Category: English

The night I was supposed to introduce Chris to my parents, he disappeared. He rejected every single one of my calls. But in the dead of night, I saw a video posted by Chris’s stepsister, Lila. 【My heart’s been acting up today, but thank goodness for the fish soup big brother made me~】 【Brother watched the fireworks with me. So beautiful.】 Her camera panned over the creamy white fish soup in a thermos on the table. Then to the fireworks blooming outside the window. It finally settled on the hospital bedsheet, on a man’s hand—all sharp knuckles and long fingers—gripping the girl’s delicate wrist. Chris’s hand. 1 When Chris finally walked through the door, he paused, frowning as he waved a hand in front of his face. His voice was cold, a world away from the gentle tone that had called out “Lila” in the video. “Aubrey, you promised you wouldn’t smoke.” I watched the smoke curl around my fingertips. “And you know a thing or two about keeping promises?” Chris flinched. The look on his face told me he’d only just remembered what day it was. Our families were worlds apart. I had poured my heart and soul into convincing my parents to accept him, and yet, he had always refused to meet them. He had finally agreed this time, and I was so ecstatic I could have set off fireworks across the entire city. But after my countless calls went unanswered, I was forced to feed my mother the same excuse I’d used a dozen times before. She listened quietly, not calling me out on the lie, just sighing. “Aubrey, is he worth it?” Was he worth it? I didn’t know anymore. Chris’s tone softened a little, his apology stiff. “Aubrey, today was my fault. We’ll go see your parents another time.” I said nothing. He was used to my endless forgiveness. To him, that “it was my fault” was a monumental concession. When I remained silent, he rubbed his temples, a flicker of impatience in his voice. “You know how fragile Lila is. Can you stop being so dramatic?” “Oh,” I said. “So your concern for her clouds your judgment.” His lips thinned, a clear sign he was suppressing his anger. “I’ve told you a hundred times, even if Lila and I aren’t related by blood, I’m the only family she has left. Can you stop being so sordid?” He took a sharp breath. “Aubrey, not everyone is like you, unable to live without a man in their life.” The ash from my cigarette fell onto my fingers. I didn’t feel the burn. All I heard was a faint ringing in my ears. Slowly, I lifted my head and looked at him. “What did you just say?” 2 For me, it was love at first sight with Chris. My family’s wealth gave me the freedom to do whatever I wanted. I grew up surrounded by luxury, majored in Art History on a whim, and chased thrills with extreme sports at home and abroad. The plan was to graduate, enter an arranged marriage, and live out my days. I saw nothing wrong with that. Until I met Chris. He was the art school’s resident ice king. Incredibly handsome, immensely talented, and as cold as frost. His only family was a sick younger sister. I couldn’t explain what was so special about him, but every time I saw him, it felt like a thousand butterflies erupted in my stomach. I pursued him earnestly for a year. I gave up extreme sports because I started to fear death. I switched my major to business and demanded an internship at my family’s company. After learning about his financial situation, I wanted to offer him a secure future. I even got a job at the coffee shop where he worked part-time, just to be near him. Of course, having never worked a day in my life, I was a clumsy disaster. On my first day, I managed to burn my hand. Chris had always kept me at arm’s length, coolly rejecting every one of my advances. But that day, seeing me hiss in pain, he did something unprecedented. He brought me burn cream. He knelt before me, his long, cool fingers gently dabbing the ointment onto my skin. As he worked, he mumbled, “You should stop coming here.” After a year of getting nowhere, even my best friend, Echo, teased that the great Aubrey Thorne had finally hit a wall. I was starting to lose hope. I threw caution to the wind, staring at the crown of his head as I made my last stand. “Make me your girlfriend, and I’ll stop.” Honestly, if he’d said no, I would have given up. “Okay,” Chris said. It took me a second to process. My mouth hung open, utterly dumbfounded. Chris looked up at me and, for the first time, smiled. It was like watching ice melt in the spring sun, and I was completely mesmerized. He had his pride. Lila’s illness was a constant drain on their finances, but he would rather bury himself in commercial projects and part-time jobs than accept a single gift or penny from me. That meant he had very little time for dates. I respected his choice. I had a lot of catching up to do in my new major anyway, so I spent my days at the coffee shop, working on assignments while waiting for him. Sometimes, I’d fall asleep from exhaustion. I would wake up to find the café’s bright lights dimmed to a soft, warm glow, a soft blanket with a kitten pattern draped over my shoulders. My long, tedious essay would be finished, written in his neat script. A sticky note would be on the side of my laptop screen, featuring a perfect little doodle of a sleeping kitten, a snot bubble inflating from its nose. In its dream bubble was the profile of a boy—a certain someone was a little full of himself. I stared at the adorable drawing, my heart feeling like it was about to burst with affection. I couldn’t help myself. I reached over, grabbed a pretending-to-be-busy Chris, and bit him gently on the cheek. “I like you so much.” Caught off guard, he chided me softly, “Aubrey, we’re in public. Control yourself.” But the crimson blush creeping up his ears gave him away. When one of his paintings won a national award, his acceptance speech was broadcast live across the country. “I want to thank my love, my muse, Aubrey.” Who could have known that when you reach the summit of happiness, the only way to go is down? My performance at the company had solidified my position as my mother’s successor. Chris’s career stabilized, and Lila’s health improved dramatically. Suddenly, I was the one who was never around. I don’t know when it started, but our fights became more frequent. About my non-stop work schedule, about his insistence on dropping everything for Lila’s minor whims, about his persistent refusal to meet my family. Chris grew colder, his words sharper and more hurtful. After each fight, he would disappear for weeks, sometimes months, on “inspiration trips,” not returning until I broke the silence and apologized. He never said sorry. At first, I’d coax him back out of love and longing. He’d never been in a relationship before; he was the ice king I had worked so hard to win over, so it was my responsibility to handle him with care. But as the cycle repeated, my efforts turned into numb, weary attempts to keep the peace. The demands of the company were overwhelming. Slowly, the sense of accomplishment from my work began to outweigh my desire for a future with Chris. 3 Chris’s face paled slightly, a flicker of regret in his eyes. But I knew he wouldn’t apologize. I let out a short, bitter laugh, glancing down at the glowing red tip of my cigarette. “So that’s what you really think of me.” After five years, did he still not know who I was? I’d never believed that my past relationships made my love for him any less valid. But apparently, Chris did. If that was the case, why did he ever say yes? When I was chasing him, he rejected me, yet he always showed up to the parties I threw. Every time I was about to give up, he’d give me a sliver of hope. He’d return the bouquets I sent, but I’d find he had secretly kept a single rose. The painting that won him his first national award, the one with the girl in profile… it was unmistakably me. Later, as his fame grew, that painting was valued at over a hundred thousand dollars. He gave it to me. It was the first gift he ever gave me. He never let me buy him anything expensive, yet he gave me something so priceless. I cherished it. I designed the frame myself, picking out the solid wood and inlaying the gems with my own hands. It was hanging in our living room right now. I looked at the sophisticated, mature man before me, and an image of a boy in a white shirt from five years ago flashed in my mind—the boy who had quietly sketched my face at his easel. It was a slow, dull realization. This entire unbalanced love affair had been my own grand delusion. Chris’s voice grew urgent. “No… it’s just, when I saw you…” He seemed to remember something, his breathing growing heavy, his eyes turning red. “Forget it. Let’s not talk about that.” He sighed. “About meeting your parents… let’s wait a little longer.” Then, “I have to go abroad for an inspiration trip this week.” There it was again. The signal that this fight was over, and it was my turn to start making amends. I sighed and stood up. Chris’s long lashes lowered, his body tensing almost imperceptibly. I vaguely remembered a time, back when our problems first started, that I could melt his icy resolve just by cuddling up to him. But he had become so much harder to please. I walked past him, stopping in front of the painting I treasured more than anything. The cigarette had burned down to my fingertips. I could feel the searing heat on my skin. I lifted my hand and pressed the last glowing ember onto the serene, smiling face of the girl in the painting. A soft sizzle broke the silence. In an instant, a black, scorched mark marred her face. I turned around. “There’s no need to wait, Chris.” “We’re breaking up.”

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My dad cleared my entire Black Friday cart. Seeing the hopeful, expectant look in his eyes, waiting for praise, I grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the front door. He stumbled, struggling in confusion. “Lily, what’s wrong with you?” “Aren’t you happy I bought you everything on your list?” From the kitchen, my mom hurried out to see what the commotion was. I ignored his questions, shoved him out the door with all my strength, and slammed the deadbolt shut. His voice, now laced with anger, echoed from the hallway. “Open this door! Why the hell did you lock me out?” 1 “Open up! I said open the door! Tell me what the hell is going on right now!” Mom walked over, a placating smile on her face. “Alright, alright, that’s enough joking around. Let your father in. It’s freezing out there!” She reached for the lock, but I clamped my hand around her wrist. “Don’t you dare,” I said, my voice like ice. “This is my house. If you open that door, you can get out with him.” Her smile froze. She slowly pulled her hand back, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Why? Because he cleared your shopping cart? He was just spending money on you, trying to make you happy!” The pounding on the door softened, replaced by a trembling, pleading voice. “Honey… it’s so cold out here. Please, just let Daddy in?” Mom’s confusion curdled into rage. “Are you insane? He’s your father! You ungrateful brat! After we raised you all these years!” I just stared at her, my face a blank mask. Suddenly, she bolted into the kitchen. When she returned, she was holding a gleaming fruit knife, pressing the blade against her own wrist. Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “I’m asking you one last time. Are you going to open this door?” I watched her silently, then turned, took the sharpest cleaver from the knife block, and threw it at her feet with a deafening clang. “Go ahead. This one’s faster.” The echo of the cleaver hitting the floor vibrated through the living room. Mom’s hand went limp, and the fruit knife fell to the ground. She collapsed onto the floor, staring at me as if I were a stranger. Outside, the pounding had stopped. I peered through the peephole. Our next-door neighbor, Mrs. Gable, was standing in the hallway, a coat thrown over her shoulders. She was staring, horrified, at my dad, who was now huddled in a corner. “Leo? What—what are you doing sitting out here?” He looked up, his lips purple from the cold. “It’s… it’s nothing…” he stammered. “The kid and I… just had a little argument.” “An argument is no reason to lock someone out in this weather!” Mrs. Gable started hammering on our door. “Lily! Open up! You’ll freeze him to death out there!” Mom scrambled toward the door, but I blocked her path. “Let me go! At least let me give him a blanket!” she sobbed, struggling against me. I released her. I watched as she ran to the bedroom, grabbed a comforter, and stumbled back. I opened the door just a crack and watched her shove the blanket into his arms. “You just wait, I’m calling building management right now!” Mrs. Gable said to my dad, her voice dripping with indignation, before turning and storming downstairs. 2 Less than ten minutes later, the building manager, Mr. Evans, arrived with two security guards. He stood outside, his tone polite but firm. “Ms. Collins, we’ve received a complaint from a neighbor that you’ve locked a family member out of your apartment. It’s dangerously cold tonight, perhaps you could…” “Mr. Evans,” I interrupted him from behind the closed door. “If I remember correctly, the deed to this apartment has only one name on it: mine.” There was a moment of silence from the hallway. “I am the sole owner,” I said calmly. “I have the right to decide who I allow into my home. This is a private family matter.” Mr. Evans paused, then finally relented. “Understood, Ms. Collins. We respect the owner’s rights. However, we do hope you can resolve this conflict peacefully.” I heard them murmur a few words to Mrs. Gable before their footsteps faded away. He was still out there, wrapped in the thin comforter, shivering in the drafty hall. Mom wanted to stay outside with him, but I forced her back inside and locked the door again. Late into the night, I sat in front of the security monitor in the living room. On the screen, his attempts to knock grew weaker and weaker, until he finally slumped against the door and slid to the floor. I could hear Mom’s muffled sobs from her bedroom, but I just kept my eyes glued to the screen. Just as the sky began to lighten, Mom emerged from her room, her eyes swollen and red. She habitually glanced through the peephole, then let out a sharp scream. “Your father—he’s passed out! Open the door!” I walked to the door, calmly took out my phone, and dialed 911. Mom grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin. “Open the door! We have to bring him inside!” “No,” I said, my voice devoid of any emotion. The wail of the ambulance siren grew closer. When the paramedics arrived with a stretcher, Mom finally broke free and rushed out. I stood just inside the doorway, watching them load him onto the stretcher, making no move to help. Mom looked back at me once, her eyes filled with a mixture of despair and utter confusion, before she followed the paramedics downstairs. The moment the door closed, I was on the phone with a security company. “Yes, I need it replaced now. The thickest steel door you have, with the most advanced lock system.” An hour later, the installers were at work. The new door was barely in place when my phone rang. It was Mom, her voice choked with tears. “Your father’s in bad shape. The doctor said if he’d been out there any longer… you need to get to the hospital, now…” “I’m not coming. It’d be better if he died.” I hung up. A moment later, my phone started vibrating uncontrollably. The family group chat had exploded. The latest message was a 59-second audio clip from my mom. I pressed play, and her hysterical cries filled the room. “Everyone needs to hear what this ungrateful daughter has done!” she shrieked. “Her father bought everything on her Black Friday list just to make her happy, and she locked him outside to freeze all night! Now he’s in the hospital!” “How could I have given birth to such a monster!” 3 Beneath the audio message, a flood of shocked and condemning texts from my relatives poured in. Expressionless, I left the group chat. The phone immediately rang. It was my aunt. “Lily! What the hell is wrong with you?” she roared. “Don’t you know how good your father has been to you? He’s lying in a hospital bed right now! Are you happy?” I set the phone on the table and let her scream until she was breathless. Then, I calmly picked it up and ended the call. A long text from my cousin, Mark, popped up next. 