Category: English

My husband brought home a little girl, beaming as he told me she would complete our family. “She’s just the right age to be a twin to our son,” he said. “Now you have the daughter you always wanted without the labor pains.” I assumed she was his illegitimate child, a secret he was trying to smuggle into our lives. So, I went behind his back and ran a DNA test. I was wrong. But when my husband found the results, the look on his face wasn’t relief. It was terror. 1 My husband, David, and my mother-in-law, Brenda, came back from their “vacation” with a souvenir: a three-year-old girl named Mia. Brenda didn’t waste time. “Starting today, Mia is your daughter. Raise her alongside Leo like they’re twins. You’re always complaining about work being too busy to have another one, so problem solved.” She looked at me expectantly, as if I should be thanking her. I looked at the little girl standing next to my four-year-old son, Leo. A wave of irritation hit me. This wasn’t a puppy; this was a human being with memories. Brenda had pitched this idea days ago. She claimed Mia was the granddaughter of David’s distant aunt. The parents had died in a car wreck, the grandparents were gone, and no one else wanted her. “I’m too old to raise a toddler,” Brenda had argued. “You only have Leo. They can keep each other company.” I had refused. Raising a child isn’t a hobby. I struggled enough with Leo, and he was my own flesh and blood. David had tried the soft approach. “Sarah, honey, remember when you sponsored that high school student for three years? This is the same thing, just… closer to home. We have the money. It’s charity.” “Charity is writing a check,” I snapped. “Parenting is a lifetime commitment. If she has no one, let’s pay for her care elsewhere.” But now, here she was. Standing in my living room. Mia looked up at me with big, fearful grape-black eyes, and my heart traitorously softened. She was an orphan. It wasn’t her fault. “It’s just for the summer,” Brenda said quickly. “If Leo doesn’t like her, I’ll take her back.” I knew that was a lie. Once she was in, she was staying. And just like that, David pulled some strings, and Mia was legally added to our guardianship. The adjustment period was surprisingly smooth. Leo loved having a playmate. Mia was docile, almost too well-behaved, always letting Leo have the first pick of toys. But something felt off. David treated Mia better than he treated Leo. He bought her endless dresses and toys, things he never bothered doing for our son. He took the kids out for expensive dinners weekly—something he claimed he was “too busy” for before Mia arrived. Was he playing favorites? Or was he compensating for something? 2 “You handle the beauty, I’ll handle the duty,” David announced one night, volunteering to put the kids to bed. Mia was clinging to his leg, looking at him with adoration. Leo cheered, “Yay! Daddy’s reading stories!” I watched David carry Mia down the hall, a strange knot forming in my stomach. He looked less like a charitable uncle and more like a father trying to make up for lost time. I shook my head. I was being paranoid. He was probably just trying to make the poor girl feel welcome. 3 A few weeks later, David went on a three-day business trip. Before leaving, he gave me a lecture on taking extra special care of Mia. That night, Leo looked at me with watery eyes. “Mommy, Daddy always sits by Mia’s bed. Can you sit by mine tonight? It’s only fair.” My heart broke a little. “Of course, baby.” I sat with Leo until he drifted off, feeling a surge of resentment toward David. He was neglecting his own son for this girl. 4 After the kids were asleep, I stood over Mia’s bed. In the soft glow of the nightlight, I stared at her face. There was something familiar about her features. Something around the eyes… she looked like David. I laughed at myself. You’re losing it, Sarah. Around 2:00 AM, Leo burst into my room crying. “Mommy! Mia is shaking!” I sprinted to their room. Mia was convulsing. She was burning up—a febrile seizure. 5 The ER was a war zone. I was carrying Mia, dragging a sleepy Leo, frantic. I literally ran into a tall, handsome doctor. He steadied me, took one look at the situation, and ushered us into an empty exam room. He ordered tests, got Mia admitted, and even kept an eye on Leo while I filled out paperwork. “I have an emergency surgery,” the doctor said after Mia was settled. “But she’ll be fine.” By dawn, Mia’s fever broke. David rushed back from his trip, cutting it short. The moment he walked into the hospital room, he exploded. “I leave for one day and you put her in the hospital?!” David’s face was purple with rage. “Do you have a conscience? If anything happens to her, you’ll regret it!” I stared at him, stunned. “Excuse me? I stayed up all night. I dragged our son here in the middle of the night to save her. Your mother didn’t even pick up her phone!” “You just don’t care because she isn’t yours!” he shouted, dragging me into the stairwell to avoid waking Mia. As we screamed at each other, I saw the handsome doctor from last night walking down the stairs. I was too humiliated to even say thank you. I grabbed Leo and walked away. David’s reaction was extreme. You’ll regret it, he had said. Why would I regret it? Unless… she really was his daughter.

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The most notorious playboy in our circle, Julian Keane, crashed his car and hit his head. When he woke up, his memory had stopped three years in the past. He found me, his voice tight with irritation. “It was just dinner with my ex. How long are you going to throw a fit about it?” I froze. When I finally came to my senses, I lifted the little girl from the floor and held her close. Looking into his bewildered eyes, I said softly, “Julian, we broke up three years ago.” “I’m… married now. I have a child.” 1 After tucking my daughter into bed for the night, I leaned against the headboard, scrolling through my phone. A news alert popped up on the screen. “February 17th, 9:00 PM: Julian Keane, Chairman and CEO of Apex Global, was involved in a car accident in Los Angeles. He has been rushed to the hospital for emergency treatment. Sources report Mr. Keane suffered severe head trauma and is currently in a coma. For further updates, follow Apex News…” The accompanying photo showed a Bugatti Veyron, mangled almost beyond recognition. Julian was on a stretcher, his head slick with blood, his eyes closed. Even unconscious, his brows were locked in a tight frown. A wave of dizziness washed over me. I hadn’t seen him in three years. The whispered intimacies, the heart-shattering pain… back then, I thought I’d carry those memories forever. But in the space of a thousand short days, they had blurred, becoming distant echoes from another lifetime. I lowered my gaze, ready to put my phone away and sleep, when a frantic pounding erupted at my front door. Terrified the noise would wake my daughter, I threw on my slippers and rushed to the living room. When I peered through the peephole, I froze. It was Julian. A bandage was wrapped around his head, already seeping blood, and his face was a mask of pure frustration. “Ava, open the damn door!” he yelled. “I know you’re in there, I checked with the doorman!” My mind reeled. I felt a confusing mix of shock and dread as I unlocked the door. “You were just in an accident a few days ago,” I stammered. “How are you—” He brushed past me as if he owned the place, his gaze briefly snagging on a pair of men’s slippers by the door before moving on. “It’s freezing out there,” he grumbled, shoving his jacket into my hands. “What are you doing in a godforsaken place like this? What about the villa I bought for you? Why aren’t you living there?” His casual, possessive tone left me speechless. I couldn’t find the words to respond. The last time we’d seen each other, three years ago, our breakup had been a maelstrom of ugly words and shattered trust. Julian’s face had been a storm cloud of fury, his eyes burning with a look so intense I thought he might actually kill me. “You and your little lover better stay the hell away from me,” he’d snarled. “Or I can’t guarantee he’ll live to see another day.” But now, he acted as if none of that had ever happened. He sank into the sofa, patted his thigh, and glanced up at me with a lazy, familiar air. “Come here.” The warm, yellow light of the lamp cast long shadows across his face. His eyes, just as I remembered, were slightly upturned, sharp with a cutting arrogance. But he was so devastatingly handsome that the cruelty melted into a kind of untamable charisma. I took a step back, my brow furrowed. “What are you doing here? We’re not together anymore.” Julian scoffed. “Give me a break. You think I don’t know you?” He smirked. “You’ve probably been crying your eyes out the last two days, haven’t you?” “That’s enough,” he said, waving his hand impatiently. “So I took Isabelle to the hospital. Is that really a reason to be this petty?” When I didn’t move, Julian’s patience wore thin. He stood up, grabbed my arm, and pulled me towards him. His long, elegant fingers rested on my stomach, his voice softening with a sudden tenderness. “I know. You’re pregnant, and your hormones are all over the place, right?” he murmured. “If you really want this baby, then we’ll have it. I’ve even picked out names. If it’s a boy, we’ll call him Noah. If it’s a girl…” That’s when it finally clicked. Something was terribly wrong. The things Julian was saying… they were from three years ago. I grabbed his wrist, my voice catching in my throat. “Julian… do you have amnesia?” He paused for a second, then shrugged it off. “That’s what they’re all saying, that I scrambled my brain. It’s bullshit. My head’s a little fuzzy, but it’s nothing important. You can fill me in on the details later.” He wrapped his arms around me, tilting his head back to look at me with eyes full of adoration, as if the last three years of silence and separation had never happened. I pushed him away, struggling to keep my voice steady. “Julian, we broke up. I—” He cut me off, the warmth vanishing from his smile. “Ava, don’t push it.” A haughty curve touched his lips. “You think I’d believe that? You’ve been by my side for years. If you were going to leave, you would’ve done it a long time ago.” He leaned in, his voice a low, confident whisper. “You can’t live without me.” Just then, the sound of a doorknob turning echoed from the hallway. I shoved Julian away with all my might. My daughter, Rosie, emerged, rubbing her sleepy eyes. In her tiny hand, she clutched her favorite stuffed rabbit. “Mommy?” She frowned, her small gaze landing on Julian. “Who is he?” 2 My breakup with Julian was anything but peaceful. I was adopted by the Keane family. They called me their child, but in reality, I was little more than a companion they’d hired for their son. From the day I walked into their home, everyone made one thing clear: I was there to accommodate Julian, to take care of Julian. I was three years older than him, so I naturally fell into the role of the protective big sister. Julian was spoiled rotten from birth and had a temper to match. In the beginning, he made my life a living hell. He’d put snakes, my deepest fear, in my bed. He’d gather his friends to mock me for being an orphan. He’d burst into my room in the dead of night, dragging me out of bed just to hiss in my face. “Don’t you dare think you’re my real sister, Ava,” he’d snarl. “You’re just a dog my family took in. You get that?” I knew. I knew I didn’t have the right to fight back. In truth, I was grateful to Julian’s parents. They had rescued me from the orphanage. If it wasn’t for them, the director, who secretly trafficked the pretty children under his care, would have sold me to God knows who. But a child’s anger is a fleeting thing. Under my constant, patient care, Julian’s sharp edges began to soften. He grew closer to me, defending me from others, seeking me out on sleepless nights. He even started calling me his sister. I thought that’s all I would ever be to him. Then, when I was nineteen, Julian started dating. He fell for Isabelle. Her family was on par with the Keanes, and like Julian, she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She was a radiant, stunning girl, crowned the campus queen her freshman year, and she quickly caught Julian’s eye. They got together, a perfect match on paper. But they were both used to getting their own way, and their relationship was a constant storm of arguments. During one of their fights, Julian, wanting to spite Isabelle, kissed me right in front of her. In that single moment, everything between us changed. He and Isabelle made up soon after, but Julian never explained the kiss. We both silently agreed to never speak of it again, but we both knew. We could never go back to the simple, easy way we were before. Julian and Isabelle dated for three years, but their fiery tempers finally led to a bitter breakup. Heartbroken, Isabelle left the country. And Julian, drunk and lost, found his way into my bed. I can still feel the chaos of that night. The scent of alcohol on his breath as he murmured against my neck, his hands pinning mine above my head. “Don’t say no,” he pleaded, his actions forceful, but his voice was fragile, almost desperate. “Please, don’t say no.” I was trapped. After a long silence, I managed to ask, my voice trembling, “Julian, do you even know who