehouse incident. The new client cutting the line, the lower price per pound, the free shrimp, and how Frank wouldn’t even look me in the eye. Chloe paused for a few seconds. “That’s it?” “What do you mean, ‘that’s it’?” “I mean, it’s peak season. Stock shortages are normal. Sure, his attitude was bad, but cutting our entire supply chain over a personal grudge? Isn’t that a little impulsive?” “So you think I should just take it.” “I think we need to look at the bigger picture. Who is going to supply us now? Every warehouse on the coast is running at maximum capacity. Who has spare inventory? If all eight of our restaurants run out of seafood tonight, who takes the fall?” “I do.” “Fine,” she sighed, a hint of disdain slipping through. “You’re the head of procurement. Your call.” I hung up, my fingers gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. My phone rang. It was Frank. I let it ring three times before picking up. “Are you out of your mind?” his gravelly voice rasped through the speaker. “Marcus just told me you’re rejecting my deliveries!” “You told me to buy from someone else. So I am.” “That was just a figure of speech!” “And what about ‘you’re just an employee, saving money won’t get you a bonus’? Was that a figure of speech too?” He fell silent for a second. I heard the click of a lighter, followed by a long drag. He was trying to compose himself. “Fine. I shouldn’t have said that. But don’t use it as an excuse to throw a tantrum. Do you have any idea how much stock your eight locations burn through in a day? I’m the only supplier on this wharf who can guarantee that volume during peak season. Go ahead and ask around.” “I will.” “You won’t find anyone,” he chuckled. “And let me remind you, Clara. You’re just the buyer, not the owner. If the restaurants lose money because of a shortage, Richard is going to drag you over the coals. Do you really think the CEO is going to take your side?” “That’s between me and Richard.” “Alright, tough girl. Let me give you some free advice. If you crawl back to me before tonight and apologize, I’ll pretend this never happened. But if you wait until tomorrow, the price goes up.” “Don’t hold your breath. I’m not coming back.” “Suit yourself.” He slammed the phone down. Less than half an hour later, Lucas from Store 1 called me. “Did Frank call you?” Lucas asked, keeping his voice low. “Just hung up.” “He called me too,” Lucas warned. “He told me something you should know.” “What did he say?” “He said he has a personal relationship with Richard. He’s going to bypass you and talk to the CEO directly. He told us to ignore your orders.” I tapped my thumb against the steering wheel. “Anything else?” “He said he already ‘handled’ Chloe. He didn’t give details, but he sounded extremely smug about it.” Handled her. What did that mean? At 8:00 PM, a photo popped up in our WhatsApp group chat. Chloe had posted it. It was a delivery invoice from Frank’s warehouse, dated today. The item, the weight, and the signature at the bottom—Store 5, Chloe Bennett. Underneath the photo, she texted: “Sorry, Clara. This order was placed days ago and couldn’t be canceled. We can’t let our customers starve during peak season. I’m just doing what’s best for the business.” The group chat went dead silent. Leo quickly deleted a message he was halfway through typing. Marcus stopped posting. I zoomed in on the invoice, looking closely at the price column. The shrimp. The unit price Frank gave Chloe was four dollars cheaper than what he had quoted me. It wasn’t just two dollars cheaper—it was four. It was even cheaper than what he charged the new client. Frank wasn’t just doing business anymore. He was actively trying to destroy my authority from the inside. My phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number: “Be smart and know your place. — Frank”