【Lily, having basic respect for your parents is the bare minimum of being a decent human being. Uncle Leo and Auntie raised you, and this is how you repay them? You get to the hospital and apologize right now, or don’t be surprised when I no longer consider you my cousin…】 With a tap of my finger, I blocked him. Next came my other uncle, another aunt… one by one, anyone who dared to lecture me was sent to my block list. Finally, silence. But the peace only lasted a few hours. That afternoon, a chorus of cries erupted from my front door. I looked through the peephole. Mom was at the front, holding up Dad, who was pale and still dressed in a hospital gown. My aunts, uncles, and cousin Mark surrounded them like a human shield. “She changed the locks! She even changed the locks!” Mom shrieked, pounding on the brand-new steel door. “Lily! You heartless monster! Your father just came back from the brink of death, and you won’t even let him in?” My uncle stepped forward and slammed his fist against the door. “Open up! Do you have any idea how close your father was to dying?” I leaned against the other side of the door, watching their furious faces as if they were actors in a play that had nothing to do with me. My aunt pressed her face to the door, sobbing. “Lily, how could you forget how much your father dotes on you? Has he ever been anything but good to you?” Neighbors started trickling out into the hallway, forming a small, gossiping crowd. I could hear their whispers. “This is just awful…” “I heard she locked her own dad out all night.” “What is wrong with kids these days…” My phone buzzed. An anonymous post in the building’s resident chat group: 【Can some people please have a little decency? Locking your elderly parents out of the house is just shameful!】 Suddenly, Mom let out a desperate, guttural scream. “Lily! Are you trying to kill us? Do you want us to die right here on your doorstep before you’re satisfied?” Amid the chaos, my dad, who had been silent until now, spoke in a weak voice. “Don’t… don’t be so harsh. You’ll scare her…” He shuffled forward and tapped gently on the door. “Honey… please open the door? Let Daddy come home… I’m not mad at you…” Mom held him, weeping. “Look at your father! He was just revived, and he still can’t bear to say a harsh word to you! Do you even have a heart?” I yanked open the inner wooden door, facing him through the steel security gate. 4 “Lily…” He reached a trembling hand through the bars, trying to touch me. I took a step back, out of his reach. “What do you really want?” Tears streamed down his weathered face, his voice thick with emotion. “What did I do wrong?” I stared into his eyes, my voice low and deliberate. “I want you to disappear.” My mother let out a piercing scream and threw herself against the security gate. “You monster! He’s your father!” Just then, the elevator doors opened. My grandparents emerged, holding onto each other for support. As soon as my grandmother saw the scene, tears filled her eyes. “Lily, dear, please open the door. Just let Grandma come in and talk to you, please?” I looked at my grandmother’s wrinkled, tired face. Slowly, I knelt, and through the cold steel bars, I bowed my head to the floor. “Grandma, Grandpa, I’m sorry.” My grandmother looked at me, her face a canvas of disappointment. She tightened her grip on my grandfather’s arm. “I’m too old for this… I can’t get involved in your business anymore…” She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. At that moment, my dad dropped to his knees. “Lily, I’m begging you! I’m on my knees! Please, just open the door!” My relatives immediately raised their phones, recording the entire pathetic display. After it became clear that I still wasn’t going to open the door, they finally left. The next morning, the video my cousin had taken was all over the internet. It showed my father, weeping on his knees, and me, standing stone-faced behind the bars of my door. The trending topic, #UngratefulDaughterForcesFatherToKneel, had a bright red “VIRAL” tag next to it. The doxxing began. My name, my job, my home address—everything was exposed. The website of the company I worked for was flooded with furious comments. “Is this person even human?” “Fire her immediately!” “Got the address. Sending funeral wreaths.” My phone rang. It was my department manager. His voice was strained. “Lily… look, with the way things are right now, the company thinks it’s best if you take a leave of absence for a while, until this blows over…” I hung up without a word and pulled back the curtains. A crowd had gathered below, pointing their phones at my window. Someone had even unfurled a banner: “UNGRATEFUL DAUGHTER GET OUT OF OUR NEIGHBORHOOD.” Just then, the doorbell rang. My parents were back, with the whole clan in tow. When I still refused to open up, someone called the cops. A few minutes later, two police officers were standing outside my door. I opened it. The older officer looked at me sternly. “Ma’am, we’re from the local precinct. We received a call from concerned citizens stating that you locked your father out of your home, resulting in his hospitalization?” “Yes,” I admitted without hesitation. “Why would you not let your own father into your home?” the officer asked, his brow furrowed. I looked him straight in the eye and said, enunciating every word, “I hate him.” “Because he cleared your shopping cart?” His tone was laced with disbelief. I took a deep breath, my voice clear and steady. “Because he’s not my father.” The officer’s expression instantly shifted to one of intense seriousness. My mother shrieked and tried to lunge at me, but the younger officer held her back. “What are you talking about?” she screamed hysterically. “Leo, tell her! Tell her you’re her father!” He was kneeling on the floor, his face as white as a sheet, his lips trembling as he failed to form a single word. Even the relatives gathered in the hallway fell silent, their faces a mixture of shock and something else… something I couldn’t quite read. The older officer sensed the shift in the atmosphere. He turned back to me. “Do you have any proof?” “I do,” I said, my gaze unwavering. “I have a lot.”

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In my past life, on the day I married Ethan Vance, the love of his life, Sarah James, jumped off a building. From that moment on, he hated me to his core. He locked me in our home, humiliated me, and made my life a living hell. I endured it until I couldn’t anymore. I took my own life to escape. My soul drifted through the world, watching the aftermath. I discovered that Sarah’s suicide attempt was nothing but a manipulative act. Meanwhile, Ethan’s sworn enemy, Lucas Cole—the untouchable heir of New York’s elite—grieved for me until his hair turned white overnight. Now, I’ve been given a second chance. Reborn, I swore to chase my own happiness. But when Ethan found out I was marrying a good man, he fell to his knees, begging me to come back like a madman. 1 Lucas Cole, the ruthless “Prince of New York,” didn’t waste a second. When he heard I was willing to marry him, he froze for exactly three seconds. Thirty minutes later, everything was done. When he handed me the marriage certificate, his face was calm, but the tips of his ears were burning red. “I’ll handle the wedding. Don’t worry about a thing. Just wait for me to come get you.” He practically fled the scene, using work as an excuse, terrified I might change my mind. I smiled, clutching the red booklet, and headed home to break the news to my family. The moment I stepped through the door, a bucket of ice water hit me squarely in the face. Before I could react, Ethan’s entourage started pelting me with cake. My carefully done hair and makeup were ruined instantly. I stood there, soaked and sticky, looking like a drowned rat. The group erupted in laughter, phones out, recording my humiliation. “Surprise! It’s an engagement party for you and Ethan! Just helping you loosen up!” “Everyone knows you threw away your dignity to marry Ethan. Can’t take a little joke? Better get used to it. You’ll be swallowing a lot more than this in the future.” I shivered in the cold draft, water dripping down my neck. Ethan looked at me with a smirk. “Don’t be a buzzkill, Riley.” “Just because our parents pressured me into this doesn’t mean I have to like it. Being Mrs. Vance isn’t going to be easy.” Even though I had lived this before, hearing these words from the man I had loved for twenty years still made my chest ache. Ethan and I grew up together. I loved him with a desperate, blinding devotion. Ten years of being his shadow, giving him everything. And all I got in return was cold ridicule. Well, not this time. I wasn’t going to waste my second life on a man who didn’t love me. I wiped the frosting from my face and spoke calmly. “I don’t plan on being Mrs. Vance.” Ethan froze. His friends laughed even harder. “Ethan, you lucky bastard! She’s playing hard to get before she’s even through the door. This little wife of yours is something else!” “Who cares? Everyone knows Riley is just a dog following Ethan around. Since when does a dog get a say in its owner’s business?” Ethan’s disdain deepened. “Cut the act, Riley. No matter what you do, I won’t love you. You can have my name, but you’ll never have my heart.” “After the wedding, Sarah is moving in. You can pretend to be the wife, but remember—in that house, you’re lower than the help.” “And I’ve already had the lawyers draft a prenup. You won’t get a dime of my money.” I was stunned. In my past life, after Sarah jumped, Ethan tortured me because he blamed me for her death. But before that, he had always treated me decently. When we were kids and my parents were busy, he was the one who read me bedtime stories. When I was bullied in school, he defended me and took me for rides on his motorcycle. Twenty years of friendship. Even if he didn’t love me, he had always been like a big brother. His sudden cruelty made me suspicious. Had something changed that I didn’t know about? Seeing my silence, Ethan assumed he had hurt me. He cleared his throat, seemingly feeling a twinge of guilt. “Look, Sarah has suffered more than you. You need to make sacrifices to balance things out.” “As long as you don’t give Sarah a hard time, I won’t mistreat you in public.” Before I could respond, Sarah started sobbing. “Ethan… are you going soft on her? If she hadn’t been so jealous and interfered, we wouldn’t have been forced apart!” “Forget it. I know Miss High-and-Mighty looks down on someone like me. I didn’t realize you were ashamed of me too, Ethan. I… I should just go die!” She turned and ran. Ethan’s face filled with panic. He shoved me aside and chased after her. My back slammed into the door handle. Pain shot through me, tears pricking my eyes. The others, having had their fill of the show, left me standing in the mess. I watched them leave and let out a bitter laugh. In my past life, shortly after our wedding, the Vance family business hit a crisis. Their so-called friends vanished. To win Ethan’s heart, I secretly used my entire dowry to bail him out. Billions of dollars, gone. And it didn’t buy me a single ounce of his affection. This time, without my money, I wondered if his precious Sarah could save him. 2 I took a shower and changed into clean clothes. When I came out, I found Ethan and Sarah cuddling on the sofa. He was whispering to her with a tenderness I had never received. Seeing me, his face went cold. “This mess is your fault. Apologize to Sarah.” “And clean this place up. Clear out your room for her. It’s late; it’s not safe for her to go home alone.” I had been in the shower for maybe thirty minutes. They couldn’t even wait that long. Ethan’s shirt had lipstick stains. Sarah’s lipstick was smeared, her dress wrinkled. I didn’t care about their sordid affair. I just looked at him. “This is my house.” Our families had prepared two houses for us. Ethan liked peace and quiet, so we usually hung out at my place. I used to let them treat me like a maid because I loved him. Not anymore. Ethan scoffed, thinking I was just throwing a jealous tantrum. “If it wasn’t for Sarah, do you think I’d be here? If you still want to marry me, do as I say.” “You might be my wife in name, but Sarah is the real mistress of the Vance family! You have no right to give her attitude.” Sarah smirked, leaning into Ethan’s chest provocatively. I didn’t want to argue. I didn’t want to stay in this trashed house another second. I grabbed my bag and headed for the door. Ethan blocked my path. “Where are you going this late?” “Home.” He stared at me for a moment. “Running home to tattle? Typical spoiled brat. Do you think that scares me?” I pushed past him, ignoring his insults. He stumbled, surprised by my strength. Then he grabbed my wrist, his tone softening slightly. “Alright, stop it.” “You’ve always been so dramatic. If you really want to go, I’ll drive you.” He reached for my bag and turned to get his car keys. Sarah looked up at him, eyes wide and teary. “Ethan… are you leaving me here alone?” “I’m scared. What if Riley is jealous and hires someone to hurt me?” Ethan’s hand froze in mid-air. His face darkened. “Riley, I underestimated you. You’re more manipulative than I thought.” “Creating a scene just to get me away so you can hurt Sarah?” He threw my bag back at me. The heavy metal buckle slammed into my forehead. Blood trickled down my face. Dizziness hit me. I swayed. Just as I was about to fall, Ethan caught me. A flash of guilt and confusion crossed his eyes. But before he could speak, Sarah hugged him from behind. Her blouse was unbuttoned enough to be suggestive. “Ethan, don’t go…” Ethan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He let go of me. I looked at the two of them, disgusted. I picked up my bag and walked out without looking back. As soon as I got into the car, a message from Sarah popped up on my phone. 3 It was a one-minute video. Fifty-nine seconds of them entangled on my sofa. Riley, so what if you’re a rich heiress? You lost to me in the last life, and you’ll lose to me in this one too! Reading her message, realizing why Ethan had been acting so strange today… It hit me. Sarah was reborn too. I didn’t know what happened after I died in my past life to make her change her strategy from “playing hard to get” to being this aggressive. And honestly? I didn’t care. I blocked her number. In this life, I just wanted to live for myself. When I got home, I told my family I was calling off the engagement with Ethan. They were shocked, staring at the wound on my forehead. My dad’s eyes turned red. “The Vance family has leeched off us for years, and this is how he treats my daughter? If he doesn’t cherish you, we won’t beg him! Just wait, I’ll make them pay!” I stopped my dad. Tears streamed down my face. In my past life, my parents exhausted everything trying to save me. When I was trapped in the Vance house, they offered their entire fortune to get me out. Ethan refused. He said he’d rather drag us all to hell. After they died, he hung Sarah’s photo above our bed. Whenever he missed her, he would choke me, forcing me to look up at her picture. “You drove Sarah to death for the title of Mrs. Vance. Now you’ll wear that title in agony for the rest of your life to atone for her!” He crushed my dignity and my love, piece by piece. Until death was my only escape. Remembering my parents’ heartbroken cries after my death, my heart shattered all over again. I took a deep breath and pulled out the marriage certificate with Lucas. “Mom, Dad… I’m sorry. I’ll handle the Vance family. I promise I won’t make you worry about me ever again.” They stared at the name Lucas Cole. Shock turned to joy. Lucas was in a league of his own. The Cole family was royalty compared to us and the Vances. Ethan was proud. He couldn’t stand that Lucas was better than him, that the Vance family had to bow to the Coles to survive. He hated Lucas. I slept soundly in my own bed for the first time in two lifetimes. The next morning, I went back to my apartment to pack and sell the place. But the passcode didn’t work. I had a bad feeling. I used the spare key. The apartment was a wreck. Used condoms littered the living room floor. Moans drifted from my bedroom. I walked over. Sarah was wearing my silk pajamas, wrapped around Ethan. “Riley…” Seeing me, she pretended to be scared and pushed Ethan away. Ethan looked flustered for a second, then shielded Sarah behind him. I ignored the hickeys covering Sarah’s neck and looked around. My belongings were destroyed. My couture dresses shredded. My Hermès bags covered in graffiti. Even the jade love-lock my grandmother got for me and Ethan on her deathbed was smashed on the floor. “Ethan said you upset me yesterday, so you needed a lesson.” “Tell you what. Kneel and apologize to me, and I’ll ask him not to cancel the wedding!” I didn’t hear a word she said. I picked up the pieces of the jade lock. I remembered my grandmother holding our hands, refusing to close her eyes until we promised to be happy. “I saw the wedding designs in the safe. Not bad. Sarah’s birthday is coming up. Refine the plans and use them for her birthday party.” “As for our wedding… we’ll see when you learn to behave.” Once, I would have trampled my own pride to please him. But after living through hell? Never again. I put the broken jade in my pocket. I picked up the scattered design sketches one by one. “No need. My wedding will happen, with or without you.” The man I loved was trash. But my love wasn’t. I had been working on these designs since I was eighteen. They were my heart and soul. I wouldn’t let anyone defile them. Ethan frowned, trying to snatch the drawings. But when he saw the tears streaming down my face, he froze. 