I am?” His answer was a kiss. Much later, as I was drifting off to sleep, exhausted, I faintly heard him whisper into my ear. “You’re Ava.” … And just like that, we were together. There was no confession, no ceremony, not even a single “I love you” exchanged between us. I continued to play the part of his sister, managing his life, but now our interactions were laced with a new, dangerous intimacy. We’d walk along the beach at sunset, cuddle on the couch watching movies late into the night, and hold each other close as thunderstorms raged outside. For a while, I was truly happy. I don’t know when I fell in love with him, but I knew I did. So when Isabelle returned and sought out Julian, I swallowed my pride. When he ditched my birthday dinner to be with her, I endured it. I loved Julian, and I knew he was still just a boy in many ways. I was willing to give him the space to make mistakes and find his way back to me. Until I found out I was pregnant. I sent a picture of the positive test to Julian. He called back after what felt like an eternity. His voice was distorted over the phone, laced with annoyance. “Ava, I’m not ready for a kid.” “I haven’t had my fun yet. There’s no way I can be a father. You need to get rid of it.” Half an hour later, a friend of mine, an intern at the hospital, sent me a photo. It was Julian and Isabelle. He was holding her carefully, his touch as gentle as if she were the most precious treasure in the world. My friend sent a voice note: “Why is Julian at the OB-GYN with another girl? She’s pregnant. Who is she?” In that moment, I understood. Julian didn’t want to be a father to my child. He had never gotten over Isabelle. She was the girl who’d given him his first taste of love, the one he could never truly forget. Now that she was back, I, the placeholder, had to step aside. My baby and I were just trash to be discarded. I told Julian I wanted to break up. For some reason, he refused, dragging it out. Desperate, I asked an old classmate to help me stage a scene, pretending he was a new lover. I will never forget the look in Julian’s eyes that day. He stared at me as if he wanted to burn me to ashes with his gaze alone. “You and your little lover better stay the hell away from me,” he’d said. “Or I can’t guarantee he’ll live to see another day.” Then, with a final, contemptuous sneer, he’d delivered the killing blow. “You were always just a dog I kept around.” “And remember this: I’m the one dumping you. Not the other way around.” After that day, I never saw him again. He moved his business abroad and, from what I heard, got engaged to Isabelle. Both families were thrilled; they were a perfect match. The engagement party was so lavish it made the front page of the society pages. And now, here he was. A car crash had rewound his life by three years. The living room was suffocatingly quiet, the sound of late-night traffic muffled by the windows. The silence felt thick, heavy. I clutched my daughter tighter, and looking at Julian’s shocked face, I repeated myself, my voice soft but firm. “Julian, we broke up three years ago.” “I’m… married now. I have a child.” 3 It took a moment for Julian to react. His mouth opened, then closed, a look of absurd disbelief on his face. He reached for me, his hand trembling. “No, that’s impossible,” he muttered, as if trying to convince himself more than me. “Ava, there’s no way you’d marry someone else.” “You love me.” His gaze shifted to the child in my arms, and he forced a brittle smile. “I have amnesia, right? So… this is my daughter, isn’t she?” His voice was desperate. “You kept the baby behind my back?” I took a step back. “Julian, stop this madness!” “She is not your child!” The light in Julian’s eyes flickered and died, replaced by a gathering storm. “Not mine? Then whose is she?” He lunged forward and grabbed my wrist, his voice turning sharp and dangerous. “Ava, who the hell is the father?!” “That would be me.” Just as I was about to panic, the door swung open. Ethan Hayes walked in and gently took my daughter from my arms. The night air was damp, and his black suit was misted with dew, yet he looked anything but disheveled. A powerful confidence radiated from him as he studied Julian with a look of detached amusement. “We have a guest? You should have told me,” he said to me, completely ignoring Julian’s darkening expression as he handed me a small box. “That bakery you like,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “I got there late. Almost missed out on the last one.” Julian’s eyes raked over Ethan, his hands clenching into fists. “Ava, when did you get involved with him?” Before I could answer, Ethan let out a soft laugh, a sound devoid of warmth, laced instead with icy mockery. “When?” he mused. “Well, let’s see. We got together three years ago. We had our daughter two years ago. We got married this year. Which ‘when’ are you asking about, Mr. Keane?” In the silent living room, the two tall men faced off. Fury blazed in Julian’s eyes, while Ethan looked on as if observing a petulant child, exuding an air of effortless, victorious superiority. I sighed, stepping forward to take Ethan’s arm. I turned back to Julian. “He’s right.” “Julian, it’s been over for a long time. We both have our own lives now. You and Isabelle are getting married. I’m married and I have a child.” “You’re only confused because of the accident. We agreed… a long time ago…” I paused, searching for the right words. “We agreed not to bother each other anymore.” “Bother?” Julian stumbled back a step, a bitter, almost comical expression twisting his features. “Ava, we lived together for more than a decade.” “And now you call it bothering?” I looked down, my voice barely a whisper. “You’ve grown up, Julian. We were always meant to have our own lives.” Ethan moved closer, his left arm holding our daughter while his right hand found mine, a silent declaration of ownership. The three of us stood together, and though we were only a few feet from Julian, it was as if an unbridgeable chasm had opened between us. After a long, tense silence, Julian laughed. A cold, harsh sound. He stared at me, his eyes like chips of ice. “Fine, Ava,” he sneered. “You win.” 4 Ethan didn’t say anything after Julian left, but I could tell his petty streak was showing. Even when Rosie asked for a kiss, his was perfunctory and distracted. He was radiating a low-grade storm cloud of “I’m angry, you’d better explain yourself.” I sighed and wrapped my arms around him from behind. “I had no idea he was coming,” I murmured. “He just showed up, and he has amnesia. I made everything clear to him.” “It won’t happen again, okay?” Ethan ripped off his tie and threw it on the floor, sinking onto the sofa without a word. After a few minutes of stewing, he finally spoke, his voice tight. “The moment I heard he’d gotten on a plane back here after his accident, I knew something was wrong. I rushed over, but I was still too late to stop him from getting in.” He looked genuinely furious, and for the first time since I’d known him, the man who only ever dealt in sarcasm let a curse slip. “Dammit. Why didn’t the crash just kill him?” I almost laughed. Ethan always seemed so calm and composed, as if nothing in the world could faze him. But when it came to Julian, his composure evaporated. When Julian had first moved abroad, Ethan had been ready to throw him a farewell party just to get rid of him for good. Now, right after we’d finally gotten married, Julian was back to stir up trouble. Of course he was pissed. I spent a long time soothing him, swearing up and down that I wouldn’t get entangled with Julian again. He eventually calmed down, but he made sure to take out his frustrations on me later that night after Rosie was asleep. The next morning, I dragged my aching body out of bed, silently cursing Ethan. For a man pushing thirty, he seemed to have more energy than ever. Wasn’t there some rule about men going downhill after twenty-five? As if on cue, my phone rang. A number I didn’t recognize. Thinking it was a delivery, I answered, but a familiar female voice cut me off. Even through the phone, Isabelle’s condescension was palpable. “Ava, we need to meet.” I frowned. “What about?” “I think we need to talk about Julian, don’t you?” I rubbed my temples, annoyed. “I have nothing to do with Julian,” I said bluntly. “I didn’t cause his accident or his amnesia. Whatever issues you have, you can sort them out between yourselves. It has nothing to do with me.” I hung up before she could reply. I’d never liked Isabelle. It wasn’t just because Julian had chosen her over me; his feelings weren’t her fault. It was her attitude—the way she always looked down on me, as if I were something dirty she’d found on the bottom of her shoe. She was the one who had interfered in my relationship with Julian, yet she always carried herself with the air of a wronged queen. I had finally escaped that past and built a new life. The last thing I wanted was to get dragged back into the drama with Julian and Isabelle. …

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The night before my wedding to Harrison, I found out the truth: I was never the daughter. I was the decoy. I was adopted solely to be a human shield for the real heiress, absorbing every disaster meant for her. This wedding? It was just the final level of a game designed to pave her way to the top while stepping over my corpse. In a moment of desperation, I texted the contact in my phone saved as “6’3, 21, Dead Broke”: “You coming to crash my wedding tomorrow?” The reply was instant: “No. I’m not that pathetic.” I turned off my phone and didn’t reply. The next morning, a video went viral on TikTok. It showed one of New York’s most elusive billionaires, sprinting down a highway in the dead of night, wearing a tuxedo and a look of absolute fury. 1 The night before the wedding, I realized the dress was wrong. Not only was the size off, but the style was completely different from the custom gown I’d selected. When I confronted the hotel staff, they insisted there was no mistake. They said Mr. Vance—Harrison—had given specific instructions. Two dresses. One to the Penthouse Suite on the 68th floor, one to the 67th. Since both brides’ last name was Whitman, they had triple-checked. No mistake. Harrison wasn’t answering his phone. I decided to go upstairs to the Penthouse and ask him myself. But when I pushed the door open, I froze. The gown that was supposed to be mine was currently being worn by another woman. My mother was holding her, cooing as the woman pouted playfully. My father and Harrison sat nearby, their eyes soft, practically dripping with adoration. I stood in the doorway, paralyzed. I don’t know how long I stood there before Harrison’s phone rang. He picked it up, and the smile instantly vanished from his face. He didn’t even have the patience to listen, cutting the caller off with a curt, “Ignore her.” When he hung up, my father asked, “Is Quinn causing trouble again?” Harrison nodded, looking annoyed. “Just the imposter. She actually thinks I’m going to marry her. So much drama.” The woman in the wedding dress started to ask a question, but they quickly made up an excuse to send her to another room. Watching her leave, the smile on my mother’s face evaporated. It was replaced by a chilling coldness. She shot Harrison a reassuring look. “Just endure it a little longer. After tomorrow, the decoy won’t be of any use to us.” The “decoy” they were talking about was me. I gripped the doorframe, knuckles white. I was about to turn and run when a soft voice called out from behind me. “Can I help you with something?” It was the woman in the dress. As soon as they saw me, the blood drained from my parents’ and fiancé’s faces. 