Category: English

Four years into our marriage, I discovered that my husband, Dr. Elias Vance, had a “white moonlight”—a first love he could never forget. Every year, Elias would leave a bouquet of platycodon flowers on her grave. In the language of flowers, platycodon means eternal love. When I confronted him, he dismissed my pain with a single sentence: “Why do you have to compete with Seraphina over everything?” Even when drunk, Elias would call out her name. For Seraphina, he smashed up our home and tore my dresses to shreds… But later, when the usually composed medical examiner Elias Vance saw me lying on his autopsy table, he broke down completely, unable to even hold his scalpel. 1 I unfolded the test results in my hand, then folded them again. After several hesitations, I finally dialed Elias’s number. Elias always said he was busy, and I was always afraid to disturb him. But this time was different. I was sick. After a long, agonizing ring, Elias’s voice came through, tinged with exhaustion. “What is it?” I nervously picked at the hem of my shirt. “I’m sick…” He cut me off before I could finish. “If you’re sick, see a doctor.” “I have important matters to handle. I’m hanging up.” His tone was thick with impatience. I didn’t miss the sound of a woman’s playful laughter in the background before the line went dead. I sat there, dazed, gripping the phone. The screen went dark, then lit up again. A notification from Maya. She had just posted a moment on social media. The background was a cemetery. Elias was in the photo, showing only his profile. He was staring intently at the portrait on the tombstone, his eyes rimmed with red. But the most striking thing was the bouquet of platycodon flowers. Eternal love. As Elias’s wife, I had never received flowers from him. Not once. Yet Seraphina, who had been dead for five years, received platycodon flowers regularly, rain or shine. Maya’s caption read: Five years since my sister left us. I hope my brother-in-law can finally find peace. I stared at that sentence, my head spinning. Suddenly, a warm rush filled my nose. Blood began to pour out, staining my clothes crimson. I wiped it away, again and again, my hands covered in red, but the flow wouldn’t stop. That’s when the System’s voice echoed in my mind, filled with pity: [Are you really not going to tell Elias?] I shook my head, letting the blood flow. I have leukemia. I don’t have much time left. For four years of marriage, I reported every detail of my life to Elias, even though he never cared. But this time, I suddenly didn’t want to tell him anymore. It wasn’t until midnight that Elias came home. I was sitting in the living room with the lights on, drifting in and out of sleep. In my haze, I felt Elias pick me up. After a brief, bumpy journey, he placed me gently on the bed. “Luna, why were you sleeping on the sofa again?” “Didn’t you say you were sick?” “You don’t look sick at all.” “Next time you miss me, just say so. You don’t have to beat around the bush.” He gently rubbed my ear, his words soft and slow, like the murmurs of a lover. Hearing his voice, I snapped awake. “Did you give Seraphina platycodon flowers today?” I stared straight into his eyes. Under the dim yellow lamp, the softness in his eyes vanished instantly. “Seraphina just liked platycodon flowers, that’s all,” he explained, his tone stiff. I pressed him. “Do you know what platycodon means?” Elias stood up abruptly. The tenderness in the room shattered, replaced by anger. “Luna, why do you have to compete with Seraphina over everything?” “I just want to make it up to her.” “When did you become so petty?” “I’m so disappointed in you.” He slammed the door and left. The room fell silent. I sat there, dazed, looking down at the bloodstains I hadn’t fully washed out of my collar. Was it really that hard to notice? Elias. Dizziness hit me again, and blood dripped onto the sheets, blooming like dark red flowers. My whole body ached. I grabbed a wad of tissues and pressed it hard against my nose. Outside, the moon was bright, but inside, it was dark. My phone was playing a cheerful cartoon. [Host, do you want to choose to leave now?] I paused, turning off the phone. Memories flashed through my mind. Elias’s trembling hands when he confessed his love. Elias clumsily making soup for me. … After a long time, I whispered, “Let’s wait a little longer.” 2 Since that day, Elias seemed to restrain himself. He apologized sincerely, promising to visit Seraphina less often. He hugged me, smiling, and whispered in my ear, “Luna, you know…” “I just feel guilty about her.” “You are the one I love most.” Seraphina was the most vibrant chapter of Elias’s youth. Everyone told me about their epic romance. Skipping class to go to the arcade, bold confessions on the school stage, secret kisses during power outages… Whenever these stories came up, the corners of Elias’s mouth would lift in nostalgia. But Seraphina died in a car accident. Since then, she became the white moonlight he could never reach. I curled into Elias’s arms and nodded silently. After that, it seemed like we returned to normal. He came home early for me, watched movies with me. Sometimes, he even braided my hair. Until one day, Elias came home drunk. Instead of the usual faint scent of antiseptic, he reeked of alcohol. He hugged me tight, as if trying to merge me into his body. His voice, aggressive and desperate, fell from above. “Seraphina…” He called her name over and over, and my face drained of color. “Where… are you?” “Why did you leave me?” Hot tears fell onto my neck, burning their way into my heart. I couldn’t break free, so I let him carry me to the bed. He stroked my hair gently, his eyes unfocused, looking through me to see someone else. As his hot kiss was about to land, nausea surged in my chest. I turned my head away. Elias kissed the air. “Elias, I am Luna.” After a long silence, I reminded him. The man pressing down on me froze. “Sorry… Luna.” “I’m just too tired today.” He pulled back, avoiding my eyes. I lowered my gaze and silently adjusted my clothes. My thoughts were a mess. “You mistook me for Seraphina again, didn’t you?” It wasn’t the first time. Elias rubbed his temples, his eyes clearing but filled with annoyance. “It won’t happen again,” he said, patience wearing thin. I deliberately provoked him. “But Seraphina is already dead.” Why should I be the only one in pain? I wanted Elias to hurt too. The moment the words left my mouth, he turned into a raging lion, pinning me down again. He gripped my wrists hard, glaring at me. “Isn’t this what you want? For me to take you?” “Then I’ll give you what you want.” He tore my clothes open, his kisses falling aggressively. No matter how much I cried or struggled, Elias acted like he couldn’t hear me, venting his anger on my body. “Do you have to be jealous of Seraphina?” he demanded, eyes red. But I was in too much pain to speak. The illness caused enough agony. Elias didn’t want to spare me either. I don’t know how much time passed before he pulled away. I was left alone in the large bedroom. Cold moonlight spilled across the floor. The System, silent for so long, finally spoke: [Why didn’t you choose to leave?] I curled up slowly, smiling bitterly. “I can’t let him off that easily.” Four years ago, I was a “Strategy Agent.” My mission was done, and I was supposed to leave. But Elias begged me to stay. I gave up everything for him. Was it just to witness his betrayal more clearly? He didn’t know yet. The System had given me one chance to regret my choice. Elias… those who betray hearts don’t get happy endings. 3 Elias didn’t come home for days. He seemed to be giving me the silent treatment. In the past, I would have been the one to apologize and smooth things over. But now, I felt nothing. My doctor called me, urging me again and again to check into the hospital for treatment. But I just wanted to go home. To my real home. On the sixth day of the cold war, Elias returned. But he brought Maya with him. I had seen Seraphina’s photo in Elias’s wallet. Maya was her biological sister; they looked alike. Especially the eyes. As soon as she walked in, Maya smiled. “Hi, Luna.” Elias stared at Maya’s smile, lost in a trance. I knew Maya’s smile looked exactly like Seraphina’s. I responded coldly. After dinner, Maya suddenly suggested looking at my room. “I heard Luna is a designer. Can I see your work?” Maya was only twenty, her almond eyes blinking playfully. Elias softened first. He patted my head with a smile. “Show her around.” Maya cheered and hugged Elias’s arm. “Thanks, brother-in-law!” For a second, Elias’s eyes filled with longing. In my room, Maya touched everything, acting curious. Elias held my hand tight, whispering in my ear, “I was wrong last time.” “I even brought help today.” “Wifey, will you forgive me?” He looked at me expectantly. I wanted to laugh. Just as I was about to make a sarcastic remark… A scream pierced the air. Maya was pointing at my closet, her face pale with terror. “Bro… brother-in-law!” she cried. Elias let go of me and walked to the closet. Inside lay a cloth doll, covered in needles. Elias picked it up and saw the name written on the back—Seraphina. 4 Thud. The doll hit the floor. The room was dead silent. Slowly, Elias turned around. His eyes were bloodshot, his chest heaving. He reached into the closet and ripped down all my dresses, screaming at me. “Why would you hurt Seraphina?!” “She’s dead, and you still won’t let her rest!” Maya was trembling, tears streaming down her face. “My sister was so kind…” “To be cursed like this after death…” She sobbed, gasping for air. She cried just like Seraphina. Hearing this, Elias’s rage exploded. He reached out and grabbed my throat, squeezing slowly. My vision blurred from lack of oxygen. Tears fell uncontrollably. Even through the haze, I could see his twisted face. Memories flashed before my eyes. “Is your name Luna? It’s a beautiful name.” “Luna, will you be with me?” “Luna, will you stay for me?” “Luna, why do you have to compete with Seraphina?” “When did you become so petty?” The face in my memories became stranger and stranger, yet more real. I realized I would never mean as much to him as Seraphina. But it didn’t matter. I stopped caring a long time ago. My neck burned with pain. My limbs started to shake. Finally, Maya stopped him. Elias threw me aside. I hit the hard floor, pain shooting through my arm like needles. Before I could recover, Elias spoke, his voice icy. “Maya always told me to watch out for you.” “I didn’t believe her.” “Now I see. You really are a viper.” His words were frozen daggers. Elias smashed everything in my room. “I won’t allow anyone to hurt Seraphina,” he raged. He didn’t even spare the ceramic cats on the corner of my desk. Shattered porcelain littered the floor. Elias seemed to forget that he made those cats for me. When I was younger, I raised stray cats, but they all passed away one by one. When Elias found out, he took me to a pottery studio. He clumsily made those ceramic “Cat Gods” for me, getting covered in mud but not caring. That day, he held them up, smiling tenderly. “Luna, they are just keeping you company in a different way.” By the time I snapped back to reality, my face was covered in cold tears.