4 These weren’t the tears of a bratty girl throwing a tantrum. They were the tears of a woman whose heart had finally turned to ash. Ethan looked away, guilty. He pulled out a credit card and shoved it into my hand. “Stop crying. It’s just clothes. Buy new ones.” “Sarah didn’t mean it. You have plenty of money, can’t you just let it go?” Sarah kissed his cheek, beaming. I threw the card in his face and walked out. Ethan was stunned. “Riley? You’re not jealous? You’re not mad?” I didn’t answer. I texted Lucas to come get the designs. Just as I hit send, Sarah screamed. “Ethan! Our video… it’s online! Riley, why did you do this? Do you want me dead?!” She ran to the window, threatening to jump. Ethan grabbed her, looked at his phone, and turned pale. “Riley! You are more vicious than I thought!” “You’d ruin us to force me to marry you? I won’t let you get away with this!” He slapped me. Hard. My ears rang. Before I could recover, he grabbed me by the throat and dragged me toward the bed. “You like filming videos? Fine! Let’s make you the star of one!” He started tearing at my clothes. Sarah stood by, phone recording, smiling. The terror of my past life crashed into the present. As my jacket ripped, I screamed, shaking uncontrollably. “Ethan! I didn’t do it! You can’t do this to me!” Just like before. He didn’t believe me. He didn’t care. Fear turned to rage. I bit my lip until it bled, my hand grasping for the scissors on the nightstand. If I was going to die, I was taking him with me. BANG. The front door was kicked off its hinges.

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My husband’s best friend, Lila, had a habit of borrowing things. This time, as my husband and I were going through IVF, Lila, a staunch bachelorette, decided she wanted to borrow his sperm. My husband, Adam, who could never say no to her, agreed on the spot. This time, I put my foot down. I told him if he dared to give it to her, we were getting a divorce. In the end, he didn’t “lend” it. And my IVF cycle failed. I blamed myself, thinking my body had failed me. That is, until I happened to see Adam’s text messages. “Adam, thank you so much for being a true friend. You secretly gave me the sample meant for your wife, and now I’m pregnant with your baby. I can finally be a mother!” “She’ll never know she was inseminated with my saliva. Of course the IVF was going to fail.” Reading those words, the blood in my veins turned to ice. This man was no longer my husband. … I threw the phone down in front of him. “Adam, I want a divorce.” His face went pale. “No! Chloe, I’m sorry, I was a fool. She started crying, and I just… I got soft.” “She cries, so you give her your sperm? If she asked for your life, would you give her that too?” I shoved him away and stormed into the bedroom to pack my bags. He didn’t dare follow. I could hear him making frantic calls outside. Half an hour later, a crowd was gathered at my front door. Lila was at the very front, wearing a loose-fitting dress, her hand resting protectively over her stomach. Behind her, a few of Adam’s cronies stood like a thuggish entourage. Lila spoke first. “Chloe, please don’t blame Adam. This is all my fault.” I ignored her, trying to push past with my suitcase. One of his friends, Ryan, blocked my way. “Chloe, calm down. It’s not a big deal. Lila’s all alone, she just wanted a kid to have for herself.” “You two can just do another round of IVF,” he added with a grin. “It’s not like Adam’s going to run out of ammo!” Adam stood next to Lila, avoiding my gaze. “Honey, let’s go back inside. Let’s talk about this in private, we don’t need the neighbors to see a show.” Just then, Lila let out a soft “Oh!” and clutched her back. Adam’s head whipped around. “What’s wrong? I told you not to come. Nothing is more important than your health right now.” Seeing his panicked concern for her, my heart shattered completely. “Move,” I said. Lila stepped forward again. “Chloe, it’s all my fault. Please don’t fight with Adam over this. You two have been together for so many years. If you break up because of me, I’ll be a sinner. I’ll raise the child on my own, I swear I won’t disturb your lives.” “You won’t have to disturb us,” I said, my eyes fixed on her stomach. “Because he’ll go running to you all on his own. Just like when you ‘borrowed’ a hundred thousand dollars from him to buy a house, and he secretly gave you two hundred thousand of our money.” “And when your father was in the hospital, he stayed there every night, while I was at home with a fever and no one to even get me a glass of water.” Adam jumped to his own defense. “That was just bad timing! Lila’s situation was special!” “She’s special?” I cut him off. “Oh, yes. She’s so special. She always comes before me. This time, you even prioritized giving your sperm to her, while I went through months of preparation for IVF only to have you stick her saliva inside me!” His friends exchanged uneasy glances. Lila’s eyes instantly welled with tears. “Chloe, you can yell at me all you want, but don’t talk about Adam like that. It’s not easy for him, being caught in the middle…” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “He has it so hard? Playing the doting husband to me while playing the savior to his best friend? Please.” Seeing that I had no intention of saving his pride, Adam’s face hardened with anger. He and his friends turned to leave, but not before he threw one last threat over his shoulder. “Fine! Then I hope you never have a child of mine!” It was after midnight when Adam stumbled home, reeking of alcohol. He tossed a few takeout boxes on the table as if they were a peace offering. They were clearly leftovers from his party. “Alright, I was wrong,” he slurred. “But you were completely out of line. Humiliating me in front of everyone like that.” I turned to look at him. His face was a mask of exhaustion and annoyance, but there was no trace of guilt. “Lila would never put me in such a difficult position,” he muttered. It felt like a knife twisting in my chest. “You’re right. I’m not her. She’s so understanding, so generous. So righteous she can even borrow another woman’s husband’s sperm.” “Are you ever going to let this go?!” he roared, his voice suddenly sharp. “I was just helping a friend! It’s not easy for a single woman who doesn’t want to get married to have a child! You’re my wife, can’t you have a little compassion? Why do you have to be so relentless?” I stared at him. “Adam, has your brain been eaten by dogs?” He shot to his feet, pointing a finger at me. “Look at you! You’ve become so bitter and cruel! What happened to the sweet, understanding woman I fell in love with?” “Lila is carrying my child, and you upset her so much today that she went home feeling sick. And you know what she said? Not a single bad word about you! She told me to come home and apologize properly!” Watching him, so agitated and worried over another woman, felt utterly surreal. “Then go back and take care of her,” I said. “Go on. Go guard her and your precious ‘seed’.” He glared at me, his chest heaving. Finally, he grabbed his jacket and slammed the door behind him for the second time. This time, there wasn’t even the pretense of an apology. He didn’t come back. A few days later, my mother-in-law called and invited me over for dinner. I didn’t want to go, but her tone was so meek and careful that I relented. When I walked into their house, the first thing I saw was Lila, sitting on the sofa, laughing and chatting with my mother-in-law. I couldn’t just turn around and leave. The entire meal was torture. My mother-in-law kept piling food onto Lila’s plate. “Adam, hurry, get Lila a bowl of fish soup.” Adam obliged, naturally taking Lila’s bowl and carefully picking out all the bones for her. No one offered me food. No one asked how I was recovering after the failed IVF cycle. “Oh, Adam,” my father-in-law said, putting down his chopsticks. “I’ll give you the money. Go get everything Lila needs for the baby.” My mother-in-law chimed in. “Yes, and we need to start buying baby clothes. Oh, if only Lila and our Adam had…” She trailed off, but the meaning was clear. The table fell silent. Lila lowered her head, blushing. Adam cleared his throat uncomfortably. My in-laws had always been kind to me, which is the only reason I’d come. But for years, whenever Lila was around, their attention would inevitably shift to her. Now that she was pregnant with Adam’s child, that preference was on full display. I put down my chopsticks. I’d barely touched my food. My mother-in-law finally seemed to notice me. “Oh? Chloe, is that all you’re eating? Is the food not to your liking?” “I’m full.” I cut her off and walked to the door. Behind me, I heard her sigh. “That girl. She’s getting more and more temperamental.” Adam’s voice drifted faintly. “Mom, don’t worry about her. That’s just how she is.” I closed the door, shutting out the cozy family scene. Back home, I contacted a lawyer to draft a divorce agreement. Adam completely ignored it. He had the audacity to tell me to stop being a drama queen, that he would give me the silent treatment for a few days as punishment, and that he’d expect me home when I’d learned my lesson. No matter how many times I told him I was serious about the divorce, he refused to listen. A few days later, it was time for our regular get-together with our circle of friends. I had no desire to go, but my friends called me relentlessly until I gave in. Maybe some pathetic part of me still held out a sliver of hope. But mostly, I just wanted to serve Adam the divorce papers in person. When I arrived, I was surprised to see Adam waiting for me outside the restaurant, a sycophantic smile plastered on his face. “Honey,” he said, handing me a box. “A gift for you. The latest design from their new collection.” I opened it. It was a diamond necklace. “I know I was wrong,” he whispered. “Just give me some face tonight. We’ll talk properly later.” I scoffed and pushed the box back into his hands. When the door to the private room opened, I saw that the large round table was full. Even my in-laws and Lila were there. I had no idea why my in-laws would be at our friends’ gathering. “Chloe, you’re here!” my mother-in-law exclaimed, pulling me warmly to a seat. “Come, sit next to me.” She pushed me into a chair directly across from Lila. Lila gave me a soft, gentle smile, her hand resting on her pregnant belly. My father-in-law tapped his glass and stood up. “Now that everyone’s here, I have an announcement,” he boomed. “Our family values one thing above all: responsibility!” I picked up my teacup, my hand trembling slightly. “Lila is carrying Adam’s child. We acknowledge this child! He must be born, and he will have our family name!” The table erupted. Ryan was the first to applaud. “That’s right, sir! Adam, you’re a real man!” I looked at Adam. He was smiling. He reached out and patted Lila’s shoulder. Lila blushed. “Thank you, uncle,” she murmured. “Wait a minute,” I said, putting down my cup. “Adam, what is the meaning of this?” He ignored me, pulling a folder from his briefcase. He turned to Lila, his voice sickeningly sweet. “Lila, it won’t be easy for you to raise a child alone. This is twenty percent of my company’s shares. The annual dividends will be more than enough for you and the baby.” Lila’s eyes lit up. “Adam… this is too much…” “You deserve it,” he said, pushing the folder toward her. “It’s for the baby’s security. And it’s a token of my feelings.” The cheers grew louder. “Adam, you’re the man!” I shot to my feet. Only then did Adam glance at me, his tone condescending. “Chloe, you are my legal wife, and I won’t mistreat you. As long as you accept this child and continue to be Mrs. Archer, you will still be the lady of this house.” “Oh, and after the baby is born, I’m thinking of having a proper ceremony for Lila, a make-up wedding. But I won’t favor one over the other. You can wear a wedding dress too, and we’ll all get married together.” I laughed until I cried. “Are you out of your mind? A double wedding? Using our marital assets to gift shares to your mistress? Adam, do you have any shame?” My mother-in-law grabbed my arm. “Chloe, what are you saying!” “What should I say?” I shook her off. “Congratulations on my husband’s infidelity? Or thank you to your entire family for conspiring to deceive me?” Adam’s face darkened. “Chloe, don’t push your luck.” I grabbed the necklace box and hurled it at him. “Take your stupid necklace and get out!” It fell to the floor, the large diamond glittering under the lights. Lila’s eyes were fixed on it with a venomous glare when she suddenly cried out, “Oh!” and clutched her stomach. Adam immediately dropped to her side. “Lila, are you okay? Did she scare you?” He looked up at me, his eyes spitting fire. “Chloe! If anything happens to Lila, I will never forgive you!” My mother-in-law shot me a reproachful look. “Chloe, Lila is pregnant! Why do you have to make such a scene?” I looked at their faces, one by one, and suddenly, it all felt so pointless. I pulled the divorce agreement from my bag and slammed it on the table. “Adam. Sign it.” The chatter in the room died instantly. Adam’s face turned ashen. He snatched the papers and, without even looking at them, ripped them to shreds. “Are you done yet?!” he roared, jabbing a finger at my face. “Look at you! What can you do besides throw tantrums?” Lila pretended to hold him back. “Adam, don’t be like this…” His voice rose another octave. “You useless woman who can’t even have a child! The baby Lila is carrying is the true heir of our family!” I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. “And you? Not satisfied with being inseminated with Lila’s saliva? You’re worse than a dog!” My friends awkwardly looked away. My mother-in-law sipped her tea. My father-in-law’s face was a stone mask. A triumphant smirk played on Lila’s lips as she watched me. “I’m giving you the dignity of being Mrs. Archer. Don’t throw it back in my face!” Adam took a step closer. “If you don’t agree to this today, you’ll leave with nothing! You won’t get a single penny!” He sneered. “Let’s see how a worthless piece of trash like you survives without me!” I looked at his twisted, ugly face and suddenly had nothing more to say. I turned and walked out. “Chloe! If you walk out that door today, don’t come crying back to me tomorrow!” I pulled open the door and left without a backward glance, his furious shouts echoing behind me. I had wanted an amicable split. But now… Their good days were about to end.

