Category: English

1 In my last life, my mother was in a car accident, hemorrhaging badly. I begged my brother to bring our adopted sister, Lily, to the hospital to donate blood. Lily and my mother shared the same rare, Rh-negative blood type. But after giving blood, Lily walked into the ocean under the cover of night. She left a note, accusing our family of treating her as nothing more than a walking blood bank. My brother, Andrew, handled her funeral with a chilling calm, even comforting me, telling me not to blame myself. But then, on my birthday, he dragged me to the hospital rooftop. “You’re just that vicious, aren’t you?” he’d hissed, his voice raw with hatred. “You drove her to depression, you conspired with Mom to fake this whole emergency.” “You killed Lily. Now you’re going to die to atone for her sins.” Then, he pushed me off the roof. I died with my eyes wide open, full of disbelief. When I opened them again, I was back on the day of the car accident. … The screech of tires and a violent impact yanked my drifting consciousness back to reality. I blinked, finding myself cradled in my mother’s arms. My eyes instantly welled with tears. The scene was so painfully familiar. In my last life, she had shielded me just like this, and it had caused her to bleed out. “Mom, are you okay?” “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m fine.” But I could see the blood, a dark stain spreading rapidly from her abdomen. How could she be fine? I fought back tears and fumbled for my phone, dialing for an ambulance. My hands trembled as I pressed down on her wound, trying to slow the bleeding. I caught my reflection in a shard of the shattered car window—a face filled with grim determination. A world away from the weak, helpless girl I had been before. In my past life, I had been paralyzed with fear, my first instinct to call Andrew for help. He hadn’t believed me at first, wasting precious time before finally agreeing to take Mom to the hospital. That delay cost her dearly. Though she survived, she was paralyzed from the waist down, confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her life. The ambulance arrived quickly, and I rode with my mother to the hospital. They rushed her into surgery the moment we arrived. I stood guard outside, my eyes glued to the closed doors. This time, I didn’t wait. Even before a doctor spoke to me, I was posting on a community support group, pleading for anyone with Rh-negative blood to come forward. I couldn’t pin all my hopes on Andrew and Lily again. But more options meant more hope. I still called him. “Mom was in a car accident. She’s losing a lot of blood and needs an Rh-negative transfusion. Can you bring Lily…” “Are you still playing these games?” he cut me off, his voice dripping with contempt. “Are you so vicious you can’t even let her have a peaceful birthday?” My heart plummeted. “No, it’s true, Mom is really…” “Shut up. Mom’s fine, and the hospital isn’t short on blood.” His voice was ice. “This time, I’m going to protect Lily. I won’t let you bully her again.” Just then, a doctor came out. He informed me that the hospital’s supply of Rh-negative blood was critically low. Andrew heard him over the phone. He actually scoffed. “Wow, you even hired actors to play along with your little drama?” Panic seized me. “Mom is hemorrhaging, Andrew! She’s in critical condition! Please, just bring Lily to the hospital!” My voice was sharp with desperation, cracking with a sob. “Sister, why do you love torturing me so much?” Lily’s voice, full of feigned innocence and wounded accusation, came through the phone. “Can’t you let me have just one nice birthday?” “Still using Mom as an excuse,” Andrew’s voice was cold, certain. He had already convicted me. “You just had to pull this stunt on her birthday.” “Andrew, I’m not lying!” Tears streamed down my face. “Enough!” he roared. “You think I’ll fall for your tricks again? You’re always jealous of Lily, always finding ways to make her miserable. I’m not letting you get away with it this time.” He hung up. I stood there, clutching the phone, the dial tone a final, cold insult. I sagged against the hospital wall, consumed by a helpless rage. Just as I was about to give up, a message popped up in the support group. “City Hospital? I’m Rh-negative and I’m just around the corner.” I wiped my tears, my fingers flying across the screen. “Yes, yes!” “Okay, on my way.” Five minutes later, a series of angry voice messages came from the same person. I pressed play. A middle-aged man’s voice exploded from the speaker. “Are you kidding me? You post a fake emergency just to get back at your sister? Don’t you think people have better things to do? You’re sick!” The subsequent messages were just as brutal. I felt like I’d been plunged into an icy abyss. How? Why would he… It had to be Andrew. It had to be. The group chat erupted with insults. “What kind of person jokes about this in a medical support group?” “Takes all kinds, I guess. Someone kick her out.” My body started to shake. Anger, despair, and helplessness threatened to swallow me whole. My nails dug into my palms, but I felt no pain. I scrambled to reply. “No, it’s not fake! The patient is really hemorrhaging!” I quickly sent a photo of the hospital’s diagnostic report. “We’re at City Hospital, you have to believe me. Please, please, you have to come save my mom.” The chat went quiet for a moment. Then, a few dissenting voices appeared. “Anyone else near the hospital? Maybe check it out? What if it’s real?” “Yeah, that report looks legit.” The man with the Rh-negative blood messaged again. “I’ll come back one more time. You’d better not be lying.” A wave of relief washed over me. I thanked him profusely. While I waited, I scrolled through my contacts, calling anyone I thought might be able to help. But every call was a dead end. Wrong blood type, out of town, no answer. My only hope was the man from the group. A hope that was soon shattered. Another volley of voice messages. “I swear to god, I’m going to kill someone. Do you think it’s fun to lie to me over and over again?” I replied instantly. “No, I’m right outside the operating room. If you don’t believe me, you can ask a doctor. The accident was on Westminster Avenue.” “You’re still lying! I just asked a doctor!” his voice boomed, filled with rage. “He told me the Westminster Avenue accident was minor. The patient just has some scrapes and doesn’t need a transfusion!” “No, that doctor is lying to you! He’s lying!” The moment I sent the message, I was kicked from the group. I tried to rejoin. Request denied. Again. Denied. Again and again. I couldn’t take it anymore. I slid to the floor, sobbing. Then, my phone rang. It was Dr. Mark Evans, Andrew’s friend. “Stop making a scene, Clara. I had the admin kick you out,” he said, his voice cold. “Your brother was right. Your mother spoiled you rotten. Using these kinds of dirty tricks just to pick a fight with your sister is pathetic. Lily’s been through enough. Just leave her alone and let her enjoy her birthday.” The words stuck in my throat. I could only weep silently. He hung up, and my hope died with the call. But Andrew wasn’t finished. He called me. “Clara, you really never learn, do you? Still lying to people in the support group?” “If anything happens to Mom,” I rasped, my voice raw with hatred, “I will never forgive you or Lily.” There was a pause. Then, he laughed. “You? What are you going to do? After Lily’s party is over, I’m bringing her home. And I’m going to make sure Mom finally teaches you a lesson. A jealous shrew like you shouldn’t be living under the same roof as Lily. I’m kicking you out.” I listened, numb. Was that a human on the other end of the line, or a monster wearing my brother’s face? He used to adore me. But all of that vanished the day Lily was adopted. With our mother constantly traveling for work, Andrew was the one who raised us. But every time Lily shed a tear, Andrew would assume I was the cause. At first, I would defend myself, but that only earned me harsher lectures and even more coddling for Lily. And now, with our mother’s life hanging in the balance, all he could think about was Lily’s birthday and throwing me out of the house. The hatred inside me festered. I hated Andrew’s blindness, Lily’s hypocrisy, and my own past weakness. The light above the operating room door glowed red. Every second that passed was a hammer blow to my heart. Just as I was about to sink into total despair, a strange number called. I hesitated, then answered. “Hello? Are you the one looking for Rh-negative blood for your mother? I’m a nurse at City Hospital. I saw your post in the group.” “Yes, yes, that’s me,” I choked out. “Okay, don’t cry, sweetie. I found a record of a former patient with Rh-negative blood. I’ll send you his contact info. It’s worth a shot.” It was a lifeline. I thanked her profusely and immediately dialed the number. When the call connected, I explained the situation, my voice trembling. The man on the other end was silent for a moment. “I can donate,” he finally said. “But I’ll need compensation. A million dollars.” I agreed without a second’s hesitation. I would have given anything to save my mother. Ten minutes later, he arrived. I rushed him toward the doctor’s office, but we were intercepted by Mark Evans. “What the hell are you doing now? Are you still causing trouble?” The donor looked at me, confused. “Go to the blood donation center,” I told him quickly. “The patient’s name is Eleanor Vance. Just tell them you’re donating for her.” He nodded, still skeptical, and turned to leave. Mark tried to stop him. I wasn’t going to let him interfere again. I flew at him, a wild animal, hitting him with my fists. He and Andrew were the same, blinded by their biases. If it weren’t for him, my mother would have already been safe. I hated him. My look of pure hatred seemed to stun him. For a moment, he forgot to fight back. Hospital security had to pull me off him. A crowd was gathering. The hospital director appeared. “What’s going on here?” “Director, she’s the sister of a friend of mine,” Mark said, trying to regain his composure. “She’s just having a tantrum, making a scene at the hospital.” I struggled against the guards. “Mark Evans, you’re a fool! If I wanted to have a tantrum, why wouldn’t I just go crash Lily’s birthday party?” Mark froze, then blustered, “Your brother said Mrs. Vance was in an accident, and you were using it as an excuse to lure Lily here to give blood. You want to make her think we all see her as a walking blood bank. She’s already depressed; you’re trying to push her over the edge.” I laughed, tears streaming down my face. I turned to the director. “You all heard him. This doctor, Mark Evans, has been actively obstructing my attempts to save a patient’s life. My mother is in that operating room, hemorrhaging from a car accident, and he has been misleading potential donors and had me kicked out of a support group.” “She’s a liar!” Mark insisted. “I’ve known her for years. I’ve been to her house. She bullies Lily constantly!” The director, a man of reason, turned to a nearby nurse for confirmation. The nurse spoke softly. “Director, it’s true. The patient is this young lady’s mother. She was in a bad car accident, she’s Rh-negative, and she’s in surgery right now.” Mark’s face went white. “No… that’s impossible…” The director ignored him and headed for the operating room. Mark followed, stumbling like a man in a daze. … The red light above the door remained on, a stark reminder of the battle being waged inside. I finally sat down, my body trembling with exhaustion. Mark was shaking too, staring at me in disbelief. “How could this… but your brother and Lily…” I ignored him, my gaze fixed on the door. He kicked a trash can in frustration and started frantically calling Andrew. After a long time, the call connected. “What?” Andrew’s voice was annoyed. “Andrew, your mother is really in surgery. It’s serious.” “Heh. So Clara got to you, too?” Mark slammed his fist against the wall. “You’re going to get me fired, you bastard! Your mother is dying and you’re celebrating a birthday?” “Whatever. I’ve got to go cut the cake for Lily.” “You…” The line went dead. Mark turned to me, his face a mask of guilt. “Clara, I’m so sorry. Your brother… he completely misled me. I’ll add you back to the support group right now. I’ll clear everything up.” I stared at him, my eyes like ice. “It’s useless. No matter what you do, I’m holding you accountable. Your career is over, Mark. You’re a disgrace to your profession.” He froze, his face ashen. He wasn’t innocent in my past life, either. He had a crush on Lily and had helped her hurt me more than once. He was the reason Andrew was able to get me to the rooftop alone. Just before Andrew pushed me, a security guard had walked by. Mark had been the one to send him away. I would make them all pay. And I would make sure my mother knew the truth about the son she loved and the girl she had taken in. Two hours later, the operating room doors opened. “Congratulations,” the surgeon said, smiling. “The surgery was a success.” For the first time that day, I smiled through my tears. My mother was moved to a regular room. Around 9 p.m., she slowly woke up. “Mom.” “Don’t cry, my girl. As long as you’re safe, that’s all that matters.” “Mom, Andrew and Lily…” She raised a weak hand and stroked my cheek. “Don’t worry. This time, Mom will protect you. I’m so sorry, my sweet girl. I wasn’t there for you. I let you suffer for so many years.”