2 Harrison dragged me back to my room. He towered over me, his voice ice-cold. “I planned to tell you after the ceremony, but since you couldn’t wait, you might as well know now.” Harrison pulled up a photo on his phone. An old family portrait. It showed my parents holding a baby. His gaze softened as he looked at the screen. “The Whitman family business wasn’t always clean. They made enemies. Their only daughter was kidnapped constantly. One time, it almost killed her.” “So, they hid their real daughter in a different city and adopted another girl to raise as the ‘Whitman Heiress’ in the public eye.” I wanted to laugh. But as soon as my lips twitched, hot tears rolled down my cheeks. No wonder. No wonder my childhood was filled with car accidents and kidnapping attempts. Every time I was in danger, “Mom and Dad” would show up with a gift, take a look at me, and then rush off to “another city for business.” No wonder they were always traveling. If I cried and begged to go with them, they would slap me across the face, call me selfish, and have the nanny lock me in the dark closet to “reflect.” Every time I asked, I got locked up. No food, no water. If I cried too loud, the nanny would “discipline” me for them. When they returned from their “business trips” and heard I hadn’t reflected properly, I’d get beaten again. They said ungrateful children deserved it. They said they were running around the world to give me a luxurious life, yet I was rotten to the core. Traveling became my biggest trigger. I didn’t dare mention it. Even the city where they hid her became a nightmare for me. In high school, when a field trip was announced to that specific city, I had a panic attack on the spot. I curled up under my desk, hyperventilating, screaming that I wouldn’t go. Word got back to my parents. They sponsored the trip and forced the school to change the location. But the new location was terrible, and the trip was ruined. My classmates started resenting me. They called me a princess, a psycho. Those labels stuck to me all through high school, suffocating me. Harrison continued, articulating every word. “From start to finish, the only person I ever intended to marry was Zoe.” “Marrying you is just a PR move. We need a transition to let Zoe integrate into this circle smoothly.” The real Whitman daughter returns. Everyone will realize I’m the fake. Many of our high school classmates are in this social circle. They’ll dig up the old “psycho” rumors. Compared to me, the beautiful, gentle, and cultured Zoe will be instantly embraced. And I will carry the label of the crazy imposter forever. Seeing the blood drain from my face, Harrison softened his tone slightly. “As long as you cooperate, for the sake of our years together, I won’t treat you poorly.” Years together? What years? Wasn’t the affection, the family dinners—wasn’t it all just a performance for the kidnappers? I wiped my tears aggressively and forced a grin. “Sure. I’ll cooperate. I’ll tell everyone how you used a child as bait to protect Zoe. How shameless you—” Before I could finish, Harrison grabbed me by the throat. Before he could speak, Zoe rushed in from the hallway. “Harrison! Let her go!” she screamed. Harrison acted like he didn’t hear her. He shifted his grip to my jaw, forcing me to look at Zoe. He smiled reassuringly at her, then looked back at me with dead eyes. “Look at yourself. In what world do you compare to Zoe? In what world do you deserve to marry me?” “If it wasn’t to protect her, I wouldn’t have spent a single second with you.” Zoe pried at his fingers, begging him to stop. Harrison shoved me away violently. He ordered the bodyguards to watch me, then grabbed Zoe’s hand and dragged her out. Moments later, I heard a heated argument erupting in the hallway. 3 I curled up in the corner, running through every possible escape route in my head. Suddenly, the quiet click of the door lock echoed in the room. I walked over. It was my phone, sliding across the floor. There was a sticky note on the back, three words written in large, hurried letters: I AM SORRY. I glanced at it, too drained to care who sent it. I unlocked the phone and scrolled through my contacts until my finger hovered over: “6’3, 21, Dead Broke.” I bit my lip and hit dial. He picked up instantly. But there was silence on the other end. Just the faint sound of breathing. I steadied my voice. “Hunter… can you come steal the bride tomorrow?” There was a loud crash on the other end, like something heavy falling. A long silence followed before Hunter let out a cold, dry laugh. “Quinn, I’m not that pathetic.” I bit my lip so hard it tasted like iron. A sob escaped before I could stop it. Before he could speak again, I choked out, “Sorry to bother you,” and hung up. Less than a minute later, he called back. My vision was blurred with tears. My hand shook as I tried to slide the answer button. The second the call connected, my battery hit 0%. The screen went black. 4 At 5:00 AM, the makeup team barged in. I was groggily pushed into the chair in front of the mirror. The assistant set up her tools and left her phone propped up on the counter. It was playing a video on loop. The makeup artist glanced at it and laughed. “Look at this. ‘Billionaire in a tux sprinting down the highway at 2 AM.’ Rich people are so dramatic.” She shook her head. “Another ‘she runs, he chases’ soap opera.” The assistant giggled, grabbing the phone. “It’s like a fanfic come to life.” She stared at the screen and sighed. “But imagine not wanting to marry Hunter Sterling. With a face like that? I don’t care if he’s a tycoon or a tyrant, I’d say yes.” Hearing the name, my brow twitched. “Who?” The assistant repeated it. “Hunter Sterling.” She had a heavy accent and a stuffy nose from a cold. The way she said it… it didn’t sound exactly like my Hunter. I stared at the blurry back of the man in the video, lost in thought. Just a similar name. The Hunter I knew couldn’t afford dinner, let alone a bespoke tuxedo. There was no way he was a “Beijing Circle” equivalent billionaire. I let out a bitter laugh. If he really was that powerful, maybe he wouldn’t have suffered so much because of me.

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My stepmother’s son ran away from home. No one could find him. So, I catfished him. When we finally met in person, he thought I was there to blackmail his online girlfriend. I calmly pulled out my phone and dialed his number using my burner account. “Babe, you’ve been a bad boy…” The voice on the other end was the sultry, seductive tone he’d fallen in love with online. His world shattered. I continued, “So, babe… how should I punish you?” He clutched his head, looking like he was in physical pain. “Please! Stop talking!” I smirked. “Playing you was easier than training a dog.” 1 My stepmother’s son had been missing for two weeks. No one in the family could reach him. My stepmother, desperate, finally came to beg me for help. Considering she had only been passively aggressive toward me for the past decade and never actually hit me, I decided to throw her a bone. “I might have a way…” “I’ll give you anything!” she interrupted. “New clothes? I’ll buy them! Any food you want? I’ll cook it! Oh, here—take my black card. No limit. Buy whatever you want!” My stepmother, Sharon, was truly frantic. She handed over her precious black card without hesitation. At dinner, my dad chimed in. “Honey, you know Tyler is Sharon’s only son…” I’m your only daughter, Dad. He was so anxious, you’d think Tyler was his biological son, not just a stepson. If I hadn’t seen the DNA test myself, I would have doubted it. Seeing my silence, Dad panicked. “You’ve always wanted a car, right? I’ll buy it for you! Any car!” Wow. They were really going all out. Dad was willing to bleed cash for his stepson. Is this the power of “first love”? My dad and Sharon were high school sweethearts. My grandparents broke them up because Sharon was poor. Dad married my mom, had me, and lived a normal life. But when my mom died of illness, Dad found out Sharon was a widowed single mom. Less than a year after my mom’s funeral, he married Sharon and moved her and Tyler into our house. He treated Tyler like gold for over ten years. Truly “devoted.” I, on the other hand, was treated like the unwanted stepchild in my own home. But now that they knew I had a way to find their precious boy, I was suddenly royalty. After three days of being waited on hand and foot by Sharon, she couldn’t hold back anymore. “So, how exactly are you going to find Tyler?” Evil methods for evil people. I looked mysterious. “Don’t worry. I have connections on the dark web.” “I guarantee he’ll come back in one piece.” Sharon looked at me with awe and fear. Tyler had just finished high school. He ran away because Sharon secretly changed his college applications. He wanted to study Computer Science far away from home. Sharon wanted him to study Business Management at a local university so he could eventually take over my dad’s company. She changed his major and university behind his back. Anyone would lose their mind over that. Tyler, already rebellious, snapped and vanished. I didn’t actually have “dark web connections.” The connection was me. Since Tyler loved gaming, I decided to start there. I logged into a game I knew he played. Sure enough, he was online. Obviously, I couldn’t use my main account. He hated my guts. He thought I was an obstacle to his inheritance. He wouldn’t listen to a word I said. So, I created a smurf account. ID: [BadBitchEnergy]. I sent him a friend request. Tyler: [?] BadBitchEnergy: [Saw you in the lobby. Wanna play?] Tyler didn’t think twice. He walked right into my trap. Once we were in a team, I turned on my mic. I lowered my voice, adding a sultry, lazy rasp. “Can you hear me?” Tyler: “Yeah.” At first, he was cold. But after a few days of carrying him in games, his attitude shifted. He started calling me “Sis” (not in a sibling way, more like a ‘mommy’ way). His voice was magnetic and gentle, completely different from the barking I was used to at home. It took me a few days online to achieve what I couldn’t do in ten years at home. Men. I switched to WeChat using my burner account and added him. One late night, I started the deep talks. [How old are you? Your skills are insane. Are you a pro?] Men love flattery. Tyler: [Just turned 18.] I feigned shock. [So young! And you play like that? Amazing~] Tyler: [You’re too kind, Sis. I’m not even amateur level. If my mom hadn’t messed with my college apps, maybe I could have gone pro…] I switched to “Intellectual Big Sister” mode. [Don’t listen to them. It’s your life. You’re the boss.] Tyler: [You support me?] Me: [Of course. I feel like I know you. You have your own mind. You want to be understood, but you’re lonely. You crave excitement, danger, maybe even a little pain. You want a love that consumes you.] I copied and pasted a bunch of pseudo-philosophical nonsense I found online. Tyler: [Am I really like that?] [I didn’t think I was that complex…] Five minutes later. Tyler: [Okay, I admit it. I didn’t expect anyone to truly understand me.] [And you appeared when I was at my weakest.] After that night, he changed his gaming ID to [GoodBoy]. I smirked at my screen. My research on “How to Manipulate Men” was paying off. 2 I catfished him for another two weeks. I figured he was ripe for the picking. I asked to meet up. Tyler: [Babe, what kind of boys do you like?] My patience was thinning. [I like you, silly.] Tyler: [I’m nervous. What if you don’t like me in person?] Me: [Impossible.] Tyler: [Do you like the number 8?] Me: [8 inches?] Tyler: [NO! I mean 8-pack abs! And I’m 6’2″. Does that make you feel safe?] Me: [Sure, sure.] Stop talking. Any more and you’ll jump off a building tomorrow. Is this what they mean when they say arrogant men become insecure in front of their crushes? The next day. The meet-up. Me: [I’m wearing a purple top, grey skirt, and black stockings.] Tyler: [I’m in a white T-shirt and black pants. Do you see me?] I looked up. I saw him. Hard to miss a giant like him. I had rented out the entire café. It was just us. As soon as Tyler walked in, I signaled the waiter to lock the door. Tyler saw me and immediately turned to run. I stood up, heels clicking on the floor. “Running away?” Tyler frantically tried the door. Locked. Me: “It’s useless. Give up.” He spun around, eyes full of rage. “You? Did you kidnap my girlfriend? Are you blackmailing her?” Still a hopeless romantic. Me: “Look at me again.” Purple top. Grey skirt. Black stockings. His eyes widened. The realization hit him like a truck. The body matched the description… but the face was his worst nightmare. “No… Impossible!” I calmly took out my phone and video called him on my burner account. “Babe, you’ve been a bad boy~” The voice. That sultry, mature voice he loved. His world collapsed. I continued, “So, babe… how should I punish you?” He grabbed his head, agonizing. “Stop! Please, just stop!” Me: “Playing you was easier than training a dog.” Five minutes later, Tyler posted on his WeChat Moment: [Online dating is risky. But the risk was calculated, and man, am I bad at math.] The comments section exploded. Friend A: What happened bro? Catfished? Friend B: Did they not feed you dinner? Friend C: Was it a dude? Tyler: Worse. His phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. I sat there, relaxed. “What do you want to drink? My treat.” Tyler shuddered at my voice. “If you have phlegm, cough it up. Don’t do that voice.” I covered my mouth, acting hurt. “Brother, how can you speak to your Sis like that~” Tyler looked like he wanted to cry. If he hadn’t surrendered so quickly, I would have played with him more. Tyler: “Claire, does anyone else know about this?” Me: “Excuse me? What did you call me?” Tyler gritted his teeth. “Sister.” The “Sister” lacked the romantic tenderness from our chats. Shame. Me: “Don’t worry. Your mom doesn’t know.” “But if you want, I can tell the whole world.” Tyler: “Don’t! Please! Keep it a secret!” “Sister!” Me: “What’s in it for me?” Tyler: “I’ll be your slave! I’ll do anything!” I tapped my fingers on the table. Tyler: “And half my allowance!” He transferred $1,500 to me immediately. Success. I tried not to laugh. “Deal.” “You better keep your word. Or I might accidentally slip up.” I stood up. He immediately jumped up and followed me, looking like a subservient eunuch. “Let’s go home.” 3 I told my dad earlier that I’d bring Tyler back. Sharon was waiting at the gate. When she saw Tyler, she rushed over. “Tyler! Where have you been? I was so worried!” Dad relaxed visibly. “Good job, Claire.” I didn’t care about his praise. I held out my hand. “Car keys.” Dad looked at Sharon, then at Tyler. Tyler didn’t object. Dad handed over the keys. Sharon muttered, “That car was supposed to be your graduation gift, Tyler…” Too bad. I’m taking back everything that belongs to me. Tyler went to shower. He hadn’t suffered much on the streets; Dad’s allowance was generous. But Sharon insisted on cooking a feast for her “starving” son. I chimed in. “Make me sweet and sour ribs. And braised beef with potatoes.” Sharon ignored me. Dad said, “Claire, your brother just got back. Don’t be demanding.” Demanding? Did they forget begging me three days ago? Tyler walked downstairs, fresh from his shower. I cleared my throat. “Do you know what I had to do to bring him back…” Tyler jumped the last three steps. “Mom! Cook it!” Sharon: “?” Dad: “?” Tyler: “Make the ribs and the beef!” Sharon: “But you’re allergic to beef…” Tyler: “Sister wants it! Make it!” Sharon looked at her son in shock. He used to hate me. Now he was calling me “Sister” and demanding food for me? Dad looked pleased. A happy family at last. I walked away satisfied. I lay on the sofa. “Man, I want watermelon.” Tyler appeared. “I’ll cut it.” Me: “Small cubes, please~” Tyler, through gritted teeth: “Got it.” For twenty years, I was oppressed. Now? The stepmom is cooking for me, and the stepbrother is serving me fruit. As for Dad? “Hey, old man. Order me a bubble tea.” Dad: “…Okay.” This is the life. I ruled the house that summer. Sharon cooked, Tyler cleaned. Sharon tried to ask Tyler, “Did she blackmail you? Did she hire thugs? Tell Mommy, I’ll handle her!” Tyler snapped, “If you hadn’t changed my major, would I be in this mess? Stay out of it. This is between me and her.” Sharon shut up. Tyler got used to serving me. He even peeled my grapes. Except when he called me “Sister,” he sometimes choked on the word. One night, I caught him staring at his phone, looking sad. I peeked. He was reading our old chat logs. Is he… missing our “love”? “Tyler, what are you doing?” He jumped, hiding the phone behind his back. His eyes were red. “Why are you in my room?” Me: “This is my house. You are my servant.” He blushed. His ears turned pink. Me: “Go pack my luggage.” School was starting soon. I needed to exploit him while I could. Tyler packed my clothes perfectly. He was well-trained. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Can you… delete that account?” Me: “Why? It’s a good reminder not to online date. Next time it might be your aunt.” Tyler didn’t speak. Five minutes later, he posted: [Used to miss you like crazy. Now trying to forget like crazy.] Cringe. The comments were ruthless. Bro is in his emo phase. Who hurt you? Was it the dude from the cafe? Tyler kept the secret well. It was too embarrassing. 4 Because Sharon changed his major, Tyler and I were now attending the same university, in the same major. He was a freshman; I was a junior. I started school two weeks later than him. I drove to his dorm and called him. “Where are you?” Tyler: “Cafeteria.” Me: “Pack me some fish noodles and come help me move my stuff.” Tyler: “…” His roommates were loud in the background. “Girlfriend?” “No.” “You’re running so fast, though!” Ten minutes later, a sweaty Tyler appeared with noodles. “I owe you in a past life or something,” he muttered, handing me the food. Me: “Glad you know.” I ate in the car while he hauled my boxes up to the second floor. My roommates were shocked. “Claire, who is this hunk? Boyfriend?” Tyler turned red. “This is my brother, Tyler. Freshman.” “Oh! The new campus hottie! I remember his picture from the orientation page!” Tyler finished making my bed. I pulled him aside and gave him a bottle of expensive sunscreen. “Take it. You’re getting dark. Ugly.” Tyler scowled. “I don’t want it. Men shouldn’t be pale.” Me: “Suit yourself. Don’t cry when you can’t get a girlfriend.” Tyler: “The girl I like won’t be that superficial.” Me: “Right. She likes your lonely soul.” He stared at me weirdly. Back at his dorm, his roommates caught him applying the sunscreen. “Yo! Mr. Manly Man is using skincare?” “Must be seeing a girl. Skipped nap time to see her, huh?” Tyler stayed silent.

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Our class got a new transfer student. He was gloomy, silent, and mysterious. I, on the other hand, was a chatterbox who had been exiled to the “VIP Seat” right next to the teacher’s podium for talking too much. Then, text started floating in the air above his head. [He is a mute boy who was bullied mercilessly. After graduation, he turns dark and becomes the ultimate villain.] I zeroed in on the keyword. Mute. A mute! That’s perfect! Mutes can’t snitch on me for talking! 1 Our homeroom teacher, Ms. Sweet, looked expectantly at the class. “Is there anyone willing to be partners with our new student, Jace Thorne…” I jumped up, waving my hands frantically. “Ms. Sweet! Yes! I do! Pick me!” Ms. Sweet ignored me and pushed my head down. “…and sit next to him?” Silence. Everyone looked at each other. Everyone liked their current seatmates. Except me. I was the lonely island in the VIP seat because I wouldn’t shut up. Ms. Sweet sighed, scanning the room. Finally, she looked at me. “Nora, you need to be nice to the new student.” She paused, looking like she wanted to say more. “…Specifically, please talk a little less.” Jace lowered his eyes. A flash of sadness crossed his face. But I was too busy celebrating my new captive audience. I stood up and saluted. “Yes, ma’am! Mission accepted!” I grabbed my desk and dragged it to the second-to-last row—prime real estate. I enthusiastically pulled Jace to sit next to me. “Come on, don’t be shy! From now on, you’re my best listener!” Jace sat down silently. The class rep turned around to say hi. I shoved his forehead. “Back off! Don’t interrupt my bonding time!” I turned back to Jace. “I’m a Pisces, super sensitive. I hate the silent treatment. I need care and affection. My hobby is cooking. I’ll bring you homemade breakfast tomorrow, you’ll love it…” Before I could finish, Jace pulled out a piece of paper. He stuck it vertically between our desks, blocking his face from mine. Then he opened a book and started studying. ? I pondered this. What is he doing? Hide and seek? Interesting. I stopped talking. I hid my face behind the paper wall. After a while, when Jace relaxed… I started laughing. A low, rhythmic, villainous cackle that got louder and louder. Heh… hehe… MWAHAHAHA! Then—SWISH! I yanked the paper away! Jace jumped in his seat, terrified. “Nora!” Ms. Sweet was on the podium, eyes wide, a piece of chalk ready to be thrown. I stood up and bowed. “Teacher, I was wrong! Never again!” When I sat down, Jace pulled a brick out of his backpack. A literal brick. He placed it on the line between our desks. He stuck a Post-it note on it: [DO NOT CROSS] Tsk. A border wall. I sighed deeply. It’s okay. It’s okay. Although my new partner doesn’t understand me yet, I believe that through friendly communication, he will discover my kind nature. Once Ms. Sweet leaves, I have all the time in the world to chat. After all, he really seems to be mute. No matter how much I talk, he won’t tattle to the teacher like the others. Hehehe. 2 Before English class, Ms. Sweet usually picks students to recite passages. I usually survive by mooching off my neighbors. Front desk props up a book. Back desk writes answers on my back. Partner mouths the words. But since my exile to the VIP seat, I hadn’t answered a question right in ages. I was Ms. Sweet’s number one target. Today, back among the people, I was ready. The class rep in front gave me an “OK” sign. The guy behind me tapped my back twice. All systems go. But Ms. Sweet went rogue. Today was a written dictation quiz. All books were confiscated. I looked around. Everyone was writing furiously. I was alone. My paper was blank. I spent all morning thinking about what to cook for breakfast tomorrow. I remembered nothing. I peeked at my mute partner. His profile was sharp, jawline tight. He was writing focusedly. Wait. If he can’t speak, he can’t recite. So he shouldn’t be able to write it down. I’m doomed. We’re both doomed. Ms. Sweet is going to drag us to the office. But when I glanced over, Jace’s handwriting was flying across the page. And it matched the few words I actually remembered. ! I started copying like a madman. So that’s his secret! Silent memorization is more effective than reading aloud! I need to try that. According to my observations, Jace is a genius mute. While everyone else is scratching their heads over math problems, he just looks down, draws one auxiliary line, and boom—solved. I praised him loudly while copying his answers. He panicked and tried to cover his paper. His pale ear was exposed. I leaned in. “Oh my god! You’re a genius egg!” “Bestie, I love you!” “Promise me we’ll be partners forever!” “I can’t live without you and your homework!” “I declare myself your number one fan!” His ear turned bright red. He glared at me, annoyed and embarrassed, and covered his ear with his hand. His neat handwriting was exposed again. Hehehe. I kept copying. Having a partner is the best. 3 To fulfill my promise and prove my love isn’t just talk, I woke up early. I restarted my breakfast career. I made a feast and left some on the dining table for my parents. I walked into their bedroom and ripped open the curtains. “Good morning, Mom and Dad! Today is full of hope!” “Your darling daughter made delicious breakfast! Enjoy!” My mom froze. Then she buried her head under the pillow and kicked my dad out of bed. “Your turn.” My dad got up reluctantly, hair like a bird’s nest. He walked past my breakfast without looking. I was hurt. “You don’t respect my labor!” “I spent so long making this! It’s super delicious!” “You’ll regret not eating it!” Dad pushed me out the door. “Let’s get you to school first. I’ll taste it carefully later.” On the way, he asked if the VIP seat was comfortable. I smirked. “I have a new partner.” “He’s great. I can talk all I want and he never snitches.” “He’s smart too. Memorizes everything silently.” “He’s lucky to have a partner who thinks of him constantly.” “I even woke up early to make him breakfast.” “Being my partner is a blessing for him!” Dad gave me a look of pity. Back in class. I placed the breakfast box on the border brick. I looked at Jace expectantly. “Dear partner, if you are satisfied with my breakfast, can we tear down this wall and unify our territories?” Jace stared at the breakfast for a long time. Sunlight hit his face, his long eyelashes fluttering. My heart sped up a little. He hesitated, then picked up a sandwich. He looked at me. I nodded encouragingly. He took a careful bite. The chewing stopped. Five seconds later. “Blargh…” He ran out of the room. I stood there, stunned. “Holy crap, he’s not mute!” [What kind of elixir did the side character put in the breakfast? The villain spoke!] [Uhh, looks more like lethal poison…] [The villain is puking his guts out. Poor guy.] Huh? What are they saying? Provoking me? My breakfast is the most delicious and nutritious thing in the world! I didn’t even eat any myself! I saved it all for my parents and Jace! I ate a bun from the cafeteria that was mostly dough! These people have no taste! Uncultured! 4 When Jace came back, his eyes were red. He put away the Post-it notes he used to communicate. He gave me the silent treatment. It’s okay. I’m generous. I don’t mind. “Partner, partner, was it good? Delicious, right? I made it just for you. Are you moved? Why aren’t you eating? Don’t like tuna? It’s okay, give me feedback so I can improve. Strawberry flavor tomorrow?” He turned his back to me and read his book. “Do you think silent reading is better than reading aloud? Can you give me some tips? How did you get so smart? Did you eat something special as a kid?” “Send me the link, I need brain food too.” He was silent for two seconds. He turned around, pointed at my brain. Then spread his hands and shook his head. … I’m mad. I’m really mad. I’m never talking to him again! I focused on my book. Trying Jace’s silent memorization method. Memorizing… memorizing… consciousness fading… My head tilted. It hit something soft. Comfy. I rubbed against it unconsciously. Warmth seeped into my forehead. The next second. I was shoved awake. My partner’s neck was flushed red. His back was to me, radiating panic. I rubbed my eyes. Back to memorizing. zzzZZZ…