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My sister, a perfectly average girl, fell hopelessly in love with a billionaire playboy named Liam Sterling. Liam, driven to the brink of insanity by her relentless stalking, finally snapped. He told her, “I’m obsessed with African tribal culture. Lip plates and stretched septums are the epitome of sexiness to me. The women of those tribes are the only ones I find truly beautiful.” “If you can make yourself look like them,” he sneered, “maybe I’ll consider dating you.” My sister couldn’t hear the sarcasm or the cruelty in his voice. She took it as a promise. She actually packed her bags to go to Africa for a modification procedure. In my past life, I stopped her at the airport. I saved her from mutilating herself. She went on to graduate, marry a good man, and live a happy, normal life. But she hated me for it. She believed I had severed her red string of fate with the billionaire. Years later, she murdered me brutally. As I died, she cursed me: “If you hadn’t stopped me, I would be a tribal beauty with a lip plate and neck rings right now! Liam would have loved me!” “You ruined my life! I hope you rot in hell!” I opened my eyes, and I was back. Back to the day she was screaming about going to Africa. 1 I woke up to the sound of chaos in the living room. “You don’t understand love!” my sister, Chloe, screamed. “I would give up everything for him! Even myself!” My mom was trembling with rage. “That man is trying to scare you off! Are you deaf? What man likes a… a monster like that?” “Africa is dangerous! You could die there! Do you want me to bury my own child?” Mom collapsed on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. She hugged Chloe’s leg as Chloe tried to drag her suitcase out the front door. I walked out of my bedroom and saw the familiar scene. Seeing me, Mom wailed like she’d seen a savior. “Zoey! Talk to your sister! She’s going to Africa to get a lip plate for that… that Liam guy!” Chloe turned to me, explaining with manic intensity. “Liam said he loves African tribal women. If I become one, he’ll be with me.” She pulled out her phone and scrolled through photos of Liam’s “ideal type.” The images were intense. Women with dark skin, clay plates the size of dinner plates stretched into their lower lips, necks elongated by brass coils, septums stretched wide. Leaving aside the cultural context and the immense pain involved, from a purely aesthetic standpoint in modern Western society… it was extreme. But Chloe chose to believe this was Liam’s specific kink rather than a brush-off. 2 “I don’t know why he likes it, but I’ll change for him.” “No doctor in the US will do the surgery. Even the underground clinics said no. I have to go to the source.” Chloe looked at me, tears glistening in her eyes. She was already moved by her own deep affection. I was about to open my mouth to scold her when a wave of phantom pain washed over me. The memory of iron bars shattering my bones and my flesh being stripped away paralyzed me. I realized I had been reborn. In my last life, I stopped her. And she killed me for it. She even used black magic to curse my soul. My mother, instead of seeking justice for me, helped Chloe dispose of my body. “Zoey, forgive your mother,” she had cried over my corpse. “I’ve lost one daughter; I can’t lose the second one to prison. If you hadn’t meddled, she might be a billionaire’s wife now. She has a right to be angry.” Forgive my murderer? Hilarious. All my love for my family turned into ash in that moment. This time, I looked at Chloe and Mom, and I smiled encouragingly. “Chloe,” I said, “Fortune favors the bold! If you can cater to Liam’s taste and become Mrs. Sterling, our whole family hits the jackpot!” I pulled Mom away from Chloe’s leg. “Mom, stop it. Chloe is an adult. She has her own ideas. We should support her, not crush her dreams.” I turned to Chloe. “Go, sister. Mom and I will wait for you at home.” In this life, I want to see exactly what kind of “happy ending” Chloe gets. 3 As expected, even without our interference, Chloe didn’t go to Africa. I knew she didn’t have the guts. In my past life, she texted me her entire itinerary, practically begging me to come stop her. A person truly determined to leave doesn’t leave breadcrumbs. Seeing her drag her suitcase back into the house that night, I feigned surprise. “I thought you were going to the tribes? Why are you back?” She looked embarrassed. “I… I was worried some slut would steal Liam while I was gone. I need to stay in the country to keep an eye on him.” Mom was relieved. “Good, good. Being home is best.” But Chloe didn’t give up. She ordered a horrifying amount of surgical tools, disinfectants, and stretchers online. She was going DIY. Before she started, she swallowed hard and gave us a speech about her humble love. “You know I’ve loved him for three years. I won’t fail this time.” “No matter how much it hurts, I won’t stop.” Facing the hammer, scalpel, lip plates, painkillers, and gauze on the bathroom floor, she looked up at us, terror in her eyes. “I might pass out from the pain. Do not come in and stop me!” She was scared. She wanted us to stop her. I patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone interfere.” “If Liam knows you did this for him, he’ll be so moved.” I walked out of the bathroom and closed the door. A second later, a scream like a slaughtered pig echoed from the bathroom. “AHHHH!” 4 To insert a lip plate, one must first remove the lower front teeth. Then, slice the lower lip from the jawline and stretch it. To prevent healing, a wooden plug is inserted. Once the wound heals around the plug, you start stretching it with larger plates. Chloe took painkillers, but the sound of her hammering her own teeth out was… distinct. I sat on the couch, watching TV, tapping my fingers to the rhythm of her screams. Mom couldn’t take it. She smashed the remote on the floor, eyes red. “Your sister is suffering in there, and you’re watching TV?!” I shrugged. “It’s not suffering, Mom. It’s an investment. She’s preparing to marry into royalty. Good days are ahead.” “No pain, no gain.” “Besides, it’s her choice. Who forced her?” Mom was speechless. She paced frantically outside the bathroom door. Every scream made her flinch. Finally, she couldn’t take it. She pounded on the door. “Chloe! Stop! It’s too much! Mommy can’t stand it!” Chloe, speaking through a mouthful of blood, slurred, “Don’t come in!” Hours later, Chloe emerged. She was holding onto the wall for support. Her face was pale as a sheet. Her lower lip was a swollen, bloody mass covering two-thirds of her face. It looked like a giant sausage. The smell of blood filled the hallway. Mom rushed to hold her, sobbing. I hid my smile in the shadows. Her suffering matched her stupidity perfectly.

