Category: English

The glory of the World Championship win had barely settled when a man I once refused to sign stormed up to me, eyes burning with hatred. Surrounded by reporters, he angrily accused me of match-fixing. “If you hadn’t taken dirty money and undercut me, I’d be holding that trophy!” he shouted, yanking up his sweatpants to reveal a carbon-fiber prosthetic leg. The reporters erupted. Flashbulbs exploded as they shouted, “You belong in prison!” I raised my hands. “This is a misunderstanding.” “A misunderstanding?” He threw a medical report at me. “Two years ago today, in that playoff game—were you or were you not Kieran?” My stomach dropped. My name is Kieran, and I was involved—but as the head coach. I never stepped on the court. He took my silence as guilt. “You ruined my life!” he screamed. “I’ll make you pay!” The cruel irony: that day, I wasn’t even at the arena. An obsessed fan had drugged me, filmed me unconscious, and blackmailed me. But what stunned me most was his “witness.” “My girlfriend saw everything!” he yelled. “I won’t let you walk away with that trophy!” I looked at the woman beside him, clinging to his arm. My blood ran cold. It was her—the same fan who had ruined me two years ago. 1 When the woman finally got a good look at my face, a flash of pure panic and guilt crossed her eyes. Unfortunately, the crippled player completely missed her silent freak-out. He just pulled her forward, playing directly to the cameras. “I have been with my girl for seven years. Her biggest dream in the world was to see me win a championship.” “She dressed up that day, sitting in the bleachers with so much hope, just to watch me play. And what happened? Kieran maliciously stepped under my feet while I was shooting a three-pointer. My ankle shattered so badly they had to amputate. He killed my entire career in a split second!” He even held up a hospital billing statement. Under the ‘Guarantor for Medical Expenses’ section, my name was printed in black and white. Kieran. But that was because I was the coach of the opposing team. Naturally, I stepped up to cover the injured player’s medical bills out of basic human decency. I reached out, trying to pat his shoulder. “Bro, hold on a second. I am incredibly sorry about what happened to you, but you have the wrong guy.” “The wrong guy? You think you can just write off my ruined life as a misunderstanding?!” Tears streamed down his face. He looked completely unhinged as he roared at me. “My name is Silas! The Silas whose life you completely destroyed!” “If a monster like you gets to be crowned a World Champion, I would rather die right here to prove my innocence!” The media crowd gasped collectively. Every single camera lens pivoted directly to my face. The reporters were practically foaming at the mouth with righteous indignation. “Kieran, you know exactly how vital a player’s legs are. What exactly possessed you to do something so sick?” “Nobody would joke about losing a limb! Have you no conscience? Are you really going to stand there and deny it?” How the hell was I supposed to confess to something I never did? I had been dragged through hell that day too. I was just a clean-cut, hardworking coach back then. And that woman completely violated my boundaries. She drugged me, recorded my most vulnerable, humiliating moments on camera, and used the footage to try and force me into a relationship with her. God only knows how much money and sanity it cost me to finally bury that nightmare. I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my voice level. “I remember you. You were a prospect I rejected during the draft trials. You can’t just accuse me of ruining your life because I bruised your ego.” “I was merely the coach during that minor league game. I never subbed in. I never stepped on the court. I physically could not have fouled you.” Let alone the fact that I wasn’t even in the building. I waved my hand, gesturing for my legal team to step in and handle this circus. But before I could even turn my head, Silas lunged forward and snatched my World Championship trophy right off the podium. This was the holy grail my teammates and I had bled and sweat for over three years. It was the ultimate proof of our international dominance. As the team captain, I was supposed to be the one lifting it to the rafters. If Silas hadn’t hijacked the press conference to smear my name, my boys and I would be popping champagne right now. Instead, Silas held the heavy gold trophy high above his head. Pure malice spilled out of his eyes. My posture instantly turned lethal. “What do you think you are doing? Put that down and think very carefully about your next move.” Silas ground his teeth. “Kieran, you destroyed my life. If you do not confess to the whole world right now and show them the ugly freak you really are, you are not leaving this stage!” Seeing that he was entirely prepared to burn everything to the ground, I stopped moving. “Do you have any idea that slandering me on global television will land you in a federal prison?” “And the trophy you are holding represents the glory of an entire nation! Do not let your petty, delusional vendetta ruin this!” Silas just let out a disdainful snort. “You think I would come up here to expose you without hard proof?” “Look closely, everyone! This is the raw broadcast footage from that exact day. World Champion? Please. He is a career-ending thug!” He uploaded a video file directly to the event’s public feed. The reporters and the millions of fans watching the live stream immediately pulled it up. My eyebrows knit together in sheer confusion. What the hell was going on? The player in the video who viciously undercut him looked exactly like me. The footage Silas provided even had a verified timestamp. It was definitively from that minor league game. Realizing the massive severity of the situation, the tournament organizers routed the video to the jumbotron above us. Everyone watched as a player wearing my exact face deliberately slid his foot under Silas while he was airborne for a three-pointer. Silas came down hard, his ankle snapping in a sickening way as he collapsed in agony. The entire arena exploded into chaos. Fans from all over the world stared at the stage in absolute horror. “I can’t believe their World Champion is a dirty player. What an absolute disgrace!” My die-hard fans tried to scream in my defense, but the supporters of the team we had just defeated mercilessly attacked them. “Your idol is a literal criminal! This whole championship is tainted. We demand a complete rematch!” People started hurling cups of soda and half-eaten hotdogs at my supporters in the stands. The reporters didn’t hesitate. They shoved their microphones practically down my throat. “Kieran, are you still going to lie to our faces?” “Whether you took a bribe or did it out of spite, you intentionally maimed Silas and forced him into an amputation! That is an indisputable fact!” “A degenerate like you belongs behind bars. How dare you even touch that trophy? It is a desecration to the sport!” I tried to speak, but my voice was completely drowned out by the tidal wave of accusations. We had bled for our country. Now, our crowning achievement was being dragged through the mud. My fans in the audience were being shoved and bullied. My teammates, who had been crying tears of joy just ten minutes ago, now stood with their heads bowed, looking utterly lost and completely humiliated. Meanwhile, Silas soaked up the sympathy of the press, offering the cameras a tragically broken smile. “I used to be a kid with big dreams. I never thought the world could be this cruel. The woman I love was sitting right there in the crowd, and all she got to see was my most pathetic, broken moment.” “If life was fair, I would be the one holding this trophy today. But Kieran, that disgusting thief, stole everything from me!” Silas clutched the trophy my team had earned, weeping and playing the victim, acting like it rightfully belonged to him. That gold was forged from our blood, sweat, and sleepless nights. Why the hell should I let him tarnish it with his baseless, psychotic lies? I took a deep breath, forcing my heart rate down. I had no idea how my face ended up in that game footage. But there was one thing I knew with absolute, terrifying certainty. A human being cannot physically exist in two places at once. The day I was drugged and dragged into that hotel room, the lobby security cameras and the vile video Sloane filmed on her phone both had rock-solid timestamps. They were my unbreakable alibis. I just wondered if Silas would be able to handle the truth when I shoved it down his throat. I glared at him with ice in my veins. “We live in an era where deepfakes are practically flawless. Are you absolutely certain the guy in that video is me?” Silas gritted his teeth. “Who else could it be?! Everyone can see it perfectly. That is your face! You are just too much of a coward to admit it until the coffin is nailed shut!” Right on cue, his girlfriend Sloane stepped into the spotlight. “My boyfriend’s dream was always to win the World Championship. He was a generational talent. Before I met him, he had never lost a single game.” “Kieran was obviously insanely jealous of his natural gifts! That is why he refused to sign him, and that is exactly why he took a cheap shot and crippled him when they finally faced off!” She puffed out her chest, speaking with absolute, unwavering conviction, painting a vivid picture of the tragedy she supposedly witnessed that day. I would never be able to scrub Sloane’s sickening face out of my memory. I was the one who survived a nightmare because of her. Back then, I was just a regular coach grinding my way up. But my looks caught Sloane’s attention, and she developed a completely unhinged obsession with me. She tried to buy me with money. She tried to pressure me using her family’s connections. Nothing worked. I refused to cave. So she resorted to the lowest, most despicable tactic imaginable. She slipped a drug into my drink. She was in that hotel room. She took complete advantage of my paralyzed state to film an explicit, non-consensual video. The entire horrific ordeal was documented on her phone. I couldn’t even stomach the thought of watching it a second time. She was only bold enough to publicly slander me right now because she assumed I had permanently deleted that traumatic footage the second our legal battle ended. But the truth was, just in case this psychopath ever returned. I had kept a heavily encrypted backup. I stared dead into Sloane’s heavily plastic-surgeried face, a wave of pure revulsion rolling off me. “You claim I was on the court undercutting Silas that day. Then let me ask you something. Who was the guy passed out in the penthouse suite of the Grand Plaza Hotel that exact same afternoon?” Sloane violently flinched. She snapped her head toward me. “What, are you going to start spreading slut-shaming rumors about me now? Is this how a World Champion behaves?!” Silas clenched his fists. He immediately pulled Sloane behind his back, puffing up like a righteous savior. “I thought you were just an overly competitive thug who played dirty because you were terrified of losing to me. But at least I thought you had some backbone! Dragging an innocent woman’s reputation through the mud? You are not even a real man!” The reporters eagerly typed away, practically salivating. They were already painting me as a mob-connected enforcer who intentionally crippled rookies. Now, they were slapping a ‘misogynist’ label on me, condemning me for throwing a woman under the bus to save my own skin. I kept my tone dangerously calm. “I grew up in a working-class neighborhood. I am not some mobster intentionally breaking people’s legs.” Sloane pointed a manicured finger right at my nose. “That is exactly why you took the dirty money! You did a hit job to eliminate a player who actually had real talent!” “I saw the whole thing from the bleachers. Do not even try to lie your way out of this! Whether it is his leg or that championship trophy, you owe my boyfriend your life. You do not deserve any of it!” I had pushed through three years of brutal injuries. Three years of sleepless, agonizing training camps. And she had the sheer audacity to say I didn’t deserve it? I took a step back, putting distance between myself and Sloane. “A single video clip proves absolutely nothing. I am calling the police right now to pull my geolocation data and hotel records from that day.” “First of all, I was the head coach. There is zero possibility I subbed into the game. Second, I was never even inside that arena!” I locked eyes with Sloane, my gaze utterly lethal. “Where I was, and exactly what I was doing that day, is something you know very, very intimately, Sloane. Do not push me to the point of no return.” It was a highly explicit, deeply violating video involving both of us. Even though I didn’t grow up rich, my parents raised me to be a gentleman. I truly did not want to destroy a woman’s dignity on international television. But Silas didn’t care. At that exact moment, he hoisted the trophy high into the air and violently slammed it down onto the hard stage floor. A deafening crack echoed through the stadium. The honor my teammates and I had bled for over three years, a multimillion-dollar international trophy representing the pride of our entire nation, shattered into a dozen jagged pieces. I saw red. “Silas, have you completely lost your mind?! That is a national treasure!” More importantly, the sentimental value of that trophy was something a hundred thousand Silases could never afford to repay. Silas just pointed a venomous finger right at my face. “Let me make this crystal clear. I would rather smash this trophy to dust than let a piece of trash like you ever hold it again!” “Who knows if you are going to bribe the cops and the media to fabricate some fake alibi later!” He turned to the completely stunned crowd, speaking with fanatical devotion. “I swear on my actual life, Kieran is the one who took my leg. That video is one hundred percent authentic.” “If he can genuinely prove he didn’t do it, I will take a knife and end my own life right here on this stage! Are you all satisfied now?!” Betting his own life on the line. That was all it took for the scales of public trust to permanently tip in his favor. The tournament officials looked at us with deep apprehension. The gold medals that were supposed to be draped around our necks were quietly packed away. My fans, who had been fiercely fighting back just moments ago, went completely still. They squatted in the stands, quietly weeping as they absorbed the humiliation. A few of my teammates broke down sobbing, dropping to their knees and pounding their fists against the stage floor in sheer, helpless agony. The rookie I had personally mentored looked up at me. His eyes were bloodshot and completely shattered. “Captain… did you really do those things?” “Please tell me it is a lie. You are not that kind of person, right?” Looking into his completely broken eyes, I knew he was hanging on by a thread. I was the leader of this franchise. I was the idol my fans looked up to. I represented the country. If I didn’t completely annihilate these lies and clear my name right here, right now, the people who loved and trusted me would suffer a permanent psychological collapse. And all of this nightmare was meticulously orchestrated by Silas and Sloane. Silas, you really wanted to play this game? You better pray you can survive the fallout. I pulled out my phone and unlocked the heavily encrypted hidden folder in my gallery. “We actually do not need to wait for the police. I have a video right here that explicitly proves I was nowhere near that basketball court.” I already had the media control booth’s email from the press briefing. I attached the file and hit send. “Put it on the jumbotron. The raw, real-time footage from that afternoon is more than enough to clear my name!”

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I ran over a small dog while driving. The moment I felt the bump, I knew something was wrong. I heard a tragic yelp from under the wheels. I stopped the car and got out. It was a Corgi puppy, no bigger than my hand, probably barely a month old. It was twitching on the ground, its spine and two of its legs crushed by my tires. The owner was a young girl. She immediately burst into tears, dropping to her knees and scooping up the puppy. In its final moments, the puppy stuck out its tongue, its eyes brimming with tears. Blood kept dripping from its mouth. Unable to make a sound, it could only whimper, using its last ounce of strength to lick its owner’s face before its head went limp. The girl cried until her voice went hoarse. I felt terrible, too. The puppy was so small. But honestly, I felt she bore some responsibility for walking the dog off-leash, so I didn’t want to take full financial responsibility. The girl refused to compromise with me and called the police. When the officer arrived, I argued repeatedly that the girl should be entirely at fault. However, the officer still ruled it a 50/50 split in liability. In the end, I paid $3,000 in compensation because Corgis are expensive dogs. Three thousand dollars was too steep. The more I thought about it, the more unfair it felt. Luckily, this was a rural area on the outskirts of the county, and many of the street cameras were managed by the local community board, not as complicated as getting footage in the city. I hurried to the community center to check the surveillance footage, intending to gather evidence for an appeal to the traffic division. When I arrived at the community center, no one was there, but the office door was open, and a computer was on. I decided to check the footage myself first. What I saw on the screen proved that something was very wrong. In the video, as I drove past, the girl came out of her house holding the puppy. Once my car was clearly passing by, she suddenly threw the puppy right under my tires! I was dumbfounded. And what happened next was even more unbelievable. After the girl “called the police,” a white car, looking exactly like a police cruiser but suspiciously unmarked, pulled onto the road in the corner of the video. The car stopped behind a bend. A man stepped out—it was the very “police officer” who had just handled the case. The man wasn’t wearing a uniform initially. Only right before arriving at the scene did he hastily throw on a police uniform, attach a siren to the roof, slap on fake police decals, and put on fake license plates before slowly driving over. That’s when I realized: I had been the victim of a scam that cost a puppy’s life! Who could tolerate such a disgusting waste of a little life?! I kept watching the footage. After I left, the girl and the fake cop returned to their “cruiser” and immediately stripped off all the police markings. The man opened the trunk, revealing it was full of barely-alive puppies. They completely disregarded whether the puppies would suffocate. The man pulled out another puppy, this time a Pomeranian, and casually tossed it onto the ground. The puppy yelped as it hit the dirt, breaking a leg. It limped toward the girl, as if begging for her protection. The girl couldn’t care less that its leg was broken; after all, it was destined to be thrown under a car’s tires. Too lazy to pick it up gently, she grabbed the puppy by the scruff of its neck and walked away. They were serial scammers! Furious, I immediately dialed 911, then walked out the door toward my car. I originally intended to drive after them, but right before I got in, I calmed down. These people were professional scammers, criminals. I just needed to wait patiently for the real police to arrive. Confronting them myself was way too dangerous. I swallowed my anger, unlocked my car, opened the door, and got in. But the moment I sat down, the passenger door suddenly opened too. Before I could react, a man slid into the passenger seat. Without any hesitation, he grabbed my arm. Then I got a clear look at his face. It was the man who had just impersonated a police officer to scam me! I never expected this guy to track me down and ambush me. Did they make sure the victim had completely left the area after every scam? He stared at me dead in the eye and asked, “Buddy, what are you doing at the community center?” For a second, I didn’t know how to answer. Reason told me not to provoke criminals, so I said, “Just getting some paperwork.” He nodded and said, “Show me the paperwork.” I didn’t have any paperwork! I could only grab the door handle, desperate to get out of there. But the next second, the man suddenly pulled a small knife from his pocket. Gripping my arm tightly, he said coldly, “You move, I stab you.” I froze instantly, my mind going completely blank. I had never been held at knifepoint in my entire life. Only then did I realize movies are full of crap. There’s no “staying calm under pressure.” The moment someone actually points a knife at you, your brain short-circuits. You can only stare at the blade, praying internally that he doesn’t plunge it into you! At that moment, the back door opened. The girl from earlier got into the car. She had completely dropped her pitiful act. She casually tossed the crippled Pomeranian aside, chewing gum, and asked, “Did he call the cops?” The man said, “Buddy, show me your phone.” I swallowed hard, not knowing what to do. But right then, I saw a security guard walk out from around the corner. Terrified, I quickly rolled down the window and screamed at him: “Security! Help!” I thought that with a witness present, the man wouldn’t dare make a reckless move. Who knew he wouldn’t care at all. The security guard heard my voice, glanced at me, and actually acted like he saw nothing! While I was staring in disbelief, the man suddenly roared at the security guard, “You just let anyone look at the security footage?!” The security guard actually offered an apologetic, fawning expression: “I’m sorry, man. I just went to grab lunch.” “Lock the door when you leave from now on! And delete the footage!” That’s when I realized: this man was connected to the community board, and deeply! So deeply that the security guard could turn a blind eye even when he clearly saw me being held at knifepoint! I had no choice but to meekly hand over my phone. Even though he was the scammer, I was the one carefully apologizing, “Man, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. I don’t want the money back, just consider it a tribute to you guys.” He flipped through my phone and said casually, “You actually did call the cops.” The girl in the back seat suddenly flared up. She slapped me hard across the face from behind and cursed, “Call the cops, my ass!” The slap landed hard on my face, making it sting, but the humiliation and pain were nothing compared to my fear of that knife! I whispered, “I’m sorry, I’ll tell the police I made a mistake right now.” The man replied casually, “Don’t say sorry. I can’t let you go.” Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my stomach! I looked down. The man had plunged the knife into my gut! I could feel my abdominal muscles contracting violently. He pulled the knife out, and blood instantly gushed from the wound. My mind was in chaos. I stared at the wound, my head filled with the thought that I was going to die. I had a wife and kids, a mom and dad, but I was going to die! I clutched my stomach, my voice trembling as I spoke: “Why… it wasn’t a big deal, why…” I couldn’t even finish my sentence before I almost burst into tears. I was so scared. I was terrified of dying! I didn’t understand why I suddenly got into this mess, or why they had to kill me over something so trivial. The girl grabbed my hair and dragged me into the back seat. The man grabbed my legs and shoved me back. I wanted to fight back, but it hurt too much to move! In movies, when the protagonist gets stabbed in the stomach, they can still fight. But when I actually got stabbed, my first reaction was wanting to throw up. It hurt so much my whole body was shaking, and I was getting colder and colder. I could even feel my body temperature dropping as I lost blood. I had absolutely no strength, shivering from the cold! I was shoved into the back seat, my vision starting to go dark. The man got into the driver’s seat and started the car. The girl looked at me with contempt, like I was an animal, completely indifferent to whether I lived or died. Their reactions suggested this wasn’t their first time doing something like this. I wanted to plug the wound. Even with my hands pressing on it, blood kept flowing out. Fighting the dizziness, I grabbed some stickers my daughter played with from the back seat, peeling them off one by one and sticking them over my wound. Seeing what I was doing, the girl didn’t stop me. Instead, she found it hilarious, laughing continuously and telling the man to look at what I was doing. The man glanced back at me and burst out laughing too. My desperate struggle on the brink of death was nothing but a comedy to them. Weakly, I managed to stick all the stickers over my wound. Thank God, these stickers were all plastic-coated, making them harder for the blood to soak through. But eventually, I couldn’t fight off the encroaching darkness and passed out completely. In a daze, I felt like someone was touching me. Everything around me was very loud. I tried to open my eyes many times but had no strength. When I finally woke up, it was already daylight. Something was nuzzling my abdomen. I looked down and saw a dog sniffing my wound! Terrified, I quickly sat up, but the violent movement caused such intense pain I almost passed out again! Perhaps because of my sudden movement, a cacophony of shrill barking erupted around me. Clutching my stomach, I finally realized I was surrounded by dogs. I had been thrown into a massive dog pen, surrounded by fences, topped with wire mesh that reached all the way to the roof. My lips were cracked, and my throat burned with thirst. A pack of dogs stared at me in confusion. Finally, I spotted a large water trough in the corner. Several dogs were drinking from it. I don’t know what kind of primal instinct took over, but I crawled over to the trough, only to find the water inside was filthy, mixed with dog hair and muddy water. Even though I was dying of thirst, I refused to drink it. The psychological hurdle was too high. But I was so thirsty, and my body was alternating between hot and cold. My head felt heavy. I deduced I was probably dealing with an infection and a fever. The agony was unbearable. Eventually, I took off my sock and used it to scoop up water. I held the bulging sock as water filtered through, tilted my head back, and opened my mouth. Even if it was just a sock, it could at least filter out the dog hair and dirt. I used the sock to drink twice before I finally felt less thirsty. Once I regained some mental clarity, I began observing my surroundings. This was a massive dog breeding facility. Aside from the large circular pen I was in, there were many other similar pens. I could see mountains, and not just the foothills—I could see halfway up the slopes. Without a doubt, I was currently at a breeding facility deep in the mountains. Places like this usually need to be far away from residential areas, so the mountains are often a prime choice. While I was observing, I noticed a figure in the distance. It looked like a woman, limping, holding a phone and filming something. Because she was too far away, I couldn’t see clearly. But she stopped at every dog pen to film with her phone for a while before moving on to the next. She was getting closer and closer to me. When she got close enough, I saw her face clearly and was completely dumbfounded, because I recognized this person! She was a local internet personality known as “Kind-Hearted Chloe,” with hundreds of thousands of followers. She was disabled herself, but naturally compassionate. She usually made videos about rescuing sick, disabled, and abandoned dogs. She had even set up donation channels to help these poor animals. Even I had donated twenty bucks to her! Seeing her, I frantically hit the wire mesh and yelled: “Chloe! Can you see me? Help me!” Chloe was filming with her phone. She heard my voice, glanced at me, then ignored me and continued filming. My heart went cold. I understood. Kind-Hearted Chloe. We all thought she was a good person rescuing dogs, and everyone donated to her, hoping she could save more small animals. Now I realized, those sick dogs were probably all their tools. Alive, these dogs were tools to extort money. When they were about to die of illness, even their corpses could turn a profit. Chloe completely ignored me. After finishing her video, she took another dog from a different pen and said into the camera: “The little Golden Retriever with a broken leg that was abandoned by its owner last time is doing much better now. Today, we’re going to continue its treatment.” I didn’t dare yell, because I knew that since she dared to film in front of me, it meant she wasn’t livestreaming. If I dared to make a sound and ruin her video recording, they would definitely torture me again! Chloe took out a medical kit, recording a video, lovingly feeding the little Golden Retriever medicine. An injured dog was receiving treatment, while I, a dying human being, could only cling to life! After Chloe finished filming, she didn’t record my cage at all, simply walking past me. Suddenly, I saw something drop from her hand. I looked down and realized it was medicine. I reached out and pulled the medicine towards me. Veterinary Amoxicillin tablets, veterinary fever reducers, and some rubbing alcohol. These medicines didn’t have cardboard packaging, just the plastic blister packs. I looked at Chloe; she was still recording, acting as if she had absolutely nothing to do with those pills and had seen nothing. I quickly opened the medicine. Many pet medications are universal with human ones, just in much smaller doses. I took several pills and shoved them into my mouth. Then I looked at Chloe again. My intuition told me she was a good person, but she couldn’t be associated with me, not even giving me the cardboard boxes for the medicine. To avoid causing her trouble, after taking the anti-inflammatory and fever-reducing pills, I dug a hole in the dog pen and buried the remaining medication. After taking the medicine, I took off my shirt and lured a nearby puppy to bite it. The puppy, not knowing any better, thought the shirt was a toy and bit down hard, pulling back and forth until the shirt finally tore. I pushed the puppy away and tore the shirt into strips of cloth. Then, I grabbed the stickers covering my wound. Finally steeling myself, I gripped the stickers and ripped them off. The agonizing, soul-tearing pain almost made me scream out loud. I bit down on my teeth so hard I thought they might shatter. With every millimeter the sticker was peeled back, my agony increased exponentially! Blood flowed from the wound. I gritted my teeth and endured the pain, pulling until all the stickers were ripped off! I checked the wound. It was still bleeding, but not as heavily as yesterday. Some puppies curiously approached. I waved my hand forcefully, and the wound immediately flared with pain, causing me to hunch over. Gritting my teeth again, I poured the rubbing alcohol directly onto my wound. I had been hunched over, but the moment the alcohol hit the wound, the pain was so intense my legs straightened out! Gasping for air, I wrapped the cloth strips around the wound, tying them as tightly as I could. Simply cleaning the wound drained a massive amount of my energy. I collapsed on the ground, feeling completely drained, but I still managed to dig a hole and bury the alcohol bottle before lying down to rest.

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The gala for my father’s seventieth birthday had just wound down. Deep in the night, my phone buzzed frantically. It was my husband, Mark. His voice crackled with panic on the other end. “Max, something terrible has happened! Our lead investor just skipped town with all the money. I have to get out of the country, lie low for a while. Don’t, under any circumstances, try to contact me!” In an instant, every trace of sleep vanished. I forced my voice to remain calm, telling him to be safe. The moment I hung up, I didn’t hesitate. I called the bank’s 24-hour hotline and froze every single card and account under my husband’s name. The irony was almost funny. The so-called “lead investor” who had supposedly vanished with our fortune was, at that very moment, passed out drunk in the room next to mine. He was my father. And I was very, very curious to see just how long he and my husband planned to keep up this elaborate “bankruptcy” charade. 1 I booked the first flight I could. When I arrived at the luxury resort he was supposedly hiding out in, I found him at the entrance of a grand ballroom. He was dressed in a sharp tuxedo, and on his arm was my close friend, Jessica, glowing in a white wedding gown. They were greeting guests. His eyes widened in panic when he saw me. He stumbled down the steps, rushing towards me. “Max, let me explain. Jessica’s father is critically ill. His dying wish is to see her married.” He grabbed my arm, his voice a desperate whisper. “I’m just acting, that’s all. It’s just a performance for her dad.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I yanked my arm free and slapped him hard across the face. “A performance?” I spat, my voice dripping with ice. “Should I chip in for a wedding gift, then? Help you really sell it?” The surrounding guests were already starting to whisper and point. Jessica, seeing the commotion, flushed with a mixture of shame and anger. Then, as if on cue, tears welled in her eyes, expertly casting her as the victim and me as the intruder. “Miss Aston,” she began, her voice trembling beautifully, “I know you’ve always been obsessed with Mark, to the point of developing… delusions. I feel for you, I truly do. But this is my wedding day. Please, don’t be so aggressive. You can’t force someone to love you.” Mark nodded, playing along. “Whatever you have to say, we can talk about it at home after the ceremony. Be good, Max. Don’t make a scene.” Even now, all he could think about was continuing with this sham of a wedding. I laughed, a harsh, grating sound. My eyes scanned Jessica, and then I saw it, glittering around her neck. It was my necklace. A one-of-a-kind emerald piece worth ten million dollars. The very one I had reported stolen months ago. “No wonder you were paying her a fifty-thousand-dollar-a-month salary,” I seethed, the pieces clicking into place with sickening clarity. “You two have been screwing around behind my back for God knows how long!” “And my designer bags, my jewelry that went ‘missing’… you stole them all for her, didn’t you?” I raked my gaze over Jessica with contempt. “One of you steals, the other one wears it. You’re a match made in hell, you pair of scumbags.” The crowd erupted in a mix of gasps and laughter, phones already out and recording. Jessica stomped her foot, her face a mask of fury. She fumbled in her purse and triumphantly produced a marriage certificate, shoving it in my face. “Open your eyes and look! Mark and I are legally married!” she shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at me, high on her momentary victory. “She’s sick in the head! She throws herself at any man who looks her way. My husband is just her latest obsession!” The crowd’s murmurs shifted. A few men started looking me up and down with leering eyes, one of them letting out a low whistle. “Hey, baby, you that desperate? The guy’s married. My room’s just upstairs if you need to scratch an itch…” One of them was bold enough to reach for my arm. I snatched a wine bottle from a nearby table and brandished it, making him recoil. I pointed the jagged neck of the bottle at Mark, my voice low and dangerous. “I’m giving you one last chance. Me, or her. Who is your wife?” Mark’s gaze flickered, and his next words plunged a shard of ice into my heart. “My only wife is Jessica,” he said, his voice cold and final. “Now, you’re going to apologize to her, or so help me, I will have you committed.” Jessica clung to Mark’s arm, her face a picture of tearful gratitude, and shot me a look of pure triumph. “Darling, don’t waste your breath on a psycho. She’s not worth it.” Looking at their disgusting, triumphant faces, something inside me snapped. I raised the bottle, ready to bring it crashing down on them both. If I was going to hell, I was dragging them with me. But Mark was faster. He kicked out, not at the bottle, but at me. As I stumbled, he lunged forward, stomping on the back of my hand with all his weight. His eyes were filled with a chilling malice. “Jessica is my life,” he snarled. “You hurt her, and I’ll make you pay a hundred times over.” A sickening crack echoed in the ballroom. A dull, throbbing agony shot up my arm, stealing my breath. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. Jessica, ever the actress, rushed to his side, tugging on his arm. “Mark, stop! It’s our wedding day. If something bad happens, it’ll be a terrible omen. Just… just make her kneel and apologize. That’s enough.” Mark nodded, his tone dripping with magnanimous condescension. “You hear that? Get on your knees and apologize. Do it now, or you’re going straight to an asylum.” The loathing in his eyes was a physical blow. My heart felt like it had turned to stone. This was the man I’d given my youth to. My first love. Seven years. Our seven years of history were nothing against the test of time. I fumbled for my phone, my fingers clumsy and shaking. I opened my photo gallery and pulled up a picture of our marriage license, and a photo from our wedding day. “This is proof we’re married,” I announced, my voice trembling with rage. “I’m reporting you for bigamy!” In this country, bigamy was a serious crime. Prison time. The crowd’s murmuring turned suspicious, their eyes darting between Mark and Jessica. “That certificate she’s showing is dated seven years ago. Were they lying?” “If he’s married to both, that’s a felony! He should be locked up!” Jessica just smirked at me, a cruel, triumphant gleam in her eyes. She leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper. “You still don’t get it, do you? Your marriage certificate with Mark… it’s a fake.” “He promised me he would only ever truly love me. You were never worthy of legally being his wife.” For a moment, the world went silent. Then, a tidal wave of pure, unadulterated fury surged through me. My entire seven-year marriage, my devotion, my sacrifices… it was all a joke. I started to laugh, a broken, hysterical sound that quickly turned into sobs of despair. I stared at her, my vision blurred with tears of hatred. I raised my good hand, not even sure what I intended to do, but before I could touch her, she let out a piercing shriek and threw herself backward onto the marble floor. She clutched her stomach, her face contorted in agony. “Mark! My stomach… the baby… our baby!” Before I could even process the word “baby,” a brutal slap sent my head snapping to the side. My ears rang, and the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. Mark scooped Jessica into his arms, his eyes burning with a hatred so intense it scorched me. “Jessica is pregnant with my child,” he roared. “If anything happens to that baby, I swear to God, I’ll make you pay with your life!” I tried to speak, but only a bitter taste coated my tongue. He was the one who said he never wanted kids. A DINK—double income, no kids—lifestyle, that’s what he’d preached. A child would only get in the way of “our life together.” I’d believed him. Now I understood. It wasn’t that he didn’t want a child. He just didn’t want a child with me. Jessica let out a panicked cry. “Get me to a hospital! Please, I think I’m losing the baby!” Without a second glance at me, Mark turned and ran, carrying his precious cargo out of the ballroom. The world tilted, and darkness swallowed me whole. When I woke up, the sterile white ceiling of a hospital room greeted me. An IV was taped to my arm, but it wasn’t dripping fluid in. It was drawing blood out. I tried to struggle, to sit up, but my body felt like lead. Mark appeared at my bedside, looking down at my pathetic state with cold, detached eyes. “Jessica’s losing a lot of blood,” he said flatly. “She needs a transfusion, and you’re a match. Consider it your way of atoning for what you did.” A surge of adrenaline-fueled rage shot through me. “I didn’t push her!” I screamed, my voice raw. His hand clamped around my throat, squeezing. “I have waited seven years for this child,” he hissed, his face inches from mine. “I will not allow anything to happen to Jessica or my baby. If they don’t make it, I will burn you to ashes and scatter them to the wind.” He held on until spots danced in my vision, then released me. I fell back against the pillow, gasping for air, overwhelmed by a suffocating sense of helplessness. The blood loss made me dizzy, and I drifted into a groggy sleep. I was pulled back to consciousness by the sound of a voice. I cracked my eyes open to see Jessica on the phone, her back to me. “Yes, everything is arranged with the asylum,” she was saying. “The moment Max Wynton is stable, she’s to be transferred. I want her locked away for the rest of her miserable life.” She noticed I was awake, ended the call, and walked over to my bed with a smirk. She poured a glass of water from the carafe on the nightstand. And then, she tipped it, sending a stream of scalding hot water onto my arm. “This is what you get for crossing me,” she sneered. I cried out, my body convulsing from the searing pain. I bit my lip until it bled, glaring at her through a haze of agony. “You faked it all,” I rasped. “The fall, the miscarriage…” She laughed, a loud, ugly sound. “And what if I did? Mark only believes what I tell him.” She placed a hand on her flat stomach, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “My baby could have been perfectly healthy. Such a shame I had that ‘accidental’ fall a few weeks ago that took care of it. Mark was so excited about being a father… I just had to find someone to blame, didn’t I?” I trembled with a rage so profound it felt like it would tear me apart. “You’re a monster.” Her smile widened. “And once you’re gone, all your assets will become mine.” A cold dread washed over me. She wasn’t just planning to lock me away. She was planning to make sure I never left this hospital alive. Using every last ounce of strength I possessed, I ripped the IV from my arm, scrambled out of bed, and shoved her aside. I had to escape. But my body betrayed me. I was too weak. After only a few steps, my legs gave out and I collapsed in the hallway. Jessica followed at a leisurely pace, giving my side a contemptuous kick. Seeing that I couldn’t even get up, she laughed. “Go on, run. I thought you were so tough.” Her eyes glinted with a sadistic light. “You know, just getting rid of you would be too boring. Let’s play a little game.” “I hear there’s a derelict part of town not too far from here. Full of… desperate men. How about we drop you off there?” I recoiled in horror, scrambling backward. “You can’t do this. My father is—” Before I could finish, she grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back and slapping me twice, hard. “Your family? A bunch of ungrateful leeches!” she spat. “Every time Mark brought them gifts, they looked down on him. If it weren’t for Mark supporting your family all these years, do you think you could have lived the life of a wealthy housewife?” My heart sank. The lie was so audacious it was almost brilliant. Mark was a broke nobody when I met him. I used my own savings to fund his first start-up. My family never approved of him, which is why he barely had any contact with them. The few times he did visit, he brought a cheap basket of fruit. And “supporting” them was a joke. Without my father secretly investing millions into his company, he never would have gone public in seven years. Her bodyguards dragged me out of the hospital and threw me into a car. We drove to the city’s dark, forgotten underbelly and they dumped me in a filthy alley. She pulled out her phone and addressed the group of gaunt, hollow-eyed men who were already gathering, drawn by the commotion. “Whoever shows her the best time,” she announced, her voice echoing in the grimy space, “gets half a million dollars.” Instantly, four or five of them closed in, a predatory hunger in their eyes that made my stomach churn. I grabbed a loose brick, ready to defend myself. “You will regret this!” I screamed at her. She was unfazed. She even started a video call with Mark. My terrified, dishevelled image on the screen made him roar with laughter. “Jessica, you’re too soft,” his voice tinny through the phone’s speaker. “She killed our baby. She should be rotting in a prison cell.” Jessica sighed dramatically. “But she was with you for a time, Mark. I want to build up some good karma for our future children. She’s just so stubborn. If she had just knelt and begged for forgiveness, I wouldn’t have had to do this.” Mark scoffed. “She’s a vindictive bitch. I’ve had enough of her. You know, Jessica, we’ll have to redo our wedding, but I promise you, this time, it will be the most extrMaxgant event this city has ever seen.” They talked as if I wasn’t even there, as if my life wasn’t about to be destroyed. Any last flicker of hope I had for the man I once loved died in that filthy alley. After hanging up, Jessica turned to the vagrants. “What are you waiting for? Get to it! If you don’t, you won’t see a single penny!” With a primal scream, I surged forward, crashing into Jessica and knocking her to the ground. I threw all my weight on top of her, my hands finding her throat and squeezing. “If I die, I’m taking you with me!” I shrieked. For the first time, I saw real fear in her eyes. She clawed at my hands, choking and gasping for help. Suddenly, Mark’s furious roar cut through the air. “Max, you’re dead!” He must have rushed over after the call. He snatched a heavy rock from the ground and brought it down on the back of my head. The world exploded in a flash of white-hot pain as he kicked me off of Jessica. It took a long moment for my vision to clear. When it did, I saw Mark glaring at me with pure, unadulterated hatred. “It wasn’t enough for you to kill our child, you had to try and kill her too,” he seethed. “This time, I won’t be lenient.” He barked an order at his bodyguards. “Go get more of them. And call the local news stations. Tell them we’ve got a scoop. By the end of today, Max Wynton’s name will be synonymous with filth!” Ignoring the blinding pain in my head, I tried to crawl away, to escape, but the bodyguards were on me in a second. They dragged me back, forcing me to my knees in front of Mark and Jessica. Mark fussed over Jessica, gently brushing dust from her dress with a sanitized wipe, his touch full of tenderness. He wouldn’t even look at me. “Don’t worry, my love,” he murmured to her. “I’ll get your revenge for you right now.” Jessica, her eyes brimming with tears, clutched his hand and shook her head weakly. “I don’t blame her. As long as I can be with you, I’ll endure any hardship.” I spat at her feet. “How many men have you pulled that routine on? How many backup plans do you have lined up after Mark?” I’d seen her getting cozy with other men at his office before; I’d just been too blind and trusting to see it for what it was. Her act shattered. The tears became real, streaming down her face in angry torrents. “Mark, she’s humiliating me! I can’t live like this!” she wailed, turning as if to smash her head against the nearby brick wall. Mark caught her, holding her tight, his face a thundercloud of fury directed at me. “I’ve been too good to you,” he snarled. “You can live out the rest of your pathetic life in this gutter.” He gestured to his men. “Break her arms and legs.” Panic seized me. I thrashed against their grip. “Mark, you’ll pay for this! As long as there is breath in my body, I will never let you get away with this!” He let out a cold, dismissive laugh. “Oh, I’m waiting. I remember that old college flame of yours, the one who’s still single, waiting for you. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees the video of the great campus beauty, Max Wynton, begging for mercy under a pile of hobos. He probably won’t be able to eat for a week.” I couldn’t believe it. To appease Jessica, he was willing to utterly and completely destroy me. My joints were brutally dislocated. The physical agony was immense, but it was nothing compared to the searing pain in my soul. Tears streamed down my face, hitting the grimy pavement as memories of our seven years together flashed through my mind. The sweeter the memory, the more bitter the irony now. I was a broken puppet, paralyzed on the ground, my eyes locked on Mark, burning with a helpless, venomous rage. He held Jessica, gazing down at my ruined form as if I were an insect. The circle of men closed in, the stench of unwashed bodies and cheap liquor overwhelming me. Their greedy, lecherous stares made me want to vomit. My tears of terror only seemed to excite them more. Jessica burrowed into Mark’s chest, her voice a sickly sweet murmur. “Mark, I can’t watch. It’s too scary.” He covered her eyes with his hand, his voice a gentle caress. “I’ll watch for you, my love. I’ll watch her get the punishment she deserves. She could never compare to you, to your purity and kindness.” My heart shattered into a million pieces. I gritted my teeth, trying to writhe away like a worm, to escape their grasping hands. But they cornered me, my back against the cold, damp brick wall. There was nowhere left to run. As they lunged, I squeezed my eyes shut. I’d rather die than suffer this humiliation. I was about to bite down on my own tongue, to end it all, when the piercing wail of sirens sliced through the night. Seven, eight police cruisers swarmed the alley, their lights painting the scene in strobing flashes of red and blue. In the middle of them all, a black Rolls-Royce, the kind that whispers of old money and untouchable power, glided to a silent stop.