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We were so broke I couldn’t even book a guest role, so my girlfriend, Ava, and I were crammed into a shoebox apartment in the city’s grimiest borough. Every evening, we’d go to the market to pick through the leftover vegetables the vendors were throwing out. To save on electricity, we used old candles for light. One night, a fierce storm rolled through, flooding our tiny apartment. Ava, soaked to the bone, huddled in my arms for warmth. I swore to myself then that one day, I would get her out of there, into a big house, and give her the life she deserved. But before I could make good on that promise, she was gone, killed in a fire that consumed everything. For a long time after, I was a ghost. Then, by a stroke of luck, a young director saw something in my haunted eyes and cast me as the lead in a web series. It was a hit. I skyrocketed to fame. Three years later, I became the youngest actor to win the industry’s highest award. The world admired my success. No one knew that every ounce of effort, every sleepless night, was just my way of paying a debt to Ava. Now, I had finally done it. I could finally let go and join her. But on the very night I decided to end my life, my girlfriend, dead for three years, appeared before me, alive and breathing. … Tonight was the wrap party, a thank-you dinner organized by my agent for the film’s producers. It was also the night I planned to announce my retirement from acting. The wind whipping off the river was bone-chilling, but the woman sitting in the seat of honor across from me froze the very blood in my veins. She wore a gown of flowing satin, her long hair swept up to reveal a swan-like neck. She was the picture of elegance, a vision of aristocratic grace. But her face… it was identical to the face of my girlfriend, the one who had died three years ago. Even the tiny mole just below the corner of her eye was in the exact same spot. The director was beside her, pouring her a glass of Lafite. “You’re too kind,” she said, her voice a clipped, aristocratic murmur. Those two simple words were enough to make the wine glass tremble in my hand. That voice had echoed in my dreams for a thousand nights. I would hear a similar cadence in a crowd and whip my head around, searching. I never thought I’d hear it again in this lifetime. My agent nudged me under the table. “Liam. The director is toasting you.” I snapped back to reality, meeting the director’s teasing gaze. “What’s this, Mr. Shaw? You see our film’s main investor and you can’t look away? Don’t tell me you and our Miss Thorne are old acquaintances?” Miss Thorne. I rolled the name around in my mind. The director turned to the woman, clearly expecting an answer. Miss Thorne merely leaned back in her chair, her tone distant and cool. “I don’t know him.” She glanced at me for a fraction of a second, her eyes as cold and indifferent as if she were looking at a complete stranger, before looking away. But I couldn’t tear my gaze from her. The eyes, the voice, even the surname was the same. How could I believe she wasn’t my Ava? “Liam, stop staring. You’re making Miss Thorne uncomfortable,” my agent whispered urgently in my ear. I lowered my eyes, forcing the words out. “I’m sorry. I mistook her for someone else.” Someone at the table chuckled. “Come on, Liam. Miss Thorne is the princess of this city. You can’t just compare her to anyone.” “If you said something like that in public, the Thorne family would have your head. We couldn’t protect you,” another added. The woman acted as if she hadn’t heard a word, sipping her wine. It wasn’t until her phone buzzed that she rose from her seat. “Enjoy yourselves. I have to take this call.” My seat was near the door. The hem of her gown brushed against me as she passed, leaving an icy chill in its wake. I rubbed my frozen arm, taking a moment before I could speak to my agent. “Miss Thorne…” “Liam, she’s not her.” My agent cut me off immediately. He’d been with me for three years; he knew my entire past. “Miss Thorne is the sole heir to one of the richest families on the East Coast. She’s the CEO of Celestial Entertainment, the biggest player in the industry. This restaurant we’re in? She owns it. In fact, her family’s name is on the deed for nearly every building from the west side of the river to the next district over.” His face was deadly serious. “Liam Shaw, don’t be a fool,” he warned again. “If you anger the Thornes, there won’t be a place for us in this industry, or even this city.” The words I wanted to say died in my throat. Through the massive floor-to-ceiling window, I could see her standing outside, poised and regal. She was a world away from the Ava I had known. She wasn’t my love. I repeated it to myself like a mantra. But when the door opened again and she stepped back inside, my body moved on its own. I reached out and grabbed her arm. “Miss Thorne, you look so much like… an old friend of mine.” She pulled her arm free, her eyes dropping to mine, filled with a chilling condescension. “Mr. Shaw, that pickup line was outdated ten years ago.” A wave of laughter rippled through the room, mocking my clumsy attempt, my utter foolishness. My agent quickly stepped in front of me, bowing to her. “I’m so sorry, Miss Thorne. My client has had a bit too much to drink tonight.” He raised his glass. “I hope we still have the opportunity to work together in the future.” He drained the glass in one go. Others at the table started making excuses for me, trying to smooth things over. Miss Thorne didn’t deign to reply. She simply walked back to her seat, picked up her handbag, and headed for the door. “My mother is expecting me home. Goodnight.” I watched her back until she disappeared from view, then finally closed the door. The party broke up soon after. I walked out of the restaurant and looked at the glittering skyline. I remembered when I was just a broke kid, walking this same riverfront with Ava in my arms. “When I make it big,” I’d told her, “I’m going to propose to you right here.” The memory was so vivid it hurt. “Liam, should I take you back to the apartment?” I tore my eyes from the view and nodded to my agent. Half an hour later, I was back in the shoebox. No one would ever believe that the reigning king of the silver screen lived in a space smaller than a hundred square feet. But this place held every memory I had of Ava. I couldn’t bear to lose this last connection to her. I had bought the entire floor, renovating every apartment except this one, leaving it exactly as it had been. The photo of Ava and me on the wall was faded and yellowing. I walked over and gently smoothed down a corner that had begun to curl. “Ava, I’m home.” I still remembered how she’d made me promise to greet her every time I came back. For a second, I could almost hear her excited reply. “Look who’s home, our future superstar!” A smile touched my lips. I leaned in to kiss her image on the photo, but my hand accidentally hit the light switch beside it. The room flooded with harsh, sudden light. And just like that, my Ava vanished. The glare was so bright it made my eyes water. “Ava,” I whispered to the photograph, a painful tightness gripping my chest. “I saw someone today who looked just like you. So much like you, I almost ran up and held her.” But I hadn’t. Because I knew my Ava was never coming back. The fire three years ago had burned her life, and my heart, to ashes. From the street below, I could hear the happy sounds of a family. I watched them, a perfect picture of the life Ava and I should have had. It was like waking from a dream. How could I be so foolish as to give up everything to join her? I had the power now. I could give her a better life, even in death. I would take her ashes and travel the world. I’d walk the equator and see the northern lights. I would visit every temple, every sacred place, and pray for her, accumulating merit for her next life. My phone buzzed repeatedly. My agent was sending me script after script. I tapped out a single reply. I’m retiring. My phone exploded with frantic calls and texts. I blocked his number and began to pack. I carefully placed the last photo of Ava in my bag. I switched off the light in the shoebox apartment and dragged my suitcase to the door. But just as I was about to open it, there was a frantic knocking from the other side. I opened the door, and a familiar figure stumbled into my arms. It was Miss Thorne. She reeked of alcohol, her face flushed an unnatural red. I had no idea why she was like this, or how she had found me here. The heavy slam of the door behind her snapped me back to reality. I tried to push her away, but she threw me back onto the sofa with surprising strength. “Miss Thorne!” The rest of my words were swallowed as her lips crashed down on mine. What happened next was a blur, with Miss Thorne in complete control. Her mouth was on mine as she tore at my clothes. In the pale moonlight filtering through the window, her face merged completely with Ava’s. I couldn’t fight it anymore. I flipped her over, pressing her into the cushions. “Liam… Liam…” she gasped, her voice thick with pleasure. The sound sent a shockwave through me. In the final, desperate moments, I gritted my teeth and cried out the name that had haunted my soul. “Ava!” Her eyes were wide and unfocused as she stared up at me. We moved together, again and again, as if we could never get enough. Finally, exhausted, we collapsed into sleep. The next morning, I woke up on the sofa. I was alone. I shot upright. My clothes were neatly folded on a chair, and the shoebox apartment was clean and tidy. It was as if the whole thing had been a fever dream. No. It couldn’t have been a dream. The searing heat of her skin, the raw passion of our encounter, the familiar curves of her body. It wasn’t a dream. She was Ava. At that thought, my long-dormant heart began to hammer against my ribs. My hands shook as I unblocked my agent, intending to ask for Miss Thorne’s number. Instead, I saw a string of pathetic, pleading emojis from him. “Boss, I know you’ve just been holding on by a thread these past few years.” “I promise, just shoot this one reality show, and I’ll get you a long vacation.” Attached was a presentation for the show. A competitive acting program. They wanted me as a judge. There were four other judges listed. One of them was Miss Thorne. Ava Thorne. Seeing her name in print, I almost laughed out loud. I dialed my agent’s number. Before he could speak, I cut him off. “I’ll do it. I’ll do the show.” On the other end of the line, he sounded like he was about to weep with joy. “Boss, you just saved my life!” It turned out the company had already signed the contract. I mumbled a few placating words and hung up. The details from her bio in the presentation flashed in my mind. Why had she lied to me? Why did she pretend not to know me now? Was there any chance for us? The questions swirled in my head. On the first day of filming, I was determined to get answers. But when I arrived, I saw her standing beside a handsome, distinguished-looking man. They were close, sitting together for their pre-show interview. “Commissioner Vance, are you participating in this show just to be with Miss Thorne?” the interviewer asked. The man, Marcus Vance, turned to her, his smile radiating pure adoration. “Of course.” A chorus of “oohs” and “aahs” went through the crew. “I can’t believe the city’s Deputy Police Commissioner would lower himself to be a reality show judge, even for the woman he loves.” “It’s no surprise! Commissioner Vance goes wherever Miss Thorne goes. They’re definitely a couple!” “The righteous commissioner and the ice queen CEO? I am so shipping this!” I stood to the side, watching them, feeling my heart plummet into a dark abyss. Just two days ago, she had been in my arms. Now, she was at another man’s side. I numbly went through my own interview and retreated to my hotel room. I tossed and turned for hours before finally giving in to the overwhelming need to see her. I walked to her door. Taking a deep breath, I knocked. “Ava, it’s me.” I heard a rustling inside and quickly straightened my collar. The door opened. I kept my head down, the words I’d been rehearsing tumbling out. “Ava, I don’t know why you lied to me, or why you’re pretending not to know me now. But I need you to know, I’ve missed you every single day for the past three years. I never forgot you for a second. Can we please… can we try again?” I waited. The silence stretched. It wasn’t the answer I was expecting. Instead, a strange man’s voice replied. “You are… Liam Shaw?” I snapped my head up and saw Marcus Vance standing in the doorway. My heartfelt confession had been delivered to the wrong audience. My lips moved, but no sound came out. I could only stand there, mortified, clutching the chain around my neck. It was the necklace Ava and I had shared, our pledge to each other. I’d worn it every day since she died. Just then, Ava emerged from the balcony. A flash of surprise crossed her face when she saw me, but it was quickly replaced by annoyance. “Mr. Shaw, I believe I made myself clear the other day,” she said, her voice like ice. “Why are you still harassing me?” Harassing. So that’s what this was to her. A wave of grief and anger washed over me. “Ava, this isn’t harassment,” I said through gritted teeth. “Have you forgotten? Have you forgotten how happy we were three years ago?” “Just two nights ago, you came to my apartment, we…” “Enough!” she snapped. “Mr. Shaw, I’ve only met you once. I don’t know what past you’re talking about. If you don’t leave now, I’m calling the police.” She pulled out her phone and started dialing, right in front of me. Marcus Vance stepped forward. “Mr. Shaw,” he said, his tone a calm warning. “I don’t know what’s between you and Ava. But I’m sure you don’t want tomorrow’s headlines to be about you.” I stood frozen in the doorway, my fists clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms. The sharp pain was a distant echo of the agony in my heart. The phone began to ring. I forced myself to take a step back, clearing the doorway. Ava immediately hung up. “See? Was that so hard? You always force me to be cruel.” She took Marcus’s arm and slammed the door in my face. Her every word, every action, screamed that she was not the Ava I knew. The closed door was a blade, slicing the past from the present. I stood there for a long time, until my hands and feet were numb, then slowly, mechanically, walked back to my room. The next day, the producers organized a “get-to-know-you” hot pot dinner. I arrived on time with the others. We waited half an hour for Ava and Marcus. They walked in arm-in-arm, looking for all the world like a couple in love. I gripped my chopsticks, mechanically dropping vegetables into the bubbling pot. “Miss Thorne, Commissioner Vance, you two are inseparable,” one of the producers teased. “Are we going to be hearing wedding bells soon?” They didn’t answer, just started serving themselves. The dinner was a cheerful affair for everyone else. Marcus repeatedly filled Ava’s plate. Ava, in turn, acted like any doting girlfriend, wiping his brow and rinsing his food in a bowl of water to cool it down. “Marcus can’t handle spicy food,” she told the table. “Make sure to leave some things for the plain broth.” Her solicitous words were like needles in my heart. That tender care had once been reserved for me. I hated cilantro, and she would painstakingly pick every last speck of it out of my noodle soup. Now, all her gentleness was for another man. The beef in my bowl tasted like ash. I lowered my head and forced myself to eat. Ssss! A searing pain shot up my arm. I looked down. My entire forearm was covered in angry red blisters. “I’m so sorry, so sorry!” a young waiter babbled, dabbing at my arm with a wet cloth. The crew rushed over. “That’s a bad burn! We need to get you to a hospital!” They helped me up and led me out. Through it all, Ava never once glanced in my direction. It was as if the injured man was a complete stranger to her. A profound sense of powerlessness crushed me. I started to wonder if I had been wrong all along. Maybe this Ava wasn’t my Ava. Maybe they just shared a name and a face. Or maybe she had grown tired of me and faked her death to escape. But how could I give up on the hope I had waited three years for? I took off the necklace from around my neck, rubbing the familiar pendant between my fingers. One last time, I told myself. I have to try one last time. After my arm was treated, I returned to the hotel. With the desperation of a moth drawn to a flame, I clutched the necklace and knocked on her door again. It opened quickly. When she saw it was me, a look of utter disgust crossed her face. She started to close the door. I blocked it with my foot, holding out the necklace like a holy relic. “Ava, look. Our pledge. I still have it.” I expected a flicker of emotion, of recognition. Instead, she gave a cold, dismissive laugh and slapped my hand away. The necklace flew from my grasp and shattered on the hard floor. In that moment, I heard my own heart shatter along with it. I dropped to my knees, scrambling to gather the broken pieces. I tried desperately to fit them back together, but it was impossible. “Mr. Shaw. How much was it? I’ll pay you for it.” So that’s all it was to her. Just an object. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, slowly collecting every last fragment into my pocket. When I had them all, I shakily got to my feet and met her indifferent gaze. “It wasn’t worth much, Miss Thorne. You don’t have to pay.” I heard my own voice, trembling but defiant. “I won’t bother you again.” I didn’t wait to see her reaction. I turned and walked away. I heard the door click shut behind me. A bitter laugh escaped me. She was probably celebrating with Marcus right now, finally free of the pathetic dog who kept chasing her. The truth didn’t matter anymore. Whether we could be together didn’t matter. In that moment, I knew with absolute clarity: my Ava was well and truly gone. My eyes burned, and my heart pounded against my ribs as if it would burst. I broke into a run, storming into the production studio. “I’m quitting the show,” I announced to the stunned directors. “Mr. Shaw, we were negligent about what happened yesterday, but surely it’s not enough to quit over!” “Yes, your injury was our fault! We’ll pay you double the compensation, as per your contract.” I looked at each of them, my voice firm. “I’m quitting.” Seeing they couldn’t persuade me, the director tried a different tactic. “If you break contract before the halfway point, the penalty is three times the fee.” I nodded. “I know. My agent will handle the payment. I won’t default.” With that, I turned and left. Back at the hotel, I packed my bags. At three in the morning, I called my agent. “I’ve spoken to the directors. I’m leaving the show, effective today. Settle the penalty with them, let me know the final amount, and I’ll wire it to you.” He groaned on the other end of the line. “Liam, my dear, sweet, superstar client! You promised you’d do the show! Why are you quitting now? Did someone upset you? Tell me, I’ll handle it.” I was silent for a long moment. “Before I agreed to this,” I asked quietly, “did you already know Ava Thorne was going to be on it?” He let out a long, weary sigh. “I knew it.” He mumbled something, then cleared his throat. “Liam, we’ve worked together for three years. I know you can’t let your ex-girlfriend go. But her death certificate is black and white. She’s been gone for three years. It’s time to move on!” But I couldn’t. She was still in my dreams every night.