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The girl I’d sponsored from poverty was about to become a queen. At the Aetherium Awards ceremony, I sat in the darkest corner of the auditorium, just wanting a glimpse of her moment of glory. And then, the spotlight found me. I was about to stand up and say that helping her achieve her dreams was its own reward, that I expected nothing in return. But she faced the cameras, tears streaking her perfect makeup, her face a mask of humiliation. “I want to ‘thank’ that man,” she choked out, “for teaching me that the only way for a girl to be safe is to become powerful.” “He used his charity as a leash, demanding I repay him in ways I could never stomach.” “To all the girls out there… we have to stand together. We have to protect each other.” The room exploded. In an instant, I was drowning in a sea of outrage and disgust. … The lights of the Aetherium Awards were a supernova of flashing cameras and blinding strobes. I sat in the last row, hidden in the shadows, a faded photograph clutched in my hand. It was taken ten years ago, deep in a forgotten pocket of Appalachia. A scrawny girl named Daisy, dressed in threadbare clothes, was holding half a hunk of dry cornbread, but her eyes burned like stars. Back then, she could barely string a sentence together. Now, she stood on the most prestigious stage in the industry, about to accept the award for Best Actress. When the host announced the name “Seraphina Reyes,” I straightened instinctively. She was a vision in a couture gown, her makeup flawless, a swan gliding under the lights. I thought she might mention me—the anonymous benefactor who had supported her for a decade, paid for her sister’s leukemia treatments, helped her get into film school, and even founded an entire production company just for her, to avoid any appearance of impropriety. The next second, her gaze locked onto mine. A spotlight shot across the auditorium, pinning me in its glare, so bright I had to squint. “There’s someone here tonight I have to give a special ‘thank you’ to,” she said into the microphone, her voice trembling with practiced emotion as tears welled in her eyes. “Ten years ago, he used the pretense of sponsorship to harass and control me. Tonight, standing here, I want to tell every girl watching: the only way to protect yourself is to become famous!” The room erupted. The sound of camera shutters was like machine-gun fire. I was frozen in my seat, the photograph nearly slipping from my numb fingers. “He thought because he gave me money, he owned me!” she cried, pointing a perfectly manicured finger in my direction, her voice thick with rage. “Winning this award tonight is my proof that I did this on my own! My success has nothing to do with his handouts!” The live stream chat went into a frenzy: “OMG! What kind of scumbag does that?” “Poor Seraphina! I’m so glad she made it through that!” “Someone find out who this predator is! He needs to be canceled NOW!” On stage, Seraphina’s face was flush with triumph, her eyes burning with an undisguised hatred aimed directly at me. I opened my mouth, desperate to ask her why, to explain the truth of the last ten years, but I was already being swarmed by reporters, their microphones like weapons. I’d been in this business long enough to know that any explanation would be twisted and useless. I closed my mouth. I took one last, long look at Seraphina, then turned to leave. As I stood, I felt a thousand pairs of eyes on me—a mixture of contempt and morbid curiosity—as I walked towards the exit. I’d just reached the backstage area when a foot shot out from the side, tripping me. I wasn’t expecting it and went down hard, a sharp, searing pain exploding in my knee. Wincing, I looked up. It was someone I knew. Chase, the new rising star my company was heavily promoting, and Seraphina’s latest on-screen love interest. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to have some self-respect,” Chase said, looking down at me with disdain. “Seraphina is a star now. You can’t just harass her whenever you feel like it.” Seraphina had finished her speech and walked over, looming above me with a mocking smirk. “Leo Gordon, stop overreaching. I looked you up. You’re just some nobody with a tiny production company. You really think you’re in any position to be my benefactor?” Her face was serene, but her words were daggers. A cruel smile played on her lips. She paused, then raised her voice intentionally. “Oh, and by the way, all those letters you sent me over the past decade? I burned every single one. Just looking at them made me sick.” I stared into her cold, merciless eyes, my heart feeling like it was being crushed in a fist. Those letters… they held my words of encouragement, the study materials I’d compiled for her, the good news after each of her sister’s chemo treatments. To her, all of it was just… disgusting. “Security! Get him out of here!” Seraphina shouted. Two guards rushed over, grabbed my arms, and started to haul me away. I struggled, looking back over my shoulder. I saw Chase give the cameras a subtle “V for victory” sign. I saw the flicker of a triumphant smile on Seraphina’s lips. And I saw the big screen behind her, playing her highlight reel. Under the section listing her management company, the name of the CEO was the same as mine. As I was thrown out of the venue, my phone buzzed. It was a text from my assistant: “Mr. Gordon, the company website has been hacked! It’s flooded with hate comments about you!” I read the message, a bitter, complicated feeling swirling in my gut. The company they’d attacked was the smallest one I owned. But “Starlight Pictures,” the company Seraphina was signed to, was a platform I had built from the ground up, entirely for her. She thought winning that award meant she had everything. She had no idea that everything she had was a gift from me. The office was dead silent when I arrived. My employees saw me and immediately looked down, avoiding my eyes. My assistant ran over, clutching a laptop, his face pale. “Mr. Gordon, it’s already blowing up. #LeoGordonIsAPredator is the number one trending topic. People have doxxed the company address. The entire street downstairs is blocked by reporters.” I sank onto the office sofa and opened my laptop. The trending topic had a fiery “EXPLODING” tag next to it. Clicking on it revealed a torrent of abuse. Someone had found my photo and turned it into a series of humiliating memes. Right below it was the hashtag for Seraphina and Chase’s new movie: #SeraChaseForever, filled with comments of love and support. “Sir, should we release a statement?” my assistant asked timidly. I shook my head and clicked on an encrypted folder. Inside was a video from ten years ago. I had just turned eighteen. Disgusted with my father’s ruthless business practices, I’d escaped to the countryside for a while. That’s where I met her. She wasn’t Seraphina Reyes then. She was just Daisy, a name as plain as the dirt roads she walked on. In the video, ten-year-old Daisy was being shoved into the mud by her older brother while her mother beat her with a broomstick, screaming, “Useless girl! Better off dead!” I had rushed in, pushed them away, and given them a wad of cash to let Daisy stay in school. I remembered her clinging to my leg, whispering, “Mister, I wanna learn. I wanna save my sister.” Chronically malnourished and forced to do heavy chores, the ten-year-old was nothing but skin and bones, except for her eyes. They were huge, dark, and searing. Staring into those eyes, my heart had broken. For the next ten years, I anonymously sent her money for living expenses, paid for her sister’s leukemia treatments, hired tutors for her, and when she got into film school, I founded Starlight Pictures and poured all my resources into making her a star, all while keeping my distance to protect her reputation. I thought I was helping her achieve her dream. I never realized I was nurturing a viper. “Mr. Gordon, you have a direct message from Chase,” my assistant’s voice broke through my thoughts. I opened the message. It was a photo. Seraphina was feeding my letters into a fire, a contemptuous smile on her face, illuminated by the flames. The caption read: “Give it up, Gordon. Sera says your ‘sponsorship’ was just a pathetic handout. She will never be grateful to you.” I closed my phone, my fingertips ice-cold. They had planned this all along, waiting for this night to deliver the killing blow. Ten years of support, and in her eyes, it was nothing more than charity, worthy only of scorn. “Notify all senior management. Emergency meeting tomorrow at 9 a.m. Seraphina, Chase, and their agents are to be present.” I stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the swarm of reporters below. “And have the tech department restore the website. Don’t delete a single comment.” My assistant stared for a second, then nodded. “Yes, Mr. Gordon.” I gazed out at the city lights, the anger inside me having cooled into a calm, hard resolve. Seraphina, you want to burn away your past as Daisy? You want to destroy everything I gave you? Fine. I’ll be the one to drag you back to where you started and show you that without my “handouts,” you are nothing. The next morning, I was mobbed by reporters the moment I stepped out of my car. “Mr. Gordon, is it true you harassed Seraphina Reyes for ten years?” “Why did you use your money to control her?” “Did you really burn her letters, as she claimed?” The flashbulbs were blinding. Security guards formed a human shield, wrestling me through the crowd and into the elevator. When I entered the boardroom, it was already full. Seraphina was seated near the head of the table, dressed in an expensive power suit, surrounded by a circle of fawning department heads. “Don’t you worry, Seraphina, we’re all on your side,” the head of marketing said with a greasy smile. “That Leo Gordon is a lunatic. We’re already drawing up his termination papers.” “Exactly,” the operations manager chimed in. “When he gets here, we’ll help you put him in his place.” Seraphina smiled smugly. When she saw me walk in, her expression instantly turned to ice. “Leo Gordon. You still have the nerve to show your face?” I ignored her and walked directly to the head of the conference table. The managers shot to their feet, pointing at me. “You have no shame! Get the hell out!” “Get out?” I laughed. “This is my company. Why would I leave?” “Your company?” Seraphina scoffed. She pulled a black credit card from her purse and tossed it onto the table in front of me. “Here’s a million dollars. That’s more than your little company will make in years. Take the money and disappear. I never want to see you again.” The black card spun across the polished wood and stopped near my feet. A million dollars. A lot of money, to be sure. I looked at the card and remembered three years ago, when her sister was critically ill and needed a bone marrow transplant. I was the one who spent the night on the phone with specialists overseas and paid the three-million-dollar surgery bill. I remembered her crying on the phone then, saying, “Thank you, Leo. I promise I’ll repay you one day.” “A million dollars?” I bent down, picked up the card, and placed it on the table. “Seraphina, your sister’s surgery alone cost me three million. Do you really think this is enough?” Her face went deathly pale, but she quickly recovered her composure. “Don’t you dare lie! I raised the money for my sister’s surgery myself!” “Is that so?” I began, but Chase suddenly jumped up and threw a stack of cash in my face. The bills fluttered to the floor around me. “Don’t push your luck, Gordon!” he snarled, jabbing a finger at me. “Seraphina is doing you a favor by offering you money! You keep harassing her, and I’ll make sure you never work in this town again!” “Get him out of here!” Seraphina shrieked. “Where are my bodyguards?” The two guards she’d brought with her moved towards me, ready to grab me. I looked at them coldly. “Are you sure you want to do that?” Just then, my phone, which I’d placed on the table, rang. I answered it, my voice calm. “Send the entire legal department and the head of HR to the main conference room. Now. And have the building’s security team come up and escort any unauthorized personnel off the premises.” I hung up. The room was silent. Everyone stared at me, their faces a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

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The day we broke up, everyone tried to console me. “It was just a few messages, Maya. It’s not even an emotional affair.” I just shook my head. “Every ‘meaningless’ little thing they shared was a bid to be part of each other’s lives.” And an endless desire to share is just love, looking for a connection. 1 I was planning Evan’s birthday surprise when I stumbled on the Reddit post. Title: [r/relationships] I want to confess to my crush on his birthday, but he has a girlfriend. AITAH? The comments were a sea of “YTA.” She kept editing the post, desperate for support. [EDIT 1: I’m a med student, currently in residency at a top-tier hospital. My education and future career potential are, objectively, far beyond his current girlfriend’s.] [EDIT 2: His GF got into her program through some scholarship fast-track. I don’t need to explain what that implies about the ‘rigor’.] [EDIT 3: Our whole resident group has known him for almost a year, and none of us have ever seen a picture of this girl. I honestly don’t think he’s that into her.] [EDIT 4: The GF seems a bit… clingy. I see his texts. She just sends these long, angsty paragraphs. I, on the other hand, can show my affection through actual, practical support. I’m smart, a solid 8/10, and people say I have a high EQ. We’d be a power couple. He knows I can be a real asset to him.] [EDIT 5: We’ve known each other for 332 days. Our Snapchat streak is 300 days.] … I clicked on the photo she’d attached. A close-up of a man’s wrist resting on a steering wheel. Even without a face, I recognized the watch. It was the gift I’d given him for his twenty-fifth birthday. 2 I was flying into Austin to surprise Evan. I hadn’t told him I was coming. Just half an hour ago, he’d texted me a location pin. A new Korean BBQ place they were trying after their shift. [Evan: Smells amazing. If it’s good, I’m definitely taking you next time!] He was, as always, keeping me in the loop. I shut off my phone and changed the destination in the Uber app. By the time I got to the restaurant, they had just arrived. I was wearing a baseball cap and took a booth directly behind them. I watched Evan come back from washing his hands. A girl I didn’t recognize—pretty, wearing scrubs under a hoodie—walked up to him holding two small sauce dishes. “This is their house special, and this is the one you always get. I made you both.” Evan took them from her, a perfectly natural gesture. He dipped a piece of brisket in one. “The special is pretty spicy. You should probably skip it.” She beamed. “Thanks for the heads-up.” The two residents sitting closest to me were whispering. “Are they really not together? I don’t buy it.” “I know, right? All those med-school girls were all over Evan and he never gave them the time of day. Turns out his ‘destiny’ was waiting for him in residency.” “Seriously. The guy is drowning in work, but he still double-checks Chloe’s charts on her overnights. That’s ‘power couple’ material.” “Well, she’s all in, too. It hasn’t even been a year, and I heard she’s already been to his place to do his laundry…” … Destiny. Power couple. Doing his laundry. My phone buzzed. A new edit on the Reddit post. [EDIT 6: At K-BBQ with my crush! He’s so thoughtful, he even worried the sauce would be too spicy for me. How could anyone not fall for a guy like this?] A comment popped up almost immediately: [He could be the greatest guy in the world, but he’s still someone else’s boyfriend. Maybe get your own relationship status sorted out before you get ‘the feels’.] The comment was deleted seconds later. At their table, Evan and the group were laughing, complaining about everything from the case they’d scrubbed in on to the terrible cafeteria food. Someone shifted the topic. “Hey, isn’t it Evan’s birthday in two days? We should all go out.” Evan shook his head. “Appreciate it, but I’ve got plans. It’s just a birthday, no big deal.” “Oh, come on. Is it because Chloe didn’t ask? Chloe, say something!” The girl—Chloe—put down her chopsticks, her voice suddenly sharp. “He has plans with his girlfriend. What am I supposed to say?” “Girlfriend? Wait, I heard rumors, but… you actually have one?” I slowly lowered my eyes. This was the eighth year of our relationship. We had survived the seven-year itch. Our parents had met. I never cared if he posted photos of me on his Instagram; he barely used it anyway. But in this one moment, I was terrified of what he would say next. I took a sip of water and choked, a sharp pain burning in my chest. “Yeah, I do,” Evan said. His voice was perfectly calm. “But we’re long-distance.” I remembered my freshman year, the first time I flew from Boston to visit him at his college. He’d insisted on dragging me to his macroeconomics lecture, practically vibrating with the need to show me off. When a guy in the front row turned to ask if it was raining outside, Evan, completely misreading the situation, grabbed my hand and said, “How’d you know my girlfriend was visiting?” Now… his answer had a ‘but’. A ‘but’ that explained everything. Before I could even process it, Chloe spoke up, her voice tight with emotion. “Is it because you don’t have better options? Aren’t you tired enough already, trying to maintain a relationship that has zero practical benefit for you?” “Love isn’t… about ‘benefit’,” Evan said, his tone stiff. “Then let’s talk about love,” she shot back. “Does she know how exhausted you are? Does she understand the pressure you’re under? Can you even talk to her about your work? Don’t you have even a single… regret?” Her voice was trembling, thick with a sense of injustice. The table went silent. It felt like an eternity before I heard Evan’s voice. He said, “I have regrets. But I’m forcing myself to make peace with it.” … My eyes snapped shut. It was my fault. I was the source of his regret. I was the one he had to ‘make peace’ with. He seemed to have forgotten that the whole point of us was that we were each other’s peace. “Okay, okay, this is getting too heavy for K-BBQ,” someone said, trying to break the tension. “Evan, what do you want for your birthday?” Chloe scoffed. “I don’t know what you guys are getting him, but I know what his precious girlfriend got him last year. A card. With two sentences in it. They weren’t even complete sentences.” “What? Seriously? I thought his girlfriend was smart.” Chloe glanced at Evan, a knowing, sympathetic look on her face. “You’d think. I remember what it said. Something like ‘Stay safe’ and ‘Stay by my side.’ I’m not kidding, she’s… a little dense. If you can’t write a love letter, at least Google some poetry, right?” My hand, holding my chopsticks, went numb. I didn’t even feel the hot oil from the grill splatter onto my skin. Last year on his birthday, my advisor had me running a critical data set. It was the first birthday we’d ever spent apart. I’d tried to write him a long, beautiful letter, something to prove how much he meant to me. I wrote and deleted, wrote and rewrote. And I realized that, after everything, all I wanted to say—all that mattered—were those two simple prayers. Stay safe. Stay by my side. And now, that prayer was being served up as a punchline. In that single second, I knew Evan was unforgivable. 3 I stood up, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out of the restaurant. In Austin, one cold rain is all it takes to signal winter. I pulled my hoodie tighter, walking aimlessly. A shop down the street had a long line. It was that specialty bakery, the one that made the jalapeño-cheddar kolaches I loved. I remembered back in high school, freezing in my uniform, muttering to my desk-mate, “God, I’m craving one of those kolaches from ‘The Czech Stop’. But they’re only good warm.” My friend tossed me a granola bar. “Eat this. You can get one next year.” But Evan, sitting behind me, had heard. Before our last class, a small paper bag was on my desk, steam fogging the plastic. Evan didn’t even look up from his textbook. “I was in the neighborhood. Eat it while it’s hot.” That night, when the class rankings were posted, I was still one spot ahead of him. My desk-mate joked, “Evan, you let her beat you again? If I were you, I’d have poisoned her kolache.” He’d laughed, but his eyes, when they met mine, were serious. “I’m not here to compete with her.” Before graduation, we made a pact: we’d both go to college in Boston. I got in early with a full-ride scholarship. He was supposed to fight his way in through regular admission. Fate had other plans. He was waitlisted, then rejected. He ended up in Texas. The day my parents drove me to the airport, they were fine. He was the one crying. “You’re going to meet someone smarter at Harvard and forget me, aren’t you? Maya, I’ll work so hard, I promise.” I hugged him. “Never.” The day I said yes to him, I was promising to hold his hand through every season, for the rest of our lives. Sophomore year, I flew from Boston to Austin as a Christmas surprise. I had his friends trick him into going to the campus square. When he saw me jump out of a giant gift-wrapped box, he just… stared. For a full minute. “Maya, we’re going to get married, right? I just… I really, really want a home with you. I want to see you every day.” … The memories played back, one after another. Just yesterday, I had declined my advisor’s offer to join his new research firm in Boston. I couldn’t bear the thought of Evan being alone anymore. I just didn’t realize he hadn’t been alone for a long time. 4 I went back to Evan’s apartment. I still had my key. I had to get my things. His laptop was on the coffee table, screen awake. He was still logged into Snapchat. The girl was Chloe. Their streak was, just as her post had claimed, 300 days. They talked about everything. I scrolled up, and up, and up. My own hypocrisy made me sick. They went from sharing funny medical memes to swapping AI-generated joke photos of each other. They talked about their high schools, their college regrets. They talked about the new coffee shop on the corner and the sunset on their drive home. When Evan was so busy in surgery that he didn’t have time to answer my texts, he somehow found time to console Chloe when a patient’s family yelled at her. This past year, I’d felt so guilty about his brutal overnight shifts that I never, ever bothered him unless it was an emergency. But Chloe felt just fine blowing up his phone, complaining that he’d almost let their streak die. While I was ordering him meal-prep kits and reminding him to at least walk on the treadmill, he was celebrating Chloe’s “first successful solo night” by taking her on a food truck tour of Austin’s best barbecue. And then I saw it. The date from two months ago. The day I found an impurity in my control sample, destroying two months of my doctoral research. I’d had a total meltdown. I called Evan, desperate to hear his voice. He declined the call. He never even texted back. I’d told myself he was in surgery. He wasn’t. He was with Chloe. He’d taken her to her first-ever concert. … Now I understood. The impurity in my petri dish only cost me two months of work. The impurity in my relationship had cost me eight years. Tears streamed down my face. A new Snap notification popped up on the screen. It was from Chloe. [Chloe: So… you’re sure you can’t hang out on your birthday?] [Evan: Next time. I promise.] [Chloe: …Promise?] [Evan: Scout’s honor. ;)] [Chloe: (Smiling selfie)] Simultaneously, the Reddit thread updated again. [EDIT 7: He dropped me home! We almost broke through that last barrier tonight. I’m what you’d call an ‘initiator’ in relationships, and I know I can help him realize his true feelings. The timing just isn’t right… yet. I hope he figures it out soon.] The attached photo was taken from the passenger seat. In the dim glow of the dashboard, Evan’s hand was on her head, ruffling her hair. He was smiling. I calmly packed my things. Then I sent Evan a text. [Me: Not coming for your birthday.] His reply was almost instant. [Evan: What? Why? Are you that swamped with work?] I turned off my phone. It’s not just this birthday, Evan. It’s all of them. Busy or not, I won’t be there.

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We’d been married for five years. My husband, Julian, had always been militant about protection, so I was stunned when he suddenly wanted a child. Two months into the pregnancy, I was hospitalized for complications. That’s when I first heard the voice. It was malicious, infantile, and coming from inside my own stomach. Owww, I’m gonna make it hurt! I’m going to toss and turn until you scream. Daddy said you’re not my real mommy. You’re just the delivery van. I stared at my abdomen, convinced I was having an auditory hallucination. I stumbled out of my room to find Julian, but I stopped when I heard him talking to my doctor in the hallway. “Mr. Thorne, your wife’s uterine lining is dangerously thin. If you insist on her carrying this pregnancy for Ms. Vane, she will likely be rendered infertile. Are you sure this is fair to her?” Julian’s voice was casual, dismissive. “Serena is A-list. Her reputation can’t take a hint of scandal, let alone a baby bump. Chloe has always wanted a child. She should be honored to carry this one for Serena.” 1 I stood in the doorway, shaking so hard my teeth chattered. The baby I had prayed for, the baby I’d gone through three agonizing rounds of IVF to get… was for Serena Vane. “Just do your job,” Julian continued, his voice hardening. “I don’t want Chloe to know. You have no idea how much Serena is looking forward to this. I want this baby delivered, perfectly, with no complications.” The cold, clinical devotion in his voice was terrifying. I walked back to my room in a daze. A nurse smiled at me as I passed. “You’re so lucky,” she whispered. “Your husband booked the entire floor so you could rest. And he hired a private nurse and stays here 24/7. He must love you so much.” “I heard he cried when he saw the first ultrasound. A man like that? Total unicorn.” If I’d heard this yesterday, I would have glowed. Now, it felt like swallowing flies. The fetus didn’t like the praise, either. It started to kick, hard. Idiots! He loves Mommy! He loves SERENA! This bitch is just the help! She’s lucky I’m even here. God, I’m going to make her pay for this. A sharp, blinding pain shot from my pelvis. I gasped, cold sweat beading on my forehead. Almost simultaneously, I heard Julian roaring from down the hall. “You’re all useless! I can’t leave her for one minute? If anything happens to Chloe, I’ll have all your jobs!” He rarely raised his voice. He really, really cared about this baby. I clutched my stomach, a grotesque smile pulling at my lips. A moment later, he burst into the room and saw me crumpled on the floor. He rushed over, scooping me up. “Chloe, what are you doing? You’re pregnant! You have to be responsible! You can’t just wander off. What if something happened?” His voice was trembling with what I once would have called “fear.” I just felt numb. “It was stuffy. I needed some air.” He visibly relaxed and carried me back to bed. He took the prenatal vitamins from the nurse and held one out to me with a glass of water. “Time for your folate, baby.” I stared at the pill. I’m severely allergic to folic acid. It covers my entire body in agonizing, itchy hives. Julian knew this. For the last two months, I’d been living in a Benadryl-fueled haze, scratching myself raw in my sleep. “I don’t want to.” His brow furrowed. “Chloe, be good. It’s for the baby. You know it’s essential for neural tube development. A healthy baby.” He knew I wanted a child more than anything. He knew I’d swallow poison if he told me it was for the baby. I took the pill. Within a minute, the familiar, maddening itch began. Red welts rose on my arms. I gagged, trying to spit the pill back out. Julian’s hand clamped over my mouth. “No, Chloe. Don’t spit it out. You have to keep it down.” He held my mouth shut with one hand and gripped my arms with the other, watching me with those cold, determined eyes as my body convulsed. The voice in my head cooed. Yesss, I love this stuff. It makes this bitch itch, but it makes me strong. I wish she had to take it ten times a day. Who cares if she suffers, as long as I get to meet my real mommy. 2 I was in the hospital for a month. I tried everything to get rid of it. I “accidentally” fell in the shower. I “accidentally” ate unpasteurized cheese. But Julian was watching me like a hawk. He’d anticipated every move. On my last day, he must have sensed my desperation. He sat on the bed, his voice laced with a strange anxiety. “Chloe, what’s wrong? You’ve been… distant. Is the pregnancy making you unhappy?” I dropped my gaze to hide the bitter irony. “I’ve wanted this for years, Julian. After all the failed IVF… how could I be unhappy? Why would you ask that?” My flat denial seemed to calm him. He sighed, relieved, and handed me a folder. “I know it’s been hard on you. This is just… a thank you. It’s the deed to that downtown condo you liked. It’s all yours.” I just stared at it. Thirty minutes ago, I’d been scrolling through Instagram. Serena Vane had just posted a new photo. It was also a deed, blurred but recognizable. Her caption: [The only beachfront villa in Malibu. In love, there’s no such thing as ‘first.’ The one who isn’t loved is always the third wheel. 😉] I’d “liked” it. She deleted it almost immediately. The difference was so painfully clear. He gave me a condo. He gave her Malibu. I opened my mouth to refuse, but the door swung open. Serena Vane, in sunglasses and a perfect blowout, waltzed in with a fruit basket. “Julian, darling! I heard Chloe was here and just had to stop by. I hope I’m not interrupting.” She was an A-list star. Beautiful, untouchable. I was a pale, exhausted woman in a hospital gown. The baby went wild. MOMMY! MOMMY’S HERE! I love you, Mommy! I’ll be out soon, Mommy, I promise! The high-pitched joy was like an ice pick in my ear. I turned my back to them. “I’m tired. I need to rest.” I thought she’d leave. She didn’t. She sat down next to Julian. He started massaging my calves, the picture of a doting husband. But under the blanket, I felt his foot move. Ooooh, Daddy’s foot is touching Mommy’s foot! They’re holding hands! YAY! My parents are the best! This stupid carrier bitch is just in the way. I can’t wait to get out so I can ruin her life! Their movements became more obvious. Julian, thinking I was asleep, leaned over and whispered something to Serena. He kissed her. YES! YES! YES! They’re kissing! I hope she sees! I hope it kills this bitch! The baby was doing gleeful flips. I didn’t know what hurt more, my abdomen or my heart. I didn’t dare open my eyes. A minute later, they quietly left the room together. I followed them. In a utility alcove down the hall, they were pressed against the wall. “You shouldn’t have come,” Julian murmured, his hands in her hair. “I told you to be careful. What if Chloe saw?” Serena laughed. “But I missed you! You’re so mean, making her carry our baby just so I don’t get bloated. You have to let me reward you.” She pulled his face down and kissed him, a deep, passionate kiss. The baby in my womb was cheering. Go, Mommy! Go, Daddy! I hope she’s watching! I stumbled back to my room, one thought repeating itself: I have to get this thing out of me. 3 A nurse saw me clutching the wall. “Mrs. Thorne? Are you alright? You’re pale as a ghost.” She saw the tears streaming down my face. “Oh, no… don’t cry! It’s bad for the baby! If Mr. Thorne saw you this upset…” I couldn’t hold it in. A sob tore out of me, and I collapsed. … When I woke up, I was at home. Julian was gone, but Serena was standing at the foot of my bed, her arms crossed. “That was a cute stunt. Fainting just to make him worry,” she sneered. “You’re pathetic.” “You saw us, didn’t you? He loves me. He’s just using your body.” I gripped the sheets. “How long?” “Two years,” she said, examining her nails. “We met at the Met Gala. He told me he was in a loveless marriage. He said you were… fine, but boring. He’d never even sleep with me without protection. He wanted me to have his baby, but my brand is ‘America’s Sweetheart.’ A scandal would ruin me. This… was his solution.” She leaned in. “You know all those ‘gifts’ he gave you after your failed IVF rounds? Consolation prizes. All those ‘late nights at the office’? He was with me. In this house. In this bed.” She smiled, a victor’s smile, and walked out. She passed Julian in the hall. He came in, his face a mask of concern. “Chloe? You’re awake. I was so worried.” I was already on the phone with a disposal service. “I want this bed… this mattress… I want it all gone. Burn it.” “Chloe, what’s wrong?” He tried to hug me. “You’re not well. You fainted. You need to be more careful. For the baby.” I shoved him off. He sighed, thinking I was just hormonal. He called to someone in the hall. A middle-aged woman walked in. “Chloe, you’re obviously not taking care of yourself. I’ve hired the best maternity nurse in the state. This is Mrs. Vance. She’ll be staying with us.” I looked at her. She seemed vaguely familiar. Julian walked her out. I could hear his low voice. “Mrs. Vance, Chloe’s… she’s a little fragile. Your only priority is the fetus. Do whatever it takes. Be firm.” “I understand completely, Mr. Thorne.” I knew why she looked familiar. The next morning at 4:00 AM, my door flew open. “Get up. The air is purest at this hour. We’re going for a walk.” I was barely asleep. “What? No. I’m exhausted.” Mrs. Vance ripped the blankets off me. “This isn’t a request. Your lazy lifestyle is bad for the baby. Get up, or I’ll make you.” “You can’t be serious.” “Try me.” She picked up the ice water pitcher from my nightstand and dumped it on my head. I gasped, sputtering from the cold. Before I could move, her hand cracked across my face. SLAP. The sound was deafening in the silence. “You are a vessel,” she spat, her face inches from mine. “Mr. Thorne was very clear. The package is the priority. Not you.” I was too stunned to move. The voice in my head was cackling. Yeah, Grandma! You tell her! Teach that bitch a lesson! She better not disobey my family! Grandma. Of course. Mrs. Vance. Serena Vane’s mother. The humiliation was so profound, I just sat there, dripping and shivering.