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[System Alert: Critical deviation detected in Decade Vow core mission.] [Marriage milestone: FAILED.] [Host termination: 48 hours.] The warnings pierced my mind just after Richard asked, with cruel gentleness, if I still wanted to try on my wedding dress. Minutes earlier, he’d been adjusting my veil. “I was next door keeping Wendy company,” he chuckled. Then it clicked—that’s how he knew I’d gone to the club last night. “She was so scared when she heard your voice, she had to sit on my lap the whole time,” he said, each word a blade. I followed his gaze to Wendy, the girl I’d sponsored for years, now holding my crystal heels, eyes red with tears. Moments before, she’d crouched at my feet, gushing, “If he ever breaks your heart, I’ll make him pay.” Richard brushed my bodice, his tenderness now a mockery. All the joy drained away, leaving only the System’s countdown and the weight of betrayal. 1 I stared at Richard, my throat tight and burning. “Say that again.” And he actually did. This time, he sounded even more composed. “I was with her last night.” “I was planning to keep it under wraps a little longer. But seeing her hold your wedding shoes just now… it hit me. She deserves an explanation too.” I stood frozen, the words trapped in my chest. Today wasn’t just my final fitting. Today was the absolute deadline for the System to verify the success of my Decade Vow mission. Ten years ago, I bound my soul to this System. The price was ten years of my lifespan. In exchange, I gave Richard a meteoric rise to power and saved the Prescott family from absolute bankruptcy. The System only gave me one condition. I had to fulfill my marriage pact with Richard within ten years. Today was supposed to be the finish line. Instead, he chose today to shove me off a cliff. I heard my own voice shaking. “Why today?” “Why did it have to be the day I put on my wedding dress?” Richard remained silent for a heartbeat, but his gaze drifted right past me, landing softly on Wendy. “Because she’s been by my side for a long time. She never asks for anything. She doesn’t even dare to ask for a title.” “I refuse to let her suffer in silence anymore.” A bitter, broken laugh escaped my lips. “And me?” “What about my last ten years? What was all that for?” His expression didn’t waver. It was as if he had rehearsed these answers a thousand times. “It’s not like I’m backing out of the wedding.” “It’s just that Wendy needs some closure, too.” I looked at the man I loved, feeling my heart sink into a bottomless pit. But I didn’t realize he could stoop even lower. He met my eyes, his tone completely flat. “When you took that fall down the stairs at the new house last month? That wasn’t an accident.” “I took her to see our bridal mansion that day. She spilled some champagne and didn’t mop the floors properly. When you went up to check the lighting fixtures later, you slipped.” My blood ran cold. My entire body turned to stone. I nearly had a miscarriage that day. I spent the entire night clutching my ultrasound scans, too terrified to sleep, sobbing because I thought I had overworked myself with the wedding prep and failed to protect my baby. Richard had held me tightly that night, kissing my forehead, telling me it was okay, begging me not to blame myself. He wasn’t comforting me. He knew exactly what happened. He just sat back and watched me tear myself apart. I raised my hand and slapped him across the face with everything I had. The sharp smack echoed off the mirrored walls. The entire boutique went dead silent. Richard’s head jerked to the side, but he didn’t blow up. Instead, he let out a breath, looking almost relieved. “Are you done?” “If you’re done, try to calm down. We’re skipping the fitting today.” “The wedding can be pushed back.” He turned on his heel to leave. Inside my head, the System’s alarm screamed to life. [Decade Vow System detects critical mission deviation.] [Marriage milestone confirmation: FAILED.] [Host termination countdown: 48 hours.] I stood glued to the floor, my hands and feet turning to ice. Right on cue, Wendy rushed forward, her eyes brimming with fresh tears. She grabbed one of the bridal heels and lobbed it at Richard, acting like she was standing up for me. “You promised me you wouldn’t say anything!” “Why did you have to hurt Audrey today of all days?” The pointed heel clipped Richard’s forehead. His very first reaction wasn’t to check his own bleeding skin, but to grab her hands and ask if she had hurt her fingers. I stood in the distance, letting my tears fall and stain the pure white silk of my gown. 2 By the time the bridal shop descended into total chaos, Declan arrived. He was my senior in college and the co-founder of the charitable trust my late mother left behind. Every single grant application Wendy submitted over the past four years had crossed his desk. The moment he walked in, his eyes darted to Wendy first. Only after making sure she was okay did he frown and look at me. “Audrey, what exactly are you trying to pull here?” I stared at him. “You knew too. Didn’t you?” He dodged the question, his voice taking on that familiar, patronizingly soft tone. “Wendy just wants a place to belong.” “Don’t back her into a corner.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “I’m backing her into a corner?” “I used my dead mother’s money to put her through college. I paid her hospital bills. I paid her rent. I pulled strings to get her internships. And now you’re telling me I’m the one ruining her life?” Declan sighed heavily, giving me the kind of look reserved for a spoiled child throwing a tantrum. “She comes from a broken home. She grew up with nothing.” “You have the world at your fingertips. She has absolutely nothing.” “Since you’re the one who brought her up to this point, you should be the bigger person and show some grace.” Right on cue, Wendy drifted over, her eyes red and puffy. “Audrey, if you’re mad, take it out on me. Please don’t blame Richard.” “I was the one who fell for him first. It’s all my fault.” Her voice was frail and dripping with guilt. But the silver leaf pendant resting against her collarbone caught the light, and the sight of it made my eyes burn. That necklace was my mother’s heirloom. Three years ago, Wendy was hospitalized. She cried through the night, terrified of the dark. I personally fastened that necklace around her neck, telling her it would keep her safe. Looking at it now, I realized my kindness was just a joke. I reached out, hooked my fingers around the delicate chain, and ripped it off her neck. She let out a sharp cry of pain, bursting into tears as she scrambled backward. The next second, Richard stepped in and shoved me hard. I stumbled in my heavy gown. My waist slammed violently into the edge of the display podium. A sharp, cramping pain shot through my lower abdomen instantly. He completely ignored me, shielding Wendy behind him as his voice turned to ice. “That is enough, Audrey.” I looked up at him, suddenly finding the whole situation incredibly absurd. We had fought before over the past decade. But he had never laid a hand on me. He had never pushed me away in front of an audience. And now, to play the knight in shining armor for a girl I practically raised, he didn’t even care about the baby growing inside me. I took a shaky breath, shifting my gaze to Declan. “That phone call last night. Telling me to go to the club to pick up the girls. You set that up on purpose, didn’t you?” Declan’s eyes flickered away. “You were going to find out eventually.” Then it hit me. It wasn’t just Richard and Wendy. Even Declan, my trusted friend, was busy paving the way for her. Richard’s phone buzzed. He checked the screen and then shoved it directly in my face. Someone had already leaked photos from the bridal boutique to a gossip blog. The angles were perfectly cropped. You could only see Wendy looking innocent, holding the shoes with teary eyes, and me looking like a monster, aggressively ripping the necklace off her throat. The comments were already flooding in, tearing me apart for bullying a sweet girl. Richard’s face was thunderous. “Did you hire someone to post this?” Looking at that photo, a strange, chilling calm washed over me. “No.” “But isn’t she the other woman?” Richard ground his teeth, his voice dropping low with suppressed rage. “She never wanted to compete with you.” “Are you really so bitter that you have to destroy her life?” Declan chimed in, playing the voice of reason. “Audrey, if this blows up, it’s going to ruin Wendy’s graduation and drag the foundation’s name through the mud.” “You need to go to her commencement ceremony and clear the air publicly.” Richard followed up with a final demand, tossing it out like a generous favor. “As long as we get past this graduation drama, our wedding goes ahead as planned.” My chest felt hollow, packed with shattered glass. One betrayed me. One fiercely protected her. One did her dirty work to clean up the mess. And right now, all three of them were demanding that I be the one to swallow my pride and step back. Just then, my phone chimed with a private message from Wendy. [Audrey, Richard was so worried I’d get scared hearing your voice last night. He held me on his lap the entire time.] [I was shivering so much, so he kissed me. He kissed me for a really long time.] I stared at those two lines of text. Bile rose in my throat. The System’s voice echoed simultaneously. [Host’s will to survive is plummeting rapidly.] [Termination countdown halved.] [Remaining time: 24 hours.] I slowly raised my head and looked at the two men standing before me. “Fine.” “I’ll go to the ceremony.” 3 Wendy’s commencement was held in the grand university auditorium. When I walked backstage, she was wearing an immaculate white sundress. Her hair was perfectly styled, and her face carried that carefully curated look of innocent vulnerability. The professors, classmates, and alumni buzzing around her were showering her with praise. One of the deans patted her shoulder affectionately. “Wendy, you’ve really beaten the odds.” Someone nearby immediately chimed in. “Absolutely. Coming out of an impoverished mountain town and making it to the top of the class in the city. You’ve really made something of yourself.” An older alumni smiled warmly at her. “I was just telling the board, you’re the greatest success story the foundation has ever produced.” “Exactly. Winning valedictorian is incredibly well-deserved.” “She’s going places. I heard she bagged multiple elite internships in her senior year alone.” “That’s what you call pulling yourself up by the bootstraps.” I stood in the shadows, listening to the glowing praise, feeling a bitter laugh bubble up in my throat. None of them knew. Her tuition, her hospital bills, every stepping stone of this supposed ‘self-made’ success story was paved with the blood, sweat, and charity of my mother and me. But here she was, the poster child for independent resilience. The second I stepped into the light, Wendy’s eyes brimmed with tears. She rushed toward me. She paused a few feet away, acting incredibly timid, as if she was terrified I would lash out. Then, very tentatively, she reached out and pinched the fabric of my sleeve. “Audrey, you actually came.” “I thought… I thought you’d never forgive me.” Richard materialized behind her and shoved a folded piece of paper into my hand. “Read this when you get on stage. Stick to the script.” I glanced down at the paper. Paragraph one: I had to admit that my emotional outburst at the bridal shop was due to pregnancy hormones and pre-wedding jitters, and that I had wrongfully targeted Wendy. Paragraph two: I had to explicitly state that the cheating rumors online were vicious, fabricated lies. I read it once. Then, while maintaining dead-eye contact with Richard, I slowly tore the paper into confetti. His face darkened instantly. “Audrey, don’t do anything stupid.” I ignored him, walking straight past him, and took the microphone directly from the MC’s hand. The auditorium was packed. The harsh stage lights beat down on me, making my eyes sting. I stood at the podium, staring out at the sea of unfamiliar faces, my voice ringing out crystal clear. “I only have two things to say.” “First, Wendy is not an innocent, underprivileged student.” “Second, Richard isn’t my fiancé. He is her husband.” The crowd erupted. A tidal wave of gasps and whispers crashed through the room. Wendy’s reaction was flawless. The tears spilled over her lashes on command. “Audrey, how could you say that…” “I never wanted to steal anything from you.” “If you want, I’ll even claim your unborn baby as my own! Just please, don’t back me into a corner!” That single sentence acted like gasoline on a fire. The murmurs turned into loud, furious chatter. She successfully painted herself as the ultimate martyr making a heartbreaking sacrifice, while I became the toxic, unhinged villain using a pregnancy to blackmail a man. I opened my mouth to respond, but Wendy suddenly reached into her designer clutch and slapped a little red booklet onto the podium right in front of me. A marriage certificate. I looked down. My mind went entirely blank. The names printed on the legal document were Richard Kensington and Wendy. The date of registration was yesterday. I snapped my head toward Richard. A flicker of guilt crossed his face, but he quickly masked it with cold indifference, leaning in to whisper harshly in my ear. “She’s graduating. She’s been feeling insecure.” “I just signed the papers yesterday to humor her. It means nothing.” “Once this PR nightmare dies down, I’ll quietly file for divorce.” “Our wedding is still on. Stop throwing a tantrum.” Humor her. So in his world, a legal marriage was just a shiny toy you handed out to keep a girl quiet. He thought he could secretly marry her, then throw a massive wedding with me, partitioning his vows like party favors for two different women. But Wendy was still putting on the performance of a lifetime. Wiping her tears, she sobbed into her own microphone, claiming my four years of sponsorship were never about charity. She told the crowd I had a twisted savior complex, that I was trying to groom her into an obedient pet. She claimed I was a control freak who turned violently abusive the second she formed a genuine friendship with Richard. She even swore to God that the photos from the bridal shop were a smear campaign I had personally orchestrated. The crowd turned ugly. Fast. “What a fake philanthropist.” “Sponsoring a girl just to steal her man? Sickening.” “She’s absolute trash.” Rage blinded me. I raised my hand, fully intending to slap the lies out of her mouth. But before my hand could connect, someone gripped my wrist from behind, locking it in a vice grip. I whipped around. Declan was standing there, his face tight with anger. “Audrey, that’s enough.” “This is a graduation ceremony, not a street brawl for you to act like a lunatic.” I stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. “Declan, you honestly think I’m the one being a lunatic?” He broke eye contact, but he didn’t let go of my wrist. His voice was cold. “If your conscience was actually clean, things wouldn’t have escalated this far.” That single sentence extinguished the last dying ember of warmth in my heart. And right at that moment, someone in the front row launched a plastic cup of red fruit punch at the stage. It hit my stomach. The sticky red liquid cascaded down the pristine white of my dress. Then came a second cup. Then a third. The insults grew deafening. A few radicalized students rushed the stage, shoving me, yanking on my dress, shoving their phone cameras aggressively into my face. I was violently jostled backward. My foot caught on a cable, and I stumbled hard. A sudden, agonizing tearing sensation ripped through my lower abdomen. I looked down and watched as the dark, heavy crimson began to bloom rapidly across the wet fabric of my dress. In that moment, a chilling realization washed over me. I was losing the baby. But the mob in the auditorium didn’t care. The screaming, the pushing, the flashes—nobody stopped. I clutched my stomach, the physical agony finally overriding the heartbreak. I didn’t even have the energy left to say a single word.