“Come to the corporate office.” Richard’s call came early the next morning. His tone wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t angry either. Still, Richard rarely called people to headquarters. He only showed his face at the restaurants once every six months; the rest of his time was spent at high-end country clubs. For him to summon me personally, someone must have paved the way. In his office, Richard sat in his expensive leather chair, sipping a glass of red wine. “Have a seat,” he said. I sat down. “Tell me what’s going on with Frank.” “He breached our agreement. I’m handling it according to the contract.” “Which part did he breach?” “He withheld our pre-ordered stock to sell it to a new client at a discount, and then told me our delivery would be delayed by two days.” Richard took a sip of his wine. “That’s not the version of the story he told me.” I kept quiet, waiting. “He claims you demanded a two-dollar-per-pound kickback. He said when he refused, you threw a tantrum and cut his contract.” I set my coffee cup down on the glass desk. It made a sharp, clean sound. “And how do you want me to answer that, Richard?” “Clara, you’ve been with this company for four years. I know you’re efficient. But Frank has been our supplier for three. You told me yourself last year that our three-hundred-thousand-dollar monthly orders kept his business alive during the winter. Now that it’s summer, you’re just cutting him off?” “Last year, when we saved his business, he called me his savior. This year, when he pushed me to the back of the line, he called me a useless employee.” Richard’s eyelids fluttered slightly. “I get it. Business is business, but you can’t let emotions dictate your decisions. You rejected his stock. How are you going to feed eight restaurants tonight?” “I’m finding a new supplier.” “Have you found one?” “Not yet.” “You cut off our main supplier without a backup?” His voice dropped an octave, cold and demanding. “Do you have any idea how much revenue we make on seafood daily during peak season? Eight stores generate over two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a day. If we go dark for even one day, who pays for that?” “Richard, the price Frank quoted us is two dollars higher than what he charged his new client. And the price he secretly gave Chloe is even lower. He’s charging three different prices for the exact same batch of fish. Do you honestly think we can keep doing business with someone like that?” Richard leaned back in his chair, putting his wine glass down. “I don’t know anything about three different prices. Show me the proof.” “I have the invoices and the contract clauses.” I handed him my phone. He scrolled through the screenshots, his face remaining entirely blank. “I see,” he said slowly. “But your priority is still to keep the kitchens running. Don’t let the restaurants go dark. As for Frank…” He paused. “Don’t burn the bridge just yet. He called me again. He’s willing to match the lower price for all eight locations, and he’ll throw in five hundred pounds of free shrimp every month.” Five hundred pounds of shrimp. When he was kicking me out of his warehouse, he couldn’t care less. Now that he was about to lose eight major accounts, he was suddenly throwing freebies at us. “Richard, he’s not lowering his price because he’s sorry. He’s doing it because he’s terrified.” “I don’t care if he’s terrified. I care about my bottom line,” Richard said, standing up. “I’ll give you three days. If you can find a supplier who can handle our volume in three days, I’ll support your decision to replace him. If you can’t… we go back to Frank.” Three days. Finding a major seafood supplier in the middle of peak season in three days was practically impossible. As Richard walked to the door, he stopped and looked back at me. “One more thing. Chloe told me your emotional decision-making is causing a lot of stress for the team. I’m only telling you this because I want to keep the peace. But you need to watch your step.”