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Liam was, for all intents and purposes, my brother. In reality, he was the boy my parents raised to be my husband. After my father died, my mother, terrified Liam would abandon us, did the unthinkable. She drugged him and locked him in my room. That one act of desperation cost him his one true love, the girl who was his sun, his moon, and all his stars. In the life that followed, he chained my mother in the basement like an animal. And he spent his nights making sure I couldn’t live, but wouldn’t die. “We’re never going to be apart, Ava,” he’d whisper, his voice a venomous caress. “Isn’t this what you wanted, my dear little sister?” I opened my eyes to the sight of my own blood pooling around me. And then I was back. Back to the moment it all began, with his body pressing down on mine… 1 A guttural sound escaped my throat. A scorching weight crushed me, a storm of kisses landing on the delicate skin of my neck. The iron chain around my ankle sang its cold, metallic song with every thrust of his body, a rhythm of my despair. Liam’s fingers tightened around my throat, a cruel smile twisting his handsome face. “A hunger strike, Ava? Is that your latest little game?” he hissed. “For every day you refuse to eat, I’ll make your mother’s life twice as miserable. Let’s see what breaks first. Your spirit… or her bones.” “Liam.” My eyes, dull and lifeless, shifted to meet his. I spoke his name, and the word hung in the air between us. His movements froze. His voice, when he spoke again, was laced with ice. “What did you just call me?” Never before. Not then, not in the life that came after. In more than twenty years, I had never once called him by his given name without a title. From the time I was a little girl, I knew I was destined to marry him. You don’t call your future husband ‘brother.’ But today… I wanted to. “Brother,” I whispered, a faint, hollow smile touching my lips as my gaze drifted into nothingness. “Seven years, Liam. Hasn’t it been long enough?” From the day he married me, the day he took complete control of the company my father left behind, this brutal revenge had stretched on for seven agonizing years. In the beginning, I fought. I demanded a divorce, offered reparations, tried to end my own life in a dozen different ways. But in the end, I was forced to surrender. He held my mother’s life in his hands. If I was compliant, her dog’s life in the basement became marginally more bearable. So, this hunger strike wasn’t a protest. It was simply… that I couldn’t eat. I never knew late-stage stomach cancer could be this excruciating. “Enough?” Liam’s lip curled into a sneer. He gripped my chin, forcing a thin, tasteless porridge between my teeth. “Ava, what you owe me can never be repaid in this lifetime. You and your mother were so afraid I’d leave you, weren’t you? Well, I promise you this: we will never be apart. Are you satisfied now… sister?” I choked down half the bowl before my body rebelled, spewing the contents back out. Liam’s face darkened. He flipped me over with a violent shove, his fingers tangling brutally in my long hair. “You won’t eat? Fine! Then we’ll just keep going.” Forced to my knees on the bed, I endured his punishing conquest, a tearing pain that was both physical and spiritual. I bore it until the churning, metallic taste in my stomach could no longer be contained. Blood, bright and crimson, spilled from my lips, staining the pristine white sheets. His voice, suddenly laced with panic, echoed in my ears. His hands moved frantically, trying to wipe away the blood that only seemed to multiply. “Ava! Ava, what’s wrong with you?!” My body collapsed. I stared up at the dazzling crystal chandelier, a laugh of pure liberation bubbling up from my chest. “Liam… we’re even now,” I gasped, my vision blurring. “Let my mother go.” 2 My head was spinning, but a heavy weight pressed down on my body, pinning me in place. I frowned, my eyelids fluttering open. The ceiling that greeted me was familiar, yet achingly distant. I froze. I wasn’t dead? Where had Liam taken me? This wasn’t a hospital, and it wasn’t the bedroom where he had kept me chained for seven years. It looked… it looked like the home we once shared. My childhood home. Rip. The sound of tearing fabric was followed by a rush of cool air against my chest. A hand, with long, elegant fingers, covered my breast. A violent tremor shot through me, my skin erupting in goosebumps. My gaze darted down, and I fell into a pair of crimson-red eyes. A much younger Liam, his eyes clouded with a feverish haze, his breathing ragged and heavy. One scorching kiss, then another, landed just above my heart. A bolt of lightning split my mind in two, leaving me shaking uncontrollably. This… this was the night. The night my mother drugged him. My eyes scanned the room, the familiar furniture, the posters on the wall. I was sure of it. This was that exact night. Only last time, I had been knocked out cold by a painkiller my mother gave me for a stomachache, sleeping through the entire catastrophe. I hadn’t been able to stop the mistake from happening. But this time, by some divine mercy, I was awake. “Liam! Liam, calm down!” I cried out, my voice raw with panic. “Look at me! It’s Ava, your sister!” His body went rigid. He lifted his head, his red-rimmed eyes staring at me in a fog of confusion for a few seconds, his brow furrowed. But I had severely underestimated my mother’s determination to “succeed, by any means necessary.” She had poured nearly half a bottle of high-proof liquor down his throat. That, combined with the “special ingredient” she’d mixed in, meant his moment of clarity didn’t last three seconds before it was completely overwhelmed. His hand slid down the curve of my waist, fumbling, desperate, and clumsy as it snagged the waistband of my underwear— 3 CRASH! I grabbed the glass jar from my nightstand—the one filled with a thousand paper stars I’d folded for him—and brought it down hard on the back of his head. The glass shattered, sending a galaxy of colorful, hand-folded stars scattering across the bed. Liam’s body tensed, then slumped forward, a dead weight on top of me. He was unconscious. I lay there, gasping for breath, my eyes squeezed shut in sheer, post-adrenal terror. Thank God. Thank God. A buzzing vibration started up from somewhere beneath the bed. I shoved Liam’s dead weight off me, trying to sit up and find the source of the noise. But as I pushed myself up, the world tilted violently. The drug my mother had slipped into my painkiller was finally taking its full effect. My stomach churned, and a black fog began to creep in at the edges of my vision. Just before I lost consciousness, I remembered what was vibrating. It was Liam’s phone. And the person calling was the girl he secretly, desperately loved. The girl he held in his heart like a sacred prayer. Isabelle Croft. … “Oh, Isabelle, you’re here!” “You’re looking for Liam?” “Come in, come in.” The voices drifted from downstairs. It was my mother, welcoming a guest. I clutched my throbbing head and forced myself to sit up. Outside my window, the sky was bright with morning light. A flurry of footsteps was heading straight for my room. “Liam is in Ava’s room,” my mother said cheerfully. “Oh? This early? What’s he doing in Ava’s room?” a sweet, feminine voice asked. In an instant, my mind cleared. My heart plummeted. This is bad. 4 Isabelle Croft. Our former neighbor. We grew up in the same exclusive, gated community, three prominent families side-by-side: the Donovans, the Crofts, and the Reeds. Liam and Isabelle were the quintessential “perfect kids.” They were rivals from the day they met, competing over everything—grades, sports, debate club—from high school all the way through college. To an outsider, they looked like mortal enemies. But everyone knew it was just a pretense. The only thing standing between them was the unspoken truth of our family: my father had taken Liam in for one purpose—to groom a successor, and a husband for his daughter. So, Liam and Isabelle made a pact. On the day of their college graduation, they would finally tell my mother the truth. He would repay our family for raising him, for giving him everything. But he would not—could not—do it by marrying me. Instead, my mother got him drunk, drugged him, and he never answered her call. Worried something had happened, Isabelle came looking for him the next morning. And my mother, with practiced casualness, led her right upstairs to witness the “surprise” on my bed. Heartbroken and humiliated, Isabelle went home, accepted an arranged marriage with another family, and disappeared from his life. And Liam, consumed by a bottomless well of regret and hatred, shackled himself to me for the next seven years… A low groan came from the floor beside my bed. The unconscious Liam stirred. He pushed himself into a sitting position, his brow furrowed in pain as he reached back to touch his head. “Oww—” His vacant eyes slowly came into focus, finally landing on my face. Liam’s entire body went rigid, a violent tremor shaking his frame. “Ava!” He lunged toward me, his hands trembling as they frantically ghosted over my face, my lips, as if trying to wipe something away. His voice was a raw mix of fury and a terror so profound it made his words shake. “Who told you you could spit up blood? Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?! You don’t even have my permission to die, do you hear me! If you dare to die, I’ll torture your mother until she begs for death!” His words hit me like a physical blow. My body froze, and a cold, sharp tremor pierced my heart. “Liam, you…” You remember too, don’t you? 5 Before I could finish, the doorknob turned. The door began to swing open. Panic surged through me. There was no time to think. I kicked out, sending Liam tumbling off the bed and onto the floor. In the same motion, I yanked the duvet up to my chin, covering my naked body. The scattered paper stars rustled, many of them falling to the floor around him. “Liam, are you okay?” Isabelle rushed in, her eyes wide with alarm at the sight of him on the ground. She hurried over to help him up. Liam just stared at her, as if seeing a ghost. It was a long moment before he breathed her name, his voice thick with disbelief. “Isabelle?” “Yes,” she said, a soft blush coloring her cheeks. “I called you last night, but you didn’t answer. I was worried something might have happened, so… I came to check.” Liam’s pupils contracted sharply. He did exactly what I had done—his eyes darted around the room, a look of stunned disbelief on his face as the reality of our shared rebirth settled over him. But my mother, who hadn’t been reborn, had a far more dramatic reaction. Seeing that we weren’t tangled in the sheets together, her voice rose several octaves. “What happened? Why aren’t you two—” “Mom!” I cut her off sharply. “Liam was just bringing me my stomach medicine, and I accidentally knocked it over.” I gestured to the floor. “Could you get me another glass? And maybe ask Maria to come sweep up this glass? Ugh, my star jar broke, too. What a shame.” My eyes flicked to Isabelle, who was visibly relieved. I offered her a weak smile. “Are you here to see my brother, Isabelle?” “Yes,” she nodded, her gaze shyly finding Liam’s. By now, Liam had composed himself. He took a slow, deep breath, his eyes fixed on her face. His voice was low and raspy. “Isabelle. It’s been… a long time.” 6 Liam and Isabelle left to talk. But before he walked out the door, he insisted on cleaning up the broken glass in my room himself. Including every last one of the scattered paper stars. He was meticulous, picking up each one until not a single star was left behind. As he stood in the doorway, holding the small trash bag, he gave my mother and me one last, long look. His eyes were deep, dark pools of unreadable emotion. But in the end, he said nothing, and gently closed the door behind him. I didn’t dwell on it. I collapsed back onto the bed, letting out a long sigh of relief. “That was too close.” “Ava,” my mother whispered, her face pale as she sat on the edge of my bed. Her expression was one of utter despair. “Don’t you love Liam? Why didn’t you… keep him here?” A familiar ache tightened in my chest. But this time, it was followed by a wave of acceptance. “But he doesn’t love me, Mom. You can’t force something like that. We can’t just cash in on his gratitude like this. It’s not a business deal.” Tears streamed down my mother’s face as she covered it with her hands, her shoulders shaking with hopeless sobs. “But what if Liam really marries Isabelle? What if he leaves us? What about your father’s company?” I knew, deep down, what this was really about. It wasn’t just the fear of losing the boy she’d carefully groomed to be her son-in-law. It was the terror of losing the empire my father had built. I had no head for business; my life had been dedicated to the piano. Liam was the successor my father had hand-picked and trained. But if he didn’t marry me, he was, for all intents and purposes, an outsider. What if he took over the company and turned on us, setting a trap to take everything? He couldn’t be trusted the way a son-in-law could. “But Mom,” I said, wrapping the duvet around myself and leaning over to hug her. “If you manipulate him like this, don’t you think he’ll hate you for it? What if he marries me, takes over the company, and then traps us both in this house to make our lives a living hell? We wouldn’t just lose our protector; we’d lose any power to fight back at all. The only person you can truly count on… is me.” My mother’s sobs subsided. She stared at me for a long time, her eyes searching my face. Finally, she nodded. “Ava, I’ll find you a good husband. Someone who can take over your father’s company.” I just stared at her. That’s… not what I meant, Mom. Was it possible? That maybe, just maybe… I didn’t need a husband to solve this problem? 