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Every night after my livestream, I slowly peel off my silk stockings in front of the mirror. I know there’s a camera hidden behind the glass. But the man watching doesn’t know my secret: this delicate, alluring cam-girl is actually a man. 1 “Thanks for hanging out, fam! See you next time!” I blew a kiss to the camera and ended the stream. Standing up from my gaming chair, I stretched, my back popping satisfyingly. To cater to my audience’s tastes, I was wearing a pleated schoolgirl skirt and black silk stockings. The cropped top rode up with every movement, exposing a stretch of pale skin. I sat on the sofa, facing the mirror, admiring my own long legs as I slowly peeled off the stockings. Why the sofa? Because it’s the perfect triangulation point between the mirror, the computer, and the smoke detector on the wall. All three contain hidden pinhole cameras. I’ve known about them for a while. I also know they were planted by three different men. Every night, I deliberately undress here to tease them. But I never take off too much. Because if I reveal too much, they’ll discover my secret: I’m a man. 2 I was born with fair skin and a soft voice. Add in my slender frame and small bone structure, and when I dress as a woman, I’m a knockout. Men lose their minds over me. Since moving into this apartment complex, three men have targeted me. The camera in the mirror was installed by my landlord. He’s in his forties, chubby, with a perpetually friendly face. You’d never guess he was a voyeur. My computer has remote control software installed. It can turn my machine on and off and access the webcam. Even when I shut down the stream, the person on the other end can turn the camera back on. The culprit is the guy next door. He’s a freelancer with thick black-rimmed glasses, very quiet and polite. One day, my computer got a “virus” (which he planted), and he “fixed” it for me, installing the spyware in the process. The last camera is hidden inside the smoke detector. I bought it from the guy who delivers my bottled water. The first time he delivered, he wouldn’t shut up about fire safety. I played the concerned girl and let him install the detector. These three cameras monitor every inch of my living room and my daily life. Why haven’t I called the police? Because I planned this. These three men are essential pieces in my game. 3 I tossed the stockings onto the sofa and slowly unbuttoned my top. Underneath, I wore a loose camisole. I knew that behind those three lenses were three pairs of hungry eyes and three flushed faces. A smirk played on my lips as I walked into the bathroom. Watching but not touching must be torture. How long can they hold out? After all, they’ve had copies of my house key for a long time. 4 The landlord had the first key. He claimed he didn’t keep spares, but I knew he was lying. He has a history of letting himself into female tenants’ apartments. But with me, he’s still observing, biding his time. When I go out, I leave a spare key under the doormat. My neighbor and the water delivery guy didn’t miss the opportunity; they took it, copied it, and put it back. But none of them have dared to enter while I’m home. Looks like I need to add some fuel to the fire. I picked up my phone and spoke loudly, pretending to be on a call. “Yeah, this place isn’t working out.” “I’ll probably move soon.” “When? Not sure yet, maybe next week…” I put the phone down, smiling. The bait is set; now I just wait for the fish to bite. Time ticked by. At 4:00 AM, I heard a soft click at the door. Who would it be? The lock turned, and the door pushed open silently. Light footsteps approached the bedroom. The door creaked open, and I saw his face in the dim light. It was the neighbor, the freelancer. He stood by my bed, his glasses reflecting a predatory gleam. His hand reached out, trembling, hovering inches from my face before pulling back. Instead of touching me, he pulled out a camera and started taking pictures from every angle. I imagine my photos will soon be added to his wall of trophies. Among his collection, I’m sure I’m the crown jewel. He took photos for a full thirty minutes. He stared at my exposed arm for a long time before finally leaving. Once he was gone, I finally let myself sleep. I slept until noon. After washing up, I went out for lunch. While eating, I pulled up the live feed of my apartment on my phone. Hehe. They don’t know that I have way more cameras hidden in my house than they do. The landlord appeared on the screen. He seemed impatient. He’d entered shortly after I left. He marched into the bathroom, grabbed my underwear, and… relieved himself. I watched with interest, my lunch forgotten. Soon, he groaned and closed his eyes in ecstasy. When he was done, he put the underwear back and left. I finished my meal and strolled back. On the stairs, I ran into Julian. Julian lives upstairs. He’s a writer. He always wears turtlenecks and silver-rimmed glasses—very clean-cut and handsome. I know Julian likes me. Every time he sees me, he gets this shy smile. If I hold eye contact too long, he blushes. He knows my schedule and manufactures “chance encounters.” He knows I’m a streamer; he’s my top moderator, “SimpleJay,” always tipping and chatting. He even brings me homemade red date soup, claiming he “made too much.” Honestly, I kinda like him too. Unlike the three creeps with their cameras, Julian looks at me with pure affection, no lust. In this society, a pure boy like him is rare. So, I flirt back. I nurture the relationship. After all, killing him will be so much more satisfying when he’s deeply in love with me.

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My wife secretly swapped the donor lists. The kidney that was meant for our son, she gave to her old flame’s child instead. Later, our son’s condition worsened. The doctors fought to save him, but it was too late. He died. At that very same moment, her old flame’s son was recovering from a successful surgery. My wife was so overjoyed, she handed out gift cards to the entire hospital staff. The rage and grief swallowed me whole, and I collapsed. When I woke up, the doctors told me I had terminal cancer. My life was now on a countdown. My heart a hollowed-out ruin, I checked out of the hospital, clutching my son’s ashes. In the cold silence of our home, I drafted the divorce papers. 1 It was ten o’clock at night when Hannah finally came home. The moment she closed the door and slipped off her shoes, the living room lights flickered on. She jumped, startled. There I was, sitting on the sofa in the dark, a white porcelain urn cradled in my arms. I don’t know how long I’d been waiting. “Ian, are you insane?” she snapped. “Sitting here in the dark trying to scare me to death?” Her sharp voice cut through the silence. I mechanically lifted my head and looked at her. Even at this late hour, not a single strand of her long hair was out of place. Her dress was perfectly smooth, without a single wrinkle. It was clear how much the father and son she’d spent all day doting on meant to her. She, who had always been so effortlessly casual, was now meticulously put-together for them. When I just stared at her without a word, a storm cloud of annoyance gathered on her face. “Are you still holding a grudge about the kidney?” My hands tightened around the urn. “I already told you, another donor will come along! I’m a doctor, Ian. My priority has to be the patient in most critical need. Aaron is in the optimal window for recovery. This kidney gives him the best possible chance at a full life!” “I know you’re worried about Cody,” she continued, her voice laced with impatience, as if I were some weak, irrational fool. “But he’s already waited this long. What’s a little more time? He’s my son, too. It’s not like I’m going to abandon him…” But it wasn’t just a little more time. After we lost that kidney, my son’s health went into a nosedive. He never opened his eyes again. My little boy. He was so small. Before he died, he held my hand tightly and asked why Mommy wasn’t there. He asked if Mommy didn’t love him anymore. All I could do was kiss his pale cheeks, over and over, and tell him that Daddy was here, that Daddy would always be with him. Cody never saw his mother one last time. But her first love’s son, Aaron, got the kidney just in time. And he lived. He lived because he had my son’s kidney. I hated this hypocritical, selfish woman with every fiber of my being. I never wanted to see her again. Seemingly satisfied with her lecture, Hannah finally fell silent. She tossed her jacket, heavy with the scent of expensive perfume, at me. “Take this. I need it washed and ironed before I go to work tomorrow.” I didn’t move. I didn’t reach for it. I let it fall to the floor. Hannah’s brow furrowed. I met her eyes, my voice steady and certain. “Let’s get a divorce.” The words hung in the air. She stared as if she couldn’t believe they had come from my mouth. Her eyes were wide with disbelief. “What did you just say?” A bitter smile touched my lips. “I said, Hannah, I’m divorcing you.” I pushed the papers I’d prepared across the coffee table. “Here’s the divorce agreement. I don’t want any of the assets. City Hall opens at nine tomorrow. Make sure you have your ID.” The air in the room grew thick, stagnant. Hannah didn’t even look at the papers. I could see the rage building in her, a visible storm. “Are you ever going to let this go?!” she shrieked. “You had to pick tonight to pull this stunt? Aaron needed that kidney more than Cody! How many times do I have to explain it? Ian, can you stop being so damn selfish for once?!” Her furious glare was a physical force, trying to make me back down. I ignored it, my voice still quiet, but now as hard as stone. “Hannah, I’m divorcing you. This isn’t a negotiation.” Her face turned to ice. A cold, mocking laugh escaped her lips. “Oh, so now you’re threatening me?” She snatched her jacket from the floor, pulled it on, and stalked toward the door, her face a rigid mask. Clearly, she’d decided to run from the problem. She wasn’t staying here tonight. At the door, she turned back, her voice a final, cold warning. “And let me tell you something, Ian. Even if we do get divorced, I’m getting full custody of Cody. You’d better not live to regret this.” The door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the suffocating silence. I stroked the smooth, cool surface of the urn in my lap, as if comforting a frightened child. From the moment she walked in to the moment she left, she never once asked about her son. Not if he was in pain, not if he was sleeping. She never even lowered her voice. That slam of the door was deafening. And not once did she ask what was in the urn I was holding. I stared at the empty doorway, my vision blurring. You missed Cody’s last moments, Hannah. And you’re going to miss mine, too. The next morning, I was waiting outside City Hall right on time. Nine o’clock came and went. Hannah was a no-show. I pulled out my phone and called her. Her voice exploded from the other end. “Ian! What is wrong with you? Is your life’s mission to make mine a living hell?” My own voice was calm. “Come and sign the papers, Hannah. Don’t make me lose the last shred of respect I have for you.” She came. We signed our names. The clerk stamped the papers. The divorce was final. Hannah’s face was a twisted mask of fury. A laugh, sharp and humorless, escaped her. “Wow. I really underestimated you.” “And don’t forget what I said,” she spat, turning to leave. “Custody of Cody is mine. I’ll give you three days to pack your things and bring him to me, Ian. Or I’ll see you in court.” As I watched her storm away, I wanted to laugh, but a thick, metallic taste of blood filled my throat instead. Cody’s already gone, Hannah. He died the same day Aaron’s surgery was a success. Are you happy? At least it saves you some legal fees. I never went back to that house. I had already burned all of Cody’s things. I’d thrown away all of mine. I’d cut our faces out of every photograph. Lately, the cancer was getting worse. I was coughing up blood, sometimes with small pieces of tissue in it. The only reason I had pushed for this divorce decree was so that we wouldn’t be a family anymore—not even in death. That same day, I took the small bag I had packed, held Cody’s urn close, and went back to my hometown. My parents had always respected my decisions. They had never liked Hannah, but they’d agreed to the marriage to make me happy. It was the same now. They saw the urn in my arms, saw my body that had become a walking skeleton, and they must have guessed the truth. But they didn’t ask. They just cooked me nourishing meals every day and gently wiped the blood from my lips. One day, after a particularly bad bout of coughing that left me voiceless, I saw the raw pain in their eyes and was consumed by regret. Regret for coming back to be a burden on them in my final days. As if she could read my mind, my mother wrapped her arms around me, her own tears finally breaking free. “Ian, honey, we are so glad you came home,” she sobbed. “To be with you on this last part of your journey… for us, there is no regret in that. Only peace.” My own tears fell, and a sense of calm finally washed over me. One sunny afternoon, I sat in a rocking chair on the porch. Beside me was a bowl of grapes my mother had washed. In the golden haze of the summer sun, I saw him. Cody. He was wearing the new blue jeans I’d burned for him as an offering. He leaned against my legs, smiling up at me. “Daddy! I can touch you now!” I took his small hand in mine. Together, we watched as my parents placed my urn on the shelf next to his. One large, one small. The two porcelain urns leaned against each other, just like how Cody used to sleep in my arms. Cody blinked his clear, bright eyes. “Daddy, Grandpa and Grandma can’t see us anymore…” I stroked his hair. “No, son. But they can feel us in their hearts.” I didn’t know why we were still here, lingering in this world. But after seeing that my parents had found a measure of stability, I decided to take Cody to see his mother. When he was alive, all of Hannah’s attention had been focused on Aaron in the next room. Every single day, Cody had hoped his mother would come visit, but he died without ever seeing her again. Now, I could finally grant him his wish. He could look at her for as long as he wanted. We found Hannah at the hospital, just coming out of surgery. Cody was ecstatic. He finally saw the mother he had longed for, and he danced around her in excited circles. But Hannah couldn’t feel his presence. She sat down, exhausted, paying him no mind. Another doctor walked by. Hannah seemed to remember something and called out to him. “Dr. Miles, I was just wondering… how was my son’s recovery before he was discharged?” The doctor smiled warmly. “Oh, fantastic! The treatment was perfectly timed. Not a single complication.”