“I’ve been in the seafood industry for twenty years, and I’ve never seen anything like this. I practically begged to supply them during the off-season, and now they flip on me faster than a light switch. A mere purchasing manager, acting like she owns the place just because she holds a few contracts.” Frank was airing his grievances in the local F&B WhatsApp group. There were over three hundred restaurant owners and suppliers in that chat. He didn’t name me directly, but every single word was aimed at me. Naturally, his friends in the industry immediately jumped in to support him. One supplier wrote: “Frank is a good guy. He’s been patient enough.” Another chimed in: “Some buyers get a little power and forget who they actually are. They’re just employees.” A third sent a thumbs-up emoji: “The client is always right, I guess. Can’t mess with them!” Not a single person spoke up for me. I watched the messages scroll up my screen, my fingers freezing over the glass. Frank wasn’t just venting. He was blacklisting me. Every potential supplier I could contact was in that group. By ruining my reputation first, he was making sure no one would dare take my call. That afternoon, I made three phone calls. The owner of Sunrise Seafood picked up first. “Hey, Arthur,” I said. “We need a stable supplier for the peak season. The volume is pretty high. Can you take us on?” “Ah, Clara, I heard about what happened,” he said, sounding incredibly hesitant. “It’s not that I don’t want to help, but Frank and I have worked together for ten years. He already reached out to us. He asked us to stay out of his dispute.” “So you’re turning down business just because he asked?” “It’s a small industry, Clara. We all have to see each other at the docks every day. It’s not worth making enemies over one account. I hope you understand.” He hung up. The second call was to the manager of Crestview Seafood. “Look, Clara, I already know why you’re calling,” he cut me off before I could even finish my greeting. “We’re at maximum capacity. We can’t take on any more clients right now. Sorry.” He didn’t even bother with pleasantries. The third call was to the owner of Apex Seafood. He didn’t reject me immediately, but his terms were ridiculous. “Sure, I can take you,” he laughed. “But since it’s peak season and you need a rush order, the price will be three dollars above market rate. And I can only supply four of your locations. I don’t have enough stock for all eight.” “That price is even higher than Frank’s original quote,” I pointed out. “Then go back to Frank,” he sneered. “He wants you, but you won’t go. We have the stock, but you think we’re too expensive. That’s just how the game is played, sweetheart.” “The game.” I had heard that phrase three times today, and it always meant the same thing: “You have no options.” That night, Chloe posted another photo in the group chat. This time, it wasn’t an invoice. It was a picture of her restaurant’s display cases, packed to the brim with fresh, glittering seafood. “Our deliveries today were incredibly fresh. The customers are thrilled! Consistency is everything during peak season,” she wrote. She didn’t tag me, but the message was loud and clear. Leo replied with a simple “Got it,” while the rest of the managers stayed silent. Abby sent me a private Snapchat message: “Clara, don’t let her get to you. But you need to find some leverage, and fast. Otherwise, Richard is going to replace you.” “Leverage.” I sat in my apartment, staring at the list of suppliers on my desk. Three rejections. Zero options. My phone buzzed again. In the industry WhatsApp group, Frank had sent a voice note. His voice was boisterous, clearly meant to be heard by everyone on the docks: “Great news, everyone! We just locked in a deal with Harvey Thorne to supply all twelve of his new trendy bistros. We’re running at full capacity now, so our regular clients might have to wait in line. First come, first served. That’s just the rule!” A flood of congratulatory messages followed. Harvey Thorne was the flashy new client I had seen at the warehouse. Twelve bistros. Frank was letting everyone know that he didn’t need our business. He just wanted me to beg. Abby snapped me again: “Clara, do you have a backup plan or not?”

“Clara, Richard wanted me to let you know that we have a meeting at 3:00 PM today to discuss the supply chain. He expects you to bring your backup proposal.” The three-day deadline had arrived. Chloe was the one who called me. “Since when do you deliver messages for the CEO?” I asked. “Oh, I’m just trying to help,” she said, her voice dripping with fake sweet concern. “Do you actually have a proposal? Because if you don’t, Frank sent over a new contract with excellent terms. Richard thinks we should just sign it and move on.” “Who handed Richard that contract?” “I did. It’s nothing personal, Clara. We just need seafood.” At 3:00 PM, I walked into Richard’s office. Chloe was already there, sitting with a printed spreadsheet of Frank’s new rates. As a store manager, she had no business