7 By ten-thirty that night, Liam still hadn’t come home. Isabelle, however, had updated her Instagram story at eight. It was a candid shot of Liam in profile, looking at her. The caption read: You’re worth being brave for. I silently liked the post and left a heartfelt comment: Congratulations, you two! So happy for you! Not long after, my phone rang. The voice on the other end was cool and magnetic, but his words were brief. “Come outside.” “I’m in front of your house.” I bit my lip, an odd feeling stirring inside me. “Okay,” I said softly. I grabbed a jacket from my bed and was about to head out when my mother suddenly perked up. “Ava, is that Nate?” “Yeah,” I nodded, my hand pausing on the doorknob. Nate Reed. The youngest son of the Reed family, our neighbors. My childhood best friend. In my last life, he was the unlucky soul who entered an arranged marriage with Isabelle, only to be targeted by a jealous and resentful Liam. Their rivalry had destroyed them both. My mother, oblivious to my hesitation, was already buzzing with excitement. “You know, I think Nate is a wonderful young man. We know his family, he’s from a good background, our families are a perfect match…” Click. The door suddenly opened from the outside, bumping gently against me. Liam stepped inside, bringing the crisp autumn chill in with him. In his hands were two takeout containers of fried noodles from the place my mother and I loved. He glanced at the jacket I was wearing, his voice cool. “Where are you going so late?” 8 I paused, my fingers unconsciously tightening on my jacket. In my past life, Isabelle and Nate had faded from my world so quickly. I never knew if their marriage had been a happy one. All I knew was that from that day forward, Liam despised Nate. Every time they crossed paths, Liam’s mood would turn black. And he would come home and take it out on me, in silence… “Just… for a walk,” I mumbled, avoiding the question of who I was meeting. I sidestepped Liam and walked out the door. “Mom,” Liam said as he came inside, slipping off his shoes and placing the food on the table, his demeanor perfectly normal. “I brought you both some dinner.” My mother’s eyes glistened. “Liam, about last night… I was just so afraid…” “Mom,” Liam interrupted her with a gentle smile. “I understand. And please, believe me when I say this: I will never forget what your family has done for me. It doesn’t matter who I marry. I will never abandon you and Ava. Let’s just let the past be the past.” My mother choked back a sob and nodded repeatedly. As she was about to speak, she heard Liam, who was casually unwrapping a pair of disposable chopsticks, ask as if it were an afterthought, “Is it really safe for Ava to be out by herself this late?” “Oh, don’t worry about her,” my mother chuckled. “She’s meeting Nate. As long as he’s with her, she’ll be fine. Liam, what do you think? About Ava and Nate? Don’t you think they make a rather handsome couple?” Snap. The disposable chopstick in Liam’s hand broke in two. 9 Under the amber glow of a streetlight, a silver Lotus sat parked quietly by the curb. Sleek, understated, just like the man who drove it. The driver’s side window was halfway down, revealing a sharp, handsome profile. When he saw me, he gave a slight nod toward the passenger seat. “Get in.” I lowered my eyes, pulling the door open and sliding inside. The tension in my body immediately began to unwind, and I let out a soft breath. “Want to go watch the sunrise?” Nate’s deep, resonant voice filled the quiet car. I blinked, then shook my head. “No.” He glanced over at me. “Find a bar? Have a good cry?” I shook my head again, this time with a small sigh. “No need. Honestly. It doesn’t hurt that much.” I couldn’t deny that it hurt. A little. But mostly… I was happy for them. Nate shot me a skeptical look. “If you say so.” I knew he didn’t believe me. He, more than anyone, knew how much I had loved Liam. How I had spent my entire life waiting to marry him. “Nate, I know this might sound sudden, but… I really am over him. I’m happy that he and Isabelle are together.” Nate’s fingers, which were resting on the steering wheel, tightened abruptly. He turned his head, his dark, intense gaze studying my face for a long moment. Then, out of nowhere, he asked, “The star jar I gave you the other day. Did you open it?” 10 I froze, a wave of embarrassment washing over me. “Well, I… I hit something with it. So it opened. But I wouldn’t exactly say I opened it…” Nate’s face was a canvas of confusion. He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned toward me. The space between us shrank until, from the outside, it must have looked like we were about to kiss. He stared into my eyes, and his voice was laced with a surprising nervousness. “What do you mean, you ‘wouldn’t say you opened it’? You didn’t give it to someone else, did you?” “Ah,” I said, feeling a pang of guilt. “I didn’t give it away, it’s just—” The car door beside me was suddenly ripped open. Before I could even react, a hand clamped around my arm and yanked me out of the car. The door slammed shut with a deafening bang. Outside, Liam stood like a storm cloud in a black wool coat, his expression cold and severe. The hand gripping my arm felt like a vise, strong enough to shatter bone. His eyes were dark with a furious, possessive rage. “You let him kiss you, Ava? You were going to let him kiss you?! You said yes to him?!” I was stunned. “He wasn’t…” kissing me. “What’s the matter, Liam? Don’t approve of me as your brother-in-law?” From inside the car, Nate sat up straight. His expression was challenging as he looked at Liam through the half-open window. His voice remained calm, but every word was a sharpened dart. “You’ve got your own love life to worry about, brother. Why are you so concerned about your sister’s? Aren’t you afraid Isabelle will get jealous?” Liam’s jaw tightened, his tone hostile. “My concern for my own sister is none of your business.” “Hah.” Nate smirked. “Is she really just your sister…?”

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When I was ten and living on the streets, I found a kid. He was eight. I made him my little brother, my sidekick. I taught him which dumpsters behind which restaurants had the best throwaways. We lived under an overpass. We got chased by stray dogs. When he got sick, burning up and not making sense, I shoplifted medicine for him. I got caught, and the store owner beat me black and blue. As I lay there, half-dead, I suddenly woke up. I realized I was the villainess of this world’s story, and the little kid I’d saved was the hero. He was destined for greatness, and I was destined to betray him, over and over, selling his company secrets until he finally had enough and sent me to prison. I looked at Leo, sleeping fitfully. I thought for a minute. Then I put the stolen medicine beside him, and I walked away. 1 Leo was almost seventeen when I left. He was old enough to wash dishes, do day labor. He could feed himself. That was enough. I left him all the food I had. I didn’t wake him, didn’t say goodbye. I just needed a clean break. The next time I saw him, it was in a hospital. I was there with Nico, the new stray I’d picked up. Nico’s… sweet, but he’s slow. He kept complaining his stomach hurt, so I brought him in. And there, getting a physical for some corporate wellness program, was Leo. Five years. I knew him instantly. He wasn’t a scrawny kid anymore. He was tall, sharp, wearing a suit that cost more than my entire life. He was exactly as impressive as I knew he’d be. We were separated by twenty feet of linoleum and shuffling patients. He stared right at me. He said my name. “Tess.” The way he said it felt like a truck rolling over my chest. It was too late to run, too late to pretend I didn’t know him. A beautiful, poised woman stood next to him. Skin like porcelain, hair like silk. I’d seen her on the news. Eliza Kane. His real sister. She asked quietly, “Leo? Who is that?” 2 I was Leo’s boss. That was a long time ago. Now he wasn’t a skinny rat living on scraps. He was the long-lost heir to the Kane fortune. He had a real life, a real home. Seeing him so healthy, so safe… I was relieved. I was about to smile, but then Leo’s gaze shifted, looking past me. He was looking at Nico. Nico, who I’d found two years after I left Leo. He’d just started following me, this lost-puppy look on his face that reminded me so much of a younger Leo. I couldn’t shake him. Now Nico, my sweet, slow Nico, asked the exact same question as Leo’s sister. “Sister,” he whispered, “who is he?” Leo’s jaw tightened. The whole temperature around him dropped. His sharp, assessing gaze made Nico nervous. Nico hates hospitals, and the needle for the blood test had already freaked him out. He grabbed my sleeve, ducking behind me. “He’s scary, Tess.” I managed a strained laugh. “Sorry. My brother… he’s a little shy.” “Brother?” Leo’s voice was dangerously low. He repeated the word like he was chewing glass. Then he finally snapped, a vein throbbing in his temple. “Tess. We lived out of each other’s pockets for nine years. When the hell did you have another brother?” 3 The air froze. The smell of antiseptic choked me. Leo’s sister pulled at his arm. “Leo, what’s wrong? What brother?” She paused, the pieces clicking in her head. Her eyes widened as she looked at me. “Wait… Tess? You’re that Tess?” I was lost. “What?” A cold, mocking smile touched her lips. “Leo, the ‘sister’ you’ve spent four years looking for? It seems she’s found a replacement.” Leo’s eyes were glistening, his breathing ragged. He’d been looking for me? For four years? He ignored his sister, his gaze locked on me, his voice tight with pain. “Don’t you have anything to say to me?” I’d pictured this moment a thousand times. Pictured him crying, asking me why I abandoned him. I’d practiced a hundred speeches, but in the end, I knew the kindest thing was the cruelest cut. I let out a long breath, like I was finally unburdened. “Say what, Leo? I couldn’t even feed myself back then. You were sick all the time. You were a burden. If I hadn’t left, you’d have dragged me down with you.” His eyes filled. “Then why did you leave me all your food?” “Guilt,” I said flatly. Seeing him now, a rich heir, confirmed it. The script was real. In the years I was gone, I’d watched from afar. I saw the news when he was found by his family. I saw his rise. It all matched the script. And in that script, I’m the villain. The ungrateful, backstabbing trash. I’m destined to ruin him. And I just… I couldn’t. Maybe I am that selfish. Maybe I do have that rotten core the script says I do. I’m the person who can survive anything, and people like that are rarely good. I didn’t want to see the day it all came true. 4 Leo’s face was rigid. “A burden?” he whispered. “I was a burden? Then why… why would you pick up a stray?” He didn’t use the word, but we all saw it. Nico isn’t right. He’s intellectually disabled, stuck at the level of a young child. My hand instinctively went to cover Nico’s shoulder. That tiny, protective gesture shattered him. Leo’s face went white. He grabbed his sister’s arm, a cruel imitation of my gesture. “You’re right,” he spat, his voice shaking. “You always did have a soft spot for trash. Well, I have a real sister now. You can take your new project and… get his head checked.” He pulled Eliza and stalked away. Just like that. Over. I didn’t let myself cry. I turned to Nico. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s go home. I’ll make you some stew.” I get by. I run a food cart near the elementary school, dodging city inspectors. At night, I sell screen protectors at the subway entrance, dodging the cops. It’s not much, but it’s ours. We have a two-bedroom apartment in a run-down building. It’s clean, it’s warm. One day, I was taking the trash out and saw the empty unit across the hall, 203, had movers. They were carefully maneuvering a real leather sofa through the doorway. New appliances followed. Who moves into this dump with that kind of money? A man walked out of the apartment. My heart stopped. Leo. I slammed my door, my back hitting the wood. “What’s wrong, sister?” Nico asked. “Nothing,” I panted. “Just… seeing things.” But that night, the hallucination knocked on our door. I thought it was Mrs. Pena from downstairs, who sometimes gives us vegetables. Nico opened it. Leo stood there, his face a thundercloud. He walked right past Nico, his eyes raking over our tiny, cramped apartment. He saw the single framed photo on the TV. It was of me and Nico. A local photo studio had used Nico as a model for a day, and they gave us a free portrait as payment. Leo stared at it, his jaw tight. I felt a weird, cold guilt. His gaze was a knife, wanting to shred that picture. He finally spoke, his voice quiet. “We never had a photo.” 5 It was an accusation. And it was true. The timer on the stove beeped. I went to kill the heat on the pressure cooker. I hesitated. “We’re… about to eat. You should…” “You’re not going to invite me to stay?” he cut in. The beef was on sale, but it was still beef. My life was still hard, but I wasn’t that desperate girl anymore. I could afford to feed us. I thought of the nine years he was with me. Nine years of stale bread and watery soup. I called him my brother, and I’d barely ever given him a full meal. The guilt I felt for him, I’d poured it all into Nico. Leo was right. I’d given Nico everything I’d once promised him. The regret was suffocating. I got another bowl. “Fine. Stay.”