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1 At my career’s breaking point, my manager and boyfriend, Nolan, told me to gain twenty pounds in two weeks to land an Oscar-bait role. I showed up hopeful, but the director sighed. “Your acting is incredible, Avery, but the character is severely emaciated. You’re all wrong.” My stomach dropped. Before I could text Nolan, I saw him across the room, smiling triumphantly at my rival. She got the role—simply because she was thinner. When Nolan met my gaze, his smile vanished. He rubbed his nose, looking exhausted. “Serena is in her prime for awards season. She needs this more than you. Your acting is too good; I had to trick you into gaining weight to let her win.” He delivered the final blow without pause. “And you’ve begged me to marry you for years. Now that you’re too heavy to book roles, we can finally settle down.” There was no romance, no vow. His eyes darted to Serena, his first love, standing nearby. I realized I was just a placeholder, a warm body waiting for her return. I laughed bitterly, slid the silver ring off my finger, and said calmly, “Forget the wedding. We’re done.” The silver ring hit the floor and rolled under a leather casting couch. Nolan’s face darkened with immediate fury. “Are you expecting me to beg you to stay in front of her? Is this your way of proving you matter?” I opened my mouth. “No…” He held up a hand, his eyes burning with impatience. “Save the excuses. Do whatever you want. Just don’t come crying to me tonight, drunk and begging to get back together.” I gripped the hem of my oversized sweater. My cheeks burned with a humiliating heat, worse than if he had slapped me across the face in front of a live audience. Serena gently tugged at his sleeve. “Nolan, I told you not to speak to women like that. Avery, he’s just blunt, he doesn’t mean any harm, please don’t be mad at…” Nolan grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the door. “Don’t waste your breath on her. Didn’t you need to go to wardrobe for your fittings?” They walked out without a single backward glance. The chemistry between them was palpable. They moved in sync, looking exactly like the leaked paparazzi photos from their romance years ago. It was as if they had never broken up at all. Someone in the casting room recorded the entire exchange. An hour later, it was posted online by an anonymous burner account. Once again, my body became the internet’s favorite punching bag. [Good lord, her body has completely let itself go. Does she know she’s an actress? Is she prepping for a role as a slaughtered pig?] [Seriously, she just blew up overnight. Zero work ethic. Could she not put the fork down for five minutes? Look at how elegant Serena Blair is!] I was born with a metabolism that punished me for breathing. The first time I was ruthlessly fat-shamed by the internet years ago, I fell into a severe depression. I had to take steroid medications just to function, which only made my weight spiral further. Directors laughed me out of rooms. I was ready to quit acting entirely. That was when Nolan pushed his way through a crowd of executives mocking me, grabbed my hand, and pulled me out of the building. He looked at my tear-streaked makeup and told me, “The world is already looking down on you. Are you going to bully yourself, too?” From that day on, he was my guiding light. I followed him, trusted him implicitly, and fell deeply in love with him. He knew exactly how agonizing my journey had been. He knew how much faith I placed in him. And today, he took that faith and crushed it under his heel. My phone buzzed. It wasn’t a text from him. It was a flood of direct messages from my top fan accounts, begging me to fire my manager. They had been telling me to drop Nolan since the very beginning, ever since my styling and roles started tanking. I used to brush it off, blindly believing that as long as my acting was solid, I could elevate any terrible script he handed me. But now, the label of “the ugly, toxic supporting character” had been permanently glued to my forehead, bleeding over into my real life. 2 I finally realized how pathetic my confidence was compared to the brutal reality he had orchestrated to elevate Serena. My assistant, Jess, let out a heavy sigh from the passenger seat of my car. “Stop reading the comments, Avery. Look, I already enrolled you in an elite weight-loss boot camp.” I took a deep breath, staring out the rain-streaked window. “Cancel it. Didn’t the agency want to pivot me to the international market? Tell Director Davis I accept his offer.” Jess whipped her head around, her jaw dropping. “But that’s a massive global franchise! You’ll be shooting on a closed set overseas for two years. What about you and Nolan?” “There is no me and Nolan,” I cut her off smoothly. “From now on, my life has absolutely nothing to do with him.” The head executives at my agency were thrilled when I agreed to the international pivot. To build up my underdog narrative, they intentionally left all the fat-shaming hashtags trending on Twitter. Thankfully, my mental armor was infinitely stronger than it used to be. The insults barely registered. I was sitting in the agency’s conference room, filling out my international transfer and visa applications, when the door violently crashed open. Nolan stormed in, his face red with fury. “I told you guys when I signed on that we do not buy negative PR for Serena! The entire internet is calling her a manipulative homewrecker right now!” His tirade choked off the second he realized I was sitting at the table. A flash of awkward guilt crossed his face. The rumor was that after Nolan and Serena broke up years ago, our agency spent a fortune to poach him. They agreed to a massive list of unequal demands. I just hadn’t realized that one of those demands was a protective clause for Serena. Looking back, it all made sickening sense. Whenever I needed good PR, he threw me to the wolves. He bought negative trending topics about my weight, my face, my personality, leaving them up for days. When I was doxxed and stalkers showed up at my front door, he didn’t show a single ounce of sympathy. Just like now. We were both getting dragged online, but his eyes were only looking out for her. A soft, mocking chuckle escaped my lips. His face instantly hardened into a scowl. “The executives promised me they wouldn’t touch her. So this was your doing, wasn’t it?” “You’re mad that I gave the role to her, so you rallied your toxic fanbase to call her a homewrecker? You’re spinning a narrative that she’s using me to sabotage your career?” I furrowed my brow. Before I could even open my mouth to defend myself, his phone rang. I caught a glimpse of the screen. Serena. He answered it on the first ring. It was a courtesy he had never extended to me, not even the night I was being chased down a highway by deranged stalkerazzi and called him for help in tears. “Nolan!” Serena’s voice was frantic on the other end. “Someone leaked photos of you and Avery on a date! Everyone is saying I’m the other woman! They’re calling me a mistress!” “She won’t stop crying,” her assistant yelled into the background. “She’s threatening to jump off the balcony to prove her innocence!” In that split second, the color drained from Nolan’s face. His knees physically buckled. He glared at me, his eyes burning with pure, unadulterated hatred. “You are a vicious, evil woman. You’re so desperate to ruin her that you’d set your own career on fire!” He didn’t give me a chance to speak. He stumbled backward and sprinted out of the room. The executive sitting across from me let out an uncomfortable sigh. “We didn’t buy those trends. Do you want me to…” I forced a polite smile. “No need. Let him think whatever he wants. I’m leaving anyway.” The executive nodded silently and collected my transfer paperwork. Less than three minutes after I walked out of the conference room, my phone chimed with a notification from Twitter. I opened the app. Nolan had just quote-tweeted the viral photo of us on a date. [Avery and I have never been in a romantic relationship. We are strictly colleagues. Serena Blair and I never broke up. Any romantic marketing involving Avery Sinclair was purely a studio-mandated PR strategy. There is no infidelity involved.] My chest seized. It felt like an invisible fist was crushing my lungs. When Nolan first became my manager, Serena’s rabid fanbase accused me of being the homewrecker who ruined their fairy-tale romance. When paparazzi finally caught us kissing a year later, the hatred multiplied tenfold. I endured a solid year of brutal cyberbullying. It got so bad the agency begged us to just go public and clear the air. 3 But Nolan always refused. He always used my career as an excuse, claiming a public relationship would ruin my marketability. He stood by and watched as millions of people called me a slut, a mistress, a home-wrecker. And now, he freely handed the public declaration of love that I had bled for over to his ex. He permanently branded me with the “mistress” label just to protect her. In that moment, I finally understood that true love knows no obstacles. The only obstacle was that he simply didn’t love me. The agency couldn’t control him anymore. They immediately moved to assign me a new manager and drafted a statement to sever all ties with him. But when it came time to hand over my portfolio, Nolan suddenly slammed the brakes. “I’ve managed her for years! No one knows her career trajectory better than I do!” The sudden 180-degree shift in his attitude was laughable. It only cemented the fact that I was nothing but a tool he needed to keep in his back pocket. I stared at him, my eyes empty, filled with nothing but profound numbness and exhaustion. “No. I know my own trajectory.” He flinched. He clearly hadn’t expected me to speak to him with such cold authority. In the past, whenever the agency suggested switching managers, I was the one who fought against it. I wanted to stay close to him. I willingly kept myself chained to him. But now that my spine was made of steel, he was completely powerless. Sensing the tension, the executive slid my international transfer forms across the table. “Look, the reality is, Avery is leaving the country…” Nolan frowned deeply. He reached out to grab the papers. My eyes narrowed. I stepped directly into his path, blocking his hand. “I am in control of my own career from now on. If you refuse to hand over the files, I will build a new portfolio from scratch.” I grabbed the papers, folded them neatly, and handed them back to the executive. I shook my head slightly. As I turned to walk away, Nolan raised his hand, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to grab my wrist. I side-stepped him effortlessly. After the disastrous meeting, I went back to my apartment and started packing my life into boxes. As I was folding clothes, my phone buzzed. A text from him. [Her mental health is incredibly fragile. I was just calming her down. Don’t overthink this.] In a sea of green text bubbles, this was the first time in an entire month he had initiated a conversation that wasn’t strictly about work schedules. And yet, it was still revolving around Serena. Whenever I texted him for comfort, whenever I needed a shoulder to cry on or just a shred of affection, his standard response was always the same three words. [Toughen up, Avery.] I didn’t immediately call him back in tears. I didn’t beg for his attention or try to explain my side of the story like I used to. What was the point? A few minutes later, the electronic lock on my front door beeped rapidly with several failed passcode attempts. My heart skipped a beat. I pulled up the security camera feed on my phone and saw him standing in the hallway. The tension in my chest evaporated. All that was left was a hollow, empty void where my expectations used to be. Our passcode was our anniversary date. He had been coming to this apartment for five years and still couldn’t remember it. Yet, when he needed to log into a social media account he hadn’t touched in two years, he remembered Serena’s birthday as the password in less than a minute. I put my packing tape down and opened the front door. His eyes were laced with genuine anxiety. “Why didn’t you open the door? I thought something happened to you.” I found the whole situation hilarious. “What could possibly happen to me? You said it yourself, I’m tough.” He frowned, the fleeting guilt in his eyes vanishing instantly. “Look, I found out Serena’s PR team bought those trending hashtags. I didn’t have all the facts, and I shouldn’t have accused you. That’s on me.” “But there is absolutely no need for you to be this petty and sarcastic. She only broke up with me back then because her management forced her to. There is nothing going on between us now.” “That statement on Twitter? She posted that using my phone. By the time I saw it, the damage was done. I already told you, we can get married right now. You really need to let this go.” I stared at the poorly concealed impatience swimming in his eyes. 4 I finally spoke. “So, if you two had never broken up, is this how you would talk to her? Would you demand she marry you without a shred of romance or a proper proposal?” He rubbed the back of his neck, visibly irritated. “That doesn’t matter. You’re in a critical phase of your career right now, you shouldn’t…” My chest contracted violently. Before he could finish his sentence, I raised my hand and slapped him directly across the face. My voice was terrifyingly calm. “You knew I was in a critical phase of my career, and you still manipulated me into gaining twenty pounds!” “You’re right. None of it matters. Whether your pathetic excuses were meant to protect me or because you’re still obsessed with her, it doesn’t matter. Because we are broken up.” “Now get the hell out of my apartment. I never want to see your face again.” His eyes widened, rimmed with a furious, humiliated red. It was the first time in five years I had ever kicked him out. He slammed the door behind him, spitting out one final, venomous threat. “You’re going to regret this!” For five years, I had bent over backward to accommodate his every mood. We had never been at each other’s throats like this. So, when he realized I was no longer his submissive, easy-to-control puppet, he resorted to the dirty tactics he usually reserved for his enemies. My interim manager told me I had to attend a high-end charity gala that evening. But when I arrived, I realized I had been tricked. It was a sleazy, low-tier corporate networking mixer. A yacht party where actresses were treated like eye candy. Nolan and Serena were sitting on either side of the wealthy studio executives. My new manager gently pushed me into the private room. “Your resources are being downgraded, Avery. You aren’t bringing in money right now. Nolan said if you can handle the drinking for Serena tonight, he’ll secure a great script for you.” Back when I was a nobody clinging to Nolan’s roster, I couldn’t book any good roles. My lack of income meant his performance bonuses tanked. To make sure I didn’t drag his career down, I secretly agreed to attend one of these shady investor banquets. It started with just drinking on behalf of the executives. But as the night dragged on, several men cornered me and started force-feeding me liquor. I tried to run, but the VIP doors were deadbolted. They pinned me down, their hands wandering all over my body. Right as I was about to give up all hope, Nolan kicked the heavy wooden doors off their hinges, grabbed a fire axe from the hallway, and smashed the mahogany dining table cleanly in half. His eyes were bloodshot as he pulled me into his chest, shielding me from the room. He drove me home, screaming at me the entire ride, calling me an idiot with no brain. He told me that these drinking banquets almost always ended in hotel rooms. He yelled until I stopped responding. Bright red blood had started spilling past my lips like water. That was the first time I ever saw genuine, unfiltered terror on his face. From that day forward, I was banned from attending any event that required alcohol. Seeing me frozen in the doorway, Serena smiled brightly and walked over. “Oh, this is all my fault. I told the investors my alcohol tolerance is terribly low, but I didn’t want to disrespect them. Nolan remembered you could hold your liquor, so he called you in.” “You don’t mind, do you? Really, we’re doing this to help you network for new roles.” I stared at the smug, provocative gleam in her eyes. Surprisingly, I felt entirely at peace. It was fine. I would drink the poison tonight. Because after tonight, every single debt, every ounce of history between Nolan and me, would be permanently erased. I picked up a heavy crystal tumbler filled with dark amber liquor. I locked eyes with Nolan, watching the sudden, nervous tension ripple across his face. “Thank you all for this wonderful opportunity.” The cheap, high-proof alcohol burned down my esophagus like battery acid. I wiped a stray tear from the corner of my eye and poured myself a second glass. “But for this next round…” Before I could finish, Nolan practically lunged out of his chair, snatching the glass from my hand. His brow was furrowed in deep, angry lines. His voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “If you can’t drink, then don’t! Do you always have to be this stubborn? Would it kill you to just admit you need me?” I smiled. I opened my mouth to speak, but a violent, metallic clattering erupted from the ceiling above us. Before any of us could look up, the entire room lurched into a violent, terrifying sway. The floor dropped out from under my heels, sending my head spinning. 5 With a heavy thud, I crashed onto the marble floor. Piercing screams erupted from the hallway outside the VIP suite. “Earthquake! It’s an earthquake! Run!” Nolan grabbed my arm, hauling me to my feet. He threw his arm around my waist, preparing to drag me toward the exit. But from behind us, Serena’s voice pierced the chaos. “Nolan! My legs… my legs won’t move! I’m so scared!” In that split second, without a single micro-expression of hesitation, he let go of my hand. “She was in a severe earthquake as a child. She has crippling claustrophobia, I can’t just leave her here.” “You need to get out on your own. If you can’t make it to the stairs, find cover! I promise I’ll come back for you!” Without waiting for a response, he scooped Serena up into his arms and sprinted past me, vanishing into the panicked crowd. I struggled to push myself up off the floor. But with a deafening crack, the massive crystal chandelier detached from the ceiling and slammed directly into my shoulder. Nolan had glanced over his shoulder right as it happened. The momentary hesitation in his eyes vanished as quickly as it appeared. He disappeared into the dust and the screaming, taking my consciousness with him. … When I finally woke up, the sterile smell of a hospital room filled my lungs. Jess was sitting by my bed, her eyes red and puffy. The earthquake hadn’t been catastrophic. The hotel suffered minimal structural damage, and there were barely any casualties. The most severely injured person in the entire building was me, knocked unconscious by a cheap light fixture. The emergency rescue teams were the ones who pulled me out of the rubble. Jess looked at me, her mouth opening and closing. I knew exactly what she wanted to say. Nolan never came back. He was busy comforting Serena. On Instagram, I saw the photo they posted. Their hands tightly intertwined. The caption read: [No matter how much time passes, my heart will always choose you first.] I didn’t feel the soul-crushing grief or the fiery rage I expected. I only felt a profound sense of relief. My heart, which had spent five years sprinting to keep up with his, could finally beat for itself. I looked at the nightstand. Sitting next to my water cup was a first-class ticket for an overseas flight. “Let’s go,” I whispered. Jess helped me out of the hospital bed. We took a private car straight to the international terminal. Right before I stepped into the security checkpoint, a text from Nolan popped up on my screen. [Why aren’t you in your hospital room? Stop running around. I hired a private specialist to give you a full-body scan.] Staring at the message, I felt absolutely none of the pathetic, desperate joy I used to feel whenever he showed me a breadcrumb of attention. I smiled, hit block, and permanently deleted his contact. I popped the SIM card out of my phone and tossed it into a trash can. I had already set up a new international number. Nolan Cross. I am so incredibly tired of playing your twisted game of cat and mouse. From this moment on, I will never haunt your world again. Nolan gripped his phone, pacing the hallway outside Avery’s hospital room. He had been waiting for twenty minutes, but she hadn’t replied. In the past, the moment he sent a text checking up on her, she would immediately call him back, her voice thick with happy tears. Even when she was buried in script readings, she made her assistant reply instantly. But ever since that disastrous casting call, the dynamic had subtly shifted. It planted a dark, unsettling seed of panic in the pit of his stomach. Someone gently tapped his shoulder. He spun around, assuming it was Avery. “Where the hell did you go? Stop running…” The spark of relief in his chest instantly flatlined when he saw Serena standing there. A heavy, unexplainable wave of disappointment washed over him. “What are you doing here? I told you to stay in your suite and rest. The lobby is swarming with paparazzi and stalkers, what if they get a photo of you?” Serena’s eyes grew glassy with tears. “It’s fine. I wasn’t really hurt anyway. I just felt so alone in that big room… and I wanted to check on Avery. I need to apologize to her. If I hadn’t cried out for you, she wouldn’t have been crushed by that chandelier.” Nolan’s immediate instinct was to say Avery was fine. She was built tough. During action sequences, she refused to use stunt doubles to save the studio money. She took hits, cuts, and bruises without ever complaining. To the rest of the world, she was made of iron. But whenever she was alone with him, she would pout and show him her bruises. Even when he gave her the cold shoulder, she would whine until he was forced to pat her head and comfort her.