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1 Getting off my late-night shift, I treated a runaway kid to a cup of instant ramen. The girl didn’t have a dime to her name, but she was all bravado, insisting that once she was back home, she’d set me up with her older sister. I mumbled a refusal through a mouthful of noodles, telling her there was someone I still couldn’t get over. She wasn’t having it. She claimed I just hadn’t tasted the good stuff yet—that there was no woman on earth better than her sister. That got my back up. In a fit of pique, I pulled up my ex-girlfriend’s Wikipedia page and shoved the phone in her face. The kid’s expression shifted strangely as she scanned the screen, then her eyes flicked back up to me. “Bro-in-law?” … The scalding broth burned my tongue, and I hissed in pain, not quite catching what she’d said. I tilted my head, looking at the girl whose cheeks were puffed out with food. “What was that?” She chewed hard a couple of times, then propped her chin on her hand, her eyes sweeping over me from head to toe. Her voice was laced with disbelief. “You’re telling me… this Sophia Laurent… is your ex-girlfriend?” I let out a smug little humph and snatched my phone back, waving it at her. “That’s right. What do you think? Told you your sister couldn’t possibly compare.” The kid’s face twisted into an even stranger expression, her lips twitching like she was about to have a seizure. I eyed her cautiously, subtly sliding my cup of ramen a little further away from her. I’d barely moved it an inch when two slender fingers caught the edge of the cup. My head snapped around. A face so familiar it made my heart stop was suddenly inches from mine. For a split second, I almost believed the woman from my memories was really here. But the illusion shattered the moment the girl’s young, high-pitched voice broke the silence. “Hey, so… how’d you and your ex break up?” My eyelid twitched. I turned away, unable to look at that miniature version of her face any longer. “You’re a kid. Don’t be so nosy about grown-up stuff.” Five years since the breakup, and I still had zero defense against anyone who looked even remotely like Sophia. Earlier that night, I’d been wrapping my coat tighter, about to hail a cab after my shift. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure huddled on the curb. Under the hazy yellow streetlights, her profile glowed like porcelain, and my heart felt like it was being squeezed, over and over. I practically stumbled out of the cab I’d just opened, tripping over my own feet as I rushed toward her. “Soph—” The name died in my throat the second the small girl looked up. It wasn’t her. I’d mistaken someone for her again. The girl, a good head shorter than me, stared up with wary eyes, though her tone was polite. “Mister, can I help you?” Just then, an embarrassed gurgle echoed in the cold night air. I forced a tight smile, pulled out my work ID and driver’s license, and slapped them into her palm before pointing to a convenience store down the street. “Call me Liam. And it’s my good deed for the day. I’m buying you something to eat. You in?” And that’s how I ended up with this little chatterbox sitting next to me. “Hey, Liam! C’mon!” “Just tell me! Why did you two really break up?” “Think of it as your second good deed. Satisfy the burning curiosity of a girl in the prime of her youth.” I spun the plastic fork in my hand, failing miserably to spear the last slippery fish cake in my cup. “There’s nothing to tell. Sometimes things just don’t work out, and you go your separate ways. That’s all.” She let out a skeptical “Tch.” “There’s always a reason things don’t work out.” “I know! It must have been the evil queen—” She cut herself off, clearing her throat awkwardly as I shot her a confused look. “I mean, in these kinds of princess-and-the-pauper stories, there’s always an evil queen, right?” “Liam, did you break up because her mom came to see you?” “Did she hand you a fifty-million-dollar check?” The kid’s wild imagination made me laugh. “Sorry to disappoint you.” “It was a mutual breakup. Peaceful.” Truth be told, during the three years I was with Sophia, I lived in a constant state of anxiety, waiting for her family to show up at my door. I’d imagined all sorts of scenarios: being handed a fat check, being dragged to some lavish club to be shown just how wide the gap between our worlds was. But in the five years since we parted, I never once met a single member of Sophia’s family. Even when Sophia broke up with me, it was just… quiet. We calmly finished a cup of ramen at a convenience store, walked out the door, and went in opposite directions without looking back. Our story began like the cheesiest of fairy tales. Back then, I was an intern at a soul-crushing tech giant, basically a walking zombie. Sophia had just returned to the States, launching a startup with a few friends, navigating a gauntlet of boozy client meetings and networking events. Three in the morning in New York City. A drunk-as-a-skunk Sophia was leaning against the railing by the river, letting the wind sober her up. I thought she was about to jump. I offered her a pre-packaged sandwich from a 7-Eleven. The moment her eyes met mine, I knew I’d made a ridiculous mistake. A person like her would never do something that foolish. I started to pull the sandwich back, mortified and ready to bolt. But then she let out a soft laugh and plucked it from my hand. “Thanks. My stomach was killing me.” That was the first time I saw Sophia Laurent. She was in a sharp power suit, her eyes glistening from the alcohol, but her gaze felt like a cool evening breeze off the water. And just like that, through a bizarre twist of fate, we exchanged numbers. She was always swamped, but she’d patiently listen to me rant about my boss and my dead-end job. I was busy too, but I always found time in my chaotic schedule to think about her. I thought we were just two kindred spirits, fellow wage slaves drowning in the corporate grind. It was only later that I learned our worlds were separated by an uncrossable chasm. It happened one night when my boss dragged me, the token intern, to a dinner with a bunch of lecherous old suits. When a hand landed on my ass and gave it a squeeze, I reacted on instinct. I threw my drink in the guy’s face and drove my elbow hard into his chest. The scene descended into chaos. My boss threatened my full-time offer, demanding I apologize by chugging a bottle of red wine. The creep I’d hit was screaming that he’d have me thrown in jail. Face grim, I called the cops. In the middle of the mess, I managed to answer a call from Sophia. She arrived before the police did. She stood at the entrance of the private dining room, flanked by a group of serious-looking men, and gave me a casual little wave. “A bunch of old predators playing entrapment games with a kid fresh out of college,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “Have you no shame?” “You like playing with men’s asses so much? Maybe I should get some people to give you a real good time.” The once-raucous room fell silent. I instinctively glanced at the investor who’d been screaming for compensation. His face was ashen, his eyes wide with pure terror as he stared at Sophia. That was the first time I got a real glimpse of the world she inhabited. But I was twenty-two then. I still believed love could move mountains. I dove headfirst into the river that was Sophia Laurent, armed with nothing but reckless courage. And because of that, I let myself feel so many things I never should have. The year we broke up, we were still in love. But we were exhausted by it. She’d turned down an arranged match for me. And as a result, the company she had poured her heart and soul into was destroyed. The day it was officially liquidated, I went to her office to find her. The once-bustling floor was eerily empty. There was only Sophia, standing alone before the floor-to-ceiling windows. I took a deep breath, walked up, and wrapped my arms around her from behind. She turned and collapsed into my embrace, holding me so tightly her voice was muffled and raw. “Liam… I might have nothing left after this. Are you going to regret it?” I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, then forced a lighthearted tone as I pulled back to squeeze her cheeks. “Whoever regrets it is a loser.” But I never imagined the rules of her world were so much crueler than I thought. A complete and total industry blacklist. She was so thoroughly shut out that the only job she could find was waiting tables at a stuffy French restaurant. I went to see her there. She was swimming in an ill-fitting uniform, navigating the maze of tables with a heavy tray. The hands that once flew across a keyboard now struggled to balance scalding hot plates. It was the dead of winter, the coldest it had been in years. Her hands were raw and swollen with chilblains, a painful mix of red and purple. No matter how much ointment I applied, they wouldn’t heal. I stared at those hands, my voice cracking. “Sophia, I can support you. I’ll work three jobs, four jobs, whatever it takes.” I buried my face in her stomach, desperate to hide my tears. “My Sophia… my Sophia is supposed to be the proudest woman in the world. She deserves the best of everything…” “Not this… she shouldn’t be like this…” A hand stroked my hair, again and again. Sophia’s voice trembled. “It’s okay. This will pass.” But her strength only made my own pain sharper. So sharp I couldn’t sleep for nights on end. Until one afternoon, her childhood friend found me. He was dressed in a simple black overcoat, not the arrogant rich kid I’d pictured, but more like a model straight out of a fashion magazine. “I’m not here to steal her from you,” he said, getting straight to the point. He slid his phone across the table to me. “I just think you should see who she was meant to be.” I took the phone. On the screen, a younger, brighter Sophia stood on an auditorium stage. She was in a white dress, her eyes shining as she passionately described her vision for the future. The proud, brilliant woman in the video and the woman with chilblains on her hands were two different people. Her friend’s voice was gentle, but his eyes held a calm, piercing pity. “She was meant to change the world, Liam. Not be changed by it.” He was tactful, saying no more. But watching the radiant Sophia in the video, I suddenly understood. Love can’t move mountains. Not all of them. There were some ladders I could never climb, and I couldn’t be selfish enough to drag the moon from the heavens down into the dust with me. I could shoulder any hardship myself, but I couldn’t stand by and watch the light in my Sophia get extinguished by life. I walked home that day, every step heavy with tears. When I opened the door, Sophia was kneeling by the window, watering a half-dead spider plant. The setting sun streamed through the dusty glass, stretching her shadow long across the floor. I just stood there in the doorway, watching her for a long, long time. As if trying to memorize a lifetime’s worth of her. But then she turned and smiled at me. “By next spring, it should finally flower.” Hiding in the shadows of the doorway, I spoke softly. “Sophia… maybe we should just… let this go.” The watering can in her hand froze mid-air. She set it down gently. There were no questions, no arguments. She just looked at me, her gaze steady. Then she walked over and raised a hand to my face. “This is the first time you’ve ever let me see you cry.” “Liam… am I making you this unhappy? So unhappy you can’t stand it anymore?” “Can’t we just try a little longer?” Every ounce of my strength went into fighting the urge to pull her into my arms. I didn’t even have the energy to shake my head. After a long silence, Sophia’s hand slid from my cheek. Her eyes were brimming with tears. “Okay. I’ll let you go.” I leaned against the doorframe, covering my eyes with my hand, sobbing too hard to form a single word. After that, Sophia became the moon in the sky once more. Her face was a regular feature on the covers of business magazines. I never saw her again. A sigh broke through my thoughts, right next to my ear. “Dude, a grown man crying like that is seriously weird.” I snapped back to reality, turning my head away in embarrassment to wipe my eyes. “Whose fault is that? It’s all ancient history, and you just had to make me dig it all up.” The girl, Chloe, pouted, her amber eyes darting around before she suddenly leaned in close. “Hey, Liam. Could you call my sister for me?” I looked at her, confused. She grinned, revealing two small canine teeth, her tone shamelessly righteous. “I regret running away. Call her and tell her to come pick me up.” I dialed the number. Someone picked up almost immediately, but the sound was punctuated by a few coughs. The familiar timbre of that voice made my hand tremble. But Chloe snatched the phone away. “Sis! Sis! I was wrong! Come get me, please!” There was a moment of silence on the other end, just the sound of slightly labored breathing, then a response. “Whose phone are you using?” The phone was shoved back into my hand. I automatically said, “Hello?” This time, the silence stretched even longer. It was followed by a few more suppressed coughs, then the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. “Wait for me. I’ll be there in half an hour.” The line went dead, but I stood there, stunned, for a long time. Then my phone started vibrating. A message from my boss in the work group chat, demanding a file immediately. That tiny, strange feeling in my heart was instantly forgotten. I grabbed my coat and started to leave. But Chloe, who was now happily picking out snacks, blocked my path, letting out a theatrical wail. “Liam! Don’t go! Wait for my sister to get here!” I kept my head down, replying to the messages as I fished a hundred-dollar bill from my wallet and pressed it into her hand. “I can’t, I really have to go. You just eat and wait for your sister, okay?” With that, I jogged out of the convenience store. I walked quickly towards my office building, my eyes glued to my phone as I dealt with the work emergency. Just then, a white Bentley turned onto the street, cruising slowly. The headlights made me look up instinctively. Strange. A car that understated and luxurious had a simple, slightly crooked drawing of a sunflower on the side. My feet suddenly felt heavy. When we were together, I’d spent most of my savings on a luxury bracelet for Sophia. Tucked inside the gift box, I’d cringe-inducingly placed a small card. It was blank, except for my drawing of a sunflower. Sophia had asked me what the flower meant. I’d turned red and refused to tell her. She studied that card in front of me for three whole days. Finally, worn down, I’d leaned in and whispered in her ear: “You’re my sun. You’re the most precious thing in the world to me.” She’d frozen for a second, then stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Idiot.” But the reality was, she was born a sun. She didn’t need the admiration of a weed like me to shine. We had just briefly crossed paths in the vast expanse of time. Then the sun returned to its rightful place in the sky, and I returned to my roots in the dirt.