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On the day of my wedding to Adrian MacRae, a screen suddenly materialized before my eyes: [MC, you can’t marry Adrian MacRae! This wedding is a complete sham!] [You’re actually the long-lost heiress to the Stone Corporation! The heirlooms your mother left you are the proof, and Adrian is only marrying you to steal them!] [He’s going to have his childhood sweetheart impersonate you to claim your inheritance. Then he’ll marry her, and together they’ll murder your father and take over the Stone Corporation!] [As for you, he’ll have your face slashed, then sell you off to an old man deep in the mountains. You’ll give birth to one disabled child after another until you’re finally beaten to death.] My eyes widened as the comments, like a live stream chat, flashed before me. I was torn between disbelief and a creeping dread. From outside the dressing room, I could hear the murmur of guests. “Did you hear? Conrad Stone, the billionaire, is here today to meet his long-lost daughter! Let’s go see!” I stood up, wanting to see for myself, but Adrian suddenly appeared, blocking my path. His expression was dark. “Seraphina,” he said, his voice cold. “The ceremony is about to start. Where do you think you’re going?” 1 Staring at the man I loved, I couldn’t bring myself to believe what the screen was telling me. And yet, a seed of caution had been planted. I decided to test him, my voice hesitant. “Adrian, darling… those earrings my mother left me, you’re keeping them safe, right? I was hoping to wear them for the ceremony. Could I have them back?” The earrings were a gift from my missing father to my mother. Before she died, she gave them to me, calling them my inheritance. A month ago, when Adrian proposed, I told him their story. He said they were too precious and offered to keep them safe for me. I’d agreed without a second thought. But now, as I asked for them, a chill entered his eyes. “They’re too valuable to carry around,” he said dismissively. “There are plenty of other earrings here, Seraphina. Just pick another pair.” His refusal sent a stone sinking in my stomach. I chose my words carefully. “But my mother made me promise on her deathbed that I would wear them on my wedding day. Adrian, could you please just ask your assistant to get them?” His expression turned to ice. “The wedding is starting any minute now, Seraphina. Can you please not cause trouble at a time like this?” he snapped. “Besides, didn’t you say you had something for me? What is it?” My heart clenched. I was sweating, my hand gripping the small ring box in my purse. Besides the earrings, my mother had also left me a ring. I had planned to give it to him before the ceremony, which was why I’d asked him to come here. The comments flared to life again. [Don’t do it, MC! Don’t you dare give him the ring!] [If he gets all the proof, you’ll never be able to reclaim your place at the Stone family!] “I… I just missed you,” I stammered, forcing a smile. “I wanted to see you.” But the man who had always been so patient and gentle now looked at me with an ill-concealed disgust. “I’m extremely busy today. Don’t waste my time with such trivial matters.” He turned to leave. “Adrian!” I called out, one last desperate test. “I heard there’s a family reunion happening in the hotel today. Could you come with me to see what’s going on?” His voice dropped several degrees, any trace of warmth gone. “What does someone else’s family drama have to do with you? Today is our wedding day!” He sneered. “Besides, have you forgotten your place? You think you can just wander into the world of the rich and powerful? If you go gawking and offend someone important, don’t expect me to save you!” My heart turned to stone. Adrian came from nothing. He was a ruthless overachiever, clawing his way up to a general manager position at a young age. Everyone praised him as a prodigy who had reached the pinnacle of success in his twenties. But I knew better. I knew he was nowhere near the “pinnacle” he dreamed of. At every meeting, every banquet, I’d seen him watching the true titans of industry, his eyes burning with the hunger of a wolf, fantasizing about the day he could tear them down and take their throne. His ambition was a bloodthirsty, predatory thing. Looking at him now, I believed the warnings on the screen a little more. Using his lover to infiltrate the Stone family, then using her to devour the corporation… yes, he was more than capable of it. 2 “You’re right, I won’t go…” I managed a weak, submissive smile. Seeing my compliance, he gave a satisfied nod and walked out. I watched him leave, a sense of dizzying disorientation washing over me. Adrian grew up in the slums, an orphan from a young age. My mother took pity on him, raising him alongside me. He was always my protector, the first to defend me from bullies at school. He still had a faint scar by his eye from a fight he’d gotten into for me. On my eighteenth birthday, he’d held me tight, promising to go out and make his fortune. “Seraphina, you wait for me,” he’d whispered. “When I’ve built something for myself, I’ll come back and marry you. I’ll give you a life of luxury.” I never imagined that in just ten years, that earnest boy would become this monster. I opened the box in my hand, my expression complex as I looked at the ring inside. [OMG, she’s looking at the ring! Did she figure out his plan?] [Go find Conrad Stone! Hurry, before it’s too late!] [Please don’t tell me she’s still caught in his web. He’s been sleeping with Chloe forever! They even have a kid together!] I stared at the flashing text, my eyes stinging. With me, Adrian had always been a perfect gentleman. Even in our most intimate moments, he would pull back, his voice strained. “Seraphina… you… you shouldn’t… stay away from me.” I would tease him. “What’s wrong? Can’t handle it?” He would glare, pretending to be annoyed. “I want to wait for our wedding night.” The memory brought tears to my eyes. He swore he wouldn’t touch me, yet he was sleeping with Chloe. They had a child! All these years I spent by his side… what a joke. No. I would not be a lamb to the slaughter. I tore off the wedding dress. There weren’t many options in the dressing room. I threw on a random assortment of clothes and ran towards the private room where the Stone reunion was taking place. [Wait, is she ditching the wedding? Has our lovesick MC finally woken up?] [YES! Look, she’s heading right for the Stone Corporation president’s room! She’s going to change her fate!] I crept up to the private room, only to find Adrian and a woman I assumed was Chloe already inside. Chloe was sobbing, a perfect picture of tragic beauty. “Mr. Stone, I really am your daughter,” she wept. “This DNA report proves it.” “Twenty years ago, my mother met you while you were doing business overseas. But after you parted ways at the port, she never heard from you again. She had to raise me all on her own.” “When she died, I cried until I thought I’d go blind. All these years, I’ve been waiting for any news of you.” “Don’t you remember any of it?” Conrad Stone looked at her pitiful form, his stern expression softening. “This report… it does show that you are my child.” A flicker of triumph crossed Adrian’s face. He pulled a pair of earrings from his pocket. “Not only that, Mr. Stone, but Chloe’s mother also left her these.” The moment Conrad Stone saw the earrings, his eyes lit up with raw emotion. “These… These are the ones I gave to Eleonora!” He snatched the earrings from Adrian’s hand, examining them closely. “Yes! It’s them! I put them on her myself!” Tears welled in his eyes as he was lost in memory. “Eleonora, my Eleonora! If I had known that would be the last time I saw you…” Seeing his emotional state, Adrian and Chloe exchanged a subtle glance. “Mr. Stone, surely this confirms that Chloe is your daughter?” Conrad wiped his eyes. “These are indeed Eleonora’s.” “However, there is one more thing I need to confirm.” He spoke slowly. “As I recall, I also left them a ring.” 3 Chloe flinched, shooting a desperate look at Adrian. The entire “backstory,” the heirlooms—it had all been fed to her by him. She had memorized every detail for this performance. But this was the first she’d ever heard of a ring. “What’s wrong?” Conrad Stone was a veteran of the business world, and his instincts were sharp. He immediately grew suspicious. “If you are truly my daughter, you would have the ring. What are you afraid of?” Sensing his doubt, Adrian jumped in. “Mr. Stone, Chloe simply doesn’t have it with her!” “We’ll go and get it right now!” Conrad nodded. “Very well. I will wait for you here.” As Adrian and Chloe turned to leave, I ducked out of sight. “Adrian, what do we do now?” Chloe whispered, her hand clutching his. Adrian’s eyes narrowed. “Damn it, why didn’t she tell me there was a ring?” “We’re so close. It seems we have no choice. We’ll have to go back and steal it from her.” [That DNA report is a fake! The scumbag used the MC’s blood sample! These two are shameless.] [What are you waiting for, MC?! Go in there and claim your father! If you don’t take this chance, you’re going to be sold off and abused for the rest of your life!] I remembered the horrifying future the screen had shown me, and a cold shiver ran down my spine. No. I had to change my destiny. Mustering all my courage, I threw open the door, rushed toward Conrad Stone, and shouted: “Mr. Stone, I’m the one! I’m your long-lost daughter!” 4 My shout brought Adrian and Chloe, who had just stepped out, rushing back in. The moment Adrian saw me, a murderous look flashed in his eyes. Before I could reach my father, he grabbed me, his arms like iron bands around me. “Seraphina Hayes, your usual antics are one thing, but how dare you cause a scene in front of Mr. Stone!” While violently dragging me out, he turned to Conrad with a deeply apologetic expression. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Stone. This is a well-known local eccentric. She’s always dreaming of marrying rich.” “She must have been eavesdropping and decided to cause trouble.” His hand was clamped over my mouth, my face obscured. I could only make muffled, desperate sounds. He secretly kicked me. “Get lost, now! Before you scare Mr. Stone.” “She’s… crazy?” Conrad looked at me doubtfully, his eyes scanning my mismatched, thrown-on clothes. He seemed to believe it. “If she’s disturbed, then get her out of here.” I watched in horror as I was dragged away. In a panic, I bit down on his hand. Hard. “Argh!” He yelped in pain, his grip loosening for a second. I scrambled free and ran back towards Conrad. “I’m not crazy! I’m your daughter!” “Look at my face! My mother’s name was Eleonora Vance, she was—mmph!” Gritting his teeth, Adrian tackled me again, wrestling me to the floor. “Mr. Stone, don’t believe a word she says! She heard all of that while listening at the door.” “She’s genuinely insane, just ask the hotel staff!” Conrad’s gaze shifted to a nearby waiter. I looked at the waiter, my eyes pleading for help. “It’s true, Mr. Stone,” the waiter said smoothly. “I often see this woman digging through the trash cans outside the hotel. Seems she’s been unhinged for a while. You can tell just by looking at her clothes.” I stared at him in disbelief, then saw the triumphant look in Adrian’s eyes. [Are you kidding me, MC?! He’s bribed all of them!] A cold dread enveloped me. Was there truly no hope? In my despair, another comment flashed before my eyes. [Show him the ring!] Seeing it, I took a deep, shuddering breath. Even with Adrian’s arms wrapped around my waist, trying to drag me away, I shouted with all my might. “Mr. Stone, I’m not crazy! I am your daughter, and this ring is my proof!”

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1 My boyfriend Ryan’s childhood friend, Poppy, calls herself “the bravest little lamb.” When she wires money to a vendor, she enters the wrong account number three times, freezing our company’s assets. She just giggles and claps. “My mistake! But I only got two digits wrong! I’m the best little lamb!” When she sends the wrong design files to the printers, $300,000 worth of materials are scrapped. She makes a fist. “Even though everyone has to work overtime to fix it, I’m still the most amazing little lamb!” I’ve talked to Ryan about it. Repeatedly. He just says, “It’s a learning experience, Sophie. She’ll get there.” It all came to a head at the dinner with our biggest potential client. Poppy secretly switched my carefully planned menu. She ordered mango smoothies, panna cotta, and mozzarella sticks. It was corporate suicide. I immediately overrode her order, switched back to the original menu, and managed to land the fifty-million-dollar deal. Afterward, she burst into tears and ran to Ryan. “I ordered all by myself, Ryan-bear! All by myself! I was the bravest lamb!” “Why did she change my menu? Why did she steal my hard work?” “Lamb good! People bad!” To “compensate” her, Ryan decided to promote her to Project Director. I refused. Poppy ran off, got blackout drunk, was assaulted by strangers, and, unable to cope, jumped from a bridge. Ryan blamed me for all of it. On my birthday, he had me tied to a chair. “You did this,” he hissed, his face a mask of rage. “You took her from me. Now you can join her.” He force-fed me the entire catering order, twenty full entrees, until my stomach ruptured and I died. …Then I woke up. I was back in my office, on the day of the client dinner. This time, I’ll let the bravest little lamb do her very best. “Sophie, sweetie! I’m heading to The Sovereign Steakhouse to check on the private room. You just finish up and meet us there, okay?” Poppy’s voice, sickly sweet, chirped from my doorway. I looked up, my heart hammering. I saw her face, so full of naive, weaponized innocence. It was real. I was back. Last time, at this exact moment, I’d just found out she’d called the restaurant and changed my menu to something you’d serve at a six-year-old’s birthday party. I’d intercepted it. I’d called the manager, fixed the menu, and saved the deal. Poppy had cried. Ryan had tried to give her my job. And then… I looked at Poppy. She’d been with us for a year. In that year, she had frozen our accounts, cost us $300,000 in trashed materials, and alienated half the staff. And every single time, she’d just tilt her head and say, “But I’m the bravest, bestest lamb!” And Ryan would just laugh and say, “She’s still learning, Sophie. She’ll get there.” I wouldn’t let her be director. I wouldn’t let her destroy the company I’d built with Ryan from a college dorm room. Our company. Our eight years of work. So she went to a bar, got drunk, and never came home. Ryan, my Ryan, who I’d starved with and celebrated with… he found me on my birthday. He didn’t yell. He was terrifyingly calm, just like he was when he found out Poppy was dead. I thought our ten years together, our shared history, meant something. He tied me up. He looked at me with dead eyes. “It’s all your fault, Sophie. You were jealous. You couldn’t stand that she was getting ahead.” “You’re a monster. And you owe her.” He smiled, and then he started feeding me. The memory of my stomach tearing, the agonizing pressure… I gripped my phone, my knuckles white. “Sophie, I’m going to the airport to get Mr. Sterling. I’ll just take Poppy with me.” Ryan’s voice pulled me back. He was at the door, his hand resting casually on Poppy’s shoulder. “You head straight to the steakhouse. Sterling really likes you. Don’t be late.” Poppy leaned into his touch, then peeked around him to make a face at me. A flash of pure, childish spite. “Yeah, Sophie, don’t be late! Ryan-bear and I are off!” Ryan just chuckled and squeezed her hand. Last time, I thought that was just his “big brother” act. Now I see it for what it was. I forced the rage down. I looked up. I smiled. “Okay. You two drive safe.” If Ryan wants to burn his own company to the ground to play house with his little lamb, who am I to stop him? 2 I got my hair blown out and arrived at the restaurant thirty minutes early. The Sovereign’s private room was all dark wood, leather, and quiet, old money. The thought of what was about to be served here made me want to laugh. A few minutes later, Ryan walked in with Mr. Sterling, the CEO of Apex Solutions. “Mr. Sterling, so glad you could make it,” I said, shaking his hand. We exchanged pleasantries. Sterling was tough, but fair. He seemed impressed. And then the door slammed open. Poppy burst in, a bag of Doritos in her hand, crunching so loudly you could hear it across the room. Silence. Mr. Sterling’s eyebrow twitched. Poppy’s outfit was a war crime. Hot pink eyeshadow. A giant, matching pink bow in her hair. Ripped jeans so shredded they were barely pants, and—I am not kidding—rubber flip-flops. Her shoulder bag was covered in jangling blind-box toys. Last time, I’d seen her in the lobby and forced her into a spare blazer I kept in my car. She’d complained to Ryan for a week. This time, I just watched. “Mr. Sterling! Hi! I’m Poppy!” she chirped, holding out a hand covered in orange cheese dust. Mr. Sterling stared at her offered hand for two full seconds before giving it a single, reluctant tap. “A pleasure,” he said, his voice clipped. “Ryan, this is your new… assistant?” “She’s… full of energy, sir,” Ryan stammered. “You’re so right!” Poppy beamed. “I’m the bravest little lamb!” Mr. Sterling looked completely baffled. “…Lamb? Is her last name Lamb?” Ryan’s face went red. “A nickname, sir. Just a nickname. Please, let’s sit.” I deliberately hung back, chatting with Sterling’s assistant about the market, letting Ryan and Poppy go first. Just as I’d planned, Poppy, in her infinite, self-absorbed energy, bounced ahead and plopped right down at the head of the table. She then patted the seat next to her. “Come on, everyone! Sit down, don’t be shy!” I watched, fascinated. That seat was for Mr. Sterling. Ryan’s face tightened. He was about to speak. I cut him off. My voice was sharp. “Poppy. That’s Mr. Sterling’s seat. Move.” She hated when I gave her orders. As predicted, she pouted. “But Ryan-bear,” she whined, looking at him. “This seat is right under the AC vent! It’s the best spot!” Ryan, God help him, still tried to be diplomatic. “Poppy, come on. Mr. Sterling is our guest. Let him have the seat.” His voice was so gentle, it had no effect. Mr. Sterling, a true professional, just waved his hand. “Please, please. It’s fine. Young people don’t stand on ceremony. Let the girl sit where she’s comfortable.” It was a polite dismissal. His smile was made of ice. 3 Poppy, however, heard only permission. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Sterling! You’re the best!” She even stuck her tongue out at Ryan. He just shook his head, a helpless, doting smile on his face. I almost felt sorry for Mr. Sterling, who was now seated awkwardly to the side, his entire posture stiff with offense. He actually let her sit there. My God. Last time, I’d forced her to change, so she’d been late and this whole seating disaster never happened. She was full of surprises. The waiter, trying to ignore the breach of protocol, began the service. I picked up my water glass, hiding my smile. Showtime. The first course arrived under a silver cloche. The waiter lifted it with a flourish. A plate of… sweetened condensed milk buns. Mr. Sterling, who had just picked up his fork, froze. Ryan’s smile twitched. “Ah. An amuse-bouche! Just a little something to start, Mr. Sterling. The real food is coming.” The next plate came out. And the next. Coca-Cola chicken wings. French fries. Mac and cheese bites. Creamed corn. A parade of sugary, starchy, deep-fried beige. Mr. Sterling’s face had gone from mildly annoyed to thunderous. He leaned back, folding his arms. He didn’t touch a thing. Ryan was visibly sweating. He flagged down the waiter. “What… what is the main course?” The waiter replied, “A mango smoothie bowl, sir. Shall I bring it out?” “What?!” Ryan’s voice cracked. He looked at Sterling’s stony face and jumped up. “There’s been a mistake! A terrible mistake! I’ll go speak to the chef right now!” “No mistake!” Poppy chirped, beaming. “I changed the menu, Ryan-bear! It’s a surprise!” She turned to Mr. Sterling, her eyes wide with expectation. “Mr. Sterling, these are all my favorite foods! I ordered them just for you!” I had to give her credit. She was so stupid, it was almost performance art. She genuinely thought she was being creative, that this titan of industry was tired of “boring” steak and lobster. She didn’t get it. You don’t sign a fifty-million-dollar deal over mac and cheese. This wasn’t about food. It was about respect. Ryan knew. He knew how bad this was. “Poppy, be quiet,” he hissed. She immediately teared up. Mr. Sterling’s assistant, Graves, had seen enough. He slammed his fork down. He stood up. “Mr. Ryan. Is this a joke? This is how your company does business? You serve our CEO… this?” He gestured at the table. “Is there even a hundred dollars’ worth of food here?” “What’s the matter? Is your company going bankrupt?” 4 Graves was Sterling’s attack dog. If he was this angry, Sterling was furious. Ryan knew it, too. He was bowing. “Mr. Sterling, please, it’s a misunderstanding. She’s new. She… she doesn’t understand corporate etiquette. Please don’t hold it against her. I’ll re-order. Immediately.” Graves laughed. “’New’? Is it your company’s policy to let ‘new’ people sit at the head of the table? Or is she the only one you’ve got?” This was a direct insult to Poppy. She puffed out her chest. “What’s wrong with being new? I’m the bravest little lamb!” The room went so quiet I could hear the ice melting in my water glass. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from howling. Mr. Sterling let out a sound… a choked cough. His face was purple. Graves just stared. He looked… bewildered. “…The bravest… lamb?” He turned to Ryan, his voice shaking with either rage or suppressed laughter. “Ryan. Are you well? In a meeting of this magnitude, you bring… this… child?” “Are you trying to insult Mr. Sterling, or is this a hostile takeover bid via pure, uncut cringe?!” This was bad. Apex Solutions was the industry leader. We needed this deal. I’d set it up myself, leveraging a connection my uncle had. Ryan couldn’t even get in the same room with this man without me. “Poppy, shut up!” Ryan was finally, truly panicked. He turned to Sterling, almost prostrating himself. “Mr. Sterling, it’s my fault. All my fault. Please, give me one more chance. I’ll make it right.” He shot a desperate look at Poppy. “Poppy! The gift! The Pappy Van Winkle! Get it! Now!” Poppy, startled by his tone, looked confused. “What? The bourbon?” “Yes, the bourbon I told you to bring! Get it!” Poppy flinched. “But… you said that was for after we signed the deal…” “Just get it, Poppy! It’s all for Mr. Sterling!” She reluctantly fumbled with her bag and pulled out a beautiful, hand-carved wooden box. Ryan’s professional smile snapped back on. “Mr. Sterling, I heard you were a connoisseur. This is a 23-Year Pappy Van Winkle. A fifty-thousand-dollar bottle. It took me months to find. Please, accept it as a token of our esteem.” At the mention of “Pappy 23,” Sterling’s posture relaxed. Just slightly. A bottle like that… it was a serious gift. Ryan, beaming, undid the polished brass latch on the box. And we all stared.

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My boss’s girlfriend treats me like her personal nemesis. At the company dinner, she marched right up to me in front of everyone. “I heard you’re really good at pleasing the boss,” she sneered. “Tell you what, bark like a dog for me, and I’ll give you a thousand dollars.” Silence fell over the room like a heavy blanket. I smiled, raised my wine glass, and said, “Here’s to the boss! Wishing you luck, prosperity, health, wealth, joy, and fortune!” “That’s six wishes. Six ‘woofs’ worth of luck. Do you want to Venmo me or pay cash?” The room erupted in laughter. Even the boss cracked a smile. Only his girlfriend stood there, her face sinking faster than the Titanic. 1 “Wow, you really live up to your reputation as the top salesperson. Such a smooth talker,” Chloe drawled, her smile not reaching her eyes. She stared at me, dragging out every syllable. “No wonder Damian always praises your ability to close deals. You really know how to charm men.” “Unlike me. I’m so clumsy with words. I could never come up with such a… unique toast.” The atmosphere in the room froze again. Anyone with ears could hear the venom dripping from her words. But my boss, Damian, was apparently deaf. He chuckled and booped her nose affectionately. “Babe, you don’t need to worry about that complicated stuff. Just stay by my side and let me protect you.” “But…” Chloe lowered her eyes, her voice suddenly trembling with unshed tears. “I read online that bosses always get seduced by their female subordinates. Damian, you promoted Sarah so fast… I… I just feel so insecure…” She actually managed to squeeze out two tears, glancing at me with a look of pure victimization. “And… she disrespected me. I just wanted to hear a cute dog bark for fun because I love puppies. But she brushed me off with those six ‘wishes.’ She doesn’t respect me at all…” I almost laughed out loud. She publicly humiliates me by asking me to bark like a dog, and somehow I’m the one in the wrong? I knew better than to argue logic with crazy. I put down my glass and looked at Damian. “Boss, your girlfriend just spent five minutes questioning my professional ethics and personal morals. Is she… trying to find an excuse to get out of paying that six grand?” “Pfft—” Someone in the corner snorted into their drink. Chloe turned beet red, like a cat whose tail got stepped on. “Damian! Look! She’s targeting me! Just because I’m your girlfriend, she’s jealous and trying to embarrass me!” Damian immediately went into panic mode, hugging her and making soothing noises. Then he frowned at me. “Sarah!” His voice was heavy. “Chloe is young and straightforward. She doesn’t mean any harm. You’ve been with the company for a long time. Can’t you just speak nicely instead of making her look bad?” He pulled out his phone, impatient. “It’s just six thousand, right? I’ll pay it for her!” He transferred the money instantly. Chloe tried to stop him but failed, a flash of regret crossing her face at the lost cash. My phone buzzed. [Payment Received: $6,000.00] Six grand for a toast? I’ll take it. I raised my glass to Chloe again, flashing my perfect customer-service smile. “Don’t worry, Miss Chloe. I keep business and pleasure strictly separate. I come to work to make money. After all—” “Flirting with the boss would really slow down my cash flow.” Laughter rippled through the room again. Chloe stood rigid in Damian’s arms, her face cycling through shades of green and white. If looks could kill, I’d be a pile of ash on the floor. 2 Chloe has considered me her imaginary enemy for a while now. She was a micro-influencer with a tiny following before she hooked up with Damian. Since then, she’s styled herself as the “Lady of the Company.” Any female employee who speaks more than two sentences to Damian gets the death stare. And I am Public Enemy Number One. Why? Because I’m the Sales Director. I report directly to Damian. And I’ve been with him since he started this company in a garage. That shared history is a thorn in Chloe’s side. That’s why she tried to humiliate me today. She wanted to assert her dominance in the most primitive way possible. I thought the drama was over for the night. But as we were leaving, Damian threw me right back into the fire. “Sarah, Client Zhang just texted. There are issues with the proposal for the merger. It’s urgent.” He waved his phone. “Hop in my car. I’ll drop you off, and we can talk on the way.” Beside him, Chloe’s eyes instantly reddened. She gripped Damian’s sleeve, her voice shaking. “Damian… you even know where she lives? What is going on between you two?” “What are you thinking?” Damian immediately softened his voice, frantically comforting her. “Last time we had a late meeting, the driver dropped her off. That’s how I know. Chloe, this is work!” Chloe bit her lip, nodding with the air of a martyr accepting a terrible burden. My head was throbbing. I really didn’t want to be part of this soap opera. “Damian, I’ll just Uber. We can talk tomorrow.” “No, they need the revisions tonight.” I had no choice. I followed them to the parking lot. As soon as we reached the car, the show started again. Chloe lunged for the passenger seat like she was claiming a throne. She sat down, buckled up, and flashed me a triumphant smile through the window. “Director Sarah, so sorry! This is Damian’s ‘Girlfriend Exclusive Seat.’ I can’t let you have it.” “Some women just love trying to steal the passenger seat, thinking it means something special.” She sighed dramatically. “Honestly, why bother? It’s so ugly when people try to squeeze into places they don’t belong.” I looked at her acting like a cliché mean girl in a teen movie. The irritation in my chest settled into something colder. She clearly didn’t learn her lesson at dinner. I opened the back door and spoke calmly. “You’re overthinking it, Miss Chloe. I actually hate the passenger seat.” She looked surprised as I slid into the seat directly behind the driver. “You might not know this,” I continued slowly, “but statistically, the passenger seat is the ‘death seat.’ In a crash, a driver instinctively swerves left to protect themselves, exposing the passenger side to impact.” I looked up, meeting her terrified eyes in the rearview mirror. I smiled. “That’s why I prefer sitting behind the driver. It’s the safest spot. Highest survival rate. Unlike the passenger seat… tsk. First to go.” Chloe’s face went pale. Her hand flew to her chest, clutching her seatbelt like a lifeline. “Sarah!” Damian started the car, frowning. “Stop scaring her! You know she’s timid.” He started cooing at his frightened little bunny again. I leaned back and closed my eyes. When I couldn’t take the baby talk anymore, I cut in. “Damian, are we discussing work or not? If you two keep flirting, I’ll be home before we start. Then I’ll have to text you later, and Miss Chloe might think we’re having a secret affair.” That shut them up. Silence filled the car for a few seconds. Then Chloe turned around, forcing a generous smile. “Director Sarah, don’t be mad. Maybe I was… too sensitive before.” She pulled out her phone. Her eyes, however, were hard. “To avoid misunderstandings, let’s add each other on WeChat. If you have urgent work matters after hours, just text me, and I’ll relay the message to Damian. That solves everything!” I almost laughed. Her logic was astounding. I have an urgent business matter, but I can’t contact my boss directly? I have to go through his unemployed influencer girlfriend who knows nothing about our business? I looked at Damian in disbelief, hoping he’d shut this down. Instead, he patted Chloe’s hand approvingly. “That’s a great idea. Chloe just wants to understand my work better and feel secure. Sarah, just add her. I want my girlfriend and my top manager to get along.” My heart went cold. To pacify his girlfriend, he was treating our business like a joke. Under his expectant gaze, I suppressed my nausea and scanned her QR code. Request accepted. Her nickname popped up: [Chloe <3 Damian 4Ever] Her profile picture was a close-up of them making out. Before I could recover from the cringe, my phone buzzed. First message from Chloe: "Director Sarah, remember to tell me immediately if anything happens with Damian at work! [Cute Emoji]" 3 That night, I revised the proposal until 3 AM. At 6 AM, my phone started vibrating like it was possessed. I slid it open. A wall of red notifications from [Chloe <3 Damian 4Ever]. [Director Sarah, are you up?] [I heard Damian is meeting Client Zhang today. Are you going?] [Is Zhang a man or a woman? How old?] [Since you claim you're innocent, you have to help me! If you see any women hitting on Damian, tell me! We're sisters now!] [Also, remind Damian to say 'I love you' twenty times a day. If he misses the quota, I'll be sad!] My brain was throbbing. I threw the phone aside. Ignoring her seemed like the best response. Ten minutes later, my phone rang. [Chloe <3 Damian 4Ever] I took a deep breath and answered. "Miss Chloe, it is 6:10 AM. Is the building on fire?" "You finally picked up!" She sounded angrier than me. "Why didn't you reply to my texts? Do you have a guilty conscience?" "I was sleeping." I rubbed my temples. "Sleeping?!" Her voice hit a pitch only dogs could hear. "How can you sleep? I'm so worried about Damian meeting clients! You have to watch him for me!" "Miss Chloe," I said, my voice dropping to absolute zero. "You are an adult. Please contact your boyfriend yourself. I am not your spy, and I don't have time for this." I hung up. Silence returned, but my sleep was gone. I showered and prepped for the meeting. At 9 AM sharp, Damian and I arrived at Client Zhang's office. As we walked into the conference room, my phone buzzed. Chloe: [Director Sarah, did you see Client Zhang? Send me a pic!] I ignored it. More messages flooded in. [Ignoring me? Are you still mad about last night?] [I know you're upset I suspect you, but I just love Damian so much.] [If you have nothing to hide, you should help me.] [Think about it. If I fight with Damian and ruin his mood, the company loses money. Can you take responsibility for that?!] What kind of mental gymnastics was this? I typed four words: "In meeting. Do not disturb." Then I muted my phone and shoved it deep into my briefcase.