being in a procurement meeting, yet there she was. Richard looked at me. “Where is your proposal?” “I’m still negotiating,” I said. “It’s been three days and you have nothing?” “It’s peak season. No major supplier is willing to take on eight high-volume restaurants on short notice.” Richard glanced at Chloe. Chloe immediately spoke up, her tone perfectly measured. “Richard, if I may, I’ve been working with Frank on a new proposal. His terms are incredibly generous. He’s offering us market rate, extending our payment window to forty-five days, and giving us three hundred pounds of free shrimp every month. It’s a fantastic deal.” She slid the spreadsheet across the desk. “Frank is reliable, and he has the inventory. We shouldn’t let a personal grudge hurt our business. As managers, we have to look at the bigger picture.” I stared at the spreadsheet. Frank’s new prices were indeed lower. But as I looked closer, I noticed the details. The size of the shrimp had been downgraded from jumbo to medium. The quality grade of the sea bass had been lowered from Grade A to Grade B+. He was lowering the price, but quietly swapping out the quality. “Richard,” I said, pointing at the sheet. “This isn’t the same quality as our original contract. The shrimp are smaller, and the fish is lower grade. He’s cutting corners to make the price look good.” Chloe frowned. “Clara, are you sure you’re not misreading this? It clearly says premium—” “He can write whatever he wants on the invoice, but what actually arrives at the kitchen will be cheap stock. Frank has done this to other clients before.” Richard tapped his fingers on his desk. “Here’s the deal, Clara. You have until the end of the day to find a new supplier. If you can’t, we go back to Frank tomorrow.” He looked at me coldly. “And going forward, you will coordinate all purchasing decisions with Chloe.” “Coordinate.” A tiny, triumphant smile tugged at the corner of Chloe’s lips. She wasn’t just trying to undermine me. She wanted my job. Frank was squeezing me from the outside, and she was stabbing me from the inside. They were working together perfectly. When the meeting ended, I walked out of the corporate building and stood in the sweltering July heat of the parking lot. I pulled out my phone and scrolled to the very bottom of my contacts. There was a number I had saved two years ago but had never called. The contact name read: “Arthur Sterling.” Last winter, a deep-sea trawler captain had come ashore with a massive catch but couldn’t find a buyer. Several local warehouses turned him away. I had helped him connect with a few of my contacts and cleared his entire shipment. Later, I found out he wasn’t just some random boat captain. He was the CEO of Sterling Ocean Harvest—the largest deep-sea fishing fleet in the region, operating over thirty industrial vessels. He had handed me his card back then and said, “Clara, if you ever need a favor, call me.” I had never called him because the volume his company handled was far too large for our eight small bistros. But right now, I didn’t need his entire inventory. I just needed to show Frank that the road he thought he had blocked actually led to an ocean. I pressed call. It rang three times before a booming voice answered. “Clara! It’s been a long time. How are you?” “Hi, Arthur. I’m doing well. Actually, I need a huge favor. Do you have any spare capacity this season to supply a restaurant group?” “How much volume are we talking about?” “About eight hundred to a thousand pounds of mixed seafood daily, spread across eight locations. I can send you the exact manifest.” “A thousand pounds?” Arthur laughed. “Clara, one of my boats brings in fifty times that amount on a slow day. But you’re the girl who saved my catch last winter, right?” “That’s me.” The line went quiet for a moment. “Send me the manifest,” Arthur said warmly. “I’ll have my trucks deliver the fresh catch directly to your restaurants tomorrow morning. Don’t worry about the price. I’ll take care of you.”

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I worked my ass off for the company for an entire year. I closed an $80 million contract, but my year-end bonus was a measly $888. Meanwhile, my boss Richard’s useless nephew, Chase, who did nothing but play video games at his desk all day, received a cash bonus of $880,000. Richard patted my shoulder, smiling like a saint. “Sophia, 888 is an angel number! It represents abundance and financial flow. I’m wishing you endless wealth for next year!” “Money isn’t the point here. What matters is that the company values you!” My coworkers stared at the stacks of cash in Chase’s arms with envy. Then, they looked at me as if I were the biggest idiot on earth. I didn’t make a scene. I just took the thin envelope and walked away. The next morning, I opened my private database. It contained the contact information of clients that made up eighty percent of the company’s revenue. I dialed the number of our biggest competitor’s CEO. “Ms. Vance, is the offer you made me last time still on the table?”