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I’m a professional substitute, specializing in high-stakes contracts for the city’s elite. My current target is Damian Thorne, the family’s youngest son—a spoiled, arrogant trust-fund brat. My mission: tame him with “love,” get him to settle down, and stop causing trouble for the family. I’m good at my job. Business was proceeding as usual until the “trophy” he won at a street race showed up. The girl looked about seventy percent like me, but there was a stubborn fire in her eyes I could only ever fake. I quietly pulled out my phone and messaged Damian’s older brother. “Boss, target seems to have found true love. Requesting final payment.” Suddenly, Damian’s hand clamped down on mine. “Who said you could leave?” His brother’s reply came a second later: “Change of plans. Stay put.” 1 My name is Maya Willick. I’m a professional substitute. I get paid to play a part. My current contract comes directly from Adrian Thorne, the heir to the Thorne empire. His younger brother, Damian, is the city’s most notorious hellion, whose favorite hobby is finding new and inventive ways to create scandals for his family. Last week, he put the sole heir of the Langston family in the ICU. The reason? The guy cut him off during a race. Last month, at a yacht party, he tossed the daughter of the Zhao family into the pool because she tried to feed him a piece of fruit. Thanks to his regular appearances on the nightly news, Thorne Industries’ stock has been on a wilder ride than any rollercoaster. When Adrian Thorne found me, I was sitting in a private suite at The Empyrean Club, idly flicking a lighter open and closed. He pushed the door open, flanked by two bodyguards in black suits. The air crackled with his presence. “Maya Willick?” His voice was flat, as if confirming an inventory item. I glanced up but said nothing. The club manager hurried to his side, offering a nervous smile. “Mr. Thorne, this is our most… compliant girl.” Adrian ignored him, his gaze fixed on my face, assessing me. After a long minute, he held out a hand, and his secretary immediately produced a checkbook. He scribbled something, tore out the check, and slid it across the glass coffee table toward me. I glanced down. The number was enough for me to live lavishly for years. “What’s this for?” I didn’t touch it. The secretary stepped forward, his tone robotic. “The target is the second young master, Damian Thorne. Your objective is to make him fall in love with you, obey only you, and cease his troublemaking.” I raised an eyebrow. “Taming a wild animal?” The secretary’s expression didn’t flicker. “The second young master responds to a soft touch, not force. He has a preference for women with long, dark hair who wear simple dresses. Your personality should be gentle, not overly opinionated. Most importantly, you must make him believe you are pure, that you’re not after his money—only him.” I listened, then let out a small laugh. I picked up the check and flicked it with my thumb. “That same amount, wired to your account every month,” Adrian finally spoke again, his tone one of absolute certainty, as if bestowing charity. I looked at the check and thought for three seconds. Then I turned to him and gave him my most submissive, beatific smile. “Of course, boss.” There was no reason to refuse. After all, acting is my profession. And the pay was excellent. 2 The plan to get close to Damian went off without a hitch. I played the part of a pure-hearted college student working part-time at the club, one who sold her art but not her body. The third time he “coincidentally” came to my rescue was in a dimly lit back alley. A group of drunk men had cornered me, their hands getting bold. I could have handled them myself, but I didn’t move. I waited until I heard the distant roar of Damian’s obnoxious sports car before I let the tears fall. He got out and kicked the man who was reaching for my face to the ground. “Get lost,” he said, his voice lazy with sleep, but his eyes were ice-cold. The drunks recognized him, sobered up instantly, and scrambled away. I huddled against the wall, hugging myself, my shoulders trembling just so. Damian walked over and crouched down to look at me. His fingertips were cool as he brushed a stray strand of hair from my cheek. “You again?” He smirked. “Is being beautiful a crime?” I was wearing a simple white cotton dress, slightly faded from many washes. The night wind rustled its hem and my long hair. I looked up, my eyes red like a rabbit’s, and whispered, “I’m sorry… for troubling you again.” His friends found him then, whistling as they saw us. “Damian, who’s this? Hiding out here with a new girl?” One of them swaggered over, a sleazy grin on his face, reaching for me. Damian slapped his hand away, his brow furrowing. “You want to lose that hand?” The others quickly changed their tune. “Are you blind? This is obviously Damian’s girl. You can’t touch her.” After they’d sulked away, I carefully, tentatively, reached out and tugged on the cuff of Damian’s sleeve. He didn’t pull away. I tilted my face up to his, my eyes shimmering with unshed tears and total reliance. “They only leave me alone when you’re here.” Damian studied me for a few seconds, then suddenly swept me up into his arms. I let out a small gasp and instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck. “What—what are you doing…?” He carried me toward his car, his tone nonchalant. “Aren’t you cold, dressed like that?” His breath tickled my ear. People were watching. I buried my face in his chest, my voice muffled. “I… I don’t need a title…” I thought I heard him laugh. He settled me into the passenger seat, and as he leaned in to fasten my seatbelt, his lips brushed against mine in a feather-light touch. “Alright.” 3 Everything was proceeding according to plan. To the world, I was a Cinderella who had hit the jackpot, the girl who had captured the heart of Damian Thorne. Pure, gentle, with eyes only for him. I loved him to the point of self-annihilation. I fretted when he raced, worried when he fought, and grew anxious that other women would steal him away. But I had no right to control him, so I could only plead with him through teary eyes. Fortunately, Damian seemed to have a weakness for this act. The moment my tears started, he would usually cave. He stayed out of trouble for nearly six months. Everyone in his circle said Damian had changed, completely wrapped around a little girl’s finger. Adrian was very pleased and gave me a triple bonus. I became Damian’s gilded canary, the pet he paraded at every social event. In many people’s eyes, I was a potential candidate for the future Mrs. Damian Thorne. But I knew the truth. Adrian would never allow a woman with a “questionable background” to marry into the Thorne family, no matter how good my performance was. In their world, I was, and always would be, just a toy. So, when I once again begged him with tear-filled eyes not to participate in an underground race, for the first time, he didn’t immediately agree. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, stuck one between his lips, and lit it. “What are you afraid of?” he said, blowing out a ring of smoke and watching me through the haze. “Your man’s a damn good driver.” I gripped his arm, shaking my head. “It’s too dangerous, I’m scared…” He patted my head, his tone a little dismissive. “Be good. I’ll take you out for a late-night snack after the race.” Then he turned and walked toward the black, heavily modified car he hadn’t driven in months. His sycophantic friends cheered and whistled. A stone dropped in my stomach. I slowly turned my head. And there she was. A group of men were leading a girl onto the platform usually reserved for the winner’s prize. She was also wearing a white dress, with long hair, looking delicate. But in her eyes, there was a stubborn fire I could only ever fake. A wealthy heiress who had long despised me stood nearby, arms crossed, a smirk on her face. “You missed out when you had that fever a few days ago. We were at The Labyrinth bar. She’s a singer there. Some clients were harassing her, and Damian stepped in.” I blinked, saying nothing, my mind racing. Did Adrian hire another one? No, he’s not that stupid. Then… was this an accident? I lowered my head and sighed. When I looked up again, my eyes were already brimming with tears. This time, though, the sadness was real. My double salary was probably done for. The heiress saw my expression and sneered. “Did you really think you could marry into a family like that? It was only a matter of time.” I ignored her and quietly took out my phone. I started searching: Resignation letter template. How to write one that was sincere enough to make the boss feel a pang of guilt and maybe offer a little severance pay. 4 Damian won the race, of course. But the guy he was racing against was a terrible driver and went straight through a guardrail on a turn. The scene descended into chaos, the wail of sirens growing closer. No one dared to blame Damian. All their anger was directed at the girl. “If anything happens to Paul, you’re dead, bitch!” The girl’s face went pale with fright, and she shrank back. Damian pulled her behind him, his cold gaze sweeping over the person who had spoken. “Say that again. I dare you.” I stood a short distance away, watching for a few seconds. Then I walked over, took the jacket Damian had draped over my shoulders earlier to keep me warm, and gently placed it on the girl. She shivered and looked at me. I gave her a soft, reassuring smile. “It’s windy tonight. Don’t catch a cold.” Then I looked at Damian. He was watching me, his expression complicated. I forced a weak smile. “You… did the same for me once.” The girl whispered to Damian, “Who is she?” Damian didn’t answer. He just stared at me, his brow slightly furrowed. I couldn’t keep up the act with him looking at me like that. I had to look down to hide the true emotion in my eyes. It’s over. Adrian was probably going to dock my entire month’s salary. Worse, he might hold me responsible for failing the mission. The more I thought about it, the more panicked I became, and my face must have shown it. But the girl just tugged on Damian’s sleeve, her voice trembling. “Does she… hate me?” Damian’s gaze shifted from me to her. He patted her back, his voice softening. “Don’t be silly.” I couldn’t bear to watch any longer. I turned and walked away, the stares of the crowd like needles on my back. Damian didn’t follow. He was quietly instructing his men to take the girl to get changed. I found a quiet corner, my palms slick with sweat. I pulled out my phone, my fingers trembling slightly. I opened my email, found Adrian’s address, and sent the resignation letter I had just drafted. It was heartfelt, emphasizing my dedication over the past few months and my gratitude for his “patronage.” I hoped he would, for old times’ sake, let us part ways amicably without further repercussions. Just as I hit send, my phone rang. It was Maria, the manager from The Empyrean Club. “Maya, dear, are you free to swing by tomorrow? You still have some things in your locker.” I thought for a moment. I did have a few personal items there. “Okay, I’ll be there tomorrow.” After hanging up, I hailed a cab and went back to the small apartment I had secretly bought. I scrubbed off my makeup, took a long shower, and collapsed onto the bed. No more maintaining a persona. No more worrying about saying or doing the wrong thing. I took out my SIM card, played on my phone all night, and didn’t fall asleep until dawn. I woke up in the evening. I changed into a comfortable t-shirt and shorts, my face bare, and shuffled out in flip-flops to retrieve my things from The Empyrean. Maria looked surprised to see me but didn’t ask any questions, leading me straight to the locker room. I grabbed the small bag containing a few books and an old bracelet and said my goodbyes. I had just reached the main lobby when I heard a voice I never wanted to hear again. “This is the place?” Damian’s voice, laced with a casual disdain. He was with the white-dress girl, who was whispering something to him. A few of his cronies followed, laughing. “Is Damian here to stand up for his new girl?” “Whoever bullied her before, step up now!” My heart seized. I quickly lowered my head, pulled my face mask up higher, and tried to slip out through the other side. “Maya?” someone called out uncertainly. I froze, cursing under my breath. How could they possibly recognize me? I ran a hand through my messy hair, shook my head, and quickened my pace. Maria tried to intervene. “Gentlemen, let me show you to your suite. That’s just one of our new girls, you must be mistaken…” Before she could finish, my wrist was grabbed from behind in a vice-like grip. Damian’s voice turned cold, commanding. “Look up. Take off the mask.” My body went rigid. I kept my head down, playing dead. The air grew thick with tension. Finally, the girl spoke, her voice timid. “Damian… I-I don’t feel so good.” The pressure on my wrist lessened slightly. He was silent for a few seconds before finally letting me go and turning to the girl. I bolted without a second’s thought, a cold sweat breaking out on my back. It wasn’t until I was safely in a taxi that I could breathe again. The faint, aggressive scent of Damian’s cologne still seemed to linger in the air. But now, it was mixed with a strange, sweet floral fragrance. How long had they been together… for their scents to mingle like that? 5 The next few days were a blur of glorious, slothful bliss. I ate, slept, played video games, and binged TV shows, my days and nights completely reversed. No more psychoanalyzing Damian’s moods, no more maintaining that damn pure-and-innocent persona. I was almost grateful to the girl for her sudden appearance. She had given me an early retirement. Until I saw the local news. The young master of the Vanderbilt family, Paul, had taken a turn for the worse and was back in the ICU. The media went into a frenzy, pointing their fingers directly at Damian, calling him a malignant tumor on society who used his family’s name to run rampant. I crunched on an apple and sighed. It seemed the Vanderbilt family wasn’t going to let this go. Paul Vanderbilt was their only heir, after all. Adrian was going to have a massive headache. Just as I was savoring the schadenfreude, my doorbell rang. I answered it with the apple still in my mouth. Two men in black suits stood outside, their faces impassive. “Miss Willick, Mr. Thorne would like to see you.” My heart dropped. Damn it. The drama had found me again. … Adrian Thorne’s office was even colder than I remembered. He sat behind a massive desk, his expression unreadable. “Miss Willick,” he began, his voice devoid of warmth. “Enjoying your vacation?” I managed a dry laugh. “It’s… been okay. Is there something you need, Mr. Thorne?” “You may have forgotten, but our contract has not been formally terminated.” He looked up, his gaze sharp enough to pierce through me. I rubbed my nose. “Damian has… someone new now, doesn’t he? I don’t think I have much influence anymore.” Adrian didn’t speak, just watched me. The silence was unnerving. I pressed on. “Maybe… you could talk to the new girl? I’m sure he’ll listen to her now.” “Not everyone is like you, Maya. Motivated only by money,” he stated, as if it were a simple fact. I was speechless. It felt like an insult, but I couldn’t argue. It seemed Adrian had already approached the girl and been rebuffed. “So, what do you want from me?” I asked tentatively. Adrian leaned back in his chair, studying me. After a few seconds, he spoke. “Paul Vanderbilt is awake. He has specifically requested that you attend to him at the hospital.” Attend to him? I was stunned. “Does Damian know?” This was a calculated humiliation. Even if Damian didn’t care about me anymore, he wouldn’t agree to this. “Your employer,” Adrian said, tapping a finger on the desk, “is me.” I understood. Damian didn’t know. Adrian was throwing me to the wolves as a tool to smooth things over. I sighed. “Mr. Thorne, I already sent my resignation.” The office fell silent again. I looked up and met his gaze directly. “But… I suppose I could come back to work. For a price.” After all, being a companion was a legitimate job. A much better one than being a substitute. Adrian watched me, his expression unchanged. After a moment, he opened a drawer, took out his checkbook, tore out a blank check, and pushed it to the edge of the desk. “The number,” he said, “is up to you.” My eyes lit up instantly. I picked up the pen and, without hesitation, added a very long string of zeros. 6 I stood outside the door of the VIP hospital room, took a deep breath, and knocked. A weak but still lazy voice came from within. “Come in.” I pushed the door open, the smell of antiseptic hitting me. Paul Vanderbilt was propped up in bed, his left arm in a cast and a sling, his face pale. He was idly flipping through channels with the remote in his right hand. When he saw me, he raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk touching his lips. “I thought you’d refuse on principle.” I put on my professional smile. “You must be joking, Mr. Vanderbilt. Please, let me know if you need anything.” He looked me up and down. “So you’re the one. Damian’s little pet canary, the one who’s so obedient?” My smile didn’t waver. “That’s all in the past.” “Is it?” he drawled. “I’m thirsty. Give me some water.” I picked up the glass from the bedside table, inserted a straw, and held it to his lips. He took a few slow sips. “My shoulder’s sore. Massage it.” I moved behind him and began to knead his shoulders with just the right amount of pressure. He closed his eyes, enjoying it for a moment. “Get me that magazine from under the TV,” he said suddenly. I bent down to retrieve it. As I straightened up, I heard a commotion outside the door, punctuated by Damian’s furious voice. “Get the hell out of my way! I’m here to see if he’s dead yet!” My stomach plummeted. Before I could react, the door was kicked open with a thunderous bang! I froze, the magazine still in my hand. Damian stood in the doorway, radiating pure rage. His eyes, like daggers, sliced from me to Paul in the bed. Behind him, bodyguards and nurses hovered, trying to restrain him but not daring to touch him. The silence was deafening. Paul was the first to break it, smiling. He looked at the magazine in my hand, his tone suggestive. “Maya, darling, put that down for now. We can look at it later.” Damian’s fist clenched, his knuckles turning white. He lunged forward, his arm swinging toward Paul’s face. Without thinking, I stepped in front of Paul. The punch stopped, the wind of it brushing my nose, less than an inch from my face. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Good, he didn’t hit me. I was Paul’s companion now; I had to protect my client. I was being paid too much not to be professional. “Maya!” Damian stared at me, his eyes bloodshot, his voice squeezed through his teeth. “What the hell are you doing?” I offered an awkward smile. “Damian, what a coincidence. Here to visit the sick?” He grabbed my wrist, his grip terrifyingly strong. “I asked you what you’re doing here!” Paul leaned back against his pillows. “Isn’t it obvious? She’s with me now.” “You shut up!” Damian roared at him, his gaze drilling into me. “You’ve been ignoring my calls all this time just to take care of him?” I bit my lip. I couldn’t tell him Adrian had paid me. “You got hurt because of him,” I said, lowering my eyes, my voice growing soft. “I… I felt guilty. I wanted to come take care of you, as a way… to atone for his sin.” One of Damian’s friends who had followed him quickly tried to smooth things over. “See, Damian? Maya’s just worried about you. She’s afraid the Vanderbilt family will cause you trouble, so she came here on her own. Her heart is still with you!” Damian’s expression softened slightly, but his tone was still harsh. “Since when do I need you to atone for me? Do you think I’m scared of the Vanderbilts?” He started dragging me toward the door. “Come on! We’re leaving! I’ll hire ten nurses to wait on him!” The bodyguards at the door blocked his path again. Paul’s voice was laced with amusement. “You can leave. But my companion stays.” Damian spun around, sneering. “Maya is my woman. The whole city knows it.” “Oh?” Paul raised an eyebrow. “Then why don’t you ask her if she wants to go with you?” Every eye in the room swiveled to me. Damian was staring, waiting for my answer. I was silent for a few seconds, then slowly, deliberately, I pulled my wrist from Damian’s grasp. I looked up, my eyes welling with tears that threatened to fall. “Damian… I’m sorry. This time, I can’t listen to you.” Damian stood frozen. He stared at me, his expression shifting from rage to disbelief, then finally hardening into a chilling coldness. “Maya,” his voice was a low rasp, “say that again.” I bowed my head, and a single tear finally fell, splashing silently on the floor. “I’m sorry… Damian, I’m so sorry…” Damian didn’t say another word. He gave me one last look, a look as cold as ice. Then he turned and walked out without looking back. His friends exchanged glances and hurried after him. The last one to leave shot me a look of profound disappointment. “Maya, you’re a fool!” Once they were gone, I wiped my face and walked back into the room. Paul was watching me with a wry smile. “Not bad acting,” he commented. I ignored him, picked up an apple, and began to peel it. “How much did Adrian pay you?” he asked suddenly. My hand faltered. “What are you talking about?” I feigned ignorance. He just chuckled and went back to playing on his phone. I quietly finished the apple, then started on a pear, then a peach… Then he held his phone up in front of my face again. The video was shaky, the lighting dim. It looked like a booth at a bar. A girl in a white dress was sitting on Damian’s lap, feeding him a drink. The background was noisy, but I could hear her sweet voice. “Come on, Damian, just one more…” I didn’t even blink. Then, the video descended into chaos. The sound of breaking glass, men shouting, women screaming. I shot to my feet. Damian was fighting again! I tossed the fruit knife aside and hurried out of the room. “I’m just going to the restroom.” Once I was at the end of the hall, I immediately called Adrian. The call connected instantly. “Mr. Thorne, Damian is in a brawl at The Labyrinth bar. It’s getting out of hand.” There was a two-second pause. “Understood.” The line went dead. Almost simultaneously, I received a text notification: a fifty-thousand-dollar transfer to my account. I returned to the room, satisfied. Paul glanced up at me. “You still care about him, don’t you?” I shrugged. “We had a good run.” My mood was excellent. I started humming as I peeled a lychee. “I’m tired of lying down,” Paul said suddenly. “Push me outside for some air.” What? “No way,” I refused. “It’s not safe out there. What if we run into Damian…” He just looked at me. “I want to go to The Labyrinth. See the show.”