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1 On graduation day, Darryl was set to propose to Harper—until she vanished, leaving him a text and me a note: “I’m giving him to you.” Watching him frozen on the quad, ring in hand, I blurted out, “I’ve loved you since high school, even before Harper noticed you.” Admitting I’d secretly followed his every move for seven years, I asked, “Could you please…?” Darryl stared, then took the ring meant for her and slid it onto my finger. The next day, we moved into a damp basement. For three years, he worked himself to death, becoming CEO of Darryl Innovations. But on move-in day for our new estate, he stood at the door, hand-in-hand with Harper, blocking me. “I’m bored of you,” he said flatly. “I slept with you for three years. It’s over.” “What did you just say?” I stood there gripping the handle of my heavy suitcase, staring at him in complete disbelief. The wind howled past my ears, creating a deafening buzz in my skull. He squeezed Harper’s hand tighter, his brow furrowing with obvious impatience. “Over the last three years, I have wired a total of three million dollars into your bank account. We are done here. You are walking away a rich woman, so do not act like you lost out.” My vision blurred. It felt like someone had reached into my chest and ripped my heart out by the roots, leaving behind a bloody, gaping hole. So my seven years of silent devotion and my three years of bleeding by his side to build his empire… In his eyes, it was all a transactional service worth exactly three million dollars. I lowered my head. Teardrops violently splashed against the hard plastic shell of my suitcase. He had absolutely no idea. That suitcase held every single thing I owned in this world. He also had no idea that just an hour ago, his executive assistant called me in a blind panic. Darryl Innovations had suffered a catastrophic break in their funding chain. I had just wired every single penny of that three million dollars straight back into his corporate account to save him. Harper stepped forward, a perfectly manufactured look of guilt plastered across her flawless face. She reached out to grab my wrist. “Anna, I am so, so sorry.” “I just could not bear living my life without him…” I violently yanked my arm out of her grip. “Then why did you abandon him three years ago?!” “Why did you text me saying you were giving him to me?!” “Why…” Why did you have to come back now? Before the rest of my furious grief could leave my lips, a blinding, explosive sting erupted across my cheek. My vision fractured into a blur of spinning colors. It took several agonizing seconds for the world to pull back into focus. When it did, I saw Harper hiding her face against Darryl’s chest, sobbing pitifully. “I never should have reached out to you when I got back to the States. I just could not control my heart.” She wept, her voice trembling. “This is all my fault. I should just leave.” Darryl gently cradled her face, his thumbs wiping away her tears as he whispered sweet comforts. “How could this possibly be your fault?” “I was the one who lost control the second I saw you at that hotel. I was the one who claimed you.” “I forced you to face your feelings for me, and I forced you to confront Anna. I do not love her. Why should we be miserable just to appease her?” His naked confession felt like a poisoned arrow tearing straight through my sternum. The agonizing pain radiated down to my fingertips. All the blood drained from my face as I stumbled a step backward. Darryl shot me a look of pure, venomous disgust. “Get lost.” Just like that, I was tossed out like a piece of garbage he no longer had any use for. The light drizzle quickly morphed into a violent, freezing downpour. I stood on the pavement until my entire body went numb, before finally dragging my suitcase away in absolute disgrace. Without even realizing it, my feet carried me straight back to the damp basement apartment we rented three years ago. I collapsed onto the cheap mattress, completely stripped of my strength. I do not love her. I do not love her. Those words circled my brain like a relentless, mocking curse. My fingernails dug so deeply into my own arms that they left bloody trails across my skin, but it was not enough to distract me from the suffocating agony in my chest. Just as I felt like I was literally going to die, my phone buzzed. It was my mother. “Anna, sweetheart. Stop wandering out there on your own.” “I found a really nice young man for you to meet. A blind date. Are you willing to give it a try?” I gripped the phone like a drowning woman clinging to a life raft, swallowing hard to force my voice steady. “Okay. I will come home as soon as I can.” Sometime later, a thick, burning haze completely took over my mind. Through the violent fever dreams, I felt a pair of strong, familiar arms wrap tightly around my shivering body. Darryl’s smooth voice drifted into my ear. “I knew you would come hide here.” “Does your face still hurt?” He tightened his grip, burying his face into the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. “Anna, I just cannot swallow my pride. Give me three months. In three months, I am going to make her deeply regret the way she abandoned me without a word.” “When those three months are up, I will clear all this toxic garbage out of my heart, and I will marry you.” His body was radiating heat, but hearing those words made my blood run entirely cold. Darryl was raised by a widowed mother who collected scrap metal just to put him through college. After graduation, this miserable basement was the only place we could afford. Every single item in this room was something I had hunted down on clearance. I remembered the day I managed to snag a bulk pack of toilet paper on a massive discount. I showed it to him like I had just won the lottery. “Look, Darryl! I saved us another eighty cents today!” His eyes were glued to a coding interface on his laptop. He suddenly turned, grabbed my waist, and buried me in a fierce, crushing hug. “Anna. Harper didn’t believe in me. Do you?” “I swear to god, I am going to build an empire and give you the life you deserve.” His embrace back then was scalding hot. It felt like it could burn me alive. “I believe in you, Darryl. I only believe in you.” His kisses came down like a violent, desperate storm. “My sweet Anna. You are too good to me.” We were dirt poor, but the sheer sweetness of those days felt like it was overflowing from my heart. I honestly believed he worked himself to the bone for three years just to fulfill the promise he made to me. Now, the humiliating truth finally set in. He was just biding his time. He was waiting for Harper to come back so he could stand before her as a king. Silent tears slipped from the corners of my eyes, soaking into the cheap pillowcase. A violent shudder ripped through my spine. Darryl anxiously pressed the back of his hand against my forehead. “Did you catch a fever in the rain?” Watching him climb out of bed with that familiar urgency, digging through the cabinets for the first aid kit and plugging in the electric kettle, a heavy sense of disorientation washed over me. Over the last three years, aside from proudly introducing me as his girlfriend to the public, he had played the role of the perfect partner. When we were starving, he would pick the only pieces of meat out of his soup and place them in my bowl. When my heels were covered in bleeding blisters from running across the city to promote our startup, he would carry me on his back all the way home, carefully apply ointment, and soak my feet in warm water. When he stayed awake for three consecutive nights to finalize a pitch deck, he still forced himself out the door to buy me a birthday cake. He was always making promises. “Anna, the second my business stabilizes, I am putting a ring on your finger.” But when that day actually arrived, all I got was the brutal truth. “Slept with you for three years. Bored of it.” “I do not love her.” “Get lost.” My vision was swimming. Was he truly putting on this cruel act just to punish Harper, or was he just completely, hopelessly still in love with her? Darryl’s phone shattered the silence. He was just about to hand me a mug of hot water. Hearing that specific ringtone, he immediately set the mug down on the nightstand, practically ripping his trench coat off the hook as he yanked the front door open. “Anna, there is a thunderstorm outside. You know Harper gets terrified of the thunder when she is alone in that massive house.” I clung to my last, pathetic shred of hope. “Darryl… I am scared too.” I wanted to scream that I was the one who was terrified of thunder. Back in high school, during a massive summer storm, I hid under my blankets, shaking like a leaf. Harper had laughed at me, purposely throwing the bedroom windows wide open so the thunder clapped right next to my ears. “Do not be such a coward,” she had teased. “It sounds just like war drums.” But hearing my plea, Darryl’s face darkened with severe disappointment. He only paused for a fraction of a second. “Anna… I always thought you were the understanding one.” Understanding. That single word violently shoved all my desperate hopes right back down my throat. Hearing the heavy metal door slam shut, a broken, bitter laugh escaped my lips. My body was burning with a dangerously high fever. I weakly reached out to grab the mug of water he left behind. My trembling fingers slipped. The ceramic mug crashed to the concrete floor, shattering into a dozen jagged pieces. Just like the ten years of love I had completely wasted on him. Staring at the angry red blisters rapidly forming on the back of my scalded hand, I murmured to the empty room. Darryl. You abandoned me twice in one day. I do not want you anymore. I am done taking care of you. Using the absolute last ounce of strength in my body, I unlocked my phone and dialed my bank’s elite client hotline. “I need to issue an immediate freeze on the five million dollar corporate wire transfer I authorized earlier today.” The next time that rusted metal door opened, three days had passed. Harper stood in the doorway, her eyes scanning the cramped room with undisguised disgust. “Anna, do you want to know the real reason I dumped Darryl back then?” “I just refused to rot in a dark, pathetic little hole like this.” My fever had finally broken. I calmly shut my laptop and met her arrogant gaze with eyes made of ice. “You got exactly what you wanted. You are back in his bed. There is absolutely no need for you to come slumming down here just to mock me.” She stepped forward, seamlessly slipping into her old, manipulative habits. She looped her arm through mine, pouting her lips like an innocent child. “Oh, Anna, do not be mad at me.” “I am actually saving your life. Can you imagine how miserable it would be to spend the rest of your life married to a man who does not even love you?” I let out a harsh scoff and physically ripped my arm away from her. She did not even flinch. She just stared at me, her eyes dancing with wicked amusement. “Do you want to know why Darryl suddenly agreed to date me in high school? You know how intensely private and cold he used to be.” Ignoring my darkening expression, she clamped her hand around my wrist and practically dragged me toward the door. “Come to the college reunion with me tonight, and I will tell you his deepest, darkest secret.” I did not fight her. I was leaving this city in a few days anyway. I was leaving the battleground where I had bled for three years. Consider this my final goodbye. Sitting in the backseat of Darryl’s luxury SUV, I watched Harper claim the passenger seat. She spent the entire drive happily chirping at Darryl, weaponizing our shared past. “Darryl, do you remember when you forced Anna and me to stay after school for tutoring? God, we complained so much back then.” “And in college, every single time you bought me a gift, you always included a little greeting card for Anna. You were so terrified I would annoy my own roommate.” Darryl gazed at her with sickening tenderness. Every few minutes, he would take one hand off the steering wheel just to press her fingers against his chest. Sitting in the back, I was treated like an absolute ghost. A heavy, suffocating acid burned the back of my throat. I turned my head to stare out the tinted window, letting my mind drift back to those school days. A secret crush is a teenage girl’s most delicate treasure. And I had only shared that treasure with one person. Harper. I remember blushing furiously as I confessed my feelings. Harper had rolled her eyes, her face twisting in utter disdain. “Anna, what is wrong with your taste?” “Sure, he has a pretty face and gets perfect grades. But have you seen the absolute dump he lives in? His family cannot even afford a basic television.” When I frantically tried to defend him, she just covered her mouth and laughed. “Alright, alright. Your best friend will help you get your man.” Under the guise of helping me pursue him, she began aggressively inserting herself into his life. Then, out of absolutely nowhere, she walked up to me in the cafeteria, her fingers perfectly entwined with his. “Anna, Darryl and I are officially together.” There was no apology in her eyes. Only the thrilling rush of a victory lap. The sun was shining brilliantly that day, but my entire world plunged into an endless, freezing winter. During high school, I eagerly looked forward to the tutoring sessions Harper constantly complained about. During college, I worked double shifts at a cafe just to help Darryl afford Harper’s lavish birthday surprises. I was like a starving beggar, greedily collecting whatever pathetic scraps of time I could spend near him. “Anna, we are here.” Harper’s voice snapped me out of my trance. She linked her arm through mine, playing the role of the sweet best friend as we walked toward the private dining room. Darryl trailed closely behind us, the silent, devoted protector. Right before we reached the heavy mahogany doors, she leaned in close. Her voice dropped to a sinister, triumphant whisper. “Anna, do you remember a secret you told me a long time ago?” “In high school, you used to sneak up to the side wall of the rooftop every single afternoon to write anonymous messages to a boy you had never spoken to?” “That boy was Darryl.” “He thought the girl he was sharing his soul with… was me.” Her words were light as a feather, but they hit my eardrums like a detonating bomb. “That was the only reason he ever agreed to date me.” “Anna.” “I stole him right out from under you.” “And after tonight… you will never, ever get him back.” My entire body locked up. My legs suddenly felt like they were cast in solid concrete. I remembered a conversation Darryl and I had late one night in the basement. We could talk for hours without ever running out of things to say. He had looked at me with a strange, melancholy expression. “You know, I always feel this unexplainable sense of familiarity with you.” “Anna, if only the girl from back then was you…” It took ten years, but the horrific truth behind those words finally clicked into place. I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to grab her by the throat and ask her why. We grew up together. We shared everything from elementary school to college. When she skipped out on the bill at a restaurant, I was the one who rushed over to empty my wallet and apologize to the owner, and she never even thanked me. When she complained she had nothing to wear for a date, I handed over the brand new dresses my mother bought for me, and she never returned a single one. When a girl from another class insulted her, I was the one who kicked the classroom door off its hinges to defend her honor, earning myself a permanent strike on my academic record. I could not fathom why she felt the need to destroy my life like this. But before I could speak, she pushed the heavy doors open and strutted into the private room. Darryl stopped right beside me. His voice was a low, freezing warning. “Anna. No one in there knows we ever dated.” “Do not do anything to embarrass Harper tonight.” A broken, pathetic smile stretched across my lips. Any lingering desire I had to expose the truth about the rooftop messages instantly turned to ash. He walked inside and naturally took the seat directly beside Harper. The room erupted in loud, obnoxious cheering from our old classmates. “Look at Mr. CEO! You and Harper have been going strong for ten years now! Now that you are sitting on a tech empire, when are we getting the wedding invitations?” “Right? You guys were the ultimate power couple on campus. Everyone was insanely jealous of you.” Harper cast a shy, demure glance at Darryl. “I am in no rush. Whatever Darryl wants.” She took a delicate bite of fish, then suddenly covered her mouth, letting out a violent, dramatic gag. The entire table gasped in collective excitement. “Oh my god! Are we celebrating a wedding and a baby tonight?!” Darryl grabbed a napkin, gently wiping the corner of her mouth with sickening devotion. “If that is the case, you all better double your wedding gifts. I will be checking the envelopes.” I sat directly across the table, watching their sickening display of domestic bliss. My stomach violently churned. I thought about the last three years. Even when my face was flushed red with desire and the mood was perfect, he would always pull away at the last second to grab protection. “Anna, it is not the right time for a baby.” “Just wait a little longer.” I waited for years, and he never gave me an inch. But the second Harper returned, he planted a child in her without a second thought. Sarah, my old college roommate, nudged my arm with a sharp elbow. “Anna, you are obviously going to be the maid of honor and the godmother. They are dragging their feet, why aren’t you pressuring them to lock down a date?” Harper’s eyes drifted down to my hands. I had forgotten to take off the cheap silver ring Darryl bought me two years ago. “Do not put too much pressure on Anna, guys. She has had a rough time. She has been hopelessly in love with Darryl for a decade.” “She even snatched the prop ring Darryl used for his proposal, claiming she wanted it as a keepsake to mourn her broken heart.” That single sentence was a nuclear bomb. The entire table went dead silent. Dozens of eyes snapped toward me, dripping with absolute revulsion and contempt. “Wow. No wonder she was always trailing behind them like a pathetic lost puppy during college. She was waiting for a chance to strike.” “Harboring filthy thoughts about your best friend’s man for ten years? That is absolutely repulsive. She does not even deserve to sit at this table.” While I was paralyzed by the shock, Sarah aggressively grabbed my hand and yanked it up for the entire table to see. “Look! The inside of the band literally has Harper’s initials engraved on it.” “I cannot believe Anna is this much of a shameless, desperate homewrecker.” The insults rained down on me like toxic acid, burning away whatever dignity I had left. The blood entirely abandoned my face. A guy from our graduating class stood up, a sleazy smirk on his face, holding a shot glass brimming with cheap liquor. “Anna, are you really that desperate for a man? Drink this, and I will do you a favor and be your boyfriend for the night.” Without waiting for my answer, he grabbed my jaw and tried to force the burning alcohol down my throat. I shot a desperate, pleading look at Darryl. He knew my stomach lining was entirely destroyed from drinking with aggressive clients to secure funding for his company. One shot of hard liquor could land me in the emergency room. But Darryl just gave me a flat, apathetic stare. “Let her get a boyfriend. It will stop Harper from feeling insecure.” My heart plummeted straight into the abyss. The burning liquid flooded my mouth, violently searing my throat and setting my damaged stomach completely on fire. Right at that exact second, the heavy mahogany doors were violently kicked open, slamming against the wall with a deafening crash. A furious, dangerously low voice echoed through the room. “Who says Anna doesn’t have a boyfriend?”