At Harris Advertising’s annual holiday gala, my boss, Richard Harris, stood on the stage, his voice booming through the microphone. “Team! This year, Harris Advertising hit a milestone of one hundred million dollars in revenue!” “This couldn’t have happened without every single one of you!” Out of that hundred million, eighty million was brought in by me alone. “This year, we’re doing bonuses the old-fashioned way! Cold, hard cash!” Richard yelled, and security guards marched onto the stage carrying briefcases. “First, let’s recognize our Head of Marketing, Chase Harris!” “A bonus of $880,000 for Chase!” “Thanks, Uncle! I’ll work even harder next year!” Chase clutched the cash, grinning from ear to ear. Then, Richard’s eyes landed on me. “Next up, our top sales champion, Sophia Miller!” Everyone in the room knew I was the one keeping this company afloat. I walked up to the stage calmly. Richard picked up a pathetic, paper-thin envelope and handed it to me. His voice echoed through the banquet hall. “Sophia has told me many times that she doesn’t work for money. She works to realize her self-worth!” “This noble attitude is something we should all learn from!” “So, the company has decided to give Sophia a very special reward!” He paused, raising his voice. “An $888 bonus! It’s a lucky number! Let’s wish our champion sales star a prosperous new year! What do you all say?” The entire room fell into dead silence. Everyone stared at the light envelope in my hand, then at the mountain of cash next to Chase. A few seconds later, giggles started to spread. Chase laughed the loudest. He made sure to raise his voice. “Wow! $888! Triple eight!” “That’s way luckier than my $880,000! Uncle really loves you, Sophia!” “Haha, mental rewards are the most important, right?” “Sophia is just on another level. She doesn’t care about money, only luck!” The coworkers looked at me with mockery and schadenfreude. This was exactly the reaction Richard wanted. He wanted to make an example out of me. He wanted to show everyone that no matter how capable you are, you are still under his thumb. If he didn’t want to pay me, I wouldn’t get a single dime. He wanted to crush my influence and remind me who the real master of the company was. I didn’t look at anyone. I just held the envelope. Then, I leaned in toward the microphone. My voice easily drowned out the snickers. “Thank you, Richard.” I paused, letting a faint smile slip onto my face. “I actually love this number.” With that, I turned around and walked back to my seat under everyone’s watchful eyes. I wasn’t angry. I didn’t even show any emotion. My absolute calmness made the atmosphere in the hall incredibly bizarre. The smile on Richard’s face froze. He hadn’t expected this reaction. The tears, the questioning, the breakdown he had anticipated—none of it happened. As soon as the party ended, I was the first to leave. Stepping out of the hotel, I took a deep breath of the cold night air. Was I angry? Did I feel humiliated? No. Not at all. I felt relieved. I had given my youth and blood to this company. In return, I got a public humiliation worth $888. Perfect. With that $888, you just bought out the last bit of loyalty I had for you. ### 第二章

I lived in a 1,800-square-foot luxury condo, fully paid off. When I got home, I tossed the envelope onto the hallway table. Then, I took a long, hot bath. I closed my eyes and started reviewing my plan. Three years ago, I joined Richard when he was just starting out. There were only three of us in a tiny, cramped office. Back then, he held my hand and made big promises. “Sophia, you are my co-founder!” “Once the company grows, I’ll give you thirty percent of the shares!” For that promise, I chased clients day and night. I drank with them until my stomach bled just to secure deals. In three years, I dragged his company into the top three of the industry. But once the company started making real money, Richard changed. He began to care about the prestige of being “the boss.” He started hiring his own family. His useless nephew, Chase, was brought in as the Head of Marketing, driving a company car and spending company money. Meanwhile, Richard never mentioned the thirty percent share again. Every time I dropped hints, he brushed it off, saying, “The company is still growing, and changing shares is too complicated right now.” He was terrified that I would take the clients and start my own agency. So, he used this public humiliation to put me in my place. He thought I was a woman who couldn’t survive