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In a room full of society’s elite, my fiancé snatched the bouquet right out of my hands. He dropped to one knee and proposed to my sister instead. She said yes, tears streaming down her face. The bride was swapped at the altar, and I became the punchline of every joke in the Hamptons. That’s when Julian Thorne, the heir to the Thorne dynasty, stepped forward with a marriage contract and a very public proposal. After we married, Julian spoiled me rotten. Against my better judgment, I gave him my heart. Then came my birthday party. I pretended to be drunk, slumped in Julian’s arms, listening to his friends debate how much a man could truly love a woman. I heard him say: “I married the woman my true love hates most, just to clear the path for her.” 1 Every word struck me like thunder. I was nestled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat while he confessed his undying love for my sister. My blood turned to ice. The private room went silent for a heartbeat before erupting into cheers. “Classic Julian! Enduring a loveless marriage just to protect his white moonlight.” “You’re a real romantic, man. Loving Bianca silently for years, even sacrificing your own happiness.” Julian’s voice was low, gentle, and terrifying. “As long as Bianca is happy, I’ll do anything.” His friend chuckled. “I heard Bianca and Sam are getting divorced. Does that mean you’ll get your second chance soon? When do you plan to tell the wifey?” Julian paused. “Bella is dependent on me. I’ll handle it later.” “Don’t mention this in front of her. I don’t want a scene.” Everyone agreed instantly. No one dared cross Julian Thorne. Someone, emboldened by liquid courage, teased: “But hey, it’s not a total loss. Sleeping with a movie star must have its perks.” Julian let out a soft laugh, his fingers absentmindedly playing with my earlobe. “It has its moments.” I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached, forcing back tears. I thought Julian was my savior, pulling me from the abyss. Turns out, he was the one cutting the rope. Seven years of marriage, reduced to a cruel joke. Sam, Julian… they all loved Bianca. No one loved me. 2 After the party, Julian carried me to the car himself. “Drive smoothly,” he whispered to the chauffeur. “My wife is sleeping.” He was still so attentive, nuzzling my neck even as I feigned sleep. Lying in his arms, memories flashed like a movie reel. Years ago, Sam—my childhood sweetheart—left me at the altar. Overnight, I became the laughingstock of New York high society. Julian appeared with a contract. He said he’d just inherited the family empire and needed a stable, suitable marriage to secure his position. Disillusioned with love, I agreed to the arrangement without hesitation. He gave me the wedding of the century. Fireworks lit up the Hudson River all night long. I had sworn off love, but his seven years of unwavering devotion melted my defenses. I let him in. I thought I was drowning in honey. It turned out to be arsenic. “Honey…” I murmured, pretending to wake up, eyes unfocused. Julian immediately adjusted me to a more comfortable position against his shoulder. “Babe, does your head hurt? I’ll make you some hangover soup when we get home.” I clung to his arm. “I was just happy today.” My voice was sweet, practiced. Acting is my job. If he, an amateur, could keep up a charade for seven years, imagine what an Oscar-winning actress could do. Julian kissed my temple. “I have a new project starting soon, so I might not be able to visit the set often. Take care of yourself.” “I’ll order food for the crew and make sure your assistant watches you eat… If you don’t behave… I’ll have to punish you.” His hand drifted to my waist, squeezing suggestively. I fought the urge to vomit and twisted away. “Stop, that tickles…” 3 That night, I tossed and turned. I thought about the safe hidden in the corner of Julian’s study. The one I’d never opened. This time, it took me one second. Because I finally realized the combination was Bianca’s birthday. It wasn’t filled with love letters or trinkets from Bianca, as I’d feared. Just a corporate seal. But the company name on the stamp hit me like a lightning bolt. It was a company I had no connection to, yet knew intimately. Because every movie, every endorsement deal Bianca had landed over the years was heavily invested in by this company. I had always wondered. Bianca’s acting was mediocre at best, yet her resources were better than mine—the wife of a billionaire. The mystery was solved. It was Julian. He had been her silent guardian angel all along. Once, a famous director offered me the lead in his new film. The script was perfect. I cleared my schedule for six months, hit the gym, and transformed my body for the role. I told Julian how much it meant to me. He said, “Babe, why work so hard? Isn’t it enough to just be Mrs. Thorne?” Before filming began, the director paid the penalty fee and replaced me with Bianca. This mysterious company had tripled the investment to buy the role for her. I put the seal back and closed the safe. In the darkness, tears finally fell. My phone buzzed. The screen lit up the room, harsh and bright. “Ms. Bella, have you made your decision?” “Yes.” It was time to exit this three-person game. 4 The next morning, the studio van came to pick me up. Julian walked me to the car, kissing the corner of my mouth. “Babe, rest up. Don’t overwork yourself.” I reported my schedule. “Big explosion scene today.” Julian paused. “I thought that was next week?” “Schedule change. Saves resetting the scene later.” He hugged me again, completely missing the test. “Be safe. Double-check the safety gear.” My heart plummeted. In the past, whenever I had a dangerous scene—explosions, car crashes, wire work—Julian would clear his schedule. He’d be on set, checking everything himself. But now… News of Bianca’s divorce had just broken. He couldn’t even be bothered to fake it anymore. Fine. I’ll give these star-crossed lovers their happy ending. During a break, I saw Julian’s custom Rolls Royce parked near the studio lot next door. Bianca was filming there. An impulse to see him one last time drove me toward the car. Only the driver and his assistant were inside. They scrambled out when they saw me. “Mrs. Thorne… Mr. Thorne went to the restroom…” Their eyes kept darting toward Bianca’s trailer. I understood. I walked over and knocked on the trailer door. Julian opened it. Behind him, Bianca sat on the sofa, hair mussed, buttons misaligned. Julian panicked for a split second, then smoothed his expression. “Bella. I came to see you and ran into Bianca. We were just discussing some business.” I forced a smile. “Really? What business do you have with my sister? You never mentioned it.” “Boring stuff. You wouldn’t be interested,” he said gently, dismissively. Before I could speak, his assistant ran up with a phone. “Mr. Thorne, overseas call. Important.” Julian patted my head. “Give me a minute. I’ll be right back.” He walked away. Bianca uncrossed her legs and sauntered over, smugness radiating off her. “Curious what we were talking about, Bella? My dear sister.” “His company is about to announce me as their global brand ambassador.” “Soon, the whole world will know that Mr. Julian Thorne chose his wife’s rival to represent him.” “Does that count as rubbing your face in the dirt?” “Just wait, Bella. I’m going to take everything that belongs to you, piece by piece.” She laughed, bright and provocative, brushing her hair aside to reveal a fresh hickey on her neck. Bianca and I share a father, but different mothers. She was the secret child, brought home only after my mother died. I tried to be a sister to her. She only ever hated me. “I hate you, Bella. You and your mom stole my dad. Stole everything that should have been mine!” “Bianca, my mom didn’t know he had a pregnant girlfriend when they arranged the marriage… She was a victim too!” “Shut up! If not for her, my dad would have married my mom! Remember this: you are not my sister!” My father always felt guilty about Bianca. He made me yield to her. Even when she stole Sam at my wedding, he just scolded her and swapped the brides. I spiraled into depression. It was Julian who pulled me out, brick by brick, with his love. Bianca stole my roles. Julian would say, “Treat acting as a hobby. I want you home with me anyway.” I thought it was sweet. Now I realized, my rival wasn’t just Bianca. It was my husband, sleeping beside me every night with a heart full of secrets. “Oh, right. Julian came to drop off a script. He’s investing in a new movie for me. Top director, A-list team. Starting soon.” She handed me the script from the table. The cover read: Redemption in the Clouds. I flipped a few pages, and my hands began to shake. On my computer at home, there was a script I had spent seven years polishing. It was based on my story with Julian. A chronicle of our marriage, from strangers to lovers. And now, Julian had gifted it to Bianca. I opened my mouth to scream, but Bianca smiled—a twisted, knowing smile. Then she slapped herself across the face, hard. Twice. Messed up her hair and screamed. “Ahhhh!” “Bella, what are you doing?!” Julian, who had been stepping onto the trailer stairs, rushed in. He didn’t even look at me. He shoved me aside and went straight to Bianca. “Bianca, are you okay?” Bianca covered her face, eyes brimming with tears. A perfect victim. “Julian, I don’t know… I just invited her for tea, and she attacked me… called me a slut…” Julian looked at me. His gaze was cold, ruthless. A stranger. “Bella, I know you don’t like Bianca, but how could you hit her? Look at her face! How is she supposed to film?” “There are paparazzi outside. If they get a picture, how are we going to clean this up?” I stared at Julian. My eyes burned, but I refused to cry. I didn’t deny it. I didn’t explain. I just asked: “Why did you give my script to Bianca?” Julian’s eyes were icy. “What script? I told you not to be so ambitious. It’s just a script. Does it matter who acts in it? We agreed you’d retire and focus on the family.” I looked away, digging my nails into my palms until they bled. Exhausted. Disappointed. Focus on the family? Never again. Seeming to realize my detachment, Julian softened his tone. “Bella, I’m sorry I raised my voice. I was just worried the press would spin this and hurt you.” “Everyone knows you’re sisters. You’re my wife. I don’t want people badmouthing you.” He rubbed my head. “Go do your scene. I’ll come have lunch with you. Be good.” I nodded. Turned around, and let a cold sneer settle on my face. It must be exhausting for Julian, juggling two women like this.