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At the engagement party I spent over $70,000 planning, my boyfriend was locked in a passionate embrace with my best friend. They were kissing, and on my best friend’s hand was my $30,000 diamond ring. To top it off, my future mother-in-law, the woman I had nursed back to health for three years, was screaming at me, calling me the “other woman”… 1 Today was supposed to be my engagement party to Jason. I rushed into the hotel ballroom, heart pounding because I was running a few minutes late. As I threw open the double doors, the room exploded with cheers and the pop-pop-pop of confetti cannons. Reflexively, I squeezed my eyes shut against the sudden noise. Despite the shock, a wave of pure joy washed over me. This was it. But when I opened my eyes, the joy curdled in my stomach. Standing in the center of the room, bathed in the spotlight, was my fiancé, Jason, locked in a romantic embrace with my best friend, Leah. The crowd was hooting and hollering. “Kiss her! Kiss her!” I watched, frozen, as they beamed at each other, leaning in to seal the deal. I tried to move, but a surge of guests pushed forward to see the “happy couple,” knocking me off balance. Another roar of applause erupted from the front. They kissed. This was my party. I had spent the last month planning every detail, fronting the cash, sweating the small stuff. Jason hadn’t even bothered to look at the venue. And Leah? She had been involved every step of the way. Every time I tried to cut costs, she’d say, “Ava, you only get engaged once. Treat yourself. Don’t be cheap.” Now I understood. I spent a fortune on this party, and it turned out I was just the financier for theirs. Then I saw it. Glinting on Leah’s finger was the $30,000 diamond ring. That ring… the whole selection process had been weird. Jason kept rescheduling our appointments because Leah “couldn’t make it.” He gave me this whole speech about how his family came from nothing, so he couldn’t give me a lavish wedding, but he wanted me to have the ring of my dreams. He said I was too indecisive. He said Leah had a “designer’s eye” and should come along to help. I was naive enough to think he was being thoughtful. No wonder I kept saying the ring felt tight and uncomfortable. He insisted my fingers were just swollen that day. He insisted we buy that specific one. It wasn’t sized for me. It was sized for her. My anger spiked, hot and blinding. I shoved my way through the crowd, ready to tear them apart. 2 Suddenly, something hard cracked against my spine. “You homewrecking trash!” I spun around to see Jason’s mother, Mrs. Lewis, wielding her walking cane like a weapon, her face twisted in rage. Mrs. Lewis had taken a bad fall back in her trailer park two years ago. She was bedridden, developing sepsis because no one was caring for her. Jason had cried on my shoulder about it. Being the soft-hearted idiot I was, I moved her into the city, paid for the best specialists, and nursed her back to health. Now, she could walk with a cane. Back then, Jason and I lived separately. She lived with him, and he hired a caregiver. But he kept convincing me to move in. Once I did, he made me nitpick the caregiver until she quit. I was so blinded by love, I quit my job to care for his mother full-time for two years. My parents were furious. They told me if I chose Jason over my career and dignity, I couldn’t come home. So, when Jason suggested we not invite my parents to the engagement party, I didn’t fight it. Now, staring at the cane, I thought Mrs. Lewis was just confused, maybe her bad balance made her hit me. “Mom…” I started. She swung again. “Don’t you ‘Mom’ me! You’ve been stalking my son, trying to break up his relationship! And now you show up to ruin his big day? You side-chick!” My jaw dropped. Side-chick? The music died down. The room went silent. Everyone turned to look at me. While I was stunned, Mrs. Lewis brought the cane down right on my head. Crack. The world spun. I hit the floor, ears ringing. The whispers around me sounded amplified, like I was underwater. “The nerve of that mistress…” “I recognize her. She used to bring lunch to Jason’s office. I thought she was the girlfriend, guess she was just the side piece.” “Mom! Mom, stop!” Jason and Leah ran over. Leah threw herself in front of the old woman, while Jason knelt to help me up. “Jason, tell them…” I mumbled, blood trickling down my forehead. Leah cut me off. “Mrs. Lewis, please! Don’t blame her. Ava is my friend. She’s just… she implies things about Jason because of me.” She looked up with teary, innocent eyes. It was sickening. “Ava, please just go. I still consider you a friend, but Mrs. Lewis misunderstood the situation.” The adrenaline faded, replaced by a cold, deadly calm. “Jason,” I said, staring him down. “You’re not going to say anything?” Jason leaned in close, his voice a whisper. “Ava, Mom’s having a dementia episode. She’s confused. There’s a scene. I’ll explain everything later.” Then he let go of my arm and stepped back, raising his voice for the crowd. “Miss, I’ve told you a thousand times. It’s never going to happen. I love Leah.” I looked at the three of them. I should have screamed. I should have fought. But instead, I felt a strange sense of peace. The dust had finally settled. I stood up and walked away without a word. Jason chased me to the door, whispering frantically, “Ava, I’m so sorry. You were humiliated today. I’ll make it up to you.” “Okay,” I said. It was my automatic response. I always forgave him. I always thought, he’s had such a hard life, he’s trying so hard. 3 I walked out of the ballroom, but realized I’d left my purse in the bridal suite. I doubled back. As I gathered my things, I heard high heels clicking down the hall. Leah’s voice—high-pitched and distinct—drifted in. I ducked into a small supply closet inside the suite and locked it. “Mom, you were amazing out there! Truly my real mother-in-law.” Leah’s voice was sickeningly sweet. “It’s your fault she was even there,” Mrs. Lewis grumbled. “You said you handled it.” “I did! I told her to go home to get the ring, and I rigged the lock on her apartment door. She was supposed to be trapped inside until tonight.” My blood ran cold. The lock had jammed this morning. Thank God I had the locksmith’s number saved from a previous issue, and he happened to be nearby. It was divine intervention. Jason’s voice chimed in. “Don’t worry, babe. Ava bought it. She loves me too much to suspect anything.” “My son is a catch,” Mrs. Lewis cackled. “She’s lucky she got to breathe the same air as you. You’ve got her wrapped around your finger.” “Exactly,” Jason said. “We just need to keep the act up tonight. Once we get back to the penthouse and the deed transfer is officially recorded, we’re set. Then we’ll get her to pop out a kid. Once she has a baby, she’s tied to the Lewis family forever. Her rich parents will be funding us for life.” They all laughed. It was a grotesque, greedy sound. 4 The “penthouse” Mrs. Lewis mentioned was a luxury condo my parents bought for me. I had been renting while it was being renovated, and Jason eventually convinced me to let him move in. No one had actually lived in the new place yet. Thinking the engagement was happening, I planned to move us in right after the party. I took Mrs. Lewis and Jason to see it a few months ago. Mrs. Lewis had burst into tears the moment she walked in. She wailed about how her son wasn’t good enough, how back in their hometown, people would call him a “kept man” or a “gold digger” for living in a woman’s house. “I raised him to be proud! He can’t be a squatter in his wife’s home! It’s shameful!” She usually smiled at me, so seeing her cry shocked me. “Mom, don’t cry. We just won’t tell people it’s my house,” Jason said, looking panicked. “You’re the most successful one in our family! You’re a manager! How do you not have a house yet?” she sobbed. “My poor life… people will say I dragged you down.” She threw herself on the floor. I was so stupidly in love, so desperate to be accepted. “Mrs. Lewis, don’t worry,” I had said. “I’ll put the title in Jason’s name. Then it’s his house. We’ll be living in his home. He won’t be a ‘kept man’.” “Really?” She stopped crying instantly, beaming. “Then you really are my daughter-in-law. You’re a blessing to the Lewis family.” We went to the County Recorder’s office the next week. They said the paperwork would take a week. But it had been two months, and it still hadn’t cleared. 5 I walked out of the hotel into the blinding afternoon sun. I thought this was going to be the happiest day of my life, but everything had changed. I was surrounded by wolves. Leah and I had grown up together. She came from a broken home, raised by a neglectful father. She was always hungry, always cold. I gave her clothes, I gave her money. I never hesitated. “Ava.” I looked up. My dad was standing there, eyes red. My mom was beside him, wiping away tears. “Dad… I’m so sorry. I…” “Hush now, sweetie,” Mom said, pulling me into a hug. “Let’s go home.” They didn’t say “I told you so.” Mom just held my hand the whole ride. Suddenly, it hit me. “Dad! We have to go back! The condo! If the paperwork goes through, I lose the house!” “Ava, don’t worry,” Dad said, his voice grim. “I won’t let them take anything.” “But…” “Ava, rest,” Mom patted my shoulder. “We didn’t approve of Jason, but you are our daughter. We won’t let you be bullied.” “Dad, I need your help with a lot of things.” I felt strength returning. I wasn’t alone. Jason saw me as a naive doormat because I loved him. I ignored the red flags because I cared. But I wasn’t the type to beg for love after getting slapped in the face. Back home, I told my parents everything. Mom cried multiple times. Afterward, I felt drained and starving. Mom cooked a feast, and I ate until I couldn’t move, then slept for the first time in days. “Sleep, baby,” Mom whispered. “Tomorrow, there’s a good show waiting for us.”