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The Mexican Black Kingsnake I raised for five years only responded to my body heat. His favorite thing was wrapping himself around my neck, flicking his tongue against my collarbone in an affectionate display. But after returning from a two-week business trip, I suddenly heard his inner thoughts: [Hiss… that pretty lady who fed me these past few days has amazing hands. I want her to scratch my belly…] [Hiss, even the way she placed the mice was perfect.] [Snake wants to go home with her.] I laughed out of sheer anger. I called my assistant right then and there: “Get me a Hognose snake. Within ten minutes.” “And make sure it’s not stupid.” 1 The moment I pushed open the door, the smart lights illuminated the entire penthouse. Despite the exhaustion clinging to me from the trip, all I could think about was Onyx—my Mexican Black Kingsnake of five years. This little guy had a quirky temper. For five years, he would only settle down if he felt my body heat. I was busy with work and didn’t have much time for him. Usually, after a short trip, no matter how late it was, I’d let him coil around me first, feeling that faint warmth beneath his icy scales. Onyx loved wrapping around my neck, as if marking his territory. His forked tongue flickering against my collarbone felt like a silent declaration, or maybe just affection. I once thought this bond was unique to us. “Onyx, Mama’s home.” Even though I wasn’t sure if snakes understood human speech, I greeted him out of habit. I dropped my suitcase and walked toward the climate-controlled glass vivarium, my voice betraying an eagerness I hadn’t noticed. “Did you miss Mama?” Inside the glass enclosure, the snake, black as satin, moved slowly and lifted his head. His emerald eyes gleamed coldly under the lights. He slithered toward the opening, habitually reaching for my outstretched finger. Just like always. But just as his small head was about to touch my fingertip, just as I was anticipating the cool touch of his scales… A clear, unfamiliar voice rang in my ear without warning: [Hiss… the pretty lady’s technique was better. Scratching felt so good, made my whole body tingle.] My finger froze in mid-air, twitching involuntarily. Who said that? I whipped my head around. The spacious apartment was empty, save for one person and one snake. Was I hallucinating? I stared incredulously at the Black Kingsnake in front of me. He seemed confused too, tilting his black head, flicking his blue-purple tongue, hissing softly. We stared at each other. He looked innocent, as if asking why I hadn’t petted him yet. Must have… heard it wrong. I took a deep breath, suppressing my erratic heartbeat, and reached out to touch Onyx again. He dodged. He. Dodged. Me. I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. I stood frozen. What was happening? In five years, aside from being shy at the very beginning, Onyx had never avoided my touch. He knew my scent! He knew my temperature! I refused to believe it. I reached for his head again. Hiss— In a flash, Onyx’s head retracted violently. He opened his mouth wide, letting out a threatening hiss. It was a pre-strike warning. If I moved another inch, he would lunge and constrict without hesitation. [Don’t touch Snake!] [Uncomfortable.] [Dirty.] It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over me. I was chilled to the bone. 2 [Tsk, Owner is clumsy. Always shoves food in the corner, making Snake go hunt it down.] [Unlike Pretty Lady. She fed Snake right to the mouth. Just had to lift my head to bite.] [Owner’s petting technique sucks too. Sometimes pets against the scales. Almost annoyed Snake to death.] [And always kissing Snake. Smells weird. Snake doesn’t like it. Annoying.] [Miss Pretty Lady. Want Pretty Lady to scratch Snake’s belly.] The barrage of thoughts hit me, making me dizzy. Was this… Onyx’s inner monologue? The smile on my face stiffened, then vanished. Blood rushed to my head, then drained away just as fast. For this two-week trip, afraid he’d go hungry, I hired a temporary pet sitter at a high rate. Her resume was impressive, a supposed reptile enthusiast. Impressive. Yeah. Impressive indeed! I straightened up slowly, looking down at Onyx in the glass tank. He seemed to realize his aggression was inappropriate and shrank back slightly. But in those eyes—eyes I used to call the most beautiful emeralds—there was a lingering longing for that “Pretty Lady.” [Hiss… hiss… Snake misses Pretty Lady. She smells so good. Unlike Owner, too pungent…] [Snake wants to go home with Pretty Lady.] It felt like someone had chiseled a hole in my heart, the wind whistling through it. Five years of meticulous care. The climate-controlled tank alone cost me tens of thousands. I even shortened my trips because I was afraid he’d be lonely. And a two-week absence gets me “I want to go home with Pretty Lady”? The absurdity and the rage of betrayal made my heart tremble. But then, I laughed softly. I took out my phone and dialed my assistant directly. “Get me a Hognose snake. Within ten minutes.” My voice was surprisingly calm. My assistant on the other end was clearly confused. “Huh? Ms. Su, you mean… a Hognose?” “Yes, a Hognose.” I stared at Onyx, whose body had gone rigid inside the tank. I enunciated every word clearly. “I want an adult. The best specimen you can find. And—” I drew out the syllable. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Onyx poking his head out, staring at me. Fear, confusion, inquiry… He was observing me. “If it’s stupid, I don’t want it.” I hung up. The air was dead silent. I watched Onyx slowly retract his head. His voice sounded in my ear again. [Hognose? That idiot snake that plays dead when scared?] [Too dumb. Only good for being a human pet.] [But good food for Snake. Just right.] [Owner still cares about Snake. Feeding me snake instead of mice now.] The funniest part was hearing the smugness in his tone. [Must be compensation for leaving Snake alone for so long.] [Every time Owner goes on a long hunt, she brings back good stuff. All-you-can-eat mice, comfier bedding, and…] I hadn’t expected that walnut-sized brain of his to remember so much. He remembered all the good I did for him. Did that mean… there was still a chance to reconcile? A flicker of hope rose in my chest, only to be extinguished by his next thought: [Snake is willing to let Owner go hunting more often.] [That way Snake gets yummy food and gets to see Pretty Lady.] [Owner can stay gone forever. Just provide food.] … Ha. My face went cold instantly. Dream on. Too bad the good life he fantasized about was never going to happen. 3 While waiting for my assistant, I sat near the vivarium and worked. My mind wasn’t on it. I didn’t have many hobbies, but I had a natural affinity for snakes. Even as a kid at the zoo, I only wanted to see the pythons in the reptile house. Other kids cried in fear; I wanted to climb in and sleep with them. Cold-blooded animals that lay in wait, gathering strength to deliver a fatal strike. I admired that. So five years ago, when I started my business from nothing and finally became “Ms. Su,” my first gift to myself was Onyx. He was my first and only pet. I took care of him with everything I had. Even on business trips, I demanded daily reports, photos, and videos. I bought him the cleanest, most tender mice and filled his bowl with premium mineral water. And in return, he proved fickle. I slammed my laptop shut. I let out a long breath. It’s just a snake. If his heart changed, then I didn’t want him anymore. The doorbell rang. My assistant squeezed through the door, hugging a box, sweating profusely. “Ms. Su, here’s the Hognose you asked for… I bought it…” She sat on the floor, carefully placing the box down. I opened it. A beautiful yellow-and-white Hognose snake flinched, sensing the change in environment. It looked up with blood-red beady eyes, appearing very confused. My assistant caught her breath and asked, “Ms. Su, is this… food for Onyx?” She had learned a thing or two about snakes from me over the years. “But… snake eating snake… isn’t that dangerous?” “What if it hurts Onyx…” I smiled and shook my head. “It won’t.” “Huh?” The assistant was lost. I didn’t explain. I pointed to Onyx’s tank. “You know how to catch a snake, right?” “Y-yes.” “Good.” I stood up, holding the Hognose box, and winked at her. “Take Onyx out and clean the tank.” “Then put this Hognose in.” Onyx, who had lived in a luxury villa for five years, was getting evicted. 4 My assistant was stunned. She had been with me for a long time. Back when the company was just starting and the pay wasn’t great. She was a fresh grad who knew nothing but handed me her resume. I saw she was willing to work, so I kept her. She watched me raise Onyx. She knew how much I cared. She opened her mouth to ask, but seeing my face, she swallowed her words. Rule number one of being an assistant: Don’t overanalyze the boss. She gulped and walked silently to Onyx’s tank. Onyx seemed to understand. He flattened his head, his blue-purple tongue flicking out with a warning hiss. [What is Owner doing! Why not feed Snake?] [Owner must be joking. Owner never lets anyone else touch Snake.] [Snake doesn’t like this human. Go away!] [Snake wants Pretty Lady! Pretty Lady!] His thoughts were giving me a headache. If there was a mute button for Onyx, I would have pressed it. “Ms. Su… ah!” The assistant was still scared of Onyx. Her finger barely entered the tank before Onyx struck, forcing her to recoil. She didn’t dare move again. She looked like she was about to cry. “Maybe you should do it… I’m scared…” Even though I told her Black Kingsnakes are non-venomous and constrictors. Their actual bite force might be less than the Hognose in my hand. But getting bitten by an adult snake isn’t fun. “Get the spare tank from over there. I’ll grab him.” “Okay!” Relieved, she ran to get the plastic tub. I walked up to Onyx and looked down at him indifferently. Seeing me, his small black head reached up, tongue flickering. [Owner, Owner, Snake hungry…] [Why haven’t you fed me the Hognose yet…] I reached out. Like always, he wrapped dependently around my finger. But the moment I touched him, I pinched his neck, right at the “seven-inch” mark (the vital spot). Hard. [Owner!] His panicked voice exploded in my ear. His tail instinctively wrapped around my hand, squeezing tight. A final struggle. [Owner! Pain! Can’t breathe!] [Owner!] His screams elicited zero sympathy. I tossed him into the spare tank my assistant held out. The spare tank was basic. Just substrate, a plastic hide, a heat mat, and a water bowl. Onyx landed in a daze, curled up on the floor. It took him a while to lift his head, trembling. My assistant looked shocked by my roughness. “Ms. Su, th-that’s Onyx… why…” I rotated my wrist, expression calm. “When I came back, he tried to attack me.” “Five years and he’s not tame. I don’t have time to waste on him.” “If you like him, take him.” She shook her head vigorously. “No, no, I can’t afford a snake.” “Just leave him there. I need to clean this tank. Give me a hand.” “O-okay, Ms. Su!” She closed the lid on the spare tank and helped me scrub the big vivarium. Snakes are sensitive to smell. I needed to wipe away every trace of Onyx so the Hognose could settle in. The process took three hours. Occasionally, I checked on the Hognose, not sparing a glance for Onyx on the floor. But I could hear his confused thoughts: [Is Owner cleaning the house for Snake?] [Snake knew it. Owner still loves Snake.] [But Owner hurt Snake too much! Snake has a temper now. Even with good food, Snake won’t talk to Owner!] [What is Owner saying… Snake attacked her? Snake is just a snake, couldn’t control instincts.] [Besides, Snake didn’t hurt Owner.] [Owner is so petty. Snake bit Pretty Lady before, and she didn’t throw Snake away. She called Snake strong…] Onyx, the dramatic snake, decided to ignore me and slithered into the plastic hide, leaving only his tail visible. I ignored his internal drama. Once the big tank was clean, I put the Hognose inside. This snake was either stupid or incredibly chill. The moment he was in, he started exploring. And his voice was full of wonder: [Wow, is this Snake’s new home?] [So big, so majestic, love it!] [Snake saw it. Owner cleaned it herself.] [Thank you, Owner!] Those two sweet “Owners” filled me with satisfaction. And amusement. So cute. Totally different from Onyx. They say you should leave a new snake alone for three days, but I gently tapped his little head. “From now on, your name is Sunny.” His yellow pattern looked like sunlight on snow.