without his platform. He was so full of himself. I got out of the bath, put on a silk robe, and went into my study. I opened my private laptop and typed in a complex password. An encrypted database opened. It contained detailed profiles of all my core clients from the past three years. Every name, position, and contact info was there. But more than that, it had their personal preferences, family details, their kids’ birthdays, and even their pets’ names. It recorded their pain points in business and their psychological bottom lines during negotiations. This database was the real goldmine. Richard thought all the client data was safe in the company’s CRM system. He didn’t know that the CRM only had the basic, surface-level information. The real key—the reason why these clients only wanted to work with me—was right here on my laptop. In this business, clients don’t care about the company. They care about the person they deal with. I was the one who generated eighty percent of the revenue. I picked up my phone and found a contact I had saved for a long time but never called. The contact name was: **Amanda Vance – Vanguard Media**. Vanguard Media was Harris Advertising’s biggest rival. Its CEO, Amanda Vance, was a powerful woman in her early forties. Six months ago, at an industry summit, she had approached me and said only one thing. “Sophia, a talent like you is wasted at Harris. The VP position at Vanguard is always open for you. Call me whenever you’re ready.” I dialed the number. The phone rang three times before she picked up. “Hello?” Amanda’s voice came through. “Ms. Vance, it’s Sophia Miller,” I said, my voice calm and clear. There was a two-second silence on the other end, followed by a light chuckle. “Sophia, I’ve been waiting for this call for six months.” “I guess you’ve finally made up your mind.” I said quietly, “I have. Is the offer we talked about last time still valid?” Amanda’s voice was filled with excitement. “Absolutely! VP and Sales Director. Name your salary.” “Plus, I’ll give you five percent of Vanguard’s shares.” “I only have one question.” “What is it?” “How many of your major clients can you bring over?” I smiled, feeling entirely confident. “It’s not a question of how many, Ms. Vance.” “They go wherever I go.” ### 第三章

The next morning, I showed up at the office right on time. But my coworkers looked at me differently. They gathered in the break room, whispering in small groups. “See? She still showed up for work. I told you she wouldn’t dare quit.” “Duh, all her clients are registered under the company. If she leaves, she can’t take any of them.” “Without Harris Advertising, she’s nothing.” “Exactly. Richard’s move was brilliant. He really put her in her place. She’ll behave now.” Chase was even more obnoxious. He strutted over to my desk, flashing his phone to show off a photo of a brand-new Porsche. “Hey Sophia, what do you think of this car?” “My $880,000 bonus is just enough for the down payment.” “Sucks that some people only got $888. Can’t even buy a single tire with that.” His lackeys burst into laughter. I didn’t even look up. I kept my eyes on my computer screen and said coldly, “Move. You’re blocking my light.” My complete indifference made Chase feel like his punch had landed on a wall of jello. His face tightened, and he walked away, annoyed. Later, Richard called me into his office. He wore the generous smile of a victor. “Sophia, take a seat.” “Don’t take the gala thing to heart.” He poured me a cup of tea. “I did that to motivate you, and also to balance the dynamics in the office. You have to understand my position.” “I know you feel wronged, but you have to look at the bigger picture.” “The company needs you, and I need you.” He started his usual routine—feeding me empty promises. “Next year, I’m planning to put you in complete charge of the contract renewal for Bloom Cosmetics.” “That deal is worth a hundred million dollars! Once we lock it down, I’ll personally write you a massive bonus check!” Bloom Cosmetics was my biggest client and the main source of income for Harris Advertising. Their contract was expiring in a month. Richard gave me this project because, on one hand, no one else could handle it. On the other hand, he wanted to use this deal to keep me hooked and quiet. I nodded, offering a compliant smile. “Thank you for trusting me, Richard. I’ll do my best.” Richard smiled with deep satisfaction. In his eyes, he had me completely figured out. A capable woman, sure, but ultimately lacking the guts to leave. Give