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1 The wedding I’d dreamed of since high school—the one that was supposed to take us from prom to the altar—became a cruel public joke in front of two hundred guests. And the ringmaster was my own sister. She stood beside Nathan—the man who should have been mine—wearing a white gown just like mine. Step by step, they walked toward me. “Daisy, I’m pregnant with Nathan’s baby,” Anna announced. “We’re already married. He’s your brother-in-law now.” Her words exploded in my ears. As their marriage certificate flashed on the giant screen, she handed me the physical copy, as if to make sure I saw it clearly. Against the document’s bright red background, their smiles beamed like a long-devoted couple. The registration date: yesterday. “Why?” I choked out, tears burning behind my eyes. Nathan frowned, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. “Daisy, Anna only has a year left,” he said, voice thick with pity. “This is her final wish—to marry the man she loves, to leave a child behind. She’s your sister. You understand, don’t you?” But who would understand me? Staring at his righteous face, a broken laugh rose inside me. It was all so absurd. So agonizing. … Tears streamed down my cheeks as I screamed, my voice raw, “So to ‘understand,’ I have to let my fiancé sleep with her? I have to give up my own wedding?” Since we were children, my sister had been the sole recipient of our parents’ affection. And her favorite pastime was taking whatever belonged to me. My clothes, my toys, my friends… When I met Nathan, I thought I’d finally found something that was mine alone—a love that was sacred. But she had to steal this too. “Anna, I’m begging you, get out of my wedding! Get out of my life!” “That’s enough! Don’t you dare speak to her like that!” Nathan snapped, his eyes sharp with anger. “If it weren’t for Anna, do you think I would have ever gotten together with you?” “What… what does that mean?” I stared at him, the world tilting under my feet. “Daisy, I’m so sorry. Please, don’t fight because of me anymore.” Anna suddenly burst into tears. “I was just scared that after I die, Mom and Dad would have nothing to live for. I wanted to leave them with a reason to go on. Marrying Nathan… it was the only way. I don’t want my child to be born without a mother and a father.” “But if you can’t accept it, then… then I’ll just go die right now!” With that, Anna lunged toward the nearest wall, aiming to smash her head against it. A collective gasp swept through the hall. Just as she was about to make impact, the wedding planner dashed forward and yanked her back. Everyone let out a sigh of relief. Nathan shot me a venomous, blaming glare before rushing to comfort her. My parents scrambled over, hugging her with faces etched in heartbreak. “Don’t save me! Let me die!” Anna sobbed. “I’m not going to live long anyway! This way, Daisy can get her wish! If she can be happy, then my death will be worth it.” Her words twisted the knife, making me the villain once again. As expected, my mother, hearing this, stormed over to me. The sharp crack of her hand against my cheek echoed in the stunned silence. “I don’t have a daughter with a heart as black as yours!” I clutched my stinging cheek, my eyes burning. I looked at my mother, truly looked at her. My entire life, she had been a ghost, a shadow in the corner, indifferent to my joys and my sorrows. But the second Anna was involved, she would materialize, ready to defend her. It had always been this way. Nathan’s face was a mask of disappointment. “She’s your sister, Daisy, and you’re trying to drive her to her death. You’re too cruel.” “Apologize to Anna right now, or we can forget about ever having a wedding!” SLAP! I swung my own hand, striking him across the face with all the force I could muster. “You’re disgusting!” The wedding I had dreamed of since I was a teenager ended in a humiliating retreat. I went straight back to our new home. By the time Nathan returned, I had finished packing. I was dragging my suitcase to the door. He grabbed my hand, rubbing his temples in exasperation. “Are you really going to make a scene over this?” “It’s only for a year, Daisy. Then I’ll come back to you. Can you please stop being so dramatic?” I wrenched my hand away. “Dramatic?” “Nathan, we’ve been together for so long. Did you ever truly love me? If you had just told me you fell in love with someone else, I would have stepped aside.” “But what did you do? You went behind my back, slept with my sister, and then you both humiliated me in front of everyone we know!” The memory sent a chill through my entire body. “What do you take me for?” Nathan faltered for a second. “Daisy, I know this is hard for you.” Just like that. A simple acknowledgment to gloss over the gaping wound he’d torn in my life. How pathetic. I looked down, the last embers of love for him finally extinguished. “Nathan,” I said, my voice flat. “We’re done.” We were done the moment he chose to hurt me. “Get out!” I shoved him and his suitcase out the door and slammed it shut. I had bought this house. He was the one who had to leave. Ignoring his frantic knocking, I walked back into the living room and sank onto the sofa. Nathan and I had been together for seven years. He was my desk mate in my final year of high school, a transfer student who was a year older than everyone else. An orphan, he was quiet and aloof with everyone but me. After graduation, we fell together naturally. We had our sweet moments, and our arguments. He always said his greatest dream was to marry me, to give me a home. When he made that promise, his eyes had been filled with nothing but love and sincerity. I truly believed we were the couple who would make it from the classroom to the altar. And I never even saw when he and Anna had gotten together. I covered my face, trying not to cry. But the sobs came, ragged and unstoppable. I spent three days in a fog, until my best friend, Chloe, rushed back from her business trip. The moment she walked in, she wrapped me in a hug, her own eyes turning red. We’d been friends since we were kids. Her work trip was the only reason she’d missed the wedding. “I never should have gone. I should have been here with you. This is all my fault…” She cried until she couldn’t anymore. Finally, she sniffled and looked at me, her eyes hard. “Daisy, we can’t let them get away with this. They humiliated you.” “And you know your sister. She’s a drama queen. I guarantee she has more planned.” I nodded. Anna and I were sisters by blood, but she’d despised me since we were born. Compounded by her illness—a doctor’s grim prediction that she wouldn’t live past twenty-eight—our parents had always coddled her out of guilt. I had suffered at her hands my entire life. And now, she was using her final days to plot against me, to ensure I lived the rest of my life in her shadow? In her dreams. I refused to be a pawn in her and Nathan’s sick game. I wiped my tears and told Chloe my thoughts. She immediately started helping me find witnesses who could attest to my long relationship with Nathan. Meanwhile, I gathered all the evidence of our love story. I didn’t know what their next move would be, but I wasn’t going to just sit here and take it. I never imagined Anna could be so shameless. After a few days of rest, I went back to work. I had been out for so long that my desk was piled high with tasks. I was so busy I barely had time to eat. That evening, I walked into my apartment to find my parents sitting on my sofa with Anna and Nathan. I’d forgotten. Nathan still had a spare key. The sight of him, the memory of everything we’d shared in this very house, made my stomach turn. I took a deep breath. I needed to sell this place, and fast. “What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice hard as stone. My mother pretended not to notice my tone. “Daisy, honey, you and Anna are sisters. There’s nothing you can’t get past.” “Anna has already promised that after she’s gone, we’ll throw a magnificent wedding for you and Nathan to make it up to you.” “This time, it was Mom and Dad who didn’t think things through.” It was rare for my mother to sound apologetic, but it only made me colder. “So, you and Dad knew about it that day?” Their eyes darted away, a clear sign of their guilt. I let out a cold laugh. Of course. My mother pressed her lips together. “Your sister and her child needed a legitimate status. The wedding was the best place to announce it.” Because Anna needed it, they sacrificed me without a second thought. I closed my eyes, a bitter smile on my face. I’d always known I wasn’t as important as Anna to them. But I never knew just how worthless I was. Anna chose that moment to chime in. “Daisy, don’t blame Mom and Dad. They did it all for me.” “I know you’re upset, but I couldn’t bear to miss out on my chance with Nathan again. We… we already missed each other once before.” As she spoke, she gazed at Nathan with deep affection. His eyes softened with a look of shared pain. My heart stopped. I suddenly remembered that before Nathan had transferred to our school, he had a first love. I’d asked him about her before, but he always changed the subject. I never imagined his first love was my own sister. No wonder he was so special to me, and only me. All these years, I was just a stand-in. A substitute. My fists clenched. Anna, Nathan! You’ve gone too far! Perhaps my expression was too terrifying, because Nathan didn’t dare look at me. Anna, however, pressed on. “Daisy, I know you love Nathan very much.” “But I love him too, and I don’t want to share him with another woman. But what can I do? You’re my sister.” She started to cry, a picture of fragile beauty. “If you agree to have a hysterectomy, I’m willing to let Nathan marry you after I’m gone.” Anna’s sobs were heartbreaking. Nathan pulled her into his arms, the two of them looking like a pair of star-crossed lovers. My parents were openly weeping. “That’s right, Daisy,” my mother said. “Your sister doesn’t have much time left. Just give in to her this once. I know your father and I neglected you, and that’s why you’re so stubborn.” “Here’s what we’ll do. You move back home with us, and we’ll make it up to you. For now, let Anna and Nathan have this new house.” “You can move back in after a year…” I looked at Anna. When no one was watching, she shot me a triumphant smirk. The victor. SLAP! I couldn’t take it anymore. I lunged forward and struck Anna across the face. She let out a piercing shriek. My parents and Nathan froze. “Daisy, don’t you—” SLAP! Nathan started to speak, and I hit him too. Without another word, I stormed into the kitchen, grabbed a butcher knife, and came back out, pointing it directly at them. My eyes were glacial. “Get. Out.” They were all stunned into silence. My mother trembled. “I’m your mother! You ungrateful child!” “Get out!” I repeated, my voice even colder. I started waving the knife wildly, driving them out like a madwoman. Terrified of getting cut, they huddled together, protecting Anna as they scrambled for the door. Watching their pathetic retreat, I spat. “You want my house, Anna? Not in this lifetime!” “And as for Nathan, that piece of trash? If you want him, you can have him. I don’t!” Hearing me call him trash, Nathan’s face contorted. He tried to argue, but I slammed the door in his face. Outside, my parents screamed insults at me, calling me a heartless viper. I couldn’t be bothered to listen. With the door shut, I could finally breathe again. But my head was spinning. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in a hospital. Chloe was by my side, relief washing over her face. “Thank God I asked your neighbor to keep an eye on things! I knew they were bad news!” “I came in and found you on the floor! It was just low blood sugar, but you scared me to death!” “I’m sorry I made you worry,” I said, ashamed. “Don’t say that!” she scolded playfully, then her expression turned mischievous. “But hey, there’s a silver lining!” She handed me a few sheets of paper. “I picked these up for you while I was at it.” It was the pre-marital health screening report Nathan and I had done. Confused, I started reading. A single line made me freeze. I gasped. “Nathan is sterile?!” “Then the baby in Anna’s belly… it’s not his?!” I was so shocked my voice rose to a shriek. Chloe grinned and nodded. “I was floored too! I even double-checked with the doctor. He said there’s no way Nathan could ever have children!” “The idiot is eagerly playing daddy to another man’s kid! He deserves it!” She laughed, a sound full of malicious glee. Hearing that, I started laughing too. It was the best news I’d had in what felt like an eternity. “So what’s your plan? Are you going to tell him now? Though, Daisy, you should probably just…” “The only thing I feel for him is hatred,” I cut her off. I thought for a moment. “We keep this a secret for now.” “We wait until Anna is seven or eight months along. Then we tell them.” By then, an abortion would be out of the question. Anna was willing to use her own unborn child and sacrifice my entire life just to trap me. So I would dismantle her plan, piece by piece, until she couldn’t rest in peace. Chloe gave me a thumbs-up. We looked at each other and smiled. I was so grateful to have her by my side through all of this. We spent the next hour plotting our next steps. I stayed in the hospital overnight. When they confirmed I was fine, I discharged myself, telling Chloe not to worry about picking me up. When I got to my apartment, Nathan was squatting by the door. The moment I saw him, my face went cold. “Are you okay? I heard you were in the hospital,” he said, trying to sound like the devoted man I once knew. I used to love his gentleness. He was cold to the world, but always warm and soft with me. Now, knowing I was just a substitute, the thought of his touch made me sick. “None of your damn business,” I snarled. “Daisy!” He reached for me, but I dodged him. “Can’t you just behave?” he said, his voice laced with exhaustion. “Just wait for me to get through this year with Anna, and then we can be together. Please, just wait for me.” I laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “You are truly disgusting. What, you want to have us both? Live out some sick fantasy?” “Daisy! We love each other. Why are you making this so complicated?” “Love each other? In your dreams,” I said coldly. “After everything you’ve done, do you really think I’d still be stupid enough to love you?” “I’m not Anna. I’m not that pathetic.” The disgust on my face must have been plain, because he flinched. “Daisy, don’t say things you don’t mean,” he pleaded, his eyes full of feigned hurt. “Hah.” I smirked, my eyes full of scorn. Suddenly, I kicked his shin. As he doubled over in pain, I shoved him aside, unlocked my door, and slipped inside. “If you harass me again, I’m calling the police!” I yelled, slamming the door shut. The second I sat down, a message from Chloe came through. I opened the file she sent—a video of the wedding disaster—and forwarded it to the general HR email address at Nathan’s company. If we were going to be humiliated, we might as well all go down together.

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One week before our wedding, my fiancée, Chloe, told me she had to marry her first love before she could marry me. Her reasoning? His mother had passed away, and her dying wish was to see them wed. “Ray’s mother always wanted him to settle down. I’m just fulfilling an old woman’s last request. Don’t overthink it,” she said, her voice calm, as if discussing the weather. “But Chloe,” I countered, “the company is launching the ‘True Love’ jewelry collection on the day of our wedding. It’s the event of the decade.” She looked at me with impatience. “It’s just a few billion dollars. Can money compare to Ray’s filial piety? If you care so much about that money, go find someone else to marry.” Her cold words were the final straw. I understood everything clearly now. I turned around and dialed my sister-in-law. “Hey, sis. Help me find a new bride.” When I got back to the family estate, my sister-in-law, Sarah, looked at me like I had grown a second head. “You’re calling off the wedding?” “No,” I said, a bitter smile forming on my lips. “She’s marrying someone else.” I had fought tooth and nail within my family to be with Chloe. I battled my parents’ disapproval and strategically planned the launch of the ‘True Love’ collection to coincide with our wedding day to prove my devotion. Now, it was all for nothing. Sarah was silent for a long time. “Well… the only option left is Stella. Her family is pushing her to marry, and she’s been looking for a partner recently.” I frowned. Stella Vance. My sworn enemy since kindergarten. On the day of my engagement to Chloe, she had cursed my marriage, predicting it would end in flames. I didn’t expect her to be a prophet. Time was tight. I sighed. “Fine. It’s her. Ask her if she’s interested. If not, I’ll figure something else out.” Sarah didn’t hesitate. “No need to ask. She’ll agree.” “What?” Before I could question her further, a crowd surrounded my car. “You must be Chloe’s fiancé! So handsome!” “You’re here to pick her up, right? She’ll be down in a minute. You two are so sweet.” I gripped the steering wheel, looking down to hide the mockery in my eyes. Chloe had introduced me to her colleagues early on. To everyone else, we were the model couple. No one could have guessed she was about to marry another man. After saying goodbye to her colleagues, Chloe got into the car and handed me a model airplane. “Ray asked me to give this to you. You embarrassed him at the funeral yesterday, so you should apologize to him when you get a chance.” The model was a cheap plastic miniature, obviously a free gift with purchase. I had seen it in her online shopping cart a few days ago. “I don’t want it,” I said flatly. Chloe frowned. “What are you throwing a tantrum for now? You stormed into the funeral claiming I wasn’t his fiancée and humiliated him. He didn’t even hold a grudge and got you a gift, and this is how you react?” The woman who used to protect me was gone. Now, she cherished someone else. Chloe rolled down the window, annoyed. After a long silence, seeing I wasn’t going to comfort her, she sighed. “Fine. Today is the dress fitting. I won’t hold it against you.” It was the first time all year she had softened her tone. At the bridal shop, the manager greeted us enthusiastically. “Miss Lawson, the one hundred and twenty custom gowns Mr. Sterling ordered are ready for you.” But Chloe wasn’t looking at the dresses. She was staring at her phone, anxiety etched on her face. Noticing my gaze, she quickly put the phone away, a hint of apology in her eyes. “Liam, something came up with Ray. I have to go. Pick a dress for me, okay? I trust your taste.” Without waiting for an answer, she flagged down a taxi and left me standing there alone. The manager approached cautiously. “Mr. Sterling… will you be selecting the dress yourself?” I looked away from the door and nodded. Of course, I would select a dress. Just not for Chloe. The bride had changed. I went home, expecting Chloe to stay out all night. Surprisingly, she returned before dinner. She strode over to me, holding a takeout container. “I drove across town to get this for you. Harry’s Dumplings, your favorite.” I opened the box. Shrimp dumplings. There were three missing. One had a bite taken out of it. Half an hour ago, I had seen Ray’s Instagram story. The photo was of the exact same dumplings. Caption: “Wifey bought me late-night snacks. Love you, baby!” I put down my chopsticks, my appetite gone. “I don’t want it. Throw it away.” Chloe glared at me, displeasure radiating off her, but she held back. She sat down next to me, sighing. “You don’t know how pitiful Ray was today. My parents went to his place demanding a dowry. He cried.” “Ray just got back to the country; he doesn’t have any money. I’m thinking of using my dowry to cover for him.” She shook my arm, her voice taking on a wheedling tone. I looked at her, a scoff escaping my lips. “So, I have to pay the dowry for your husband?” In the past, I cared about Chloe. Whatever she asked for, I gave. Whatever she needed, I did. But she had personally woken me up from that dream. Since Ray returned, everything she did revolved around him. She had forgotten that I was the one supposed to spend the rest of my life with her. My response infuriated her. “What do you mean? You won’t do it? You better realize, Ray is my best friend. You need to make him happy, or I won’t marry you!” With that, she slammed the door and left. Feeling suffocated, I went downstairs for a run in the park. One lap in, my phone rang. It was Stella. Thinking of Stella’s perpetual poker face, I hesitated for two seconds before answering. “Once you’re on my ship, you’re mine. Try to jump, and I’ll break your legs!” Stella started with a threat. Classic. I stayed silent. She continued. “Send me your ID. We’re getting the license.” “I’m afraid you’ll back out.” Stella, you’re weird. I imagined ten thousand scenarios where she used this marriage to torture me. Finally, I squeezed out a sentence: “See you at the wedding, Miss Vance.” As soon as I hung up, Chloe appeared behind me like a ghost. “You’re inviting Stella to our wedding? I forbid it!” She stared at me as if facing a mortal enemy. “Liam, haven’t I told you not to associate with Stella? Her intentions aren’t pure. If you invite her, don’t blame me for causing a scene!” I hadn’t even said a word, and she was already threatening me. Chloe had always disliked Stella. It was an inexplicable hostility. When we first started dating, she threw a fit because Stella and I bantered on WeChat. I eventually cut ties with Stella to appease her. And now she says… Stella’s intentions aren’t pure? I was about to ask what she meant when Ray suddenly leaned his head onto Chloe’s shoulder. “Chloe, you’re hurting me…” Only then did I notice their fingers were intertwined. Chloe coughed awkwardly but didn’t let go of his hand. Ray looked at Chloe with tender eyes, then turned to me with a feigned helpless apology. “Liam, I’m sorry. Chloe and I are just rehearsing the wedding flow. Please don’t mind.” “I won’t tell anyone you hired thugs to beat me up or that you vandalized my mother’s grave. But please, don’t hurt Chloe. True love is fragile.” I didn’t want to watch his green tea performance. I turned to leave. “Since you’re so eager, I’ll have someone beat you up tonight and dig up your mom’s grave for real.” Slap! Chloe hit me hard across the face. “Liam, how can you be so vicious?!” Her face was dark with rage, her chest heaving. Me? Vicious? She believed a stranger’s slander instantly, yet five years of our relationship couldn’t buy me an ounce of trust. A sudden fire ignited in my chest. I wanted to scream at her, but Ray stepped in front of her. “Liam, please. Once the wedding is over, I’ll return Chloe to you.” “Just show some mercy. Don’t hurt the people around me, and don’t hurt Chloe.” He looked like he was about to kneel. Chloe hurriedly grabbed his waist to stop him, glaring at me with hatred. “Liam Sterling, stop playing your rich boy bully games!” “You know I hate that. If you still want to marry me, stop this nonsense!” She warned me not to appear in front of them again before the wedding. Surprisingly, the next day, Chloe contacted me first. She opened with a barrage of curses. “Liam, you actually dug up Mrs. Ray’s grave? I didn’t know you were this kind of person!” Confused, I called my assistant to investigate. What he found was shocking. Ray’s mother… wasn’t dead. No wonder Ray was insane enough to dig up his own mother’s grave to frame me. Her death was a scam. I sent Chloe a text: “Ray’s mother isn’t dead. The truth is in the email I just sent you.” Whether she read it or not was none of my business. The flight was booked for three days later. Stella booked it herself. When Chloe came back, she saw me packing. Half my clothes were in the trash; the rest were packed for shipping to the South City. “Why are you packing?” she asked, suspicious. “Moving,” I replied curtly. She paused, not catching the subtext. “Right. Sterling HQ is in South City. We’re moving there after the wedding. It makes sense to pack early.” Then, she fixed me with a fierce glare. “Apologize for the grave incident ASAP. Don’t make this hard for me. Do it on the wedding day. Agreed?” She tossed her phone aside and started rummaging for her ID. Today was the day she was registering her marriage to Ray. She didn’t come back that night. I checked my phone. A message from Ray popped up. It was a photo in dim lighting. Chloe, wearing a maid outfit, looking at the camera. I closed my eyes, my heart stinging. I suppressed the emotion and turned off the screen. Late at night, my phone buzzed every hour. Each vibration was another provocative video from Ray of him and Chloe. Until the next morning, when Stella sent me a message. “Mr. Sterling, the flowers are blooming. You may return slowly.” Attached was a photo of two red marriage certificates. And a pot of vibrant red peonies. I didn’t expect her to still be keeping the flower I casually gave her years ago. A strange feeling rose in my chest. I replied with one word: “Okay.” I put down the phone and organized my work files. I didn’t know when Chloe had returned. She was packing a suitcase. “I’m going to stay with Ray for a few days. He can’t handle the wedding prep alone. Remember to show up on time for the wedding. Don’t be late.” She rambled on with explanations, basically saying she was just “helping out” and warning me not to cause trouble. “Yeah, I won’t go,” I said, looking down. After last night, the last shred of my affection for her had vanished. Chloe looked at my calm demeanor, and a nameless panic washed over her. She hesitated. But remembering Ray’s clingy pleading, she relaxed her grip on her phone. Liam loved her so much. What could go wrong? Relieved, she stopped pestering me and left my sight. I watched her leave and made a call. That evening, a helicopter landed on the plaza. A man approached. “Mr. Sterling, your helicopter has arrived. We will have you in South City in thirty minutes.” I nodded and handed him a document envelope. “Deliver this to the wedding venue tomorrow. It’s my wedding gift to the bride and groom.” The next day, I sent Chloe a text right on time: “Happy Wedding!” At the venue, Chloe was looking around anxiously, asking her secretary, “Why hasn’t Liam arrived? He promised to apologize to Ray’s mother publicly today.” The secretary was scrolling through the news, frowning. “I don’t think he’s coming. He’s… busy getting married.”

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