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One chaotic night, I accidentally got pregnant with my stepbrother’s child. I remembered a few weeks earlier at dinner, our parents had been nagging him about marriage. He answered calmly: “I already have someone I like.” I nearly blacked out. Great. Now I’m the homewrecker in my own family. I stayed up all night applying for grad schools in Europe, planning to get an abortion and flee the country. But while I was waiting outside the operating room, a hand grabbed my wrist. My stepbrother’s voice was cold and obsessive: “Do you hate me that much?” “You’d rather kill our child and run away than tell me the truth? Is that it, my dear little sister?” 1 My mom married a billionaire when I was three. It was a whirlwind romance that ended in a fairytale wedding, and I, naturally, was part of the package deal. I grew up in the Thorne mansion. My stepfather adored my mom and treated me like his own. I genuinely saw him as my dad and his son, Julian, as my brother. Julian was good to me when we were kids. But as we got older, we drifted apart. It happens. I was sad about it for a while, but I eventually accepted that I had gone from his “beloved little sister” to just “that relative living in the house.” I had just made peace with it when the accident happened. 2 I woke up in Julian’s bed, my body aching all over. I stared at the ceiling, my brain slowly rebooting. The chaotic memories of last night came rushing back like a freight train. Vague fragments of someone whispering, “Don’t cry, baby.” And some… much more explicit phrases. I covered my ears, trying to block out the memories. Failed. Worse, the person next to me felt me move and instinctively tightened his grip, pulling me into his chest. His voice was thick with sleep. “You awake, baby?” I stopped breathing. I didn’t dare look up. He couldn’t know it was me. Julian has a girlfriend. He said so himself. Last weekend at dinner, our parents were talking about the neighbor’s new grandchild, which naturally led to them pressuring Julian about marriage. “Julian, you’re 25. Anyone special in your life?” Mom asked. We were in the living room. I was sprawled on the couch playing video games; Dad had his arm around Mom. Julian said, “Yes.” I looked up from my game, curious. My brother is handsome, rich, and has a good temperament. He’s had girls chasing him since kindergarten. He rejected all of them. Who did he finally fall for? I blinked. “Bro, who is it? Do I know her?” He glanced at me but didn’t answer. I pressed on. “Who? Who is she? Why are you hiding her?” Julian suddenly snapped. He sneered, “Who my girlfriend is is none of your business.” I rubbed my nose, feeling wronged. Mom and Dad pressured you, why yell at me? I’m just the punching bag. Siblings really do drift apart. He won’t even tell me who he’s dating. But forget about the girlfriend for a second. The problem right now is that Julian’s hands are wandering. I buried my face in his chest, frozen. He couldn’t see my face. “Baby, it’s still early,” he murmured lazily. What does that mean?! I went rigid. He thinks I’m his girlfriend. Do they wake up like this every day?? If I look up, I’m dead. He still hasn’t realized. Maybe because I’m silent, he thinks I’m consenting. Just as he was about to prop himself up and see my face, I panicked. I turned over and buried my head under the pillow. “Hmm?” He chuckled, a low, vibrating sound. “You like that?” He leaned over. “Baby, call me big brother.” AHHHH! NO! Why are you guys like this?! 3 I refused to come out from under the pillow. Julian probably never imagined the person in his bed wasn’t his girlfriend. He patted my head. “Shy?” I muffled a reply: “Go away.” He sighed helplessly. “I’ll go make lunch. Rest a bit, I’ll wake you when it’s ready.” Click. The door finally closed. I crawled out of the blankets and stared at my body. I pinched myself. It hurt. It wasn’t a dream!! Julian is outside. And I, his sister… I only remember attending a gala with him last night. The champagne tasted weird. We both drank it. I lost my mind, and Julian apparently mistook me for his girlfriend, calling me “baby” the whole time. And then… this happened. I covered my face. What am I going to do?! I need to escape. Julian’s apartment has an open kitchen. If I walk out, he’ll see me. While I was panicking, Julian came back. I heard the door and yanked the covers up. He patted my head through the quilt. “Still shy, baby?” His voice was so gentle. Oh my god, does he talk to his girlfriend like this? “We’re out of Coke. I’m running to the store to get some for the wings. Don’t panic if you can’t find me, I’ll be right back.” Does his girlfriend love Coke wings too? Who doesn’t? Wait. Focus. He’s leaving. Thank God. 4 As soon as I heard the front door close, I scrambled out of bed. My dress was torn. I opened the closet to borrow his girlfriend’s clothes, but it was full of men’s suits. Huh? No women’s clothes? Maybe there’s a walk-in closet? No time to check. I grabbed one of his shirts and a jacket. Julian is 6’3″, almost eight inches taller than me. I looked like a child playing dress-up. I rolled up the sleeves and pants, grabbed the shreds of my dress, and fled. Once I was out of the complex, I exhaled. Safe. Even if Julian realizes it wasn’t his girlfriend last night, he’ll never guess it was me. Our sibling relationship can still be salvaged. 5 I stopped at a boutique to change into normal clothes before going home. Back in my room, I rolled around on my soft bed. I hadn’t slept till dawn, and then… more exercise this morning. My nerves finally relaxed, and I slept until the afternoon. Luckily, Mom and Dad are on vacation in Europe. No one woke me up for lunch. I rubbed my eyes and went downstairs to ask the maid for food. I saw Julian standing at the bottom of the stairs. He looked up, his gaze sweeping over me lightly. “Awake?” I remembered him saying “Baby, awake?” this morning. Followed by two hours of cardio. I stepped back instinctively. “Bro?” His eyes were dark. I feigned surprise. “Why are you home today?” He tapped the railing. “What do you think?” How should I know? I changed the subject. “Did you eat? I’m hungry. If not, I’ll tell the kitchen to make extra.” “You’re eating now?” he asked. I lied without blinking. “Yeah, realized I missed an assignment last night, stayed up all night finishing it. Slept all day.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Doing homework at home last night?” I nodded. “Yup!” “Okay.” Julian’s tone was unreadable. “Eat. My dear sister must be tired after working all night.”

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1 The city’s golden boy got shot down by the campus queen, so he offered to pay me, the shot girl, to drink with him. I was about to refuse when my beat-up old phone suddenly rang. “Mom, don’t be an idiot. This is your one shot at marrying into money.” The little girl’s voice, startlingly clear, came through the speaker. She claimed to be my daughter from ten years in the future. “Just have one drink with the prince, and you’ll get a black card. Instantly.” “If you get all high and mighty and turn him down, in ten years, you’ll be dragging me to sleep under a bridge!” I froze. Get rich just by having a drink? Why didn’t you say so sooner? I hung up and plopped down next to the golden boy, Conrad Sterling. “I’ll drink with you all night long,” I declared. “We’re not leaving ’til one of us is under the table.” … With that, I grabbed Conrad’s glass and downed it in one go. Impressed by my nerve, he pulled out a black card and slapped it on the table in front of me. “Keep me company tonight, and this card is yours. Spend whatever you want.” My eyes lit up. I reached for it, but the campus queen, Melanie, smacked it out of my hand. “Sophie, you have no shame, do you? You’re actually going to take it?” “Let me warn you,” she sneered, “just because I don’t want him, doesn’t mean you can have what’s left.” I ignored her, scrambling on the floor to find the card. Conrad saw this and a smug smile spread across his face. “See that, Melanie? You might not want it, but plenty of people do!” “I’m done being your simp. Tonight, Sophie is all I want.” Melanie shot me a venomous glare before storming off. Clutching the black card, I was so overcome with emotion I could have cried. The girl claiming to be my future daughter… she wasn’t lying. She’d told me on the phone that the one thing Conrad couldn’t stand right now was rejection. If I just accepted his offer, I’d get the black card and be able to pay my rent and tuition. I’d thought it was some new kind of scam, but I was already so broke I was selling shots in a bar. What did I have to lose? Now, with the card in my hand, I finally believed her. She really was my daughter from the future. Conrad was still studying me, and I tried to remember what my daughter had said. “The prince has a huge ego. He loves to be flattered.” “When he’s drunk, make sure you take him back to your apartment.” I brushed myself off, stood up, and gave Conrad my sweetest smile. “Thank you, Mr. Sterling. It’s the honor of a lifetime to meet someone so generous.” My flattery worked. He was so pleased that he bought out my entire sales quota for the night. He got hammered, ranting about how Melanie had no taste. I played along, stroking his ego. “It’s her loss, passing up on a great man like you.” “She’s the one with no taste, no class. Don’t you ever doubt yourself because of her. You’re amazing.” Meanwhile, I was nursing apple juice, matching him glass for glass. Once he was completely wasted, I hoisted him onto my back and hauled him to my tiny rental. My phone rang again. “The prince is a total germaphobe. Get him cleaned up, fast.” “He’s been starved for affection his whole life. You have to use this opportunity to show him what a warm, loving home feels like.” I couldn’t help but ask, “How do you know so much? And how are you even calling me?” My daughter’s little voice sounded frantic. “I can’t explain much. Just answer the phone whenever I call and do exactly what I say.” “Otherwise, my future is eating moldy bread, and yours is starving to death under a bridge.” She also gave me a solemn warning: I had to protect this phone at all costs. It was the only way she could contact me. Looking at Conrad, sleeping soundly, I made a promise to myself. I would seize this chance and change our destiny. 2 The next morning, I placed a bowl of hangover soup in front of Conrad. “I got up early to make this for you. It’ll help with your headache.” “I also made some porridge and pancakes. You can have some if you’d like.” The aroma of the food filled the small room, and Conrad’s eyes suddenly turned red. “Thank you for taking care of me. It’s… it’s been a long time since anyone was this kind to me.” My own eyes welled with tears. “No, thank you.” “I was about to be evicted for overdue rent. Your card saved the only home I have.” He glanced around at the shabby surroundings. “Why do you live in a place like this?” When he learned I was an orphan who had put herself through grad school by working odd jobs, like selling shots at the bar, his expression softened with a mixture of pride and protectiveness. “Keep the card,” he said. “You don’t have to pay me back. Use it for whatever you need.” “I was going to give it to Melanie anyway, and she would have just thrown it back in my face. It’s better off with someone who actually needs it.” During breakfast, Conrad devoured everything, praising my cooking nonstop. I seized the opportunity. “If you don’t mind how simple this place is, you’re welcome to come over for a home-cooked meal anytime.” Just as my daughter had said, he was desperate for affection. He immediately added me as a contact and promised he’d visit often. The moment he left, my daughter called. “See? I told you not to put onions in the pancakes! Perfect for the prince’s taste, right?” “Now, use that card to invest in yourself. Especially your hair! You can’t marry into a rich family with frizzy hair like that!” Don’t you worry, my sweet girl. I am the most coachable mom in the world. That day, I quit my job at the bar and signed up for everything: salon treatments, a gym membership, a whole new wardrobe. Around dinnertime, my daughter’s voice chirped through the phone again. “Don’t expect the prince to chase you. He won’t lower himself.” “You have to be proactive. He loves it when people fuss over him.” I immediately sent Conrad a text: [Make sure you eat a proper meal after drinking so much. You don’t want to get a stomachache.] He replied instantly. He complained that his office only had terrible takeout options, nothing as good as my pancakes. I typed back with a smile: [If you don’t mind, you could come over for a simple dinner tonight.] And so, that evening, I saw Conrad again. He polished off every last bite of the savory fish soup and stir-fried pork I made. From that day on, my tiny apartment became Conrad’s private diner. He noticed the changes in me—my new confidence, my polished appearance. Sometimes, I’d even use my graduate-level knowledge to offer him advice on his business dealings. It didn’t take long for us to grow closer. He offered to help me find a new place to live. “I’ve picked out an apartment for you near my office. It’ll be easier for me to come over for dinner every day, and you’ll be more comfortable.” When my daughter heard, she was even more excited than I was. “Congratulations, Mom! One step closer to marrying into the family!” “But first loves are hard to forget. You need to make him give up on Melanie for good.” After some careful thought, I anonymously paid a few students to spread a rumor around campus. “Did you hear? Conrad Sterling is seeing that Sophie girl now.” “He even bought her an apartment. I guess she’s his new little canary.” As I expected, three days later, Melanie cornered me. “Everyone, come look!” she shouted, making a scene. “This is Sophie! She acts all innocent and pure, but behind closed doors, she’s the biggest slut of them all!” 3 All eyes turned to me, a mixture of shock and judgment on their faces. Melanie scoffed. “You think sleeping with him a few times will make him fall for you? Dream on! He’s just using you to make me jealous!” “Once he’s tired of you, let’s see who’s crying then.” Amidst the whispers, I let my eyes fill with tears, a single, perfect drop tracing a path down my cheek. Melanie gritted her teeth. “You manipulative bitch. Who are you putting on this little pity show for?” Just then, a cold voice cut through the crowd. “Melanie, I never knew you were such a vicious person.” Seeing the utter disappointment in Conrad’s eyes, I fought to hide a triumphant smile. Ever since I’d started the rumors, I’d been feigning illness, asking Conrad to pick me up from campus every day. I had orchestrated this entire scene for him to witness. “Melanie, let’s just pretend I never liked you,” he said, his voice flat. “I was wrong about you.” Melanie stomped her foot in