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1 On the eve of the National Robotics Competition, I smashed my meticulously designed robot and announced my withdrawal. Everyone said I was a fraud, terrified of being exposed. The internet forums exploded with mockery. Only Cole Jensen, the campus prodigy, offered a hollow defense: “I believe in Austin Kane’s talent. He’s the only one worthy of being my rival. Whatever he’s going through, I hope he returns to the competition and proves himself.” In my past life, my meticulously assembled robot turned out to be identical to his. No matter how I tried to prove he had plagiarized my work, he just played the magnanimous victim online. “It’s okay,” he wrote, “Austin can have this design. I can always build something better.” His fans cyberbullied me into oblivion. No one believed me. Fueled by a desperate need for vindication, I tried to build a new robot overnight. But a power supply in one of the components exploded, causing severe brain trauma. I was in the ICU by morning. The internet cheered, saying I got what I deserved. That same night, my girlfriend signed the form to take me off life support. Even as I died, I couldn’t understand it. How did he get my robot’s data? And how did my girlfriend end up in his arms? When I opened my eyes again, I was back. It was the day before the competition. … “Austin, this dynamic humanoid design is insane! We’re definitely taking first place in the competition this time!” My best friend Walt’s excited voice snapped me back to reality. I stared at the human-sized robot before me, a violent shiver running down my spine. “I’ll submit the data now, and then all we have to do is wait for the live demonstration tomorrow!” Walt said, already tapping away at the computer. “Wait!” I yelled, stopping him. “I have a better idea.” My hands trembled as I opened my own laptop and navigated to the competition portal. I found Cole Jensen’s submission: the robot’s parameters and a video demonstration. Identical to mine. Of course it was. “What the hell?” Walt gasped, leaning over my shoulder. “How is this possible? I checked his design this afternoon, and it was totally different from ours!” “That son of a bitch, where did he steal this from?” I clenched my jaw so hard it ached. In my past life, I’d also seen his completely different design that afternoon and paid it no mind. It wasn’t until thirty minutes before the submission deadline that I discovered he’d updated his entry to a perfect copy of mine. I’d frantically reported him to the organizers and posted my entire build process online as proof. But the organizers dismissed my claim, and Cole’s fans tore me to shreds. “Copycat Kane is at it again! He was always stealing Cole’s ideas, and now he’s trying to frame him? Shameless!” “Cole released his data first, idiot. How dare you try to claim his work as your own?” Buried under an avalanche of hate, I had stayed up all night modifying the robot, determined to prove them wrong at the competition. But somehow, Cole’s robot on stage the next day was, once again, a perfect match for my modified version. The crowd jeered at me, throwing water bottles. Defiant, I tried to activate my robot to showcase its unique dynamic systems, but it exploded on the spot. The blast sent me to the ICU. With his strongest competitor out of the way, Cole coasted to victory. He won the two-million-dollar prize and was taken on as a protégé by a pioneer in the field of robotics. His future was limitless. Meanwhile, I lay dying in a hospital bed. To add insult to injury, the competition officials announced that they’d found highly flammable and explosive materials in my robot’s wreckage. They concluded I’d been planning some kind of terrorist act and had become a victim of my own malice. But I knew. I had built that machine. There was nothing like that inside it. The university expelled me. The internet branded me a monster. They doxed my parents, sending funeral wreaths to their home and throwing paint on their door, telling them they deserved to die for raising such a demon. The night I was admitted to the hospital, my girlfriend signed the papers to end my life, telling the world I had succumbed to my injuries. The public celebrated. My parents, hearing of my death, went gray overnight. Drowned in grief, they took their own lives. My soul watched it all, trapped in a cage of rage, refusing to move on. And then, I woke up. Back on the day before it all went wrong. This time, I would find the truth. I would clear my name. And I would make Cole Jensen pay. 2 “Austin, we still have time to modify it!” Walt insisted, his face grim after seeing the organizers’ email dismissing our complaint against Cole. “This competition isn’t just about the two-million-dollar prize. The winner gets a mentorship with Dr. Aris Thorne. We can’t give up.” “I’ll do the modifications myself,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Walt, you keep arguing with the organizers. Stall them.” Reborn, I trusted no one. Not even my best friend. In my last life, my girlfriend, Sierra, had been by my side the entire time I worked on the robot. The memory of her, tucked under Cole’s arm after my death, was seared into my soul. She must have been the one who leaked the data. But she didn’t understand programming or advanced mechanics. Even if she gave him the blueprints, she couldn’t have accessed the core operational code. And Cole and I had been rivals since freshman year. I was his shadow; every idea I had, he somehow brought to life just a step ahead of me, earning me the nickname “Copycat Kane.” We avoided each other on campus like the plague. There was no way he could have seen my robot. So how was his operational code identical to mine? It was a puzzle I still couldn’t solve, even after being reborn. Thinking of Sierra sent a sharp pain through my chest. Why would she betray me? We were childhood sweethearts, practically engaged. At the most critical moment of my life, she had shoved me into the abyss. I slapped myself, hard, the sting forcing me back to the present. The robot. That was what mattered now. I worked with frantic speed, dismantling the machine, rewriting the code. I’d already designed an upgraded version, but the performance was unstable, so I had opted for the more conservative build for the competition. My intuition for mechanics and programming had always been my gift; I was confident even the base model could win. But there was no time for caution now. It was all or nothing. An hour later, I stared at the upgraded robot and let out a breath of relief. I had done this modification completely alone. Unless Cole was a god, there was no way he could know the new specs. I wiped the sweat from my brow and was about to submit the new data to the organizers when Walt burst back into the room. “Dude, Cole just updated his submission! Look at this!” My blood ran cold. I snatched the laptop from his hands. The video on the screen… “How is this possible?” I whispered. The robot in Cole’s updated video was a perfect replica of the one I had just finished modifying. I watched the fluid, lifelike movements on the screen, read the fawning comments from his fans, and felt the color drain from my face. I scrolled to Cole’s post on social media: “I felt my initial design was a winner, but there are so many brilliant minds at this competition. After careful consideration, I decided to upgrade my robot. Its performance isn’t stable, but if I can get some feedback from the judges, it’ll be worth it…” Beads of sweat rolled down my forehead. The core of the upgrade was the programming data, a sequence of code that had come to me in dreams, a program I had treasured like a gift from the muses. No one else could possibly know it. Unless… could Cole have hired a top-tier hacker? Was he monitoring my every move through the network? A terrifying theory began to form in my mind. “Austin, what do we do now?” Walt asked, his voice shaking. “The forums are tearing you apart.” 3 I stared at my phone, at the torrent of hate from Cole’s fans. “LMAO, the copycat ran out of things to copy?” “He’s been leeching off Cole for years, but a god will always be a god, and a rat in the shadows will always be a rat!” … I took a deep breath, the venomous words blurring on the screen. “It’s fine,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “I have another robot. I’ll enter that one instead.” I was about to head back into the lab when my phone rang. It was Sierra. I had explicitly told her not to contact me before the competition. I stared at her name on the screen, then coldly blocked her number. “I don’t believe it,” I said to Walt, my voice filled with a grim determination. “There’s no way he could have predicted this arachnid model.” With the resolve of a cornered animal, I re-entered my workshop. This time, I disconnected the entire lab from the network. No hacker could watch me now. I carefully brought out the components of my other project. Its utility and performance were, in many ways, superior to the humanoid model. It was a machine designed to operate in complex, hazardous terrains. It was still a prototype, a secret I had never shared with a single soul. Three hours later, the assembly and programming were complete. I stood back, looking at the spider-like robot with a mix of pride and anxiety. I had spent five years developing this machine. Its most unique feature was its structure; it could shift between eighteen different forms to adapt to any environment. There was no way Cole could know about this. Taking a deep breath, I began to upload the data. But just then, my computer froze. The spinning loading icon on the screen filled me with a sickening sense of dread. When the upload finally finished, I frantically checked Cole’s submission. It had changed. It was now an arachnid-like robot. My arachnid-like robot. I scanned the parameters. They were identical to mine, down to the last decimal. And his upload timestamp was exactly one minute before mine. His latest social media post read: There are too many humanoid robots at the competition this year, don’t you think? I decided to enter this arachnid model instead. If you guys like it, maybe I’ll send you all some miniatures… I swept everything off the desk in a blind rage. “How?!” I screamed, my voice raw. “WHY?!” The world was tilting, my mind fraying at the edges. Walt rushed in at the sound of my roar. He saw the arachnid robot in front of me and understood instantly. “Could it be the organizers?” he asked hesitantly. “Did they give him your data?” It was the only rational explanation he could think of. I stood frozen, a dark, suffocating aura clinging to me. There were only two hours left until the deadline. I couldn’t build another robot from scratch. “I’m calling the organizers. Now,” I bit out, pulling out my phone. I saw that Sierra had called me over a hundred times. After finding her number blocked, she’d used someone else’s phone to send me a single text message: Austin, I love you. My love for you is like your shadow. Where you are, I am. When you are gone, I vanish. The words sparked something in my mind, a fleeting thought I couldn’t quite grasp. I shook my head, dismissing it, and dialed the competition hotline, laying out my accusations. 4 The response from the organizer was cold and bureaucratic. “Mr. Kane, this competition is sponsored by the National Science Institute and was founded by two of its most distinguished members.” “It involves universities from across the country. We would never compromise our integrity for a single student. Especially when…” The voice on the other end took on a mocking tone. “Your university isn’t exactly Ivy League; you don’t have the clout to bribe top scientists.” “If you lack the skills, work harder. Don’t resort to baseless accusations.” With that, he hung up. They wouldn’t take my calls after that. “Austin! It’s getting worse online,” Walt said, his face pale as he handed me his phone. The screen was a wall of vitriol from Cole’s fanbase. SHAMELESS! Openly plagiarizing and still trying to play the victim! Get out of the competition! Someone on Cole’s team must have been bought off! How else could this copycat steal the latest design so fast? Amidst the hate, Cole posted a calm, reasonable message: “The minds of geniuses often run in parallel. Perhaps Austin and I simply had the same idea. It’s okay. He can have this design. I’ll compete with one of my other robots.” Beneath his post, his fans praised his generosity. That’s our Cole! So gracious, even to a thief! LOL, even if you give him the stolen goods, does he even know how to use them? This is disgusting. Someone should call the cops on this vampire before he gets any more ambitious! I stared at the screen, feeling the blood in my veins turn to ice. Why was this happening? Was I supposed to just give up? Let history repeat itself? No. I refuse. There has to be something I’m missing. In the crucible of my rage, my mind became unnaturally clear. Memories of Cole flashed through my mind like a sped-up film. Before I met him, people had called me a genius, too. But since he arrived, my light had been dimmed. He was always smarter, always one step ahead. Suddenly, an idea ignited in my brain. “Walt,” I asked, my voice low and intense. “Do you believe it’s possible for two people to have identical brainwaves?” Walt looked at me, bewildered. “No way. That’s impossible. Not even identical twins.” “Okay,” I said, pressing on. “If I gave you a robot you were completely familiar with, what’s the absolute minimum time it would take you to assemble a new one from scratch?” Walt considered this carefully. “Austin, I’m not on your level, but I’m no slouch either. With all the parts ready, assembly and debugging… minimum, half a day. At least.” “A robot has too many precision components,” he continued. “It’s not like you can just copy and paste the finished product.” As he spoke, my eyes grew brighter. A grin spread across my face, growing into a wild, unrestrained laugh. “You’re right,” I said, the laughter catching in my throat. “It takes at least half a day. So how could two identical, complex machines appear within a minute of each other?” “It’s not scientifically possible!” I stared at the two robots before me, my eyes gleaming with a terrifying, feverish light. I dragged the arachnid robot over to the industrial gravity hammer in the corner of the lab. My finger hovered over the activation button. “I’ve found your flaw,” I whispered.

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