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1 My older brother Thomas used his dying breath to entrust his twelve-year-old daughter and his entire estate to me. For ten grueling years, I played the role of both father and mother. I worked myself to the bone to put her through college. I thought the hardest days were finally behind us. But right after her graduation ceremony, she teamed up with my ex-wife, Brenda, a woman I hadn’t seen in years. Together, they slapped me with a massive lawsuit. “Uncle Tom, my dad left this house to me. You’ve been living here scot-free for a decade. It’s time for you to pack your bags. And that hundred thousand dollars? That wasn’t a gift. You owe me.” I stared at my niece. She was aggressively in my face, completely unrecognizable. A bitter smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I thought about the updated will securely locked inside a bank vault. A document no one else knew existed. Did Thomas somehow foresee this exact day? “Tom! Open the damn door! I know you’re in there!” The voice on the front porch was jarringly familiar. “Who is it?” I yanked open the heavy front door, my brow furrowed in confusion. Lily stood on the porch. Her eyes were as cold as ice. Standing right behind her, wearing a smug, arrogant smirk, was Brenda. “Lily?” I froze. I hadn’t seen her in a few weeks, and she looked entirely different from the bright-eyed girl I had raised. Something was deeply wrong. “What’s going on, Lily? Are you in some kind of trouble?” “Trouble? Oh, I’m doing great. Thanks to you.” She sneered, stepping past me into the house. Her eyes scanned the living room like a barcode reader, judging every piece of furniture. Her lips curled into a nasty smirk. “Just came to check on my amazing uncle. Playing house in a home you stole. Must be nice and cozy, right?” Her glare felt like a physical knife dragging across my skin. “Lily. What the hell are you talking about?” There was no warmth. No happy reunion. Just this biting, toxic sarcasm. “What am I talking about?” Lily let out a dry, mocking laugh. Brenda immediately took that as her cue. She eagerly unzipped her designer purse, pulled out a thick stack of folded papers, and shoved them into Lily’s hands. Lily took the papers and slammed them down hard onto the glass coffee table. The whole table rattled. “Open your eyes and read it. It’s a court summons. I’m suing you for embezzling my parents’ estate. For illegally occupying my property. And for that hundred thousand dollars in cash. It’s time to pay up.” My brain short-circuited. A loud ringing echoed in my ears. A summons? Suing me? Embezzlement? I looked at Lily, my throat suddenly going bone-dry. “Lily… what is this? When your parents passed away…” Lily ignored me and repeated herself, her voice flat and robotic. “Tom. Give me my house back. And the hundred grand.” “A hundred grand?!” I stammered. “Lily, how can you even say that? Every single penny of that money was spent on you. Your parents told me…” “Told you what?” Lily interrupted, her face twisting in pure disgust. “Did they tell you to take care of me, or did they tell you to steal my inheritance? Ten years. A hundred thousand dollars. Where are the receipts, Tom? Because all I see is you living comfortably in a house that belongs to me.” “Exactly.” Brenda nudged Lily’s arm, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Lily is a legal adult now. The law is on her side. You can’t just squat on a dead man’s property forever. Don’t waste your breath on him, honey.” After all these years, Brenda’s toxic, instigating mouth hadn’t changed one bit. Lily ignored Brenda and kept her dead eyes locked on my face. “Drop the act. This is my house. That is my money. Every single dime my parents left behind. They died, and you swallowed their blood money. How do you even sleep at night?” Ten years of blood, sweat, and tears. And in her eyes, I was nothing but a thief. “Lily… I’m your uncle. Your family…” “You stopped being family the day you decided to freeload in my house.” “Get out. Both of you, get the hell out of my house!” I pointed a shaking finger at the front door. Lily didn’t flinch. “Get out? You’re the one who needs to get out. This house will officially be mine very soon.” She didn’t spare me another glance. She turned on her heel and marched out. Brenda shot me a victorious, venomous glare and quickly followed her. I stood alone in the living room, staring at the blinding white legal papers on the coffee table. My hands were shaking uncontrollably. This was bad. 2 When I got to the office the next morning, my entire body felt heavy. My right eyelid wouldn’t stop twitching. I had barely sat down at my cubicle when Stan, the guy from the next desk over, rolled his chair toward me. His face was scrunched up in discomfort. “Hey, Tom… man… have you checked the local neighborhood Facebook group? It’s… it’s a total bloodbath.” My stomach dropped into my shoes. I frantically pulled out my phone. I opened the app. The top pinned post hit my eyes like a flashbang. The Ultimate Betrayal. Blood-Sucking Uncle Steals Orphaned Niece’s Inheritance for Ten Years! Posted by: Lily. There were photos attached. One was a picture of my front porch. The other was an old, heartbreaking photo of Lily as a little kid, wearing a faded, oversized t-shirt, standing alone in her parents’ old backyard. The post itself was an absolute character assassination. She called me a hypocrite. A predator. She accused me of betraying my brother’s dying trust, embezzling a massive fortune, and emotionally abusing her. The comment section was a mob out for blood. “Absolute human garbage!” “Lock him up!” “Get the hell out of our neighborhood!” “Give that poor girl her house back!” My hands shook so badly my phone slipped from my grip and clattered onto the desk. “Tom! Mr. Henderson wants you in his office. Right now.” One of the administrative assistants called out from the hallway. She looked at me like I was a piece of trash stuck to the bottom of her shoe. I forced myself to stand up and walk into the manager’s office. Henderson sat behind his massive mahogany desk. His face was thunderous. “Tom.” He tapped a heavy pen against his deskpad. “We expect a certain level of integrity from our employees. Personal scandals reflect on this company. Have you seen the absolute circus online today? Everyone in the building is talking about it. You need to pack up your desk and go home. Fix this mess before you even think about coming back. You are suspended. Do I make myself clear?” Suspended. It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water directly over my head. I drove home in a complete daze. The moment I pulled up to my driveway, I saw Lily standing on the front porch with her arms crossed, blocking the door like a bouncer. Brenda was hovering right next to her. A few neighbors were peeking through their blinds. Others were lingering on the sidewalk, whispering and pointing. “Wow. You actually have the nerve to show your face around here?” Lily announced, making sure her voice carried down the street. “Hey everyone, come take a look! This is the parasite who steals from his own orphaned niece. Does a guy like this really deserve to live in a house like this?” “Tom, you owe me that money. You owe me this house. And I’m not leaving until I get some answers.” “Answers?!” I felt the blood rushing to my head. “You posted a pack of lies online! The whole company saw it, and I just got suspended from my job.” “And now you’re blocking my door demanding money? I don’t owe you a damn thing.” “Lily, I want you to look deep inside your conscience. How old were you when your parents passed away? Twelve. Who raised you? Who put clothes on your back and food on your plate? Who drove through literal blizzards to sit through your parent-teacher conferences? For the last ten years, I was your father.” “My father?!” Lily’s lip curled in absolute disgust. “My real father wouldn’t have dumped me in a cheap boarding school. He wouldn’t have only cared about my test scores. He wouldn’t have been completely broke when it was time to pay my college tuition, humiliating me in front of the financial aid office. If Brenda hadn’t stepped in to cover the final payments…” “Save the sob story, Tom!” Brenda yelled, completely cutting me off. “Where is the money? Where are the bank statements? If you can’t produce them, it means you stole it. And the house? Is your name on the deed? No? Then pack your garbage and get out. Stop squatting in a house you don’t own.” Brenda turned to the watching neighbors. “Look closely, people. This is Tom. A man with zero morals. How can any of you sleep at night knowing a thief lives on your street?” More neighbors started gathering on the sidewalks. I could hear their hushed whispers, the judgmental clicking of their tongues. My vision swam with dark spots. I was shaking with so much rage I couldn’t even form a coherent sentence. 3 Bad news travels faster than wildfire. My own neighborhood became a hostile zone. When I stepped outside to take out the trash, Mrs. Higgins from the house across the street took one look at me, gripped her garbage bags, and practically sprinted in the opposite direction. A group of kids riding their bikes down the street stopped and pointed at me. “Look. That’s the bad guy. The guy who stole that girl’s house.” I had to grip the plastic trash bin to stop myself from doing something stupid. My phone was even worse. Unknown numbers called back to back, ringing constantly. I finally answered one. “Hello?” “Is this Tom? You absolute piece of trash. I hope you rot in hell.” A barrage of vile, explicit curses exploded through the speaker. I slammed the end call button and powered the phone off completely. The house finally fell silent, but the heavy, crushing weight in my chest only got worse. A lawyer was my only lifeline now. I scrounged together every loose bill I had hidden in my desk drawers just to cover the initial consultation fee. I sat in a stiff leather chair in a downtown law firm. Across the desk, Mr. Davis adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses. His frown was so deep it looked permanent. “Tom.” He spoke slowly, and every word felt like a hammer hitting my chest. “Your situation is… well, it’s not looking good.” My stomach dropped. “The opposing party, Lily, is a legal adult. She is the rightful heir and the legal owner of the property. She wants to reclaim it, and legally, she is entirely justified. Your name is not on the deed.” Davis flipped open the thin manila folder on his desk. “The main issue is the hundred thousand dollars. You claim your brother and sister-in-law verbally entrusted it to you for her upbringing. But there is absolutely no paper trail. They just said ‘take it’ and ‘live here.’ They didn’t write a formal will stating the cash was a personal gift to you, nor did they legally transfer the house. In the eyes of the court, it is incredibly difficult to prove this was an unconditional transfer of assets.” He paused, looking at me with pity. “You have to prove that every single penny of that hundred thousand dollars was spent directly on Lily’s upbringing. Or, you need to prove your sister-in-law explicitly stated the money was yours to spend. Also…” He pointed a pen at the printed screenshots of Lily’s viral posts. “The court of public opinion is heavily stacked against you right now. Judges are human beings. They read the news. It will subconsciously affect their perspective.” Prove it? It had been ten years. Groceries. Utility bills. Gas money. Textbooks. Winter coats. Extracurriculars. Who in the world keeps a detailed receipt for every single gallon of milk and pair of shoes they buy over a decade? “So… that’s it? I just sit here and let them destroy my life?” “Do your absolute best to find evidence,” Davis sighed. “Large bank withdrawals that coincide with tuition due dates. Or, if there was anyone else in the room when your brother gave you those instructions. An eyewitness.” An eyewitness? My brother died suddenly. The only other person in that hospital room besides me… was Brenda. Her? Would she testify for me? Pigs would fly before that woman lifted a finger to help me. I dragged my exhausted body back home. As I unlocked the front door, I noticed a folded piece of paper shoved underneath the crack. A notice from the Homeowners Association. The itemized list was incredibly long. Neighborhood maintenance fees. Trash collection. Security gate upkeep. The numbers were astronomical. The bold black text at the very bottom hit me like a physical punch. Outstanding Late Fees and Penalties: $15,872.00 Fifteen thousand dollars in late fees?! I immediately dialed the HOA president’s number. “Listen, Tom. Lily marched into the office yesterday and demanded a full audit of the last ten years. She said the reduced rates we gave you out of sympathy were invalid. She demanded we back-charge you at the absolute maximum market rate. For ten years of occupancy. Plus late penalties.” I hung up before he could finish his sentence and immediately dialed Lily’s number. “Lily. You went to college to learn how to completely ruin a person, is that it? Making the HOA back-charge me fifteen grand? This is extortion. Back off.” “Having a tough time, Uncle Tom?” Lily’s voice was dripping with smug satisfaction. “If you want peace and quiet, pack your bags and wire me the money. I promise I’ll leave you alone. If not, I have a lot more tricks up my sleeve.” I was so angry my vision blurred. I tore the HOA notice into tiny shreds and threw them against the wall. 4 It didn’t take long for HR to drop the word “temporary” from my suspension. A rep from corporate handed me a heavily worded NDA and a “Graceful Exit Agreement.” The subtext was crystal clear. Sign the paper, quit quietly, and get a tiny severance check. Fight it, get fired for violating the morality clause, and leave with absolutely nothing. I felt like my spine had been ripped out. I took the severance. The massive suburban house felt incredibly hollow with just me inside it. I started tearing the place apart like a madman. My brother’s old toolbox. My sister-in-law’s knitting basket. Lily’s kindergarten art projects. I yanked out drawers and dumped them on the floor. I pulled every box out of the attic. I searched for twenty-four straight hours. Aside from some old photo albums and worthless trinkets, I found absolutely nothing. No receipts. No hidden documents. No evidence. I collapsed onto the messy floor, staring blankly at the dusty ceiling fan. Suddenly, a violent, aggressive pounding echoed from the front door. It was louder and angrier than Lily’s knocking. Someone was trying to break the door down. I scrambled up and yanked the door open. Three massive, intimidating men stood on my porch. The leader had a tight buzzcut, a black muscle shirt, and thick tribal tattoos snaking up his neck. His eyes were dead and aggressive. The two guys behind him were built like brick walls. Buzzcut held a stack of papers in his massive hands. When he saw me, he flashed a nasty smile, revealing a row of yellowed teeth. “You Tom?” His voice was pure gravel. He slapped the papers hard against the wooden doorframe. “Lily sent us. Read it and weep. Formal Notice of Reclaiming Property.” He paused, his small eyes gleaming with cruelty. “You have exactly two hours to pack whatever trash belongs to you and get out. This house belongs to the lady now. We’re here for the eviction.” “Eviction?!” I yelled. “The court hasn’t even heard the case yet. She has zero legal right to force an eviction.” “Rights?” One of the thugs with a deep scar across his cheek let out a harsh laugh. He shoved his heavy hand against my chest, physically pushing me backward. The three men pushed past me, marching into my living room like they owned the place. “Here’s your rights,” Buzzcut said, shoving the notice directly into my face. “Lily is the deed holder. Understand? The owner calls the shots. She wants you gone, so you’re gone. You want to cry to a judge? Let’s see who the cops side with.” He rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck. “Besides, the lady gave us full power of attorney to clear the premises. We’re just doing our jobs. Go ahead, call 911.” “This is breaking and entering,” I said, my heart hammering in my chest. “Get out of my house.” “Get out?” Buzzcut threw his head back and laughed. He shoved me hard into the drywall. “Alright boys, get to work. The boss lady said anything that isn’t nailed down is garbage. Throw it all out. Let’s give this freeloader some space.” They immediately started grabbing my belongings and hurling them into the corners of the room. One of the thugs picked up a cheap plastic picture frame from the side table. It was the only surviving family photo of my brother, Sarah, a tiny Lily, and me. He didn’t even look at it. He just casually tossed it onto the hardwood floor. The plastic cracked loudly. The photo slid out, and a heavy, dirt-caked work boot stepped directly onto my brother’s face. That photo was the only physical memory I had left of my brother. All the blood rushed to my head. I let out a feral yell and lunged directly at the man who stepped on the photo. The ensuing chaos was deafening. A neighbor must have heard the shouting and called the police. The flashing blue lights eventually scared the thugs away. As I was on my hands and knees, trying to sweep up the broken glass and shattered plastic, my phone rang. “Hello? Lily…” my voice was shaking. “Tom.” Her voice was completely hollow. “Tomorrow at 2:00 PM, a real estate agent is coming to do a walkthrough. Pack your garbage and leave the keys on the kitchen counter. I’m coming to officially take possession on Monday. If you are still inside that house, what happened today is going to happen every single day.” She delivered the threat rapidly, without a single stutter. A walkthrough? Taking possession? “Lily!” I jumped to my feet. “Your parents left this house for me to live in. They wanted me to have a roof over my head so I could…” “So I wouldn’t end up on the street!” Lily screamed, her voice cracking with fury. “It wasn’t meant for you to squat in for ten years. Do not bring up my parents. You don’t have the right. Brenda was right about you. You’re just a greedy, pathetic parasite.” “What kind of poison is Brenda feeding you?!” I roared into the phone. “That woman is a…” “She cares about me. She actually looks out for my future. She treats me ten thousand times better than you ever did.” Lily practically screamed the last sentence. The line went dead. The dial tone pierced my eardrum. Ten years. Ten whole years. I ruined my own life to play both parents. I clothed her, fed her, paid her tuition. I bought her the newest iPhones and expensive bags because I was terrified she’d get bullied for being the poor orphan kid. I ate ramen noodles for dinner so she could have steak. And this was the result. She sent violent thugs to tear my house apart and crush my brother’s face under a dirty boot. I had raised a monster. She didn’t even call me Uncle anymore. Just “Tom” and “Parasite.” The phone vibrated again. Brenda. My fingers were trembling as I hit accept. “I assume you heard what Lily just said,” Brenda purred, her voice dripping with triumphant satisfaction. “Be smart about this. Pack your bags and leave quietly. Save yourself the embarrassment of a public trial. Because if we go to court, I promise you, I will bleed you dry until you don’t even have the shirt on your back.” She didn’t even wait for a response. The call disconnected. The phone slipped from my sweaty palm and cracked against the hardwood floor. I slumped against the side of the sofa, sliding down until I was sitting in the dust. I had absolutely zero fight left in me. The house was gone. My career was gone. My reputation was completely destroyed. I was drowning in HOA debt, and my legal fund was basically empty. Was there really no way out? 5 I wandered around the empty, echoing house like a ghost for two days. The dirty, crumpled family photo sitting on the coffee table burned my eyes every time I walked past it. In the picture, Thomas had his arm wrapped tightly around Sarah. Lily had two little pigtails, grinning at the camera without a care in the world. Sarah passed away from a sudden illness when Lily was young. A few years later, Thomas’s grief caught up with him. His body just completely shut down. I remember Thomas lying in that sterile hospital bed. He was skeletal. He gripped my hand with a desperate, terrifying strength. “Tom… take care of Lily. The house… is big enough for both of you to live in. The money… make sure she has a good life.” I buried my face in my hands. A sharp, agonizing lump formed in my throat. Hot tears leaked through my fingers. No. I couldn’t just roll over and die. Thomas entrusted Lily to me. He told me to live in this house. He didn’t do it so I could be tortured and destroyed by Brenda’s toxic manipulation and a brainwashed kid. I dragged myself off the floor, wiped my face with my sleeve, grabbed a jacket, and ran out the door. The bank. I needed to go to the bank. That hundred thousand dollars was deposited under my name. The teller at the front desk frowned deeply when I asked for a decade of transaction history. “Sir, our local branch system only goes back five years for immediate printing. Anything older requires a formal request from the central archives. It usually takes three to five business days for approval.” “Request it. Right now. Expedite it if you have to,” I begged, pressing my hands against the bulletproof glass. I waited through two agonizing days of silence before the bank finally called me to pick up the files. My hands were shaking as I held the thick stack of printed statements. I flipped through the pages. Rapidly scanning the lines. Tuition. There it was. Every August, a massive sum was wired out. Payee: State University. The amounts matched perfectly. That was Lily’s college tuition. Five full years of out-of-state tuition. That single expense accounted for over fifty thousand dollars. My heart hammered against my ribs. This was a lead. But my relief lasted exactly two minutes. This was only her college years. What about high school? Middle school? What about groceries, medical bills, clothes, laptops, and emergency room visits? Out of the hundred thousand, college took half. The other fifty thousand was stretched over the first five years. That’s ten grand a year. Less than a thousand bucks a month for food, shelter, and clothing for a growing teenager. The paper trail was broken. A few college tuition receipts weren’t going to justify the entire amount in front of a judge. Refusing to give up, I drove to Lily’s old high school and middle school. The administrator at the high school adjusted his glasses and shook his head firmly. “Mr. Pendelton, you’re asking for financial records from seven years ago. Those are in the deep archives off-site. Without a formal subpoena or a court order, we absolutely cannot release a minor’s historical financial records to you. It’s a massive liability.” I hit a brick wall. The middle school was even worse. The old records clerk had retired, and the new staff didn’t even know what filing system was used back then. Every single thread led to a dead end. I walked back to my neighborhood, my head hanging low, utterly defeated. As I approached my street, I saw Brenda’s obnoxious bright red SUV parked by the curb. She was standing on the sidewalk, smiling warmly, brushing a stray lock of hair behind Lily’s ear. Lily actually looked happy. “Wow. You still haven’t packed?” Brenda caught sight of me, and her warm smile vanished instantly. She looked down her nose at me. “Absolutely shameless. You’re like a leech that refuses to let go.” She raised her voice, making sure anyone walking their dog could hear her. Lily’s smile disappeared. She shot me a look of pure, unadulterated disgust, grabbed Brenda’s arm, and climbed into the passenger seat without a word. The SUV sped off.