her a slap, then a piece of candy, and she would fall right back into line. I took the project folder and walked out of his office. That afternoon, I left the company under the excuse of “visiting clients to discuss the renewal.” But I didn’t drive to Bloom Cosmetics. Instead, I drove to a private club on the outskirts of the city. In a quiet room, Amanda Vance was already waiting for me. “Sophia, you are even calmer than I thought,” she said, pouring me a cup of Earl Grey. “When dealing with a man like Richard, being calm is the only weapon,” I replied. “Tell me your plan,” Amanda said, getting straight to the point. I took a flash drive out of my bag and placed it on the table. “In here is the data for twenty-four of my core clients, along with my proposal for Vanguard Media.” “These twenty-four clients make up eighty-two percent of Harris’s annual revenue.” “Their contracts are all expiring within the next two months.” Amanda’s eyes lit up. “My plan is simple,” I said, looking her in the eye. “In one month, I will officially resign from Harris.” “Once I leave, I need Vanguard’s legal and sales teams to work with me to seamlessly transition these twenty-four clients.” “I will personally talk to each client and convince them to drop Harris and sign with Vanguard.” “All Vanguard needs to do is offer slightly better rates and guarantee premium service.” Amanda didn’t answer immediately. She fell into deep thought. This was a plan that could instantly bankrupt Harris Advertising, but it also carried huge risks. “How do I know you’re not using me to get leverage for a negotiation with Richard?” she asked the most critical question. I smiled. I reached into my bag, pulled out the thin envelope containing the $888, and placed it on the table. “This was my year-end bonus from Richard.” Amanda looked at the envelope, then at me. Her expression shifted from suspicion to total understanding. She got it. “I see,” Amanda said, picking up the flash drive. “Pleasure doing business with you, Sophia. From this moment on, all of Vanguard’s resources are at your disposal.” “Likewise.” We smiled at each other, knowing the game was already won. ### 第四章

Leaving the club, I drove straight to Bloom Cosmetics. I went to the top floor, right into the Chairman’s office. The Chairman, Arthur Reynolds, was a man in his sixties. He was an old family friend and a mentor to me. “Arthur,” I said, sitting on his couch. “Sophia! What brings you here today? I assume it’s not about the contract renewal.” “You can just talk to my managers about that. I trust you completely,” Arthur said with a warm smile. “Arthur, I might be leaving Harris Advertising next month.” Arthur froze for a second, immediately realizing what was going on. “Did that idiot Richard treat you poorly?” I didn’t say anything, just offered a bitter smile. “I told you long ago that he is a small-minded man. He will never build a real empire,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “So, what’s your plan?” “I’m going to Vanguard Media,” I said directly. “So I came today to ask… if I move to Vanguard, would you prefer to stay with Harris, or… come with me?” Arthur laughed and pointed at me. “You clever girl. You’ve already put it that way, how else can I choose?” “Bloom Cosmetics never partnered with Harris Advertising. We partnered with Sophia Miller.” “Wherever you go, our contract goes.” The heaviest stone in my heart finally lifted. “Thank you, Arthur.” “My dear, don’t mention it.” With the most important client, Bloom Cosmetics, locked in, dealing with the other clients was child’s play. For the next month, I pretended to be the most hardworking employee. Every day, I was “visiting clients” and “discussing renewals.” I wrote detailed, highly optimistic project reports for Richard. Looking at the glowing reports of guaranteed renewals I submitted, Richard was over the moon. He trusted me more than ever. He even praised me publicly in a company-wide meeting. “Look at Sophia! That is what I call ownership spirit!” “Even after a minor misunderstanding, she doesn’t complain. She puts the company first!” But behind his back, I used these “client visits” to hold secret meetings with my core clients, accompanied by Amanda’s team. I showed them Vanguard’s superior capabilities, promised better service and pricing, and finalized all the details for their transition. Every single one of them chose to stand with me without hesitation. Because they knew I never let them down.

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