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While filming a survival reality show on a deserted island, the producers confiscated my phone. In a panic, I used my burner phone to text my “sugar daddy” boyfriend, Julian. “We’re screwed, hubby! My lock screen is a nude photo of you!” Julian texted back: “Vivian, you’re just a canary I keep in a cage. Don’t get delusional.” Two seconds later… “Wait, what did you say?” 1 Julian fired off messages like a machine gun. “I haven’t seen you in a month and this is the surprise you give me?” “Does it show my face? Can people tell it’s me?” [Voice Message: 60”] [Voice Message: 60”] “Go ask the production crew for the phone back. Right now.” “No, steal it back. Don’t let anyone see you.” “Forget it, I’ll steal it. I’ve never been this humiliated in my life.” “Where are you filming? Send the address.” “Hello? Speak.” I was squatting behind a pitch-black tent, staring intensely at the screen. I sent the location, but the signal bar just kept spinning. I couldn’t even receive Julian’s messages anymore. I was sweating bullets. Suddenly, the camp loudspeaker blared. “Attention! Vivian Chen has been caught with a contraband phone, violating Island Rule #1.” “Punishment: Team 3 is responsible for making tomorrow’s breakfast.” I watched, dumbfounded, as the director, wearing a ghillie suit, jumped out of the bushes. He grinned evilly. “I knew someone wasn’t playing by the rules. Gotcha, Vivian! Here’s your mission card. Meet at the beach tomorrow at 5 AM.” I took the card. A camera shoved into my face, zooming in on my guilt and forced smile. Just then, a video call started ringing loudly. I answered it in a panic. Julian’s voice was on the edge of exploding. “Hello? What kind of vacation show confiscates phones? Is this even legal?” “Why aren’t you talking? Scared now? What were you thinking setting that as your wallpaper?” The director smelled gossip. Who would I be secretly contacting at midnight? 2 The camera light was blinding, like an interrogation lamp. They were looking for any crack in my expression. The director urged me, “Vivian, rules are rules. The whole country is watching.” My acting skills are floor-level, but I had to protect my meal ticket. I straightened up, put on a polite smile, and spoke into the phone. “The dog probably peed on the bed because he misses me. Uncle Ju, just wash the sheets and remember to walk him.” Silence on the other end for two seconds. Then, a mix of shock and rage: “Vivian Chen, are you treating me like a maid? Do you know who the boss is?” My heart was trembling. I calmly ended the conversation. “Okay, I won’t keep you. I’ll be back in seven days. Bye.” Before he could respond, I hung up. Click. First time hanging up on Julian in my life. It felt… exhilarating. The director took my burner phone and left on a boat. I went back to the campsite. My two teammates looked ready to eat me alive. Kyle, a former boy band idol wearing a khaki windbreaker, asked tentatively, “Vivian, are you saying that tomorrow at 5 AM, Team 3 has to go fishing without makeup or breakfast, wearing headlamps?” I smiled at him. “Yep.” The new “IT girl” actress, Layla, wrapped in a blanket, looked pissed. “Didn’t we all hand in our phones before coming to the island? How did you get caught with one?” I smiled at her too. “I had a spare.” Layla sneered. “The rules said no phones. You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” 3 I swear on Julian’s bank account, I didn’t do it on purpose. I have a work phone and a personal phone. To please my boss, my whole persona is “lovestruck girlfriend.” I fold the wrapping paper from his gifts into origami cranes and hang them up (even though I pay someone else to fold them). Setting his photo as my wallpaper is basic. As for why it’s a nude… Well, Julian’s body is top-tier. Mature, sexy, like a professional model. Those abs, that tight waist, those powerful thighs… it’s art. As for his face, which always looks like I owe him eight million dollars… well, I cropped that out. But Layla obviously didn’t believe me. She was already mad about not being able to go back to the hotel. Now that the cameras were off, her disgust was unrestrained. “I don’t know why resource-hogs like you come on these survival shows. You just cause trouble. Go do it yourself.” 4 Seven years in the industry, I was used to the shade. I didn’t get mad. I smiled. “Can’t help it. Too much business to handle, I forget things.” Layla rolled her eyes. “What are you so proud of? You just have a pretty face. Once Julian gets bored of you, you’ll be nothing.” Kyle was brutally honest. “Vivian, let’s keep our distance. I’m trying to be relatable, I don’t want to get dragged.” They went into their tents, treating me like the plague. They weren’t wrong. Most people in the industry knew Julian was my sugar daddy. Thanks to him, I was acting alongside Oscar-winner Rainie Yu before I even graduated high school. After that, I was in blockbuster after blockbuster. Seven years, non-stop resources. And non-stop hate. An old interview clip of 15-year-old me saying “I want to be a Movie Queen” became a meme. “Movie Queen” became my ironic nickname. My acting was constantly roasted. I didn’t even want to be a serious actress. With my face and Julian’s backing, I could have coasted on variety shows and sweet dramas. But I took this hardcore survival show. Why? Because Julian’s “white moonlight”—his first love—came back last month. Rainie Yu returned after sweeping the international awards. He couldn’t wait to throw all his resources at her. He had no time for his canary. I just wanted to make some extra cash on the side. Who knew I’d screw up on day one? When the director collected phones, my manager handed over the one on the table without thinking. When I realized the phone in my pocket was my personal one, I froze. Because that phone—the one with Julian’s contact info—had a wallpaper of his naked side profile. One night, Julian got a business call and answered it standing by the bed, not bothering to put on a robe. He argued in fluent English, waking me up. I was grumpy, so I took dozens of photos of his waist. The camera panned up, and Julian’s phoenix eyes stared at me, half-smiling. He allowed me to sneak photos. He even let me sit on his lap while he was on the call, making me hold the phone to test the image stabilization. Afterward, he gripped my ankle and whispered, “Who are you going to show off to? Hmm?” “Vivian, canaries should stay in their cages. Don’t cross the line, understand?” I cried and begged for mercy. Since then, I only dared to keep the photos for myself. I never thought there would be a day when these photos faced the threat of public exposure…

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After five years of marriage, Tristan and I went from being the perfect couple to bitter enemies. The year we wanted each other dead, he choked me, cursing me for being barren as karma for my “evil deeds.” I smashed a teapot over his head, screaming that he deserved to bury the woman he loved. He locked me in the house; I strangled him with his own vows. We were locked in a death spiral. Until a stray arrow flew straight for my heart. Without hesitation, he blocked it for me, smiling as he died. “Now, I don’t owe you anything.” But idiots like him don’t know how to block arrows properly. The arrow went through him and killed me too. Two for the price of one. When I opened my eyes, I was sixteen again, vibrant and full of life. This time, he went North to find his true love, and I went South to protect my family. We were supposed to be strangers. But Tristan… he regretted it. 1 “Miss Sarah, bad news. Tristan is kneeling in the front hall. He’s begging… begging to break off the engagement. Your father wants to see you.” Looking in the bronze mirror, my sixteen-year-old face was smooth, radiant, and untouched by the years of bitterness and gray hairs from my past life in that gilded cage. It’s true. I’ve been reborn. “Fine! I agree to break the engagement!” Tristan whipped his head around, disbelief written all over his face. “Really?” “Really!” Seventeen-year-old Tristan was dashing and proud. Even kneeling, his back was straight, his confidence unshaken. “So from now on, we go our separate ways? Sarah Bennett and Tristan Cole have nothing to do with each other?” The gentle breeze blew pear blossoms like rain, highlighting the determination on his face. “Agreed!” I answered so quickly that Tristan was left speechless. In our past life, resentment and unwillingness kept us rotting together for a decade. In this life, he let go, and I was set free. Everything ended on this flower-strewn afternoon. My father was furious, smashing a blue porcelain cup. “You’re foolish! The wedding is imminent. How can you let him break it off? Think of your reputation! Your future!” My brother kicked the door open, blood on his lip, eyes blazing. “Bullying my sister? Does he think the Bennetts are pushovers?” “I chased him for three miles and beat him bloody.” “Sarah, just say the word. Even if he runs to Chicago, I’ll drag him back to the altar!” So, Tristan was in a rush to break the engagement to go find his true love in Chicago. She was the love of his life, and the arsonist of my marriage. 2 In my previous life, Tristan and I were married for thirteen years, but we spent eight of them as enemies. We went from lovers to enemies because of one woman: Emma. Tristan saved her from bandits in Chicago and brought her home. There were many ways to repay a debt, but Tristan insisted on making her his concubine. She went through the standard procedures—morning greetings, serving tea to the main wife. None of it was malicious, but she felt I was humiliating her. “You’ll regret this!” she screamed before running away. When we found her, she was a bloated corpse in the moat. Tristan went hysterical, accusing me of driving his savior to suicide. I was full of grievances, accusing him of being blinded by love and manipulated by petty tricks. That night, we had our worst fight. He accidentally pushed me down the stairs. My three-month-old baby turned into a pool of blood, dissolving our childhood friendship and three years of marriage. It also took away my ability to ever be a mother again. My father forced him to swear an oath: even if I remained childless, he could never take another woman without my permission. Tristan kept his word. He brought no one into the house. Instead, he kept a mistress in the city, rarely coming home. I wouldn’t be outdone. I kept a gigolo in the North District, drinking and singing my days away. Until his mistress got pregnant and started provoking me. Her carriage charged at me on the street, trampling the only thing I loved—my dog—to death. Before I could slap her, Tristan caught my hand. He shielded her, eyes red. “Hit me if you have to. I bought her the carriage.” “It’s just a dog. I’ll buy you ten more.” The woman, who looked exactly like Emma, hugged his arm and wept. “I didn’t mean to. If Sister hates me so much, I’ll pay with my life.” So I granted her wish. 3 I slapped Tristan twice, bloodying his face. While the woman ran upstairs to the tea room, I drew a sword and pointed it at her. She was so scared she fell down the stairs. One corpse, two lives. That night, Tristan stormed into my courtyard like a madman and choked me. “She’s dead, the baby is dead. Are you happy now?” Suffocating, I felt like a dying fish. But seeing his pain gave me a twisted pleasure. “It was just a mistress I bought for five hundred silver. I’ll pay you two thousand.” Tristan’s hands trembled. He spat venomous words. “You did it on purpose? You’re evil. No wonder you’re barren. It’s your karma.” My resolve shattered. Hatred burned inside me. I grabbed a pot of hot tea and smashed it over his head. “You deserved it too! Always burying the women you love.” The people closest to you know where to stab to hurt the most. He stumbled, clutching his bleeding head, roaring in disbelief. “You want me dead over a gigolo?” “Didn’t you want me dead over a dancer?” “You loved him? You slept with him?” he asked, incredulous. I laughed, gasping for air. “Your mistress was pregnant. Why should I stay chaste for you?” Shock cracked his expression. He staggered away, locking the courtyard gates, intending to imprison me until I died. We fought until the capital fell into chaos. A stray arrow flew toward me. Tristan blocked it, smiling as he died. “Now, I don’t owe you anything.” But the idiot didn’t know how to block an arrow properly. It went through him and killed me too. I died behind him and woke up today. The rain beat against the banana leaves. I arranged flowers and told my story calmly, as if it were someone else’s. But every word was thunder to my father and brother. My father turned pale, speechless. My brother crushed a teacup, eyes red. “I treated him like a brother! How dare he… how dare he do this to you!” “Since he treated you like this, why didn’t I kill him?” My nose stung. Tears fell as I looked at them. “Because Father and Brother… were already gone!” 4 Thunder tore through the peaceful April sky. My mother died in childbirth with me and my twin brother. My father raised us alone, struggling every step of the way. He finally rose to power, becoming the tutor to the Princes. But party politics dragged him down. He was framed by his favorite student, the Third Prince. A forged letter condemned my father and the Fifth Prince for treason. The Emperor washed the capital with blood. The rain at the execution ground was heavy, washing away my father and brother in the blink of an eye. For the rest of my life, I lived in that cold rain, never standing straight again. The capital’s wealth is blinding, but in this life, I just want my family to live. “The hydrangeas in Charleston are blooming. Father, shall we go home?” My father aged instantly, wrinkles carving into his face. He couldn’t look away from me. “If I were gone, my Sarah would suffer so much.” Ambition and legacy meant nothing compared to flesh and blood. My father loved me more than his career. He burned the stack of forged letters from the Third Prince. The dream ended. “I’m old. It’s time to retire. Why not accompany Sarah to enjoy the mountains and rivers?” My brother smiled, pretending to be relaxed. “Charleston is nice. And Cousin Luke is even better.”

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My father’s old friend had entrusted his daughter to our family. Her name was Isabella, and she was a whirlwind of social energy, the polar opposite of me—the quiet, studious girl who only knew how to bury her nose in books. My father doted on her as if she were his own. My brothers chauffeured her to every trendy, Instagrammable spot in town and showered her with the latest gadgets. Even my boyfriend, Sean, the campus heartthrob, would only half-heartedly complain about how clingy and overly affectionate she was. But I saw the way his eyes would drift toward her during every club meeting. It all came to a head at the annual University Gala, when the duet I was supposed to sing with him was suddenly replaced by a four-hand piano piece he was performing with her. I stared down at the program in my hands, my name neatly crossed out. “We’re done,” I said, my voice calm. 1 Sean’s hand froze mid-air. He stared at me, dumbfounded. Before he could even form a word, Isabella, standing just behind him in a white tulle dress that perfectly matched the one I had picked out for our performance, started to tear up. “Joanna, please don’t be mad at Sean,” she sniffled, her eyes welling up. “It’s… it’s my fault. I just wanted to perform at the Gala so badly, and Sean only agreed because he felt sorry for me…” I ignored her, my gaze fixed on Sean. “I said, we’re over.” Sean’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Joanna, stop making a scene. It’s just one song. Is it really that big of a deal?” “Bella is new here, and it’s her first Gala. What’s wrong with me, as an upperclassman, helping her out?” he said, his voice rising. “I know you can be boring and quiet, but since when did you become so petty?” I looked at him, said nothing more, and walked off the stage. The auditorium was buzzing with noise; no one in the roaring crowd noticed the small drama unfolding in the wings. I tossed the obsolete program into a trash can and walked out of the building, pulling out my phone to send Sean one last message. I wasn’t asking. I was telling you. We’re broken up. When I got home, the living room was ablaze with light. My father, my older brother Chris, and my middle brother Mark were all gathered around the TV with Isabella, watching a live stream of the Gala. On screen, Sean and Isabella were playing their piano duet. The melody was beautiful, and I had to admit, they looked good together. “Wow, our Bella is just so talented! That was incredible!” Chris was the first to applaud. “Yeah, a lot better than some people who just mope around with their books all day,” Mark added, shooting a pointed look in my direction. My father’s gaze shifted from the screen to me, cold and appraising. “Why didn’t you come home with Sean?” I slipped off my shoes, my voice flat. “We broke up.” The room fell silent. Isabella was the first to her feet, rushing over to me with tears streaming down her face. “Joanna, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault! Please don’t break up with Sean… I’ll go explain everything to him right now!” My father’s face darkened, and he struck the floor with his cane. “Enough of this nonsense! Joanna, you’re an adult. Why are you being so childish?” “Isabella is your guest, practically a little sister. Sean was right to look out for her. As the older sister, you should be gracious, not throwing a tantrum over something so trivial. Where are your manners?” I lifted my head and met his gaze, my own expression unreadable. “My manners? My mother taught me one thing before she died: never let anyone make you feel small.” With that, I turned and walked upstairs to my room to pack. A few minutes later, my door creaked open. Chris was leaning against the frame, a smirk on his face. “What’s this, Joanna? Running away from home? You think you’re three years old again?” I continued folding my clothes into a suitcase, ignoring him. “Alright, that’s enough. Go downstairs, apologize to Dad, and we can all forget this happened,” he said, his tone condescending. “Bella is a guest, and she’s the daughter of Dad’s dear friend. We’re supposed to treat her well. Why can’t you just accept her?” “It’s not her I can’t accept.” I paused, looking up at him. “It’s all of you.” The smirk vanished from his face. I zipped up my suitcase and walked past him without another word. Downstairs, Mark blocked my path to the door. “Joanna, what is wrong with you? Do you really have to make everything so ugly?” I glanced at him, then at my father, whose face was a thundercloud on the sofa, and finally at Isabella, who was weeping silently beside him. “I’m tired,” I said. “I’m tired of playing the part of the understanding, generous, and mature daughter and sister. I’m done.” I pushed past Mark, pulled the front door open, and walked out into the night without looking back. Behind me, I heard my father’s furious roar. “If you walk out that door today, don’t you ever bother coming back!” I didn’t break my stride, disappearing into the darkness. They all thought I was just throwing a fit. They thought I’d come crawling back as soon as I ran out of money and had nowhere to stay. They had seriously miscalculated. 2 I took a taxi to a luxury high-rise and rode the elevator to the penthouse apartment. The door unlocked with my fingerprint. It was an eighteenth birthday present from my mother. “My sweet Joanna,” she had said, “I want you to always have your own strength, your own way out.” No one knew about this place but her and me. I dropped my suitcase, poured myself a glass of water, and stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out at the glittering cityscape. My phone had been vibrating nonstop in my pocket. I pulled it out. Missed calls from my father, my brothers, and dozens from Sean. I switched it to airplane mode, cutting them all off. The next morning, I went to the university’s administrative office to change my status from a resident student to a commuter. My academic advisor was surprised but approved the request. As I was leaving her office, I ran straight into Sean. He looked like he hadn’t slept. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and he was still wearing yesterday’s wrinkled suit. The moment he saw me, he lunged forward and grabbed my wrist. “Joanna, why weren’t you answering my calls? Do you have any idea how worried I was? I’ve been looking for you all night!” he yelled, his voice laced with suppressed fury. Students in the hallway turned to stare. I tried to wrench my arm free, but his grip only tightened. “What the hell is your problem? There’s nothing going on between me and Isabella! I just felt sorry for her. She’s new, she doesn’t have any friends… she was all alone!” “I already yelled at her, and she knows she was wrong. Just come back with me so we can talk this out. Please, let’s not break up.” I looked at him and almost laughed. “Sean, you think Isabella is the problem here?” He stared at me, confused. “Isn’t she?” “The problem is that you chose her over me,” I said, my voice cold and steady. “You gave away the performance I spent two months preparing. And when I needed you to have my back, you called me boring and petty. So, no. We’re finished.” Sean looked lost, wanting to say something, anything, to fix it, but the words wouldn’t come. “Joanna… I…” “Let her go.” A cool, level voice cut in from the side. We both turned. It was Gavin Prescott. He was a big deal on campus—Student Council President and heir to a ridiculously powerful family. He was half a head taller than Sean, and his brow was slightly furrowed as he looked at Sean’s hand clamped around my wrist. Sean obviously knew who he was. His face darkened, but he refused to let go. “This is between my girlfriend and me. It has nothing to do with you.” Gavin didn’t reply immediately. His gaze met mine for a second, calm but so perceptive it felt like he could see right through the tough exterior I was trying to maintain. Then he turned back to Sean, and his expression turned to ice, laced with contempt. He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture. He dangled the phone casually. “Tsk, tsk. Fresh material for the campus gossip forum, don’t you think? ‘Campus Heartthrob Gets Physical with Ex.’ I’m sure they’d love a post about the guy who can only solve relationship problems with brute force.” Sean’s face went from dark to crimson. He shot me a venomous glare before finally, reluctantly, releasing my wrist. “You’ll regret this, Joanna!” he spat, then stormed off. I rubbed my reddened skin and murmured a thank you to Gavin. He pocketed his phone, his eyes lingering on my face for a moment. “That was a sudden partner swap for your performance yesterday.” I nodded, offering a brittle smile. “Yeah, it was a real surprise.” He didn’t press for details. “Be safe, living off-campus by yourself,” was all he said before turning and walking away, leaving me with the image of his tall, straight back. I watched him go, a strange feeling stirring in my chest. We barely knew each other, having only spoken a few times in project meetings, yet he kept stepping in to help me. He was a man who lived in the clouds, yet somehow, he didn’t feel as distant as I’d always imagined. 3 With no classes in the afternoon, I went to a bank downtown. I had two accounts. One was a supplementary credit card my father gave me, where he deposited my monthly allowance. The other was from my mother. Just as I walked into the VIP wealth management office, the bank manager called. “Miss Vance, your father just called to freeze your supplementary credit card, the one ending in 8888.” I wasn’t surprised. It was his classic move—cut off my finances, assuming I’d come crawling back. “I know.” “And the other account?” The manager’s tone became instantly deferential. “Miss Vance, the platinum card your mother left you has the highest level of security. No one but you can access it. The current balance is…” He quoted a number with so many zeroes I could live comfortably for the rest of my life. “Okay, thank you.” After the call, I transferred a large sum from the platinum card to my regular savings account. Walking out of the bank, I saw a text from my brother, Mark. Dad canceled your card. If you’re out of money, just come home and apologize. Don’t be so stubborn. So annoying. That evening, Isabella sent me a message on WhatsApp. Joanna, please don’t be angry with your dad and brothers. They’re just worried about you. Where are you now? I can ask Sean to come and pick you up, okay? Attached was a photo. It was our living room. The four of them—my father, my brothers, and her—were sitting together eating fruit, looking for all the world like a happy family. Isabella was snuggled up next to my father, beaming. On the coffee table was an open gift box containing the newest model of a gaming console. The one Chris had promised to buy for me a few days ago. Now, it belonged to Isabella. A small, bitter smile touched my lips. I typed back a reply: Thanks, but no thanks. The next day, I went to class as usual. The moment I walked into the lecture hall, the atmosphere felt… off. Everyone was looking at me with strange expressions. My deskmate, a girl I was friendly with, leaned over hesitantly. “Joanna… have you seen the campus forum?” I pulled out my phone and opened the app. A trending post with a blazing red title jumped out at me. MASSIVE DRAMA! Joanna Vance Dumps Campus Heartthrob and Storms Out of Family Home in Jealous Rage Over New Girl! The post gave a dramatic, blow-by-blow account of the events at the Gala, painting me as a jealous, petty, and unreasonable villain. Isabella was the innocent, pitiful, and lovable victim. And Sean? He was the noble “good guy,” willing to risk his girlfriend’s wrath to help a family friend in need. The post included several photos. One of Isabella crying backstage, her face a mask of sorrow. One of Sean, looking frantic, on the phone. And one of me, my back to the camera, walking away with a cold, indifferent posture. The angle was perfect, making me look utterly heartless. The comments section was already a warzone, with hundreds of replies. “I always knew Joanna Vance was stuck-up. Turns out she’s a monster in private.” “Damn, poor Sean. He really dodged a bullet with that one.” “I feel so bad for Isabella. She just got here and she’s already being bullied.” “I heard she’s living with the Vance family. That’s gotta be awkward now. Joanna’s probably making her life hell.” My deskmate whispered, “Joanna, maybe you should post a reply? You can’t just let them say all this stuff about you.” My nails dug into my palms. For a second, I wanted to find whoever wrote that post and tear them apart for twisting the truth. But the surge of rage quickly faded, leaving behind a numb, hollow wasteland. I put my phone away, my voice flat. “There’s nothing to explain.” The truth didn’t matter. People would only believe what they wanted to believe. And I had a pretty good idea who was behind the post. Who else would have those perfectly timed, “candid” photos but Isabella herself? 4 The story spread like wildfire. By the afternoon, my reputation as the campus “ice queen bitch” was cemented. Everywhere I went, I felt eyes on me, heard whispers behind my back. Students who used to greet me now actively avoided me. One of Sean’s friends even had the nerve to walk up to me and say, “You know, Joanna, you shouldn’t be so selfish. Learn to forgive and forget.” I couldn’t be bothered with these flies. It was Gavin who surprised me. I ran into him again outside the library, and he actually asked, “That forum post. Do you need help getting it taken down?” His tone was as neutral as ever, but I could hear a hint of concern. “No, it’s fine. Let the clowns have their circus.” He gave me a long, searching look but didn’t push it. “By the way,” he said, changing the subject, “I’m putting together a project team for a thesis on the ‘Digital Preservation of Urban Cultural Heritage.’ I still need someone to lead data consolidation and analysis. Are you interested?” I was taken aback. I knew about the project; it was a major university-backed initiative, and only the top students from each department were invited to join. “Why me?” “Because you have the best grades and the clearest analytical mind,” Gavin said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve read all your past papers and reports.” I never imagined he would have paid any attention to my work. “Okay,” I said. “I’m in.” I needed something to distract me, something to pour my energy into. This project was the perfect opportunity. The following weeks were a blur of library sessions and project meetings. My father and brothers, realizing their cold shoulder treatment wasn’t working, switched tactics. Chris started spamming his social media with pictures of him and Isabella. One day they were at Disneyland, the next they were skiing, and the day after that they were on a flight to some tropical island. His captions were always the same: “So glad to have a sister. A man with a sister is a king.” Mark was more direct. He changed his profile picture to a smiling selfie of himself and Isabella. They thought this would make me jealous, make me regret leaving. I simply muted their accounts. Eye-roll. Then, one afternoon, I got a frantic call from our family’s housekeeper, Mrs. Gable. “Miss Joanna, you have to come back, quickly! The piano… the one your mother left you… your father is giving it away!” My world screeched to a halt. That piano was a gift from my mother for my tenth birthday. It was one of the few, precious things I had left of her. I hung up and hailed the first taxi I saw, my heart pounding in my chest the entire way home. When I arrived, I saw movers carrying the white grand piano out of the house. In that instant, all the blood rushed to my head. My eyes burned, but I clenched my jaw, refusing to let the tears fall. Isabella was standing nearby, directing them with a look of faux concern. “Careful now, don’t scratch it… it’s very valuable…” She saw me and flinched, a flicker of panic in her eyes, before quickly composing her face back into its usual angelic mask. “Joanna, you’re back! Your father said you don’t play this piano anymore, and it was just taking up space. A friend of mine who studies music really needs one, so…” “Put it down. Now.” My voice was low and dangerous. The movers hesitated, looking at each other. Isabella bit her lip, her eyes filling with tears again. “Joanna, please don’t be like this… I know it belonged to your mother, but what’s the point of having something if it’s not being used? Isn’t it better for it to go somewhere it can be appreciated?” Her twisted logic was exactly what Sean had used when he’d stolen my duet. “Appreciated?” I let out a cold laugh. “Its value,” I said, my voice dripping with ice, “is that someone like you is unworthy of even touching it.” I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. “Hello? I’d like to report a break-in and theft of private property.” The color drained from Isabella’s face. “Joanna, you… you can’t call the police! This is our family home!” “This is my house,” I corrected her. “The deed is in my name. All of you are just guests here.” I stared directly at her. “And that includes you, Isabella. You’re not even a guest. You’re just an intruder.” Before she could argue, my father and brothers rushed out, drawn by the commotion. Just then, a police cruiser pulled up, its lights flashing. Responding to a theft in this wealthy neighborhood was a top priority. My father saw the police car and his face went black with fury. “Joanna! Are you insane? Why did you call the police?! Un-call them right now! You don’t waste their time with family squabbles!” I ignored him and spoke directly to the officer. “Officer, this piano was a legacy from my late mother. It’s worth over a million dollars. These people are attempting to remove and sell it without my permission.” The officer’s demeanor immediately turned serious. He began questioning my father and Isabella. My father was trembling with rage. “You ungrateful child!” he screamed, pointing a shaking finger at me. “I am your father! I don’t need your permission to get rid of a piece of furniture!” “You do,” I said calmly. “Because it was my mother’s. And you have no right to touch anything in this house that belonged to her. In fact,” I added, my voice ringing with cold finality, “I am now officially informing all of you that I want you out of my house. You have one week.”

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A video of a 6’2” finance bro holding his 5’2” “work wife” while skiing in Aspen went viral on TikTok. At the time, I was still recovering from my C-section. My night nurse, Brenda, asked me, “Are you going to divorce him?” I shook my head. “He’s rich. I can’t bring myself to leave the money.” Then, I renewed her contract to keep taking care of my daughter, signed up for a luxury postpartum Pilates course, bought a $4,000 massage chair, got a facial, a fresh set of acrylics… and bought a condo in the building next door, paid in full, in my daughter’s name. Every cent came from my cheating husband, who was supposedly “on a business trip.” 1 A video of a tall, wealthy, handsome man carrying a petite woman down the slopes in Aspen blew up online. The comments section was going feral. “Where do I find a 6-foot-2 king to carry me like a backpack?” Someone replied, “That comes with the package. You have to bring your own.” My eyes were red and swollen as I scrolled through the comments. Most people were saying how envious they were of such a strong, romantic boyfriend. I gritted my teeth, tears streaming down my face, and commented under the video: “The man with the boyfriend energy is my husband.” “And right now, while I’m sitting at home recovering from childbirth, he’s carrying another woman down a mountain.” Within two hours, my comment was the top-rated one. Immediately after, I got a call from Jason. His voice was frantic. “Chloe, don’t overthink it. She’s just a colleague who came on the business trip.” “She said she didn’t know how to ski but wanted to experience it, so I just helped her out. That’s it!” “We really don’t have that kind of relationship, I swear!” I let out a cold laugh. “Right. You have no relationship. So why is she kissing your cheek in the video?” Jason’s explanation turned into word salad. “I… I don’t know! I was surprised too!” “She said she got carried away in the moment. Look… I can’t exactly go confront a young girl about something so small, can I?” “Besides, she’s the one who loses out in that situation, not me. If I make a big deal out of it, I look like a jerk who got a freebie and complained about it.” Okay, great. So, while I’m stuck at home with stitches and a newborn, he’s holding another woman, getting kissed, and apparently, he’s the one who scored a deal? What a bargain. His wife is suffering through postpartum recovery, and he’s living a romance novel. He must feel like he won the lottery. 2 I wanted to scream, but Brenda, our night nurse, walked over holding the baby. Lily was hungry. I had no choice but to hang up and feed her. I decided to shelf the issue until Jason got back from his “business trip.” Right now, my priority was healing. The trip, originally scheduled for two weeks, dragged on for a month. By the time Jason dragged his Rimowa suitcase through the door, I was physically recovered enough to walk around. As soon as he walked in, he saw Brenda busy in the kitchen and me in the living room with the baby. He didn’t rush over to see his daughter. Instead, he walked quickly to me and lowered his voice. “Why is Brenda still here? I thought we only hired her for the first four weeks?” I pushed him away. “Yeah, I extended her contract.” It was laughable. I birthed his child, I was suffering at home, and he was out playing playboy in the snow. And he had the nerve to police my spending? “Chloe, do you know how expensive a private night nurse is?” I nodded. “Six thousand a month. I’m aware.” He hissed through his teeth. “You know the price and you still kept her? Do you not know our financial situation?” Oh, I knew. Jason was a sales manager at a tech firm. His base and commission brought in anywhere from $400k to $700k a year. When we got married, our parents chipped in to buy our house in the suburbs, cash. No mortgage. We both had cars bought before the wedding. No debt. High income. And yet, Jason and I lived like we were on the poverty line. He always said, “Let’s spend less now so we can leave more for the kids later.” I was stupid back then. I believed his ghost stories. My quality of life tanked. I gave up my hobbies, my shopping, all to save pennies. But I was done saving. Money earned by a husband is meant to be spent by the wife. If he didn’t want me spending it, I was going to spend it twice as hard. 3 We were still arguing when Brenda walked out of the kitchen with dinner. Seeing Jason gripping my wrist, she gasped and wedged herself between us. She rubbed my wrist with her large, warm hands, then glared at Jason. “Mr. Miller, how could you use so much force? Look, you’ve left a red mark on Chloe!” Jason looked at my wrist, saw the redness, and reached out awkwardly to rub it, but Brenda swatted his hand away. Brenda had seen the viral video ages ago. She had tried to comfort me, saying maybe he lost a bet and it was a punishment. She told me, “New mothers can’t cry. You’ll ruin your eyesight.” She had told me horror stories about a past client who cried too much and needed glasses afterward. She scared my tears back into my tear ducts. But seeing Jason in the flesh, Brenda was clearly furious. She helped me to the table and handed me chopsticks. Jason sat next to me and started eating. Not five minutes later, his phone rang. He answered, listened, and frowned. He looked at me sheepishly. “Uh, Chloe. A colleague is in a bit of a jam. They need my help. Do you mind if I…” “Go, go! Hurry up! Leaving in the middle of dinner? Must be a life-or-death emergency!” Before I could speak, Brenda stood up and started shooing him away. “Chloe, I… it’s not like that. It’s just… my friend was driving back and her tire blew out.” “Well, that’s a puzzle,” I said. “When a tire blows out, you call AAA. Why is she calling you? Did you moonlight as a mechanic and forget to tell me?” Jason’s face darkened. “Brenda is right. Jason, when did you switch careers?” 4 Jason’s face went from red to green. He looked at us, then at his phone. Eventually, he sat back down and kept eating, furiously typing on his phone. Probably texting her that he couldn’t come. Two bites later, the phone rang again. I don’t know if it was accidental or intentional, but he put it on speaker. A weeping female voice filled the room. “Jason, when are you coming? There are so many cars whizzing by, I’m scared!” Before Jason could speak, I leaned toward the phone. “Jason isn’t a mechanic. If you have a flat, call a tow truck. If you don’t know how, I can teach you. Open Google Maps, search for…” “Chloe, that is enough!” Jason snapped. “Kenzie is fresh out of college. It’s normal to be scared when you get a flat on the highway. Do you have to be so sarcastic?” He glanced at Brenda playing with the baby, then sneered at me. “I’m just going to help a colleague. You two are acting like I’m committing a crime. Is it necessary?” He threw his chopsticks down, grabbed his jacket, and stormed out. As he left, he cooed into the phone, “Don’t be scared, I’m on my way. Stand behind the guardrail, don’t stand in traffic like an idiot.” The door slammed shut. My tears finally broke the dam. Brenda looked at the closed door, then at my wet face, and sighed heavily. “Whether you keep this man is up to you. But if it were my daughter, I’d tell her to kick him to the curb.”