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The wedding prep was going perfectly. That was until my fiancée, Sarah, brought her childhood guy friend, Oliver, into our brand new home. What pushed me entirely over the edge was finding out Oliver spent the night in our custom ordered master bed. The next morning, Oliver posted a short video that instantly blew up online. The caption was completely sickening. In the video, he smirked at the camera. “Huge thanks to Sarah for setting this up. This hundred thousand dollar mattress is insane. Especially the vibration feature. George really has a killer eye for this stuff. smirk emoji” Sarah’s comment under his post was basically pouring gasoline on a fire. “If you like it so much, I will make him buy you one too.” Seeing that, I was shaking with pure rage. I called a junk removal company overnight and had that expensive mattress dragged straight to the city dump. When Sarah found out, she called me immediately. Zero apologies. Instead, she screamed at me. “Are you out of your mind? If you did not want the bed, you should have just given it to Oliver! Throwing it away is such a waste!” I did not say a single word. I just quietly deleted every single wedding post from my social media. If she could not even maintain the most basic boundaries, this wedding was off. But not long after, Sarah was on her knees in front of me, crying her eyes out and begging me to take her back. She swore she could not live without me. 1 “George, what the hell is your problem?! Why did you delete all the wedding announcements?” When Sarah finally tracked me down, I was busy directing a crew inside our newly renovated penthouse. She came in hot, opening her mouth just to scold me. “Do you have any idea how many people are messaging me right now? Are you intentionally trying to humiliate me?!” I refused to even look at her. I just motioned to the movers handling the bed frame. “Guys, pick up the pace. Do not worry about scratching the walls. Just get it all out of here.” The movers gave a quick nod and kept working. Sarah glanced at the busy clean up crew. The realization finally hit her. Every single piece of furniture they were hauling out was something I had spent months tracking down, specifically catered to her tastes. A flicker of genuine panic crossed her face, but she quickly forced it down. “George, why are you having them move all this stuff?” I finally turned around, locking eyes with her. My voice was dead. “I am canceling the wedding. Is that not obvious enough for you?” Her eyes widened. She finally realized I was completely serious. When she spoke again, her tone was significantly softer. “I know you are mad. But I can explain this. Absolutely nothing happened between Oliver and me! He was literally just testing the mattress for us!” Thinking about that disgusting video still trending online, I let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “Yeah, people who know the truth think he was just sleeping on the bed. Everyone else on the internet thinks he was sleeping with you!” “The entire comment section is mocking me for being so generous. They are saying if I let another guy test out my wedding bed, I probably let him test out the bride too!” Sarah stayed silent for a long moment. When she finally answered, it was just a lazy excuse. “Oliver did not do it on purpose. Stop caring so much about what random people online think. The internet will forget about it by tomorrow. If it really bothers you that much, I will just tell him to delete the video. Okay?” Watching her act like she was making some massive sacrifice, I scoffed out loud. “You think deleting a video fixes this? Sarah, listen to me. This is not over.” Her temper flared right back up. “George, are you ever going to drop this? Nothing I do is good enough for you! We are supposed to get married in a few weeks. Can you stop throwing a tantrum over nothing?” I twitched a tight smile, pointing at my own chest. “I am throwing a tantrum?” She crossed her arms. “Obviously! How many times do I have to say it? Oliver and I are completely platonic! If I was actually into him, do you honestly think I would be marrying you?” A sharp pain twisted in my chest. My eyes burned. “Is that right? So according to your logic, I should be thanking him?!” “Do you think I am an idiot? If you two really did nothing wrong, then why was the entire set of bedsheets completely replaced this morning?!” Suddenly, the electronic lock on the front door beeped. Oliver rushed into the living room and immediately dropped to his knees on the hardwood floor. “George! I am so sorry! This was all my fault! Please do not be mad at Sarah!” Before I could say a word, he raised his hand and started violently slapping his own face. Sarah looked completely heartbroken. “George, that is enough! Oliver grew up incredibly poor. He got overly excited experiencing a luxury bed for the first time and made a stupid video. You cannot blame him just because it went viral!” “We are getting married soon. Can you just be the bigger person? It is just a dumb internet trend. Why are you being so petty?” 2 It was always like this. No matter how inappropriate or shameless Oliver acted, in her eyes, it was never a big deal. She unconditionally took his side, completely blind to the pain she was causing me. If that was how she felt, why did she even agree to be my girlfriend? Why did she agree to marry me? My chest felt completely hollow. “Sarah, what the hell am I to you? You even gave Oliver the passcode to our private home. Are you seriously trying to follow the internet comments and make me give up my spot for him?” She rolled her eyes, looking totally annoyed. “If you were not the heir to the Kensington empire, no one would even care about our wedding. This whole thing only went viral because of your status! You brought this on yourself!” “So what you are saying is, because my family has money, I deserve to be publicly humiliated? Sarah, when did you turn into this person?” Looking at the woman standing in front of me, she felt like a total stranger. I closed my eyes, fighting back the dampness gathering in my lashes. Noticing the shift in my mood, Sarah bit her lip and reached out to grab my sleeve. “George, I came here to explain things and figure this out. I do not want to fight with you. Let us just calm down.” I coldly yanked my arm away. Tears instantly welled up in her eyes. “You always do this! You get mad and refuse to listen to a single word I say! I came here to fix the internet drama, and you just yell at me and threaten to break up! How am I supposed to not get defensive?” “What exactly do you want me to do to make this go away? Just give me a straight answer!” I knew at least half her tears were completely fake. But after three years together, seeing her cry was still my ultimate weakness. The veins in my forehead throbbed. Finally, I let out a heavy sigh, giving in one last time. “Fine. Tell Oliver to delete the video and post a public apology. Then we drop it.” I locked my eyes entirely onto hers. “I am willing to let this slide because of everything we have been through. But Oliver has to leave New York. I will personally find him a job in another state, but you two are cutting all contact.” Sarah was nodding along at first, but the second half of my demand made her freeze. “He just moved to the city. If you force him to leave, what if something bad happens to him out there?” I let out a cold scoff and turned toward the door. “Then we have nothing left to talk about. If you cannot do it, we are done.” Sarah panicked and rushed to block my path. She struggled internally for a few seconds before biting her lip and lowering her head. “Okay! We will do it your way. I will keep my distance from him. We can move forward with the wedding.” After that, she dragged a very pathetic looking Oliver out of the apartment, claiming she needed to find him a cheap hotel before having him post the apology. I let them go. Thinking the nightmare was finally over, I pulled out my phone, ready to draft a new wedding announcement to do some damage control. I was halfway through typing when a text popped up from one of my buddies. “Bro, your girl and her friend got entirely wasted at my club. They are practically glued together on the couch. You better come pick her up before this gets worse.” “…Alright, I am on my way.” I forced the words through gritted teeth, swallowing down a tidal wave of fury as I hung up the phone. I drove like an absolute maniac. By the time I kicked open the doors to the VIP lounge, Oliver and Sarah had basically stripped off half their clothes and were aggressively making out on the leather sofa. My vision went completely red. I grabbed an ice bucket from the bar, marched over, and violently hurled the freezing water and cubes directly onto them. “You shameless animals! Keep kissing, I dare you!” 3 The freezing water jolted them completely awake. They shrieked, scrambling up in a panic. “Who the hell do you think you are?! What are you doing to my friends?!” A drunk guy sitting at their table started shouting, heavily swaying as he grabbed an empty beer bottle to swing at me. Before he could even raise his arm, my bodyguard stepped in, grabbing the guy by the back of his neck and slamming his face directly into a massive fruit platter on the table. Sarah was shivering violently from the ice. She wiped her eyes, saw it was me, and immediately exploded in anger. “George, are you psychotic?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Oliver cowered, hiding completely behind Sarah’s back like a terrified child. “L-George. Do not misunderstand. Sarah and I just get a little physical when we drink. It is a habit, we are used to it…” I let out a dark, furious laugh. “Sarah, what exactly did you promise me this afternoon? You said you would keep your distance. Is this your version of keeping your distance?!” Pure rage boiled over. I kicked the heavy glass table, sending it crashing sideways. “You are practically having sex in the middle of my friend’s club! Should I have arrived a little later? Do you guys need me to book you a hotel room?!” Sarah looked guilty for exactly three seconds before her defense mechanisms kicked in. She lifted her chin, completely unapologetic. “Oliver is leaving the city tomorrow! It is totally normal for us to grab a few drinks to say goodbye! You go out drinking with your friends all the time. Why is it a crime when I do it?!” I roared at the top of my lungs. “I drink with my friends?! Do I make out with my friends?! Do I take my clothes off and roll around on a couch with them?!” “Do not forget who you are! If my buddy had not ordered his staff to delete the security footage, you and Oliver would be trending on Twitter again by tomorrow morning!” Sarah glared at me with freezing resentment. “Who I am? What does that even mean? Does being your fiancée mean I lose the basic human right to have a drink with my best friend?!” “Friend? This is what you call a friend?” I reached out, grabbed a half naked Oliver by the collar, and violently yanked him out from behind her. My hands were literally shaking with anger. Oliver immediately dropped to his knees again. “I am sorry George! I am so sorry! This was all my fault! I pressured Sarah into drinking! Punish me, but please do not be mad at her!” Before I could blink, he grabbed a heavy glass liquor bottle from the floor and violently smashed it against his own forehead. Blood instantly poured down his face. “I know I messed up! I am paying for it right now!” Sarah looked completely horrified. She dropped down, sobbing hysterically. “Oliver! Stop hurting yourself! This is not your fault!” Looking at the two of them crying together on the floor, anyone walking in would think I was the evil villain tearing apart two star crossed lovers. “Are you done putting on a show?” I kicked Oliver straight in the chest, sending him sprawling backwards, and ordered my bodyguard to pin him down. Then I grabbed a heavily swaying Sarah by the wrist and dragged her out to the car. “This is the absolute last chance you get. When you sober up tomorrow, we are going to have a very serious conversation about whether this wedding is actually happening.” Sarah fought me the entire way, screaming curses and calling me a monster, until the alcohol finally took over and she passed out in the passenger seat. The very next morning, the absolute first thing she did when she opened her eyes was ask for Oliver. “George, you bastard! You just left him bleeding in that club?! I have to go find him!” She grabbed her purse and rushed to the front door. But the second she pulled it open, she let out a bloodcurdling scream. 4 I stood up and walked over. Oliver was kneeling directly outside my front door. His hair was matted with dried, dark blood. He looked like a literal ghost out of a horror movie. I closed my eyes. A massive wave of pure, unfiltered exhaustion washed over me. Oliver’s face was completely pale. He forced a weak, tragic smile at Sarah. “Sarah, I just came to say goodbye. Thank you for taking care of me all these years.” He slowly turned his head to look at me, his voice trembling with fake desperation. “George, I really know I messed up. I knelt out here all night to reflect on my actions. Please, just forgive her.” Sarah lunged forward, desperately trying to pull him up from the floor. Oliver gripped her arms, shaking his head. “Sarah, just listen to me. Please treat George well. You guys are getting married. Do not let me ruin things between you.” What an incredibly generous speech. If a stranger heard this, they would assume he was her loyal boyfriend and I was the abusive millionaire stealing his girl. He was acting pathetic, but every single word out of his mouth was a calculated flex. He was rubbing it in my face that he was the only man Sarah truly cared about. And Sarah completely fell for it. She grabbed his arm, trying to drag him toward the elevator. “Stop talking! I am taking you to the hospital right now!” Oliver struggled against her grip. “No, Sarah! Do not treat me this well. I do not want George to misunderstand us again!” My eyes were dead cold. Before I could even open my mouth, Sarah spun around and delivered a stinging slap directly across my face. “George! Do I need your permission to take my bleeding friend to the ER now?! He is in this condition because of you! You have the nerve to be jealous?!” The slap was incredibly heavy. My head actually snapped to the side. I pressed my tongue against the inside of my aching cheek. A dark, hollow laugh escaped my throat. “You actually hit me?” Sarah spat a curse, grabbing her car keys from the console. “Yeah, I hit you! You think having a little money makes you a god?! Without the Kensington fortune, you are absolutely nothing! Nobody wants to deal with your entitled rich boy temper!” A flash of smug triumph crossed Oliver’s eyes before he went right back to begging. “George, I promise! As soon as I get checked out, I am leaving the city! You will never have to look at me again!” “He has no right to kick you out of this city! Do not be scared. I will make sure you stay right by my side!” Sarah pulled him toward the elevator without giving me a single backward glance. I stood in the doorway, watching their silhouettes disappear. My heart felt like it was encased in solid ice. Whatever deep, unforgettable love I used to have for this woman completely died in that exact moment. I closed my eyes, pulled out my phone, and dialed a number. If Sarah wanted to choose Oliver over me, then I was done showing mercy.

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It was almost eleven at night by the time Noah finally walked through the front door. He kicked off his shoes, spotted me sitting quietly at the dining table, and walked over to casually brush a stray lock of hair from my forehead. “Why are you sitting in the dark?” he asked. “Saving electricity,” I replied. He let out a soft chuckle and headed into the narrow kitchen, returning a moment later with a steaming bowl of plain oatmeal. “Eat up. You haven’t been taking care of yourself again.” I stared at the bowl. The steam curled into the cold air. “Noah,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “What is that custom jewelry receipt all about?” His hand froze in mid-air. It was only for a fraction of a second. Then, his easy smile returned. “I ordered it for a guy at the office. You went through my pockets?” “It fell out while I was doing your laundry,” I said. “Twenty-five thousand dollars. Your coworker must be incredibly generous.” He looked down, smiling as he nudged the bowl closer to me. “Well, the guys in corporate make the big bucks. Now eat.” He sounded so relaxed. So casual. He sounded so convincing I almost believed him. But the twenty-thousand-dollar monthly deposits burned in my mind, searing hot and painful. He picked up his phone to reply to a text. The screen lit up in the dark room. The contact name was a single red heart emoji. Followed by one word. Wife. 1 I lowered my eyes and slowly forced down the bowl of bland oatmeal. I didn’t say another word. The next morning was Saturday. Noah left the apartment bright and early, claiming his department had an emergency data audit. I sat on the edge of the mattress for a long time. Finally, I picked up my phone and typed the address from the jewelry receipt into the GPS. The Azure. It was the most exclusive luxury high-rise in the downtown district. Condos there went for two thousand dollars a square foot. I had never even allowed myself to buy a cup of coffee in that neighborhood. Then, I searched for the name printed on the invoice. Stella. A perfectly curated social media profile popped up instantly. Her feed was a flawless grid of luxury living. Pilates studios, first-class boarding passes, exclusive tasting menus, and designer hauls. Every single photo radiated the effortless glow of a woman who was fiercely, deeply taken care of. Her latest post was from yesterday. The caption read, Hubby worked late but still managed to snag a reservation at my favorite Michelin Omakase. Waited two months for this table. Totally worth it! At the edge of the frame, a man’s side profile was barely visible. Noah. He was holding up a piece of fatty tuna with his chopsticks, offering it to the camera with the softest, most adoring smile. Just last week, I had asked him if we could save up to try a nice sushi place for our anniversary. He told me it was a waste of money and that we could make rice bowls at home for a fraction of the cost. I kept scrolling. A month ago, she posted another update. Woke up to a new car! Hubby was worried about me taking Ubers late at night, so he paid cash for this gorgeous baby. How did I get so lucky? A pristine white Mercedes convertible sat in a brightly lit underground garage. A massive bouquet of red roses rested on the passenger seat. I drove a rusted ten-year-old Honda Civic. The transmission had slipped twice last winter, and he told me to just take the bus because repairs were too expensive. I scrolled further down. Three months ago. Happy three-year anniversary! Woke up to a total smart-home appliance upgrade. Hubby says our sanctuary deserves only the best. Three-year anniversary. Noah and I had been together for eight years. We had lived together for five. That meant right around the time we signed our first lease together, he had started an entirely different life with her. For three whole years. He would lie in bed next to me in our cramped apartment, whispering, “Just hold on a little longer, Anna.” And all the while, he was living the exact life he promised me with someone else. I locked my phone, leaned back against the cheap headboard, and stared at the peeling paint on the ceiling. The roof had leaked last summer. Noah said hiring a contractor was a waste of money, promising he would patch it himself over the weekend. A whole year had passed. The water stain was still there. By four in the afternoon, I drove my beat-up Civic down to The Azure. I parked across the street, watching the massive glass building through my scratched windshield. Warm ambient lighting bathed the luxurious lobby. Security guards in tailored suits stood at attention by the revolving doors. I looked down at my pilled sweater and faded jeans. I couldn’t even muster the courage to walk into the lobby. I sat there all afternoon. Just as the sun began to set, Noah’s car pulled out of the underground garage. A young, beautiful woman was in the passenger seat. She rested her head affectionately on his shoulder. Noah steered with one hand, his other hand gently holding her fingers. He was wearing a smile I hadn’t seen in years. It was a relaxed, genuinely happy smile. The smile of a man without a single care in the world. Whenever he was with me, his brow was always furrowed. He was always exhausted, always annoyed, always stressed about our budget. Their car turned the corner and merged into the city traffic, vanishing from sight. I turned the key in the ignition and slowly drove away. At nine o’clock that night, my phone buzzed. It was an unknown number. Hey. You sat outside The Azure for three hours this afternoon. The concierge showed me the security footage. You’re Anna, right? The one Noah told me about. My fingertips turned ice cold. A second message followed immediately. Don’t panic, I’m not looking for a fight. But I think it’s time we had a real conversation. I typed back, I’m not his ex. I’m his girlfriend. We never broke up. The typing bubble on her end paused for a long time. Anna, you really don’t get it, do you? In Noah’s mind, you two have been over for years. 2 The text messages kept flooding in, lighting up my screen in the dark apartment. Noah told me everything about your severe depression. He said you’re mentally unstable, and he’s terrified to actually pull the plug. He’s scared you’ll do something crazy if he leaves. That’s why he’s been stringing you along, throwing you a few hundred bucks a month to keep you quiet and pacified. I stared at the word pacified. A bitter, acidic knot twisted in my stomach. I typed out a single line. How much did he tell you about me? Stella replied instantly. I know all of it. I know your mom lost her mind and jumped off a balcony. I know you were bullied growing up, and I know about the scars on your wrists from high school. Noah said he’s been taking care of you for years, but he is completely drained. He said you’re like a black hole. No matter how much love he pours into you, it’s never enough. My hand hovered over the keyboard. I couldn’t form a single word. Those memories were a dark abyss. It took me over a decade to crawl my way out of that hell. It took me years of therapy to finally stop waking up screaming in the middle of the night, to walk down a dark street without trembling, to finally look in the mirror and smile. Noah had always told me my scars weren’t a burden to him. He promised me, looking dead into my eyes, that he would take those secrets to his grave. And now, a woman he had known for less than three years knew exactly where all my deepest, most agonizing wounds were hidden. Stella’s messages kept coming. Look, I’m not trying to hurt you. When we first met, he didn’t mention he had a girlfriend. When he finally confessed, I told him I’d wait for him to handle it. But we truly love each other. Look at what he got me for my birthday last month. A photo popped up. A diamond Tiffany pendant resting on a massive bouquet of crimson roses. The attached card read, Happy Birthday, Stella. You are my forever. My birthday was last month too. Noah had sent me a text. Happy birthday. I’ll make you noodles when I get home. He didn’t even buy me a single flower. He boiled some instant noodles, said he was exhausted from work, and went straight to bed. I sat alone at the small kitchen table, eating the noodles, genuinely believing I was lucky to have a man who worked so hard for our future. Stella sent a voice memo. I tapped play. A sweet, deliberately delicate voice filled the quiet room. “Anna, Noah only loves me. He says you’re suffocating him. Do both of yourselves a favor and just let him go, okay?” I locked my phone and walked out onto the tiny balcony. The night wind bit at my face. Down on the street, the yellow glow of the streetlights washed over the pedestrians. Everyone was moving so fast. Nobody stopped. I stood there for a very long time, staring out at the city until my shoulders went numb from the cold. When I finally stepped back inside, I picked up my phone and sent one last reply. Thank you for telling me. She replied instantly. So you’re finally going to back off? I didn’t answer. Two days later, Noah quietly unlocked the front door. His luggage still had the airport tags on it, and he had changed into a fresh button-down shirt. When he saw me sitting on the worn-out sofa, he offered a tired smile and handed me a small plastic shopping bag. “Hey, Aud. The business trip was insane, but I managed to grab you some of that fudge you like.” I took the bag. It was a five-dollar box of stale fudge you could find at any gas station. He went on a “business trip” and brought me back five-dollar candy. He bought the other woman a twenty-five-thousand-dollar diamond ring. I looked up at his face. I spoke slowly, enunciating every single syllable. “Noah, where exactly did you go for this business trip?” “Seattle,” he lied effortlessly. “Then why did Stella post a photo of you two on a beach in Cabo two days ago?” The living room fell dead silent. The tired smile completely froze on Noah’s face. He slowly walked over and sat on the far end of the sofa, interlacing his fingers, staring down at the scuffed floorboards. A long time passed before he finally spoke. “You know everything.” It wasn’t a question. It was a hollow, emotionless sigh. 3 “Yeah,” I said evenly. “I know everything.” Noah rubbed the bridge of his nose and finally looked at me. There was no panic in his eyes. There was no guilt, either. There was only a chilling, settled calmness. “Anna, I’m done lying to you.” “Stella and I have been together for almost three years.” “She’s the woman I am going to marry.” The words hit my chest like a crowbar. “And what about me?” I asked. Noah’s gaze flickered. “You?” He let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Anna, it’s not that I don’t care about you. But you are just too heavy.” “Every single day we’ve been together, I’ve had to manage your emotions, your depression, your paralyzing fears.” “Do you have any idea how exhausting that is?” “I never asked you to carry me,” I said, my voice steady but tight. “I’ve been going to therapy. I’ve been taking my medication. I’ve been getting better.” Noah shook his head slowly. “You think you’re getting better. But I’m not.” “Every day, I come back to this miserable four-hundred-square-foot box. I have to look at your nervous, walking-on-eggshells face. I have to look at the cheap curtains and the water stains on the ceiling.” “I feel like I’m suffocating.” His phone buzzed on the coffee table. He glanced at it. He didn’t pick it up, but the corners of his mouth twitched into a faint, involuntary smile. “Then why didn’t you just break up with me?” I asked. “Why sneak around for three years? You could have just ended it.” Noah took a deep breath, finally saying the quiet part out loud. “Because I was terrified you’d kill yourself.” He stared at me, his eyes dead and cold. “Your mother felt like she couldn’t handle life anymore, so she threw herself off a balcony.” “You are exactly like her. The second things get tough, your mind goes straight to the edge.” “That night in high school, when you called me bleeding… my hands shook for hours.” “I am not going through that again.” “So I stayed. I kept you company. I coddled you. I gave you a few hundred bucks a month to make sure you could survive.” “But Anna, that wasn’t love.” “That was…” He paused, searching for the word. “Pity.” I sat perfectly still. It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. I was fourteen the day my mother jumped. A crowd had gathered around the concrete courtyard. I ran down the stairs so fast I lost one of my shoes. She was lying on the pavement. Blood was pooling out from her dark hair. Her eyes were half-open, staring at nothing. I had to change schools three times after that. In every hallway, the whispers followed me. Her mom’s a psycho. Her mom took the quick way down. She’s going to end up just like her. Noah was the only one who stood between me and the bullies. He had gripped my hand tightly and promised, “Anna, you are not your mother. You are going to be okay.” He was the one who dragged me out of the absolute dark. And now, he was sitting on my cheap sofa, ripping open my deepest, most agonizing scars, using them as justification for his betrayal. My throat constricted. My voice shook violently. “Noah… you swore to me. You promised you would never use my mother against me.” He shrugged casually. “I’m not using it against you. I’m just stating facts.” “It’s different with Stella. When I’m with her, life is easy. It’s fun. I don’t have to watch her every second to make sure she doesn’t mentally shatter into a million pieces.” “Your anxiety, your trauma, your constant fear… it’s just too much weight.” “I can’t carry it anymore.” The doorbell rang. Noah stood up and walked to the door. Stella was standing in the hallway, wearing a bright yellow designer sundress. She immediately looped her arm through his. She shot me a look, her voice dripping with condescending concern. “Noah, are you okay? I was worried you wouldn’t be able to handle her alone.” I stood up and locked eyes with her. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to touch either of you.” Noah squeezed Stella’s hand and looked back at me. “Anna, I never wanted to hurt you. Let’s just end this peacefully, okay?” I gripped the edge of the dining table to keep myself standing. My legs felt like water. “Okay.” They walked out together. The moment the door clicked shut, my legs gave out. I collapsed onto the floor. My entire body shook uncontrollably. But I didn’t cry. I couldn’t force out a single tear. 4 I didn’t step outside the apartment for four days. I drew the blackout curtains tight. I tossed my phone onto the far end of the sofa, flinching every time the screen lit up. Stella’s messages were relentless. I knew it was her because the phone buzzed in rapid succession every few minutes. On the fifth day, I finally picked it up. Thirty-two unread messages. She had sent me screenshots of her private chats with Noah. Babe, I booked the bridal boutique. We’re going in for fittings next month. Did you pack your bags? Our flight is early tomorrow. I’ll pick you up. Miss you. FaceTime me tonight. Every single message was like a red-hot iron rod, driven deep into flesh that had already gone numb. She sent one final paragraph. Anna, Noah noticed your phone was off. He said he was incredibly relieved. He hated it when you threw your little episodes. He said when your brain misfires, no one can stop you. He said you’re exactly like your crazy mother. Exactly like your crazy mother. Those words looped in my head like a broken record. I threw the phone as hard as I could at the floor. Then, I slowly bent down and picked it up. The screen was splintered, but it still worked. I slumped against the kitchen counter, staring at the cheap aluminum pot on the stove. The pot Noah used to boil my oatmeal every morning. A faded sticky note was still clinging to the fridge. His handwriting. Don’t forget to eat breakfast. Eight years. He used to sit in the back row of our high school homeroom, sneaking the best parts of his lunch onto my desk. I would tell him I wasn’t hungry. He would say, If you don’t eat, I don’t eat. He was the one who called the police on my stepdad. The day the cops finally dragged that monster out of our house, Noah had pulled me into his chest, holding me so tight I could barely breathe. He had whispered, Anna, no one is ever going to put a hand on you again. I will protect you. His eyes were red, his chin resting softly on top of my head, his chest radiating heat. That was the first time in my entire life I felt like surviving wasn’t an impossible task. But look at him now. He took all of my most precious, vulnerable memories and weaponized them to justify throwing me away. I had no idea when the shift happened. When he started playing the dutiful martyr to my face, while calling me a psycho behind my back. On the evening of the sixth day, I took a long, burning hot shower and put on clean clothes. I turned on every light in the apartment and scrubbed the place top to bottom. Then, I started packing. I only packed the things that strictly belonged to me. My toothbrush. My towels. The dark red cardigan my grandmother knitted for me right before she passed away. I left the reading lamp he bought me. I left the shoebox full of love letters. I picked up the framed photograph of us by the TV and placed it face down on the wood. I zipped up my suitcase and dragged it to the front door. I took a sticky note and a pen from the counter and wrote exactly four words. Eight years. Paid in full. I slapped the note on the shoe rack and dropped my keys right next to it. When I stepped out, the hallway was perfectly quiet. The elevator dinged. I pulled my suitcase inside and hit the button for the lobby. Right before the metal doors slid shut, I took one last look at the place I used to call home. And then, I never looked back.