frustration. “Stop pretending, Conrad! I know you’re just using her to get to me!” “Break up with her right now, and I’ll consider giving you another chance to chase me!” Her arrogant, condescending tone was the final straw. “Shut up!” Conrad roared. He pulled me behind him, his voice booming with authority. “Sophie is a decent, hardworking woman. If I hear one more person spreading rumors about her, they’ll be hearing from my legal team.” A gasp went through the crowd as Conrad grabbed my hand and led me to his Rolls-Royce. He gently wiped my tears away. “I should have made things clear with Melanie sooner. Then you wouldn’t have had to go through this.” I squeezed his hand, my voice trembling. “Thank you for defending me. I must have done something truly good in a past life to deserve someone as wonderful as you.” Conrad’s gaze intensified, and the air between us crackled with a new, charged energy. After that day, our relationship deepened. Once I moved into the new apartment, he spent more and more time with me, eating almost every meal at my place. Whenever our bodies accidentally brushed against each other, a faint blush would creep up his neck. Even though I’d bought a new smartphone, I treasured my old, beat-up one. Thanks to my daily calls with my daughter, everything was going according to plan. But I was growing more and more curious about this sweet, clever girl of mine. “Where am I, ten years from now? And who’s your father?” “Are you still eating moldy bread? If I marry Conrad, will your life change instantly?” But every time, her answer was the same. “Time is short. I’ll tell you everything later.” “Just remember, the only way you’ll be happy is if you marry Conrad!” But to marry him, I had to break the comfortable pattern we’d fallen into and make our relationship official. I wracked my brain, searching for an opening. One day, as I was leaving a spa, a lavishly dressed woman stopped me, her eyes raking over me with disdain. “So you’re the shot girl who seduced my son?” 4 I was completely blindsided by Conrad’s mother. Both he and my daughter had told me that his father had passed away young, and his mother had always been consumed by her career, paying little attention to him. I never thought she would be an obstacle. Seeing my stunned silence, she sneered. “Just as I thought. A classless nobody from the sticks.” She threw a stack of papers in my face. “A dirty little shot girl, dreaming of climbing into the Sterling family?” “I will not let my son ruin the family name with a woman like you.” I noticed her assistant in the background, secretly filming with her phone. Suddenly, I realized. This was it. This was my chance to seal the deal with Conrad. I immediately schooled my features into an expression of righteous indignation. “Mrs. Sterling, you can humiliate me, but you can’t hurt Conrad!” “He’s never known what a warm home feels like. Now that he’s finally found some happiness, you want to tear it away from him.” “You’re his mother! How can you be so cruel?” Her face flushed with anger. “You’re an orphan. What gives you the right to speak to me like that?” “Don’t push your luck. Here’s ten million dollars. Get out of his life. Now.” I stood my ground, my voice firm. “I’m not saying this for money! I’m saying it because I care about him!” “I will never leave Conrad. I’m not like you. I could never bear to see him all alone!” Enraged, she slapped me across the face. A sharp, stinging pain bloomed on my cheek, but inside, I was ecstatic. This was it. I’d won. She pointed a finger in my face, spewing a torrent of insults. Before she left, she shot me one last warning. “You think you can steal my son? It’s not that easy!” The moment she was gone, my daughter called, her voice full of concern. “Mom, does your face hurt? I’ll blow on it for you.” “You’re so smart, Mom! His mother wanted to film you being a gold digger, but you completely turned it around on her.” “Just you wait. The prince will be there any minute to confess his love!” I carefully preserved the red handprint on my cheek, waiting anxiously. And once again, my amazing daughter’s prediction came true. Less than half an hour later, Conrad burst in. Seeing the mark on my face, he pulled me into a tight embrace, his voice choked with tears. “I saw the video… I’m so moved… This is the first time anyone has ever chosen me, the first time anyone has ever stood up for me.” “Be my girlfriend, Sophie. I promise I’ll love you with all my heart.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and passionately returned his confession. To show his commitment after we made it official, Conrad immediately transferred the apartment deed into my name. He then started planning a grand banquet, declaring he would officially announce our relationship to the world and show his mother he was serious. My daughter could barely contain her excitement. “After the banquet, you’ll be the prince’s fiancée, the envy of the whole world!” “So, Mom, when are you and the prince going to make a baby? I can’t wait to meet you!” A wave of tenderness washed over me. My sweet girl, I can’t wait to meet you, either. After all, without her calls, none of this would have happened. Filled with anticipation, I got into the car headed for the banquet. But when I walked into the hall, I froze. It wasn’t Conrad waiting for me. It was his mother. And Melanie. Seeing the malicious glint in Melanie’s eyes, a jolt of fear shot through me. At the same moment, my phone began to ring frantically. “Mom, you need to get out of there right now—” Before my daughter could finish, Melanie lunged forward and snatched the phone from my hand. “As long as I’m here, you will never marry Conrad Sterling!” CRASH. The phone shattered into a million pieces on the marble floor.

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Today, I was filming a scene with the notoriously icy, A-list actor, Julian Mercer. When it came time to hold hands, I felt something unexpected. He was… reacting. Physically. I froze. Pulling my hand away felt wrong, but letting him keep holding it felt even worse. Because sitting right behind the monitor, watching every frame like a hawk, was my ex-husband, the famous director Wyatt Hale. His face was currently a shade darker than death, while the surrounding crew members were trying very hard to hide their expressions of pure, unadulterated gossip. 1 Even though Wyatt had directed three movies back-to-back for Summer Rose, taken her to fashion shows in Paris, and bought a luxury love nest, no one thought I would actually divorce him. After all, I had been with him when he was a nobody. Now that he was a “Gold Medal Director,” everyone assumed I, the woman who loved him to death, would never let go of the fruits of my labor. But I was the one who proposed the divorce. He refused, dragging it out for two years. At a high-end jewelry gala, I ran into Summer. She brushed past me with her chin held high, unable to resist a jab. “Lexi Shaw, did you know? He says I’m better than you in every way. On screen, and in bed.” As the cameras panned toward us, she flashed a sweet, innocent smile, looking every bit the junior admiring her senior. I beamed back, radiant. “In that case, Miss Rose, your acting skills are truly top-tier. After all, Wyatt is painfully mediocre in bed. You’ve had it rough.” Summer’s face cracked. I reached out and scratched her chin gently, like I was petting a kitten. With the flashbulbs blinding us, I leaned in and whispered in her ear: “Why don’t you convince him to sign the divorce papers? It would save you from being called a homewrecker every day.” Summer turned pale. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and posed for a gracious photo. That night, Wyatt came back to our Beverly Hills villa, holding the photo of me and Summer. “Summer is just a kid. You’re a triple-crown winning actress; why bully her? Where’s your dignity?” I slammed the divorce papers in front of him again and uncapped a pen. Wyatt sighed and took the pen. “It was my infidelity. I can leave you the money and the assets. But you… you can’t find anyone else.” “Wyatt, whether I find someone else is none of your business.” He put one hand in his pocket, looked me over with arrogant confidence, and scoffed. “Forget it. You’re practically frigid anyway. In this world, besides me, no man would put up with you. Lexi, just wait a few years. When I’m bored of her, I’ll come back.” With that, he scribbled his signature on the papers. 2 A month later, I joined the cast of Wyatt’s new film. This contract had been signed years ago. It was supposed to be my movie. But Wyatt had slashed the script to pieces, elevating Summer to the lead and using me as a stepping stone to boost her career. Before filming started, my agent and the producers fought tooth and nail. Summer marched onto my trailer, flashing an eight-carat engagement ring. It was a ring I had seen with Wyatt years ago. Back then, he was broke. I had chosen a one-carat ring instead, telling him, “One carat is beautiful. It means you’re the one.” “Lexi,” Summer gloated, “Wyatt said money was tight, but he borrowed from friends because he refused to let me suffer. Think about it. What do you have?” I took a calm sip of my coffee. “Not much. Just several villas under his name, ten million in cash, and a chunk of his company stocks.” Summer’s mouth twitched, but she suppressed her rage. The trailer smelled of rich, freshly brewed coffee. I looked at her. “Want a cup, Miss Rose? These beans are Colombian. Quite good.” Summer smiled tightly. “Lexi, don’t think just because you have an Oscar you can be a diva. The whole crew is waiting for you. Do you know how much money is lost for every day of delay?” The production assistant stepped onto the trailer. He looked at me with pleading eyes. “Ms. Shaw, Wyatt was wrong… I apologize on his behalf… but please, give him some face. The producer said the next project will be a good one for you…” I had expected this. I’ve been in this industry a long time; I’ve swallowed my pride before. Emotions are a luxury I quit long ago. Besides, giving Summer more screen time wouldn’t help if she couldn’t carry the emotional weight of the role. Bad acting is embarrassing no matter how many lines you have. “Just this once,” I said. The PA looked like he’d been granted amnesty. Just then, my agent stepped onto the trailer. She took a deep breath, looking like she’d just won the lottery. “The male lead has been replaced. It’s Julian Mercer.” Julian Mercer. He won Best Actor at Venice at twenty-two. He had swept every major award globally and was notoriously reclusive. My agent looked at me. “Julian said he liked the original script. The investors agreed. We are shooting the original script.” 3 Outside the cast hotel, a crowd of Summer’s rabid fans had gathered. Every day, when Summer left for set, they would scream and snap photos. Summer would wave with that sugary smile. “Ahhh! My daughter! She waved at me!” “Summer and Wyatt standing together… it’s giving Mafia boss and his baby girl. I’m obsessed.” “Wyatt lost interest in Lexi ages ago. Who wants a damaged woman?” “Yeah, I heard women with Lupus can’t have kids. Useless.” “I heard Wyatt loved Lexi so much he donated a kidney to her back in the day. What a devoted man.” I met Wyatt the year I recovered from Lupus, right after my kidney transplant. The line that moved me most was when he said, “Lexi, I’m grateful I met you when you were fragile. Otherwise, a guy like me would never have had a chance.” Later, when he was caught leaving Summer’s apartment, he spent a fortune buying the photos. He thought I leaked them. So, he “accidentally” revealed my medical history. He planted the fake story about donating his kidney to gain sympathy, then announced the divorce, implying he wanted kids and I couldn’t provide them. Perhaps fearing backlash against Summer, he hadn’t officially announced their relationship. But their “CP” fans were already shipping them hard. Wyatt looked at Summer with doting eyes amidst the screams. Then he looked at me with feigned innocence, as if he wanted no part of the drama. Nausea rose in my throat. I tossed my coffee cup toward a trash can. I missed. The entire contents splashed onto a tall man in a white coat. 4 The brown liquid soaked into the pristine fabric. The wind rustled through the trees. He smelled of cold cedar and winter air. “Oh my god! Julian Mercer!” “He’s even more handsome in person!” “I can’t wait to see him act with Lexi!” “There’s some weird chemistry there already.” I had a tissue in my hand, but I didn’t reach out to wipe him down. I put it away. “I’m sorry. I’ll pay for the coat.” When Wyatt shot his first indie film, Julian had already won his second Silver Bear in Berlin. We had watched the livestream together. My eyes hadn’t left Julian’s face. Wyatt had been jealous then. “I knew you liked that type.” Now, Wyatt watched helplessly as Julian extended a hand to me. “It’s just a coat. No worries. Ms. Shaw, a pleasure.” I shook his hand lightly. “Mr. Mercer, the pleasure is mine.” His assistant rushed over to take the coat for cleaning. As Julian took it off, a worn leather passport holder fell out of the pocket. It flipped open. Inside was a passport photo of a girl in a British high school uniform. Me. Young, bright, and unscarred. Sharp-eyed crew members saw it, but no one dared to speak. Julian calmly picked it up and closed it. “Just got off the plane. Forgot to pack it away.” 5 I was in the studio taking promotional stills. When it came time to select the photos, Wyatt cleared the room. His eyes were glued to my face. “Happy now? You get to work with Julian Mercer.” I stared at the monitor, ignoring him. “Don’t get any ideas. So what if you’re an award winner? You’re a divorcée. A family like the Mercers only marries into old money. Give it up.” To avoid scratching his face, I took off my ring. Then I slapped him. My hand stung. Two years ago, when he first started sleeping with Summer, I screamed and fought. Wyatt enjoyed it. It made him feel important. Later, my heart went cold, and I stopped reacting. “Wyatt, I took this job to repay a favor to the producer. I have no obligation to listen to your barking.” Wyatt looked stunned, then almost aroused by the violence. “Lexi, are you jealous? Do you… do you regret divorcing me? If you say the word, I won’t marry anyone else.” I replayed the producer’s begging in my head and held back my vomit. Outside, Summer was peeking anxiously. I calmly put my ring back on. Summer walked in, eyeing Wyatt’s red cheek. She assumed we were fighting about her engagement ring. “Lexi, are you throwing a tantrum because Wyatt bought me a diamond? You’re divorced. He left you the assets. Is this necessary?” Wyatt put on his impatient, arrogant mask. “Summer, Lexi is your senior. Learn your place.” Summer looked at him with puppy-dog eyes and shut up. Wyatt smirked, satisfied. The dynamic was suffocating.

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