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The moment I was reborn, I signed the divorce papers my wife threw at me. The man my wife, Isabella, had been keeping on the side was exposed. To save him from the infamy of being a homewrecker, she came to me, divorce agreement in hand, begging. “Dina died saving my life. Jerry is her only brother. I can’t just abandon him. Can’t you be the bigger person here?” Years ago, Isabella was targeted by a business rival. Her car was tampered with, and as it spun out of control, her best friend, Dina, lunged for the steering wheel, turning it just enough to save Isabella’s life. Isabella walked away without a scratch. Dina died from her injuries, but not before making Isabella promise to look after her younger brother, Jerry. In my past life, when I learned she was willing to sacrifice me for Jerry, I broke. I tore the divorce papers to shreds. But it didn’t matter. I was diagnosed with stomach cancer. I was ready to let her go, to let myself go. But then Jerry whispered one poisonous sentence in her ear: “Do you think Adrian is just doing this to torment you, Isabella?” That was all it took. She became convinced I was faking my illness, that it was all a manipulative ploy to win her back. To escape the media pressure, she framed me for cheating, accused me of sexually assaulting an intern, and sued for divorce. Hopeless, I ended my own life ahead of schedule. 1 “Adrian, we’ll tell the public that we planned to divorce a year ago. It was just… postponed for various reasons.” I was staring into a glass of water in a quiet restaurant when Isabella’s voice cut through my thoughts. Just a day earlier, the tabloids had exploded with evidence suggesting Jerry was Isabella’s kept man. The word “mistress”—or in his case, the male equivalent—unleashed a torrent of public outrage against him. Isabella Thorne, the formidable CEO of Thorne Industries, was branded an adulterer. Her reputation for a chaotic private life sent the company’s stock into a nosedive overnight. In my last life, I’d laughed when the news first broke, scoffing at how easily the public could be misled by a few out-of-context photos. That laughter died on my lips the moment Isabella presented me with the divorce papers. The irony was a bitter pill to swallow. I had screamed at her, demanding to know the truth about her and Jerry. If they were just rumors, there were a million ways to handle it. But she chose the one that threw me to the wolves. She claimed I had cheated first, that my incompetence had driven her to seek comfort elsewhere. “Adrian.” Isabella’s voice pulled me back to the present. “Trust me, this is just temporary. Once this all blows over, we’ll get remarried.” I slowly lifted my head, my gaze falling on the document sitting on the table between us. “Adrian, when this is over, I’ll make it up to you, I promise. How about that new sports car you wanted? I’ll buy it for you.” She moved closer, wrapping her arms around me in a practiced, wheedling gesture. Her eyes were wide with supplication, her voice a low, coaxing murmur. I remained silent. Standing just beside her, Jerry’s face was deathly pale. “Adrian, please, will you help me?” he pleaded. “I’m an orphan. My sister is gone. I have no one else. I don’t know who else to turn to. Please, Adrian.” With that, he made a show of bending his knees, preparing to kneel. Isabella moved like lightning, catching him, pulling him into a protective embrace. “What are you doing? A man does not kneel so easily!” she hissed at him, but her eyes, flashing with impatience, were on me. “I’ve already made my decision. I expect your full cooperation at the press conference tomorrow. Otherwise—” “I’ll sign.” I cut her off, tired of their disingenuous theatrics. And of course, I knew what her “otherwise” entailed. In my last life, not long after I tore up the papers, I was framed for assaulting an intern. “Proof” of my infidelity was leaked. Overnight, I went from the victim to a reviled pariah. And they, the ones truly at fault, walked away clean. 2 Isabella froze, clearly not expecting me to agree so quickly. “I’ll sign,” I repeated. “But I need you to promise me one thing.” I looked up at her, my expression as placid as still water. A complex emotion flickered across her face before she gave a curt nod. “You can ask for anything else, too. I’ll do my best to give you whatever you want.” I didn’t say another word. I picked up the pen, flipped to the last page of the agreement, and signed Adrian Vance with a clean, decisive stroke. “Aren’t you going to read it?” Isabella’s brow furrowed in confusion, her gaze fixed on me. I offered a faint smile. “No need. It’s pointless.” I capped the pen and pushed the document across the table to her. “Is there anything else?” My tone was as casual as if we were discussing the weather. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning to go to the courthouse.” I gave a slight nod but said nothing. Isabella’s eyes held a storm of emotions I couldn’t decipher, but in the end, she just sighed and turned to leave. Jerry trailed behind her. As he pulled the door open, he paused and glanced back at me over his shoulder. A mocking smirk twisted his lips. Then, with deliberate slowness, he mouthed three silent words. I. Won. Again. Then he was gone. In my last life, he was right. He won, and I lost everything. But this time, I had no intention of losing. Not a single thing. A while later, my phone lit up with a text from our mutual friend, Leo. “Dude, Isabella told me what’s happening. I know she’s in the wrong here.” “But you know how long it took her to get over Dina’s death. She’s channeling all her guilt into taking care of Jerry.” “She told me that once the dust settles, she wants to throw another huge wedding for you two. Just trust her, okay?” I let out a hollow laugh, a tear stinging the corner of my eye. It was just like last time. Isabella, desperate for me to sign, had roped her friends into her scheme. But she’d forgotten one crucial detail: her friends were also my friends. Leo couldn’t stand to see a love like ours crumble. He was stuck in the middle, trying to play peacemaker. He’d plead with Isabella not to throw her marriage away for Jerry, then turn around and tell me what a loyal, caring person she was, begging me to trust her. “If Dina hadn’t shielded her with her own body, Isabella wouldn’t be alive today,” he’d said. Back then, I had argued stubbornly. “She puts Jerry first in everything, and I get it. I know she feels guilty, so I’ve tried to be understanding. But there are a million ways to handle this, and she chose to sacrifice me—to sacrifice twelve years of our life together.” Leo had no answer for that. He’d once asked Isabella the same thing. Her reply was devastating. “Someone has to be the one to get hurt. It has to be Adrian. He loves me. He’ll understand why I have no other choice.” Because I loved her, I was the one who had to be sacrificed? What kind of logic was that? Thank God, this time, I still had a chance to change the outcome. 3 When it came to Jerry, Isabella was ruthlessly efficient. She got the signed agreement from me one day and scheduled a press conference for the very next morning. I was sitting in the garden when our housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, led Isabella’s assistant to me. “Mr. Vance,” she said, her tone professionally crisp, “Ms. Thorne sent me to escort you to the press conference for Thorne Industries.” Before I could answer, she must have assumed I was going to refuse, because she recited Isabella’s own words verbatim. “Mr. Vance, even if not for Ms. Thorne’s sake, you should attend for the sake of your own reputation.” I paused, then let out a soft, humorless chuckle. She was threatening me again. Afraid I’d back out at the last minute, resorting to the same tactics she used in my last life. She would ruin my name to protect Jerry, leaving me with no choice but to bend to her will. I had never been able to figure it out. In Isabella’s heart, was I her husband, or her enemy? Well, she wanted to publicly clarify our relationship. So did I. The car moved smoothly toward New York’s most luxurious hotel. The entrance was already a chaotic sea of reporters and flashing cameras. The assistant guided me through the throng into the grand lobby. “Excuse me, could you please make way?” Isabella’s voice rang out from behind us. She appeared at the entrance, arm-in-arm with Jerry, who was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit. They looked like a storybook couple. I turned, and my eyes met hers. For a fraction of a second, our gazes locked before she coolly looked away. She held onto Jerry, their demeanor intimate, as if the rest of the world—including me—didn’t exist. A self-deprecating laugh escaped my lips. “Mr. Vance, are you and Ms. Thorne really divorced?” The question came from a young reporter, likely an intern, her voice trembling slightly. “Yes.” I curved my lips into a smile, my voice even, and nodded. She seemed determined to find a crack in my composure. “But you and Ms. Thorne met in college. You dated for five years, married for seven…” “Last month, she spent a fortune on a luxury yacht for you. The fireworks display for your birthday was the talk of the city…” I kept smiling, but my eyes were distant. “She owed me.” She had missed my birthday because Jerry had called her, whining, “I miss you, big sis. Can you spend the day with me?” The yacht and the fireworks were her apology gifts. In my last life, I had been so proud of those grand gestures, never once suspecting the real reason behind her “compensation.” I later learned the whole thing was Leo’s idea. Isabella hadn’t been involved at all. She didn’t even know where the fireworks had been set off. “You say she owed you,” the intern pressed on, her nervousness palpable as the surrounding chatter died down. “But what about your feelings for Ms. Thorne?” Isabella’s head snapped toward me, her brow furrowed. I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes. My gaze turned to ice. “I don’t love her anymore.” 4 The intern started to ask another question, but a senior reporter beside her pulled her back. I didn’t stay for the rest of the conference. Once I had clarified my relationship with Isabella, I turned and walked away, ignoring the swarm of reporters still calling my name. Overnight, the narrative shifted dramatically. My interview dominated the headlines for days. Isabella’s statement was played on a loop: “Mr. Jerry Thorne is not the reason for the end of our marriage. His sister was a dear friend who saved my life, and it is my responsibility to care for him as her only living relative. Please, I ask you all to look at this situation rationally. Adrian and I planned for an amicable divorce over a year ago; we were simply waiting for the right time to announce it. We wanted to end our marriage in a way that would cause the least amount of harm to everyone involved. We are making this public now to clear up any misunderstandings about Mr. Thorne.” Instantly, Jerry was absolved. He went from “homewrecker” to the biggest “victim” in the entire scandal. And I became the villain. The heartless man who had initiated the divorce. Worse, guided by carefully placed leaks, people began to speculate on the “real” reason for our split. Rumors spread that I was impotent, that I had twisted, depraved tastes in the bedroom. That I had projected my own filthy thoughts onto their pure, sibling-like bond. That I had abandoned Isabella for a bigger piece of her fortune… I was at the center of a storm, battered by accusations from all sides. “Don’t take what they’re saying online to heart. In time, everyone will forget,” Isabella said as we stepped out of the courthouse, the divorce finalized. I shot her a look dripping with sarcasm. When Jerry was being attacked online, it was a crisis that required sacrificing our marriage. But when it was me, it was just something “time will heal.” “Adrian, the holidays are only three months away.” “You’ve always loved the spring. When spring comes, we’ll have another wedding, a better one. What do you say?” Her voice was soft, laced with a cautious tenderness. She reached for my hand, but I shifted away, my eyes fixed on the reporters being held back by bodyguards a short distance away. Sensing the rejection, Isabella took a step back, creating a space between us. “Isabella, I’m moving back to Westchester.” “That’s good. You should spend some time with your parents. I’ll come get you for the holidays and we’ll come back—” “I won’t be coming back,” I cut her off. She froze, the faint smile on her face stiffening. “Adrian, don’t say things you don’t mean. Just wait for me in Westchester, and I’ll—” “Isabella, when I signed those papers, you made me a promise. It’s time to make good on it.” She stared at me, her expression blank. When I was first reborn, I wondered if things could be different this time. But the moment she handed me that divorce agreement again, all I felt was a sense of release. “Isabella, I want you to disappear from my life. Forever.”

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After being reborn, I gave up on the fiancé I had loved deeply since childhood. Instead, I married his sworn enemy. In my previous life, on the day I was to marry Tyler, his “white moonlight”—the girl he never got over—threatened to jump off a building in despair. Because of this, he hated me to the bone. He locked me in our home and humiliated me in every way possible. It wasn’t until I accidentally drowned, my soul adrift and helpless, that I learned the truth: it was all a manipulative game played by his “true love.” Meanwhile, his rival, the stoic heir to a business empire, turned gray overnight after my death. Reborn, I decided to let them have each other and run towards my own happiness. But the man who always claimed he never loved me went mad when he saw me marry someone else, kneeling and begging me to come back. 1 Julian Sterling, the heir to the Sterling empire, is a man of action. When he heard I was willing to marry him, he was stunned for exactly three seconds before finalizing everything within half an hour. When he handed me the marriage certificate, his expression was calm, but the tips of his ears were burning red. “I’ll handle the wedding preparations. Don’t worry about a thing. Just wait for me to come get you.” After saying this, he practically fled the scene, using work as an excuse, terrified I might change my mind. I smiled, taking the certificate home, ready to share the news with my family. But the moment I stepped through the door, a bucket of cold water splashed over me. Tyler’s friends threw cake all over my face. My carefully done makeup and hair were ruined, turning me into a drowned rat. I stood there, frozen, while the group roared with laughter. Some even pulled out their phones to record my humiliation. “Today is your engagement party with Ty! We’re just helping you celebrate!” “Everyone in our circle knows you threw away your dignity to marry Tyler. Can’t take a little joke? You better get used to it; there’s plenty more where that came from.” I shivered in the cold wind, soaked to the bone. Tyler looked at me with a smug smirk. “Elena, don’t be a buzzkill.” “Just because our families pressured me into this doesn’t mean I can’t do anything. Being Mrs. Vance isn’t going to be easy!” Even though I was reborn, seeing the man I had loved for nearly twenty years still made my heart ache involuntarily. Tyler and I grew up together. For years, I loved him desperately. Ten years of companionship, giving everything I had. And in return, all I got was his cold ridicule. If that’s the case, there’s no need to waste my life on someone who doesn’t love me. I wiped the cream from my face and spoke calmly. “I don’t plan on being Mrs. Vance.” Tyler froze. His friends laughed even harder. “Ty, you’re lucky! She’s playing hard to get before she’s even in the door. This little wife of yours is something else! You’re in for a ride.” “What are you scared of? Everyone knows Elena is just a dog following Tyler around. Since when does a dog have a say in its master’s affairs?” Hearing this, the disdain in Tyler’s eyes deepened. “Stop playing games. No matter what you do, I won’t love you. You can keep my body, but you’ll never have my heart.” “After we marry, I’m moving Bella in. You can delude yourself into thinking you’re Mrs. Vance, but remember, in that house, you’re less than a maid!” “Also, I’ve had my lawyers draft a prenup. Even if you scheme your way into this marriage, you won’t get a cent of my money!” Hearing Tyler’s words, I was stunned. In my previous life, after Bella jumped, he blamed me for her death and tortured me. But before she died, he had always treated me decently. When we were kids and my parents were busy with work, he would keep me company through the long nights, telling stories to help me sleep. When I was bullied at school, he stood up for me, taking me on motorcycle rides to cheer me up. Twenty years of friendship. Even if he never loved me romantically, he always treated me like a little sister. Looking at his abnormal attitude now, I couldn’t help but wonder. Is there something I don’t know about? Seeing my silence, Tyler thought I was heartbroken. He seemed to feel he had gone a bit too far and cleared his throat. “Fine. Bella has suffered more than you. You need to make concessions to balance things out for her.” “As long as you behave and don’t make trouble for Bella, I won’t mistreat you publicly!” Just as he finished speaking, Bella started sobbing. “Tyler, are you going soft on Elena? If it weren’t for her jealousy and meddling, we love each other so much, why would we be forced apart?” “Forget it. I know Miss Elena has always looked down on someone of my status. I just didn’t expect you to dislike me too, Tyler. I won’t be an eyesore anymore. I… I’ll just go die!” Seeing Bella run off, Tyler’s face filled with panic. He shoved me aside and chased after her frantically. My back slammed into the door handle, pain bringing tears to my eyes. The others, having seen enough of the show, left me there amidst the mess. I watched their retreating figures and laughed bitterly. In my past life, shortly after our wedding, the Vance family business faced a crisis. None of their so-called friends lifted a finger to help. To win back Tyler’s heart, I secretly used my entire dowry to fill the financial hole. Billions in assets, yet it didn’t buy a shred of his softness. In this life, without my help, I wonder if his precious Bella can turn the tide for him. 2 I took a shower and changed into clean clothes. When I came out, I saw Tyler cuddling Bella on the sofa. He was comforting her softly, his eyes filled with a gentleness I had never seen directed at me. Seeing me, his face instantly cooled. “Today’s events were all your fault. Apologize to Bella immediately.” “Also, clean this place up. And clear out your room for Bella. It’s dark out; it’s not safe for a girl to go home alone.” In the half-hour I was showering, they couldn’t even restrain themselves. Tyler’s shirt had several lipstick stains. Bella’s lipstick was smeared, her dress rumpled. I had no interest in their sordid affair and simply reminded them: “This is my house.” After the engagement was settled, both families prepared a house for us. Tyler hated noise, so our gatherings were usually held at my place. I used to willingly act like their maid because I loved Tyler. Now, I would never demean myself like that again. Tyler thought I was just being jealous and throwing a tantrum like before. He dismissed it, “Hmph, if it weren’t for Bella, do you think I’d want to stay here? If you still want to marry me, do as I say.” “Even though you’ll be my wife in name, Bella is the true mistress of the Vance household! You have no right to put on airs in front of her.” Bella lowered her head and smiled, leaning provocatively into Tyler’s embrace. I didn’t want to argue with them, nor did I want to stay in this messy house a second longer. I grabbed my bag and prepared to leave. Seeing me leave, Tyler stood up and blocked my path. “Where are you going this late?” “Home!” Tyler’s gaze lingered on my face for a few seconds. “Going home to tattle? What a princess. Don’t think I’ll be scared of you just because of that…” I didn’t want to hear his hurtful words and pushed him aside. He looked incredulous, stunned for a moment. Suddenly, he grabbed my hand, his attitude softening slightly. “Alright, stop making a scene.” “You’ve been spoiled and willful since you were a kid, never giving anyone peace… If you really want to go back, I’ll drive you.” He took my bag and reached for his car keys. Bella looked up, gazing at him with wide, teary eyes. “Tyler, are you going to leave me here alone?” “I’m scared being here by myself. What if Elena gets jealous and hires someone to hurt me again?” Tyler’s hand froze in mid-air. Then, his face darkened instantly. “Elena, I really underestimated you. I didn’t know you were this manipulative.” “Acting all high and mighty just to get me out of here so you can hurt Bella!” He threw the bag back at me with a look of disgust. The platinum buckle slammed into my forehead, and a trickle of blood ran down. My head spun, and I almost lost my balance. As I was about to fall, Tyler caught me. A flicker of guilt and an emotion I couldn’t read flashed in his eyes. However, before I could speak, Bella hugged him from behind. The buttons on her chest were undone, revealing quite a bit of skin. “Tyler, don’t go…” Tyler’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He let go of my hand. I looked at the two of them, ready to pounce on each other, and felt a wave of nausea. I picked up my bag and left without looking back. Just as I got into the car, a message from Bella popped up impatiently. 3 A one-minute video. For 59 seconds, they were glued together. “Elena, so what if you’re a rich miss? You lost to me in your last life, and you’re destined to lose to me in this one too!” Looking at her message and recalling Tyler’s strange behavior today, I finally realized: Bella was reborn too. I don’t know what happened after I died in my previous life to make her change her “hard-to-get” strategy and become so aggressive. I couldn’t be bothered to think about it. I blocked Bella immediately. In this new life, I just want to live well for myself. When I got home, I told my parents I wanted to break off the engagement with Tyler. They were shocked. Their eyes fell on the wound on my forehead. Dad’s eyes turned red with pain. “The Vance family has taken so many resources from us because of you all these years, and yet they bully my precious daughter like this! Since he doesn’t cherish you, we don’t need to humble ourselves! Wait here, Daddy will get justice for you!” I quickly stopped my dad from storming out. My own tears fell uncontrollably. In my past life, my parents worried themselves sick over me. When they learned of my suffering in the Vance household, they spent their entire fortune trying to save me. But Tyler declared that even if both families were destroyed, he wouldn’t let me go. After my parents died, he hung Bella’s photo above our bed. Whenever he missed his “white moonlight,” he would choke me, forcing my head up roughly. “You forced Bella to die for the title of Mrs. Vance. Now I’ll make you wear that title and live in agony for the rest of your life to atone for her!” He shattered my dignity and my love for him, bit by bit. In the end, death was my only escape. Thinking of my parents’ heart-wrenching cries after my death, my heart still ached in this new life. Suppressing the immense sorrow, I pulled out the marriage certificate with Julian. “Mom, Dad, I’ve been unfilial. I’ll handle the Vance family myself. I won’t let you worry about me ever again.” They were shocked at first, then overjoyed as they started preparing for the wedding. Partly because they were afraid I’d change my mind, and partly because Julian was simply exceptional. A prestigious family like the Sterlings was far superior to both the Yan and Vance families. Proud as Tyler was, he couldn’t stand the fact that Julian was superior to him in every way, nor could he accept that the Vance family relied on the Sterlings to survive. He had always seen Julian as his mortal enemy. Back in my own home, I slept soundly for the first time in a long while. I woke up early the next morning, planning to pack my things and sell the apartment. But after trying the passcode several times, the door wouldn’t open. Sensing something was wrong, I used the backup key to open it. The apartment was a mess. Used condoms were scattered in the living room. Faint moans were coming from my bedroom. Walking closer, I saw Bella wearing my pajamas, entangled with Tyler. “Sister Elena…” Seeing me, Bella pushed Tyler away, feigning fear. Tyler was flustered for a second, but after composing himself, he immediately shielded Bella behind him. Ignoring the hickeys covering Bella’s body, I looked around. Even though I was mentally prepared, I was still shocked by the sight. My personal belongings were piled up in a chaotic heap. My haute couture gowns were shredded, my Hermès bags covered in graffiti. Even the “lovers’ lock” my grandmother had prayed for on her deathbed for Tyler and me was crushed underfoot. “Tyler said you upset me yesterday, so you needed to be taught a lesson.” “How about this: kneel and apologize to me, and I’ll ask him not to cancel your wedding!” I couldn’t hear anything she was saying. I carefully picked up the broken lock. My mind flashed back to my grandmother on her deathbed, holding mine and Tyler’s hands, refusing to close her eyes until the very end. “I saw the wedding design drafts in the safe. They’re not bad. Bella’s birthday is coming up, so refine the plans and throw her a birthday party first.” “As for our wedding… we’ll talk about it when you learn to behave.” In the past, a single word from Tyler would have made me trample my own dignity to please him. But after experiencing everything in my previous life, I would never wrong myself for him again. I tucked the broken lock into my pocket. Then I picked up the scattered wedding design drafts one by one. “No need. With or without you, my wedding will go on as planned.” The person I loved was trash. But my love wasn’t. I had been preparing these designs since I was eighteen, pouring all my love and effort into them. I wouldn’t allow anyone to defile them. Tyler looked displeased and tried to snatch the drafts from my hand. But when he saw my tear-streaked face, he froze. 4 These tears were different from my usual tantrums. They were the weeping of a heart that had completely given up, ashes after the fire. Tyler didn’t dare meet my gaze. Guiltily looking away, he pulled out a card and placed it in my hand. “Stop crying. It’s just a few clothes; go buy new ones.” “Bella didn’t mean it. You don’t lack these things anyway, can’t you just let her be?” Hearing this, Bella happily kissed Tyler on the cheek. I threw the card back in his face and turned to leave. Tyler was surprised to see my expression return to calm. “Elena, you’re not angry or jealous?” I didn’t answer. I messaged Julian to come pick up the wedding designs. Just after the message went out, Bella suddenly screamed. “Tyler! Why is our video all over the internet… Elena, why did you do this? Are you only happy if you drive me to death?” She cried and threatened to jump off the balcony. Tyler hurriedly stopped her. Seeing the viral video online, his face went pale. “Great, Elena. You are even more vicious than I imagined!” “You really will do anything to marry me. This time, I won’t let you off!” He raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. The sharp pain brought a ringing to my ears. Before I could react, he grabbed my neck and dragged me toward the bed. “You like recording videos and posting them online, right? Fine! I’ll satisfy you. Let you be the star for once!” Tyler tore at my clothes violently. Bella, taking the cue, turned on her phone camera. The fear of two lifetimes crashed into my mind. As my jacket was ripped off, I trembled, screaming in near collapse. “Tyler Vance! I didn’t do anything! You can’t do this to me!” Tyler was just like in his past life. He didn’t believe a word I said, ignoring my pain and pleas. He only used violence to vent his dissatisfaction. Fear and anger made me lose my reason. I bit my lip and fumbled for the scissors on the nightstand. Just as I was preparing to take Tyler down with me, the door was kicked open with a bang.

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