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There’s a guy on my Snapchat who loves showing off his body. He frequently posts mirror selfies flexing his muscles. I used to wonder which player was casting such a wide net. Later, I found out—his stories are only visible to me. 01 I swiped onto another post from our resident thirst-trapper. As usual, it was a photo. But this time, the style had changed, giving off a vibe of coy restraint. His hand lifted the hem of his t-shirt, revealing deeply defined abs. He was wearing loose gray sweatpants, the drawstrings hanging naturally—one long, one short—stealing all my attention in their extreme asymmetry. I stared at it for a moment, and my face silently flushed red. I forget when I added him, but as far back as I can remember, his stories have been exclusively these kinds of photos. Abs, biceps, back muscles… He posted one every few days, persistently tugging at people’s heartstrings. I assumed he was a total player, for three reasons: First, he never showed his face. Second, he was incredibly good at teasing. Third, he lacked any sort of modesty. —What kind of decent, upstanding man posts stories like this! I originally just watched with a “might as well look if it’s there” mentality, but today, it kind of went to my head. Those gray sweatpants really did something to me. My sleepiness vanished completely. I forwarded the photo to him and started a chat: “Is it cold in your house? Why are you wearing so much today?” I sent the message, but he didn’t reply. I didn’t know if he was busy or just ignoring me. I didn’t dwell on it. Seeing that my lunch break was almost over, I hurried to catch some sleep. When I woke up, it was to the loud chatter in the office. My female colleagues were gathered in small groups, clutching their phones and wailing, “I’m heartbroken, I’m heartbroken.” In my groggy state, I caught fragments of the conversation. It seemed some celebrity had just gone public with a relationship. I reached for my phone, clicked on the Twitter trending topics, and froze when I saw the name at the top. #ChloeMillerLiamHayes# The person who went public was my best friend! Fueled by the indignation of “how dare she not tell me she’s dating,” I clicked on the hashtag. The video content left me even more dumbfounded. It was from the recording of a late-night talk show. The cameras zoomed in on each guest’s phone. The game segment required each guest to post a story claiming they were unhappy and see who received comfort first. Among the phones placed on the table, the one on the far left was the first to get a notification. It was Liam Hayes’s. The host eagerly opened it, still making conversation: “Let’s see who it is—” His voice abruptly cut off, and he stood frozen. Because in the chat window, there was no comfort. None at all. Instead, there was a borderline-inappropriate photo of a man, accompanied by a line of text: “Is it cold in your house? Why are you wearing so much today?” The video ended there. The quality wasn’t great—it was probably filmed by an audience member—but even with poor quality, it was clear enough to see the details in the chat window. The sender’s profile picture was of the actress Chloe Miller, saved under the contact name “Momo.” She had sent the award-winning actor, Liam Hayes, a highly private photo he had never released to the public, accompanied by intimate—even borderline harassing—words! Since Chloe had previously stated in interviews that her childhood nickname was “Momo,” netizens universally concluded this was her. Thus, the relationship between Chloe Miller and Liam Hayes rocketed to the top of the trending list. I rubbed my cheeks, the shock so immense I wondered if I was still dreaming. The conversation with the thirst-trapper was still sitting right there on my screen. With trembling hands, I tapped it open. The exact same content blasted my retinas once again. I had a stark realization—the guy who posted thirst traps on Snapchat every few days was the Hollywood A-lister, Liam Hayes. 02 The trending topic was still blowing up. The most triggered ones were the fans: “Usually you don’t even show an ankle, and you button your shirts all the way to the top. I thought you were the most modest guy out there, but…” “What is this? Liam Hayes’s abs, let me touch! What is this? Liam Hayes’s abs, let me touch!” “Has anyone managed to get a high-res version of this? I need it for my lock screen.” “Just a casual observer here, but is this Liam Hayes’s usual vibe? This is hot.” That last comment had the most replies. I clicked into the thread and was nearly blinded by a screen full of “HE IS NOT!” Undoubtedly, the fans were shocked. But I was equally shocked! I scrolled through the comments, trying to use the fans’ shock to offset my own. Before I could fully process it, a new notification popped up at the top of my phone. It was from my best friend, Chloe, and she sent a screenshot. Chloe: “Audrey, please tell me this isn’t you.” The screenshot was of that exact conversation. Indisputable. I hung my head and admitted: “It’s me.” She sent a string of ellipses and asked genuinely: “How did you manage to strut your stuff right in front of Liam Hayes?” Honestly, I wanted to know too. I was just engaging in some ordinary ogling, how did I end up experiencing social death in front of the entire nation? Although, currently, the one experiencing social death was my best friend… Afraid of causing her trouble, I couldn’t help but ask: “Is this going to be a huge mess?” She replied: “It’s fine on my end. It wasn’t me anyway, I’ll just clarify it. Liam Hayes’s side is the tricky one.” I pursed my lips, still digesting the fact that “the thirst-trapper is Liam Hayes.” My best friend started probing: “What exactly is going on between you and Liam Hayes?” I didn’t know how to answer, so I just said: “He’s the player I told you about before.” My best friend slapped her desk in shock: “So you were the one he was trying to hook all along!” “…” I felt this was basically equivalent to a fairy tale. Liam Hayes and I were complete strangers. He didn’t know me, and I didn’t know him. Or rather, I knew of him; I knew he was a massive star. Aside from that, we had zero connection. How could he possibly be trying to hook me? Just as I denied it, another new message popped up at the top of my phone. It was the other party involved in the scandal. He replied to me. Liam Hayes: “I’ll try to wear less next time then.” “…” Dude, are you sure you didn’t hook the wrong person? 03 If he were just a regular guy on Snapchat, I might have bantered back. But he wasn’t. He was the acclaimed actor, Liam Hayes. I couldn’t fathom how he had the leisure to flirt with me, a stranger on the internet? After the incident, my best friend immediately issued a clarification, stating she was not the person sending the messages. Her friends in the industry also vouched for her, proving that her personal Snapchat was not that account. As for me, I quickly changed my profile picture and display name, terrified that people around me might figure something out. Only Liam Hayes, at the center of the storm, remained completely silent. No PR statement, no clarification. It was as if he had no idea the internet was tearing itself apart over him. The biggest target of criticism was the collapse of his public persona. After all, Liam Hayes had previously been known as Hollywood’s paragon of modesty. He kept his nose clean, had zero scandals, and his life consisted only of acting and hitting the gym. He had almost no other hobbies, and didn’t even touch alcohol or cigarettes, which are ubiquitous in the industry. He was a gentleman, polite, and always covered up. The media had even interviewed him about his habit of “not showing a single inch of skin.” At the time, Liam stated: “Only my wife gets to see my body.” When that interview clip dropped, it was instantly shared and praised by countless netizens, cementing his status as the “modesty paragon.” Let’s just say, the harder they praised him then, the harsher they mocked him now. Because the guy who claimed “only my wife gets to see my body” was secretly blasting thirst traps everywhere. I also felt his public persona was a bit fake. If only his wife could see it, what was he doing posting on Snapchat all day? Photo after photo, I had practically seen his entire body. Was I his wife? As it turned out, I underestimated Liam Hayes’s resilience. The very moment his Snapchat account was exposed, not only did he not lay low, but he actually posted another story that night. Still a photo. But the style was much more explicit than before, and true to his word, he was wearing a little less. I honestly didn’t know what to say anymore. I could only sigh at how incredibly fake Hollywood personas were! Liam Hayes was practically a master-level player, casting a wide net, yet he managed to be called the “modesty paragon” of Hollywood… It was the joke of the century! I decisively chose to block his stories. Unexpectedly, moments later, Liam Hayes actually reached out to me with that same photo. He asked: “Is this okay?” I had no desire to play games with him and asked bluntly: “What exactly do you want?” He was even more blunt: “I want to date you.” I was so freaked out I deleted him right then and there! Even after deleting him, my heart was still pounding. Thank goodness my best friend warned me. Turns out I really was just one of the fish in his pond! 04 I had just escaped the pond, but my best friend was caught in his clutches. It turned out she and Liam Hayes already had a professional connection; they were set to co-star in a commercial for a luxury bottled water brand. The contracts had been finalized ages ago, but the official announcement had been delayed. Now that the collaborating brand saw dating rumors swirling around their two spokesmodels, they decided to capitalize on it. The commercial shoot was urgently moved up on the schedule. Afraid my best friend would be taken advantage of, I warned her repeatedly: “You must be careful around Liam Hayes!” She nodded in agreement. Who knew that on the very first day of shooting, she’d drop a massive bombshell on me. Chloe: “Turns out Liam was the one who recommended me to the brand for this commercial!” My head instantly filled with question marks. While confused, I was also amazed. This guy Liam is casting a seriously wide net! I asked urgently: “How is it? Has he harassed you?” My best friend’s reply surprised me: “No, he’s totally normal. If you hadn’t told me, I would never have imagined he’s that kind of person in private.” I typed back, distressed: “It’s all a persona!” Afraid she’d let her guard down, I called her directly and told her about Liam saying he wanted to date me, emphasizing heavily: “He’s literally just trying to hook whoever he can!” To my surprise, my best friend missed the point entirely: “So he really does want to date you!” Me: “?” She went further off track: “Do you think Liam gave me this commercial gig because of you?” I couldn’t take it anymore, feeling a surge of frustration: “Why are you giving a player such a romantic backstory!” My best friend suddenly laughed: “What if he isn’t a player?” “Of course he is,” I argued. “What normal person posts stories like that? At first, I thought he was looking for a sugar mama.” My best friend laughed harder: “I think the only person he wants to hook is you.” I was speechless: “We don’t even know each other.” “Maybe you two—” Her voice cut off abruptly. Immediately after, a clear male voice came through the phone: “Can I sit here?” Thanks to the internet drama these past few days, I could instantly recognize that this voice belonged to Liam Hayes. Clear, clean, and highly distinctive. “Go ahead,” came my best friend’s voice. After some rustling sounds, Liam asked: “Are you close with Audrey?” “…Yes,” my best friend sounded like she was holding back laughter. “Then do you know why she deleted me?” Liam’s tone was so puzzled. “If she wasn’t satisfied with the photos, I can push the boundaries a bit more.” “Pfft,” my best friend finally laughed out loud. After a long pause, her rather eager voice sounded: “Should I ask her for you?” “Please,” Liam said politely. As soon as he left, my best friend couldn’t hold back her laughter anymore, laughing continuously, making me incredibly annoyed. I snapped: “Stop laughing!” She finally gave a couple of ‘hahas’ and said teasingly: “He seems to know you.” Me: “…” 05 Eggged on by my best friend, I visited the commercial set. The area had been cleared, but a large crowd had still gathered, forming three dense rings of people. Through the crowd, I spotted Liam Hayes right away. This is probably that legendary star quality; he stood there, and my eyes couldn’t see anyone else. He was wearing a solid black tracksuit, looking elegant and tall. Currently, he was bending slightly while his assistant sprayed water on the loose hair at his forehead and temples. It seemed the assistant’s hand slipped, and a mist of water rushed into his eyes. The air froze for a few seconds. I saw him blink his eyelashes lightly, the water droplets sliding down. He opened his sparkling eyes and comforted the assistant: “It’s fine, keep going.” I thought silently, He has a pretty good temper. As if sensing something, Liam looked with pinpoint accuracy in my direction. He looked surprised at first, then panicked, and a few seconds later, quietly averted his gaze. But his pale, jade-like profile slowly turned red, visible even to the naked eye. When I got closer, I even heard the stylist exclaim, “Did you already apply blush?” My best friend was snickering next to me. She whispered teasingly: “You really don’t know him? But he blushed the second he looked at you.” To be honest, I was also quite baffled. Is Liam Hayes really this innocent? But would an innocent person post stories like that? The next second, my best friend cleared up my confusion. Just as the commercial was about to start shooting, she tossed her phone to me, saying simply: “Just added Liam on Snapchat, go look at his stories.” While muttering “What’s there to see,” I obediently tapped it open. The result surprised me. His stories page was completely clean, empty. There was no “Friend only allows viewing of the last 3 days” message, it was just literally empty. But I clearly remembered that when I looked a few days ago, it was full of thirst traps. Did he delete them, or put me on a custom list? Looking at Liam not far away, I found him harder and harder to figure out. The commercial shoot wrapped up quickly, and the crew discussed where to go for dinner. I waited beside my best friend, feeling a gaze seemingly fixed on me. I followed the feeling. No matter from which angle I looked, at the end of that gaze was Liam Hayes. My best friend watched like she was enjoying a show: “If you have something to say, say it. If you have questions, ask. Staring won’t get you any answers.” I was still debating whether to ask when Liam walked over. He was cleaned up and looking sharp, wearing a well-fitted dress shirt and trousers. Uncharacteristically, two buttons at his collar were undone, exposing a small patch of skin. Perhaps because he wasn’t used to exposing skin, as he walked steadily towards us, he subconsciously tugged at the slightly open collar. A very simple movement, but done by him, it was exceptionally alluring. When Liam reached us, he looked at Chloe first and said: “The dinner is at the Grand Hyatt.” My best friend feigned surprise: “Since when do we need you to personally deliver this kind of news?” Liam choked. He seemed to shift his gaze out of embarrassment, quietly turned to me, and without making a sound, mouthed the question: “Are you coming?” I felt a profound sense of absurdity and helplessness in that moment. To me, this action looked exactly like a couple pretending not to know each other in public, while secretly flirting behind everyone’s backs. Were we really that close? It wasn’t the place to talk, but I couldn’t hold back. I took a step closer to him, using a piece of equipment for cover, and whispered: “Do we know each other?” He nodded: “Yes.” “Then the Snapchat stories were…?” He stared at me for a long time, seemingly gathering courage, and said slowly: “The stories were for you.” He leaned in close to my ear, his bright red earlobe right in my line of sight, and added softly and slowly: “Only for you.” Boom. My ears burned red too.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “440334”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel