Category: English

In the end, they both lost their memories. Forgot each other completely. Started new lives, clean slates. And the heroine? She met me. A nobody. A background character. We fell in love, got married, had a son. Six years passed. Then, on a day no different from any other, my wife remembered everything. Shimmering text, like a glitch in the very air before my eyes, flickered into existence: 【OH MY GOD, THEY WROTE A BONUS CHAPTER FOR THIS ANGST-FEST?】 【YES! THE LEADS FINALLY HAVE THEIR MEMORIES BACK! ARE WE GETTING A HAPPY ENDING?!】 【But wait, they’re both married to other people now. How is this going to work?】 【Easy. They each divorce their stand-in spouses and get back together! Duh!】 That evening, I walked the city streets, hollowed out and lost. My gaze met that of another woman, her face a mirror of my own despair. A cigarette was pinched between her fingers as she spoke into her phone, her voice tight. The person on the other end asked, loud enough for me to hear: “Ma’am, he’s saying something about his memory returning. He wants a divorce to go find his first love. Are you going to agree to this?” My feet froze to the pavement. 1 I’d only just learned it from the shimmering text, the impossible truth: I am a side character in a tragic romance novel. A placeholder. After the hero and heroine both suffered from amnesia, the heroine—my wife—met me. We fell in love. We built a life. And the hero? He married the second female lead. The evening streets were a blur of nameless faces coming and going. I stared at the phantom words hovering in the air, my mind a complete blank. I walked without direction, without purpose, until I nearly collided with her—the woman with the same broken look in her eyes. She was smoking, talking on the phone. As I passed, the voice on the other end cut through the city noise, sharp and clear. “Ma’am,” the voice said, hesitant. “He’s saying something about his memory returning. That he needs to find his first love. That this marriage of convenience is over.” A pause. “Are you going to agree to the divorce?” The woman stood in the deepening shadows of an alley, the cherry of her cigarette glowing and fading, obscuring her expression in the twilight. My steps faltered. This was too much of a coincidence. It had to be her. The woman the text described as the hero’s wife. I found myself looking at her, a strange kinship pulling at me. I didn’t want her to see me staring, so I ducked behind the corner of the brick building, my heart pounding. I had to hear her answer. If she refused the divorce, then the hero couldn’t come for my wife, for Lila. And if he couldn’t come for her… maybe Lila would stay with me. Maybe our life could go on. A fragile, desperate hope took root in my chest. I waited. The silence stretched. No answer came. Confused, I risked a peek around the corner. The next thing I saw was a pair of impossibly high heels planted directly in front of me. The woman was holding her phone, a wry, humorless smile playing on her lips as she looked down at me. “Having fun back there, pal?” she asked, her voice laced with ice. I flinched. The voice on her phone was still babbling, oblivious. “…Ma’am, if the matriarch finds out she’s not getting a grandchild and you’re getting a divorce, she’ll have another episode, I just know it…” The woman’s brow furrowed in annoyance. She ended the call without a word. I was frozen, unsure of what to say. “Sorry,” I managed to stammer out. She studied me for a second, then her gaze went distant. It was clear she was dismissing me, ready to walk away. I hadn’t heard her answer. Panic flared in my gut, and without thinking, I reached out and grabbed her sleeve. She stopped, turning to look at me with cold indifference. I knew this was insane, that I was crossing a line, but I couldn’t help it. “So,” I asked, my voice barely a whisper, “are you going to divorce him?” The woman was silent for a long moment, her expression unreadable. She seemed to be trying to figure out why a complete stranger would be this invested. She pulled her arm from my grasp and let out a short, sharp laugh. “Mister, you have a serious problem with boundaries.” And with that, she turned and walked away, disappearing into the evening crowd. 2 I took a deep breath outside our front door, trying to piece myself back together before going in. When I opened it, my son, Finn, came barreling toward me, wrapping his small arms around my leg. “Daddy, you’re home!” Lila emerged from the kitchen carrying a casserole dish, a familiar, easy smile on her face. “There you are. Go wash up, dinner’s ready.” Her expression was normal. Everything was normal. Finn darted over to his mom. “Mommy, I can help!” Lila smiled and crouched down to his level, shaking her head. “That’s okay, sweetie. Why don’t you take Daddy to wash his hands?” He chirped a yes and grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the bathroom. Nothing in our home had changed. Lila had picked up our son from school, she had cooked my favorite meal. Later that night, everything was the same as well. She curled up against me in bed, her body fitting perfectly against mine, and we whispered our good nights. It was just another ordinary, mundane day. She was still the wife who loved me, not the heroine of some tragic novel. The text appeared again, a chorus of despair. 【This is brutal… The heroine and hero saw each other on the street today. The second their eyes met, they both remembered everything.】 【And yet… they just looked away. Went back to their separate lives. So calm.】 【Well, yeah… It’s been six years. They both have families now.】 【I don’t believe for a second they’re over each other. Not after a love like theirs. It was epic.】 【But the heroine seems so serene… Maybe she loves the placeholder husband more now. He’s been with her for six years, after all.】 I held Lila in my arms, her steady breathing a familiar comfort, and a single thought echoed in my mind: Does she really love me more? I didn’t know. All I knew was that Lila had forgotten. Today was our sixth wedding anniversary. 3 Sleep didn’t come easily. When it finally did, it was a restless, shallow thing. I woke in the middle of the night, reaching for the warmth beside me out of instinct. My hand met empty, cool sheets. My eyes flew open. I was instantly awake. She was gone. The text flared, buzzing with excitement. 【YESSSSSS! I KNEW IT! THEY CAN’T STAY AWAY FROM EACH OTHER!】 【Rhys is still the bold one, going right to her house!】 【God, the tension, the forbidden longing… this is what I live for.】 The air was chilly; autumn had settled in. A light rain was falling outside. I went to the window and looked down at the street below. And there he was. The hero, Rhys, soaked to the bone, staring up at Lila with a look of stubborn, desperate pain. I couldn’t hear their words, but the text provided a live broadcast. Tears, or maybe just rain, streamed down his face as he asked her, his voice thick with emotion, “Lila… is this really it for us? Is this how it ends?” My wife just stood there in silence. His composure broke. He grabbed her hands. “It should have been me! I should be the one married to you, sleeping next to you, having children with you! It should have been me!” His voice cracked. “He stole my place… Lila, this is all wrong. We were never supposed to end up like this…” Lila’s back was to me, hiding her face. After a long moment, she slowly reached up and gently touched his cheek. All she said was, “You’ll catch a cold.” His hand froze on hers. He stared at her for a second, his eyes searching hers. Then, throwing all caution to the wind, he leaned in and kissed her. Lila seemed to resist at first, her hands coming up to his chest. But he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. His wet lips met hers in a kiss filled with the bitter taste of tears and regret. He was crying, his eyes red-rimmed as he murmured against her mouth, “We used to do this all the time… Are you really going to push me away?” Lila went still. And in the end, she didn’t push. She didn’t run. 【Oh, my heart… it’s breaking. Can’t they just get back together already? For my sake!】 【This is so tragic. They were once the closest people in the world, torn apart by amnesia, missing out on so many years.】 【My ultimate star-crossed lovers. Please, universe, just give them a break. Please.】 I stood at the window, watching my wife kiss another man. Their story was a tragedy, no doubt. But as I stood there, a numb, hollow question formed in my mind. What about me? From twenty-two to twenty-eight. Six years of my life. The entire youth I spent with Lila. What was I supposed to do with that? 4 Just then, a mechanical voice echoed not in the room, but inside my head. It introduced itself as the System. It got straight to the point. 【Greetings, Host. I am the System that governs this world.】 【Would you be willing to accept a mission? Successful completion will result in a substantial financial reward.】 I blinked, stunned. “What mission?” I thought, not daring to speak aloud. The System replied: 【In order to satisfy reader demand, you must facilitate the happy ending between the male and female leads.】 【You will need to complete a series of tasks to ensure the hero and heroine end up together.】 The absurdity of it hit me like a physical blow. “You mean… you want me to personally push my own wife into the arms of another man?” “Don’t you think that’s a little messed up?” The System was silent for a long moment. Then, with a mental flick, a torrent of information flooded my brain. My head swam for a few seconds. I was seeing their entire history. Lila and Rhys. From their first meeting to their passionate, all-consuming love affair. It was exactly like a novel—dramatic, thrilling, epic. They fought their families, they fought the world, they overcame every obstacle just to be together. The System’s voice was cool and clinical in my ear. 【No one could ever forget a love that profound. They were always meant to be together.】 I understood. Its logic was brutal and flawless. Their love story was so powerful, so foundational, that even if I did nothing, Lila would leave me eventually. It was inevitable. My role was simply to make it happen sooner. The System added another incentive. 【Upon successful completion of the mission, you will be rewarded with fifty million dollars. Enough for you and your son to live comfortably for the rest of your lives.】 【So. Have you made your decision?】 I looked down at the two figures on the street, still clinging to each other. I thought about the last six years. Six years of marriage. Lila’s meticulous care for me, the clumsy way she learned to mix formula for Finn, how she knew all of my favorite foods and Finn’s little quirks. But when I replayed those six years in my mind, a highlight reel of our life together… it only took five minutes. She had been a wonderful wife. An amazing partner. But that was before she remembered. I took a deep, shuddering breath. “Tell me what I have to do.” The System immediately issued the first task. 【Convince the second female lead to divorce the hero.】 5 The next day was Saturday, so Finn was home from kindergarten. He was in a clingy mood, and I couldn’t bring myself to leave him. I ended up taking him with me to complete the mission. Following the System’s directions, I found the hero’s wife’s home. My plan was to feel out her attitude first. My timing, however, was terrible. A butler showed me into a lavish living room where the woman from the street, Seraphina, was slouched elegantly in an armchair, being lectured by an elderly woman. “Twenty-nine years old, and you haven’t even given me a great-grandchild. I’m asking you, will I get to hold one before I die?” Finn, shy in the unfamiliar environment, clutched my pant leg and peeked out from behind me, his eyes wide and curious. Before I could say a word, the old woman’s eyes lit up. Her stooped back straightened, her shuffle became a surprisingly brisk walk, and she headed straight for us. She bent down, her face beaming with affection. “Oh, my goodness! My sweet great-grandson, look how handsome you are!” She reached out to pick Finn up. It all happened so fast that no one reacted. It was Seraphina who moved first, stepping between them and gently prying the old woman’s hands away. “Grandma,” she said, her voice firm but not unkind, “this isn’t your great-grandson.” “Nonsense!” the old woman retorted. “I’d know him anywhere! Give me back my great-grandson!” Seraphina turned to me with an apologetic sigh. “She gets confused sometimes. My apologies.” Then, she narrowed her eyes at me. “However—Mr. Ethan Cole, husband of my husband’s first love,” she said, her tone dripping with irony. “To what, exactly, do I owe the pleasure?” I wasn’t surprised she knew who I was; of course she’d have done her research on Lila and her family. Looking at her, I felt a strange sense of camaraderie. We were in the same impossible, miserable boat. I chose my words carefully. “It seems your husband doesn’t love you.” Seraphina gave me a deadpan look. “Tell me something I don’t know.” I was at a loss. “…” “So… can you divorce him?” She seemed genuinely surprised by my directness. “Are you sure about that? After I divorce him, he’s going to come for your wife.” She smirked. “What is this? Are you so in love with your wife that you’re willing to set her free for her own happiness?” I was stuck. I couldn’t mention the System. That was the only plausible explanation left. So I went with it. I looked her in the eye, my expression pleading. “Yes. So, will you help them? Will you set them both free?” This time, Seraphina was silent for a full thirty seconds. “Fine. I’ll grant the divorce. But I have one condition.” “What is it?” “You have to be my boyfriend.” I stared at her, confused. “Why?” She gestured toward her grandmother, who was now trying to coax Finn into playing with her pearls, and shrugged helplessly. “You see how it is. The old dear isn’t well. She obsesses over a great-grandchild.” “After the divorce, I’ll need someone new to play the part of my husband. And my child.” Her words clicked with the information the System had given me. Seraphina had married Rhys as part of a family business merger, but also to give her ailing grandmother peace of mind. I thought about it. “Okay,” I said, nodding. “I can do that. I can pretend for your grandmother. Just call me when you need me.” “It will also require a certain level of public affection in her presence,” she added. I clenched my jaw. “Fine.” A slow, genuine smile spread across Seraphina’s face. “It’s a deal then, my dear pretend-boyfriend.” 6 When I got home, Lila had dinner on the table, just like always. I had barely stepped inside when there was a knock on the door. It was a delivery guy from the dry cleaner’s. He handed me a garment bag. “Your order, sir.” I didn’t remember sending anything to be cleaned. I unzipped the bag. It was Lila’s overcoat. And even though it had just come from the cleaners, I could swear I smelled the faint, sharp scent of a man’s cologne. The scene from last night flashed in my mind. The rain, the kiss. Lila walked over from the kitchen. “What is it? Why are you just standing there…?” Her voice trailed off as she saw the coat in my hands. Our eyes met. For a split second, I wanted to scream at her. To demand to know why her coat smelled like him, why she forgot our anniversary, why she was tearing our lives apart. But under the warm lights of our home, Finn was watching me with his innocent eyes. On the table, a hot meal, cooked by my wife, was waiting. Everything looked so painfully, beautifully normal. It was a happiness so fragile that I lost all courage to shatter it. It felt as if, as long as I didn’t ask, as long as I didn’t say a word, I could keep this perfect, crumbling illusion intact just a little longer. I took a breath, folded the coat calmly, and handed it to her. “Your coat.” Lila watched me for a long moment before taking it in silence. As she did, something small and heavy slipped from the pocket and clattered onto the floor. I looked down. It was a small, velvet box. “Huh?” Finn said, pointing. “Mommy, you still haven’t given Daddy his present?” A present? I froze. Finn had been telling me for weeks, in that secretive way little kids have, that Mommy had a special surprise for me. This must have been it. The anniversary gift she had forgotten to give me. The box lay on the floor between us. It felt as if the fall had cracked the very foundation of the life we were pretending to live. Lila stared at the box, her expression momentarily blank, followed by a wave of panic. She finally remembered. The sixth anniversary she had let slip her mind. She quickly picked it up, her face a mask of apology. “Ethan… honey, I’m so sorry. Work has been so crazy, I completely forgot about our anniversary.” “This is for you. We’ll celebrate properly soon, I promise. Okay?” I looked up, studying her face, searching for a tell. This was the same pleading, cautious expression she always wore when she thought I was mad at her. It had always worked before. I’d never once doubted her sincerity. But this time, I stared into her eyes for a long, long time, trying to find a single shred of evidence that she still loved me. Seeing my silence, a flicker of fear crossed her face. She did what she always did. She stepped into my arms, tilted her head up, and peppered my face with soft, apologetic kisses. “Are you angry? It’s my fault. Please don’t be angry with me, honey.” Finn tugged on her sleeve, pouting. “I wanna kiss Daddy too!” Lila stroked his hair. “Daddy’s upset right now. Let Mommy make him feel better first, then he’s all yours.” Later, after dinner, she was all over me. For six years, she had been a perfect wife, a perfect mother. Whenever I was upset, regardless of whose fault it was, she was always the first to smooth things over. Comforting me seemed to be an instinct for her. She pulled me close, her lips finding mine with a familiar warmth. For a moment, I could almost believe she was back—the Lila who loved me, and only me. After the kiss, her breathing grew heavier. She slid her hand under my shirt, her palm flat against my stomach. “Honey,” she murmured, her voice husky, “let me take care of you tonight. Anything you want, as long as you’re not mad anymore.” When I didn’t respond, she took my hand and placed it on the firm muscles of her abdomen. “I’ve been working out,” she whispered, a little vulnerably. “Want to… check my progress?” Lila had always been a good partner. In every sense of the word. Finally, after a long silence, I lifted my arms. And wrapped them around her waist. … When I carried her to the bathroom later, she was so exhausted she could barely open her eyes. I cleaned her up, carried her back to bed, and held her as she fell asleep. I woke up sometime in the night. Lila was sleeping soundly beside me. Her phone on the nightstand lit up with a new message. I squinted, picking it up. The bright screen stung my eyes. On her lock screen, a single text message glowed in the dark. 【Let’s wear a tux and a gown, just once. Fulfill our promise from when we were eighteen. After that, we can go our separate ways. For good.】

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In my weakest year, Ryan, a scholarship student with the same rare blood type as me, became my walking blood bank. He was required to stay by my side constantly, and was even forced to marry me. I knew he hated me. Until I heard his inner thoughts. [Why can’t wifey just slap me for no reason? Then I could cuddle with her!] [Some people fall in love, some people watch the ocean, I’ve been awake all night missing my wife!] [Wait? Wifey looked at me! I should have worn that deep V-neck shirt!] [Is it too late to rip my shirt open now?] 1 I watched Ryan’s hands twitching restlessly. I felt like I was sitting on pins and needles, like I had a fishbone stuck in my throat. If he ripped his shirt open… I wouldn’t mind! But I suspected I was hallucinating. “What’s wrong?” Ryan looked up at me, his expression indifferent, like he was looking at a stranger. It was hard to imagine we’d lived together since we were twelve, and had been married for two years now. He was always aloof, a man of few words. But now, his voice was chattering non-stop in my ear. [Wifey looked at me again!] [Yesterday she was fangirling over some celebrity, so today I styled my hair the same way. Gotta win the male competition.] [Wifey’s lips look so soft, want to kiss.] [Wifey’s waist is so thin, want to feed her!] [Want to see wifey’s little tummy puff out, maybe even pinch it…] [Want to eat wifey up.] [Yes! New material for tonight’s dreams!] [When will my dreams come true! Am I not trying hard enough?] Me: “…” One thing was certain: I was hearing Ryan’s inner thoughts! Realizing this fact, the spoon in my hand dropped into the bowl, and my sleepy brain woke up completely. “Ouch~” A hand grabbed tissues faster than I could. The soup splashed on the back of my hand was gently wiped away, and Ryan carefully checked for burns. He frowned, looking like I owed him a million bucks: “Be careful.” [Oh my god! Which direction do I need to bow to for a chance to feed wifey?] [Wifey looks so cute when she’s confused, want to kiss, hug, and do things with wifey.] [So scared I might accidentally squeeze her to death.] 2 I quickly pulled my arm out of Ryan’s grasp. Just wanted to kiss me, now he wants to kill me? Psycho! Not daring to stay longer, I stood up. “I’m full.” Hearing this, Ryan frowned even harder, opened his mouth then closed it, and buried his head back in his food. But I could hear his thoughts. [She only ate two soup dumplings and half a bowl of porridge. A one-year-old eats more than her.] [When can I fatten her up?] [Is my cooking bad? Shouldn’t be, I specifically learned from the chef at the old house.] [Eat fast, later I’ll make wifey her favorite mango cupcakes.] I sat on the living room sofa, glancing at Ryan from the corner of my eye. He really did speed up his eating. He finished the rest of the food in a few bites, even pouring my leftover half bowl of porridge into his stomach. [Ate wifey’s leftovers again, this counts as an indirect kiss, right?] [I’m the happiest man in the world!] [Time to make cupcakes for wifey!] Noticing the fleeting besotted expression on Ryan’s face, I was shocked and hurriedly lowered my eyes. Wait! What was that? My gaze suddenly froze, then retracted like I’d been electrocuted. Ryan was wearing grey sweatpants today, sitting sideways to me. A very impressive shape, clearly visible. This… I touched my own flat stomach. It should fit, right? Though my experience was limited to the hundreds of romance novels I’d secretly read. 3 Ryan was busy in the kitchen making cupcakes. But why was his shirt gone? Long, tight muscles clung to his shoulder blades, apron strings tied around a waist with zero fat, dipping into a narrow lower back. Truly blinding! Better than those comic book male leads you can only read at night! I ungracefully tilted my head back and pinched my nose. [Wifey look at me!] [Books say inadvertent seduction is the deadliest!] [Did wifey look at me? Can she pretend to inadvertently look back to check?] [I’m just wifey’s childhood betrothed, plain face, plain body, plain abilities.] [Such a plain me, wifey won’t cherish once she has me. I have to keep wifey hooked forever, be the man she can’t have!] Hmph, go be a pure love protagonist somewhere else! This channel isn’t for you! I was so mad I wanted to throw an apple at him, when Ryan turned around. “Face so red, feeling sick?” He walked over quickly, placing honey water and cupcakes in front of me, the back of his cool hand touching my forehead. A brief touch. [No fever, scared me to death.] [No way, no way, is wifey blushing because she saw me?] If I couldn’t hear his thoughts, I might have thought, like before, that he didn’t want to touch me. So he puts on this ascetic face all day, but his brain is full of chaotic thoughts about seducing me? Thanks. I was seduced. Coughing lightly, I didn’t dare look directly at Ryan. “Just scrolling on my phone.” I casually unlocked my phone. Only to find it was still on TikTok. On the screen, a muscular guy stood under a shower, white shirt soaked through, lean waist moving. Crap! It was the thirst trap video I scrolled past this morning! I tried to swipe away quickly, but my hand slipped and I liked it… Ryan’s face was calm, eyes gloomy and tinged with red. [Heh, so she’s looking at wild men!] [And liking it right in front of me!] [First celebrities, now thirst traps, am I just a decoration to her?] I tried to explain. “If I said the algorithm pushed it to me, would you believe it?” Ryan looked indifferent, shoving the honey water into my hand: “It’s dry out, drink some water.” But his inner voice told me he cared to death. [Hmph, what’s so good about those shameless men!] [Didn’t she see? I have an eight-pack too, I have a thin waist and long legs too. If wifey wants to see, I can get wet too, I can even get wet naked!] [And I only show wifey.] [But wifey doesn’t like me, she only likes that senior. I really am just a fcking decoration!]* [Want to cry. Wifey, can I sleep between you and the senior?] I, who was fantasizing about him in a wet white shirt, widened my eyes. When did I ever like some senior? Why is he biting back? It was clearly him who barely spoke to me all day, guarding against me like a thief, unwilling to be close. Resulting in us having no marital life, not even sleeping in the same room. Seeing Ryan walk towards the study with red eyes, I felt the need to ask clearly. But just as I stood up, black spots filled my vision and I fell back onto the sofa. Stood up too fast, body too weak. By the time I recovered, the study door was closed. 4 After finishing the cupcake and resting a bit, I went to knock on the door. “Leave the empty plate, I’ll wash it later.” “Let’s talk.” We spoke at the same time. Ryan’s inner voice followed. [Is wifey’s expression a showdown?] [She doesn’t want me anymore!] [Just because I caught her watching wild men videos? I didn’t even say anything, why is she so petty!] [Except for love, I won’t talk about anything!] [As long as I occupy this position, any wild man outside is just a mistress!] Looking at the increasingly cold man, I really worried he was showing signs of split personality. The concern inadvertently showing in my eyes made Ryan misunderstand even more. [She pities me!] [She just doesn’t want me anymore!] Then, I heard him speak. Voice muffled, a bit hoarse. “I’m busy with work today, another time. “I’ll cook on time. If you’re hungry, there’s another cake in the fridge. Let it warm up before eating, or you’ll get a stomachache.” Then he took a call and closed the door. Through the door, I heard him crying internally. [Boohoohoo, suffered such a huge grievance, tonight I’ll reward myself with wifey’s nightgown.] Me: …! After getting married, driven by selfishness, I wanted to be alone with him. So we moved out of the old mansion into a downtown penthouse. Ryan always did the housework. Occasionally he would apologetically bring me new nightgowns, saying he used too much force and accidentally stretched mine out of shape. He looked so guilty, I couldn’t really blame him. I never thought deeply about why he always had new nightgowns ready in advance! Today I learned, all those nightgowns were deformed because he was “rewarding himself”! For the rest of the day, Ryan did everything he could to avoid me. He hid until nightfall. I have a regular schedule, sleep by eleven, and sleep well. But not today. I was thinking about me and Ryan. Calling Ryan my childhood betrothed was a stretch. After all, since childhood, my parents always joked about us, fearing I’d be mistreated if I married someone else, so I might as well marry Ryan. But initially, he was just my “mobile blood bank.”

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My father died in the line of duty. Since I was a kid, I, Jiang Xia, have lived as an orphan in the home of Ming Xunzhou, one of his old comrades. As I grew up, a crush blossomed into something deeper. For five years, I harbored feelings for this man who had taken me in. On the night of my eighteenth birthday, I pushed open the door to Ming Xunzhou’s room. I was officially an adult, and I was ready to confess my feelings to him, earnestly and bravely. But instead of a warm welcome, I found him fast asleep, clutching a piece of paper to his chest. [Marriage Application] Those two words hit me like a lightning bolt. I gritted my teeth and read the details. It was a marriage application for Ming Xunzhou and Fang Yingyue. “You’re getting married? Why didn’t I know anything about this?!” I demanded, my voice trembling. “I’m your guardian, Xia. I don’t need to report everything to you,” Ming Xunzhou replied, his voice flat and factual. In all the years I’d lived under his roof, he had never been this harsh with me. I knew then that it was time for me to leave. That night, I packed my bags and slipped out quietly. But fate had other plans. A group of thugs cornered me in a dark alley. It was terrifying. Just as things were about to get really bad, Ming Xunzhou appeared and saved me. He saw the blood on my head as I started to lose consciousness. Panicked, he scooped me up in his arms, desperate to get me to the hospital. My head was splitting, but I was terrified that if I didn’t say it now, I never would. I clung to him, repeating “I love you” over and over again. And then, I kissed him. Fang Yingyue saw it all. In a fit of rage, she turned and stormed off, only to run straight into the returning thugs. They beat her to death. From that day on, Ming Xunzhou changed. He became silent, withdrawn. Just as I was drowning in guilt, believing I was the cause of this tragedy, he proposed to me. After we were married, he hung Fang Yingyue’s portrait above our bed. Every night, he made me lie beside him, naked, but he never once looked at me. During the day, he made me dress like her. Talk like her. Walk like her. Later, when plastic surgery became available, he forced me to go under the knife to look exactly like her. I died on the operating table during the final surgery to fix my nose. Before I slipped away, I heard his voice through the hospital door. “Once she’s gone, cremate her quickly. Scatter the ashes anywhere. Just get rid of them.” A chill spread through my dying body. He didn’t marry me because he loved me. He married me because he hated me. He hated me for killing Fang Yingyue. He hated me for ruining him. Regret washed over me like a tidal wave, drowning my will. My heart tightened, squeezed until it finally snapped. And then, I woke up. Summer had returned. … I stood by Ming Xunzhou’s bed, the cicadas buzzing loudly outside the window. He woke up with a start, looking surprised to see me standing there. “Xia? Is something wrong?” My eyes snapped into focus. I was awake. In my past life, this was the day I kissed him and started the chain of events that led to disaster. This was a second chance. A chance to fix my mistakes. “Nothing,” I said, forcing a smile. “I just heard you and Auntie Fang are getting married. I wanted to congratulate you!” Ming Xunzhou looked shocked, his gaze dropping to the marriage application in his hand. “Since you know… I wanted to talk to you. Xia, as long as you behave… as long as you stop saying things that aren’t appropriate for your position here… everything will stay the same. This will always be your home.” My breathing steadied. I kept the smile plastered on my face. “I’ll be good. Don’t worry.” I didn’t know it then, but a cold, malicious gaze was watching us from the window. Back in my room, I couldn’t sleep. Just after midnight, someone pounded on the front door. “Brother Ming! Something’s happened! It’s Fang Yingyue!” Ming Xunzhou rushed to the hospital, and I followed close behind, panic rising in my chest. I had made different choices this time. Why was Fang Yingyue still in danger? In the hospital room, Fang Yingyue saw Ming Xunzhou and threw herself into his arms, barefoot and trembling. “Xunzhou, save me!” I let out a breath of relief when I saw she was physically fine, just a scrape on her hand. “Jiang Xia! I have no quarrel with you! How could you send those thugs to ruin me…” She buried her face in Ming Xunzhou’s chest and sobbed. “What do you mean?” Ming Xunzhou asked, his voice tight. Tears streamed down her face. “What do you think I mean? Those thugs dragged me into the woods! They said you told them to rape me!” “Thank god the neighborhood watch patrol was nearby. They saved me.” My mind went blank. Suddenly, it clicked. She was framing me. “I didn’t do it!” I shouted, staring at Ming Xunzhou. I couldn’t believe he would fall for this. But there was no trust in his eyes. Only coldness. “Where are they?” he asked her, his voice gentle, hugging her tighter. “They ran away… luckily, they didn’t manage to do anything to me.” Her sobs shook the room. “Xunzhou, I didn’t want to make this hard for you. But you have to discipline her! Jiang Xia has been spoiled rotten. If this continues, she’s going to end up in prison!” Ming Xunzhou exploded. “Apologize!” His shout made my scalp tingle. When I didn’t speak, his face darkened. “Jiang Xia, your Auntie Fang is generous enough not to call the police. If you don’t apologize today…” Before he could finish, I walked over to Fang Yingyue. I was planning to move out today anyway. To get far away from these two. An apology wouldn’t kill me. I bowed deeply. “I’m sorry, Auntie Fang. I was wrong.” Then, without looking back, I ran out of the room. At the door, Ming Xunzhou caught my arm. “Go home and stay there. Don’t cause any more trouble! No matter what you think, I am marrying Yingyue. It’s her or no one!” He turned and went back into the room. The door slammed shut, severing whatever bond was left between us. Chapter 2 The next day, I walked into Director Liu’s office. “Director Liu, I’d like to apply for the spot at the Music Conservatory.” Director Liu was surprised. Just two days ago, he had specifically talked to me, urging me to take this opportunity. I had turned him down, saying I had “family matters” to attend to. Everyone knew what that meant. My open pursuit of Ming Xunzhou was an open secret. “Family matters sorted?” he asked tactfully. “Sorted,” I said without hesitation. “Permanently.” He nodded and pulled a form from his desk. “Fill this out. Give it to me by tomorrow.” “I’ll do it now.” I hunched over the desk and filled it out in minutes. When I handed it back, Director Liu looked at me with mixed emotions. He had served with my father. He’d watched me grow up. He valued my talent and didn’t want to see me throw my life away on a hopeless romance. “Xia, when you get to Shanghai, focus on your studies. Don’t chase after things that aren’t real. You’re young. You should see the world. There are so many possibilities out there.” Tears welled up in my eyes. He had tried to tell me this so many times, and I had always brushed him off. This time, I really heard him. “I understand, Uncle Liu.” “You have about ten days. Prepare well.” I pressed my lips together. This time, I was going to live for myself. … After training, I returned to the Ming house. As I pushed open the door, I saw Ming Xunzhou standing by the window. The first floor of our military compound housing had poor lighting, leaving his face half in shadow. “Uncle Ming, you’re home.” I tried to escape upstairs. “Come here.” He beckoned, his voice heavy with authority. I braced myself and stood opposite him, keeping a deliberate two-meter distance. He pointed at a paper on the coffee table. “No matter what you think, the wedding is happening.” “I understand.” In this life, I wouldn’t harbor any delusions about him. “Uncle Ming, rest assured. I’ve taken your words to heart.” Seeing my obedience, he nodded, satisfied. “Good. I’ll chalk this up to your age. If you sincerely repent, Yingyue will forgive you.” “Go to the hospital tomorrow. Take care of her until she’s discharged.” I paused, but nodded. I needed to lay low. To hide myself until I could leave for good. I had a feeling Fang Yingyue was not someone to be trifled with. Survival was the priority. Once I got through these few days and left, everything would be fine. “Okay.” I turned to go upstairs. “Remember,” he called out just as my foot touched the first step. “Don’t cause any more trouble.” My pupils constricted as I stood with my back to him. “I know, Uncle Ming. I’ll take good care of Auntie Fang.” I replied calmly, keeping my eyes down. Standing by the window, Ming Xunzhou felt unsettled. Something was off. “Auntie Fang,” “Uncle Ming.” It gave him the creeps. When he had first introduced Fang Yingyue, he had forced me to call her “Auntie.” Back then, I had exploded. “She’s not my aunt! And you’re not my uncle! You’re barely older than me!” In the blink of an eye, he couldn’t remember when I had stopped calling him by his name. “Good. That’s a good girl.” He couldn’t put his finger on it, so he just watched me walk upstairs. Chapter 3 Early the next morning, I went to the hospital. With a heavy heart, I knocked on Fang Yingyue’s door. But the bed was empty. I stopped a nurse. “Excuse me, where is the patient from this room?” Busy, she pointed upwards. “I think I saw her go upstairs.” I thanked her and hurried up. But upstairs was the roof. Ming Xunzhou had entrusted her care to me. If she caught a cold up there, I’d be blamed again. I quickened my pace. I reached the roof and scanned the area. I saw her head popping up over the edge. “Fang…” Before I could shout, a man’s voice drifted over. “Good thing I ran fast last night, or the patrol would have caught me. I’d be done for.” “We agreed on a thousand yuan.” I froze, gripping the doorframe. Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind me with a loud bang. Fang Yingyue frowned and looked over. When she saw it was me, panic flashed across her face. “You go first. We’ll talk later.” “Don’t forget!” The man glanced at me, ducked his head, and disappeared down the other stairwell. I stumbled as I tried to recover from the noise. “What did you hear?” Fang Yingyue advanced on me. I forced a smile, my eyelashes trembling. I couldn’t understand how Ming Xunzhou could love a woman like this. I laughed bitterly. “You’ll do anything, won’t you? Why does Uncle Ming want to marry you?!” She grabbed my hair and dragged me to the edge of the roof. “Angry?” “You little vixen! You’ve been around him for years, and has he ever looked at you like a woman? He only loves me. He’s marrying me.” I shouted back. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell him?” But doubt crept in. Even if I told him, what would it prove? That she was bad? Would it separate them? “Go ahead. Tell him. See who he believes.” She smiled confidently. She was right… My heart ached. Ming Xunzhou only believed her. He wouldn’t believe a word I said. While I was distracted, she grabbed my neck and tried to push me over the edge. “Jiang Xia, you’re in the way! As long as you’re here, Ming Xunzhou and I can’t have a normal life. You need to leave.” She squeezed, and I screamed. I struggled with everything I had. I didn’t want to die again! I was young. I had so much to do. Suddenly, the pressure on my neck released. She let go. I stumbled back. To my horror, Fang Yingyue stepped onto the ledge herself. Four stories up. Tears streamed down her face instantly. She screamed at the people below. “Xia, please! I don’t want to die!” “I want to get married! I want to have babies…” She glanced back at me, a smirk playing on her lips. I shuddered. I understood. I rushed to the edge and looked down. Ming Xunzhou was staring up at me, his face twisted in fury. He pointed a finger at me, then shot into the building like an arrow, racing up the stairs. Chapter 4 Slap! Ming Xunzhou burst onto the roof and slapped me without a word. I held my burning cheek, my mind blank. “Jiang Xia! How can you be so vicious at such a young age?!” He roared. I was stunned. In all our years together, I had never seen him this angry. Even in my past life, after Fang Yingyue died, he hadn’t been this enraged. I didn’t cry. I held back the tears. I was leaving. I didn’t want complications. Once I was gone, everything would be peaceful. “No, not just vicious. Shameless. You pester me, confess to me, and now that I’m marrying Yingyue, you try to kill her over and over again!” He raised his hand to strike me again. But Fang Yingyue threw herself at him, hugging his waist. “Xunzhou, maybe she didn’t mean it. Don’t be mad, okay? You raised her. You shouldn’t doubt her character.” Ming Xunzhou’s eyes were bloodshot, his voice cold as ice. “You’re too kind. Yesterday she tried to ruin your reputation, today she tries to push you off a roof. How long will you defend her?” “I just…” Her eyes fluttered. “I don’t want to make things hard for you. We have to live together after we’re married.” He held her tight, his heart aching for her. “What nonsense! I’m not marrying you so you can suffer in my house!” “Don’t worry. I’ll discipline her!” He vowed. I watched him silently. She was right. He only believed her. To him, she was everything. Seeing me staring at him only made him angrier. Fang Yingyue bit her lip and burst into tears. “Maybe… maybe you two should be together. I shouldn’t ruin your relationship.” “Xunzhou, let’s just forget it.” She pushed him away. “No!” He hugged her fiercely. “Yingyue, what are you saying? We’re getting married in a few days. She’s the child I raised! How could there be anything between us?!” He turned and grabbed my wrist. “Jiang Xia, one last chance. If you hurt Yingyue again, get out. Never step foot in my house again!” I trembled. “Do you hear me?!” He shouted. “Okay.” I collapsed to the floor. He was convinced I wanted to hurt her. I couldn’t explain. If I just avoided her for the next few days, I could survive this. I clenched my fist, nails digging into my palm. Ming Xunzhou, I really don’t dare to love you anymore. That night, he sat me down for a long talk. Seeing my swollen face, he handed me a boiled egg. “Use this. Let it be a lesson.” I frowned. “No need. It’s fine.” “Don’t be spiteful.” It sounded like comfort, but it was a warning. “You lock yourself in your room to force me to come talk to you. You use my sympathy against me. You’re pushing me.” His voice grew colder. I shook my head. In my past life, I would have done anything for his attention. Starving myself, running away. But not this time. I swore I wouldn’t interfere with his happiness. As long as we were all alive, nothing else mattered. Besides, after that slap, why would I want his attention? “Uncle Ming, I’m happier than anyone that you’re marrying the woman you love! Don’t worry, I’ve accepted reality. I won’t pester you again.”

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The senior designer at my new firm made it her mission to undermine me. She didn’t just publicly declare that I was incompetent; she got our manager to take away the first major project I’d ever been given. My explanations went nowhere. But that evening, I stumbled upon the two of them whispering outside the office. “Mark, just give the project to me,” she was saying. “The commission’s ten grand. We’ll do a sixty-forty split—your sixty. I promise you, I’ll deliver something way better than Sophie ever could.” My manager agreed instantly and handed the project over to her. That same night, I got a notification from a client on Fiverr. The usual. Got a new rush job. A thousand bucks. You in? 1 The new job was supposed to be a fresh start, but my senior colleague, Jessica, seemed determined to make it my end. I’d only been at the design firm for a week when Diane, the creative director, handed me a dream project. A major campaign for a new downtown shopping center. Land it, she’d said, and a ten-thousand-dollar commission was mine. For the first time in months, I felt a spark ignite inside me. I was driven. I was deep in the flow, sketching out a concept on my tablet, when a shadow fell over my desk. I looked up. It was Jessica. She loomed over my shoulder, her finger jabbing toward my screen. Her tone was laced with a disgust she didn’t bother to hide. “Is this… your concept?” she asked, her voice carrying across the open-plan office. “It looks like a bunch of scribbles. Who can even tell what this is?” The low hum of keyboards and quiet chatter around us died. Everyone was listening now. “This is for a mall promotion. We need to drive foot traffic, inspire people to spend money. Who is this mess supposed to appeal to?” She shook her head, a theatrical sigh escaping her lips. “Do you even understand the brief, Sophie?” The friendly atmosphere of the office shattered. I could feel a dozen pairs of eyes on me, watching. My cheeks burned. “It’s just a rough draft, Jessica,” I said, my voice smaller than I wanted it to be. “It’s how I work out ideas. It’s not meant to be a final—” “What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped, her face hardening. “That I’m too stupid to understand your process? I’ve been here two years longer than you. I’ve landed six-figure accounts. A rough draft isn’t some secret language.” She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that was somehow louder than a shout. “I’m saying you have a problem with your design. That a project this important is out of your league.” I was stunned into silence. It was like a switch had been flipped. Just days ago, she’d been the one showing me the best coffee spot, all smiles and helpful tips. It wasn’t until lunch that another designer, a woman named Maria, quietly filled me in. “She wants your project,” Maria whispered, glancing around the breakroom to make sure Jessica wasn’t there. I stared at her, a half-eaten sandwich forgotten in my hand. At my last job, we competed, sure, but it was professional. Healthy. This felt predatory. “Jessica has a reputation,” Maria continued, her eyes darting around nervously. “She’s good, and she knows it. If she sees a project she wants, especially one with a big commission, she finds a way to get it.” She gave me a pointed look. “That commission is pretty high, isn’t it?” It all clicked into place. The sudden chill. The public criticism. Last week, right after Diane had assigned me the project, Jessica had cornered me by the printers. “Heard you got the mall campaign,” she’d said casually. “Is there a bonus attached?” I liked her. I was new and eager to make friends. So, I told her yes. She pressed, asking how much, her curiosity feeling less like friendly interest and more like an interrogation. I was hesitant to talk about money, but she was so persistent, so disarmingly charming, that I finally caved. “Ten thousand,” I’d admitted. The moment the words left my mouth, her eyes had widened, just for a second, and then her smile became something fixed and glassy. After that, she was always there, hovering by my desk, offering “feedback” that felt more like picking apart my confidence thread by thread. I’d been annoyed, but I wrote it off as the price of being the new girl. I never imagined she’d humiliate me in front of the entire team. This wasn’t about helping me. This was about making me look incompetent. “She’s trying to pressure you,” Maria added, seeing the look on my face. “She wants you to get so stressed that you drop the project yourself.” A bitter, humorless laugh escaped me. “And the company just lets this happen? This can’t be good for morale.” Maria shrugged helplessly. “She brings in a lot of money. Management looks the other way on a lot of things, as long as it’s not too blatant.” She then offered a piece of advice that made my stomach turn. “Honestly, if the commission isn’t a life-or-death thing for you, it might be easier to just let her have it. The last designer she targeted got so torn down, he quit.” But this wasn’t just any project. It was my first big break. I wasn’t going to let some office bully scare me out of it. I didn’t say anything else. I just went back to my desk and worked. That evening, I finished two solid initial concepts and sent them to the project’s group chat for Mark, our department head, and Diane to review. My phone buzzed a minute later. I expected it was Mark. It was Jessica. Why is she in my project’s group chat? I wondered. 2 A single question mark appeared in the chat from Jessica, hanging there ominously. It was immediately followed by a string of voice messages. I pressed play, and her sharp, cutting voice filled the quiet of my apartment. “What is this garbage, Sophie? If this goes to the client, our firm’s reputation will be toast.” “You’re wasting everyone’s time. If you can’t deliver this on schedule, you’re jeopardizing a major account. What are you going to do then?” My blood began to boil. Mark and Diane hadn’t even had a chance to respond. What gave her the right to tear into my work like this? I’d tried to be respectful, but I was done being a doormat. I typed quickly, tagging our supervisors. @Mark @Diane Here are the initial concepts I finished today. Let me know your thoughts so I can proceed. Then, I tagged Jessica. @Jessica I think you might be in the wrong channel. This is my project, so I don’t believe you’re on the review team for it. Her reply was instantaneous. What kind of attitude is that? I didn’t hesitate. No attitude. It just seems like you’re overstepping. Do you not have enough of your own work to do? It was a low blow, but it was true. I’d never actually seen Jessica design anything. She spent most of her days walking around the office, watching what everyone else was doing. Before the fight could escalate, Mark jumped in. Hey now, I’m the one who added Jessica to the channel. She’s been with us for years, she’s practically our signature designer. I wanted her to lend her expertise. Jessica immediately pounced. See? I try to be helpful and I get accused of having too much time on my hands. Unbelievable. I felt a surge of frustration. This wasn’t “helpful.” It was a targeted attack, and Mark was enabling her. Arguing further would only make me look difficult, especially since he was clearly on her side. So, I ignored her completely. @Mark Are the designs okay? If so, I’ll continue with this direction. A moment later, he sent a link to a portfolio collection. It was followed by a voice note. “Take a look through these, Sophie. These are some of our biggest hits from the past few years, all designed by Jessica. Study them. Try to stick to this style.” I knew Jessica was the office star, but I’d never actually seen her portfolio. A flicker of curiosity pushed past my anger. I clicked the link. My breath caught in my throat. I blinked, rubbing my eyes as if they were deceiving me. How could this be? I scrolled through the polished, professional designs. A corporate logo here, a web layout there. Then I saw it. The most recent entry. I zoomed in, my heart pounding against my ribs. This wasn’t just familiar. This was the exact design I’d sold on Fiverr last month for a hundred bucks.

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Before transmigrating, the System let us pick skills. I sneezed, and between ‘Might’ and ‘Beauty,’ I chose ‘Mutate’. Just because I said the Demon Lord’s feet were white and soft, he stopped going barefoot. And I… I built my career on being a pervert. 1. I was chosen by the System along with two other girls. Before transmigrating, the System let us pick skills. Rosie picked ‘Beauty,’ Lily picked ‘Might.’ I was still hesitating when I accidentally sneezed and picked ‘Mutate’. Me: “…Can I reroll?” System: “Rest assured, Host. Every skill is extremely practical. Do the Hosts have any other questions?” Me: “First of all, I didn’t do anything to any of you…” Before I could finish, we were kicked into the book. After a wave of dizziness, I slowly woke up. Can anyone tell me why we’re being strung up from the ceiling of a great hall?!! A man, cold as frost and radiating evil, sat on the throne. Red robes, black hair unbound. He looks just like the book’s main villain, the Demon Lord Kaelen. Which means we’re… we must be in Chapter 23. The Demon Lord picks his handmaidens, and we, as spies from the number one righteous sect, the Skyguard Sect, snuck in, got caught, and are being interrogated. Mamma mia!! I remember this chapter. Everyone dies. Rosie and Lily, hanging next to me, hadn’t processed the plot yet. Kaelen gestured to his guards, and a guy with a bull’s face stepped up and cracked a whip at us. Rosie burst into tears: “Waaaaah.” Lily was defiant: “If you’ve got the guts, let me down and we’ll fight one-on-one!” Me: “Ahhh~ That’s the stuff~” Rosie: “…” Lily: “…” Bull-Face: “…” Bull-Face silently took a step back. I wanted to cry. I didn’t mean to! But my skill is ‘Mutate,’ which sounds a lot like ‘Pervert’! Maybe Lily’s challenge worked. Kaelen had us cut down. He walked toward us, his feet bare. His voice was rough: “Since you dared to sneak into my Demon Palace, you must be prepared. The Skyguard Sect sent me three gifts. I’ll be sure to kill you beautifully and send you back.” Lily whispered, “We have skills, right? Use them!” Rosie went first. She “stumbled” and fell delicately into the Demon Lord’s arms, ready to conquer him with ‘Beauty’. Kaelen just tossed her aside. “Feed her to the fish demons.” Lily charged, trying ‘Might.’ The next second, Kaelen had her by the throat. “Fertilizer.” I quietly asked the System: “What happens if I die?” System: “You are already dead in the real world. If you die in the book, you will just… disappear. But if you complete the mission, reform the Demon Lord, and save the world, you will get a chance at rebirth.” Seeing me frozen, Kaelen looked down at me. “Hmph. And what are you thinking?” I trembled: “D-do I really have to say?” “Say it, or I’ll kill you right now.” “Your feet are… really white… and soft.” I couldn’t stop myself. “Sss… haah.” … 2. Aaaaaah! This stupid system! I was only thinking it, I didn’t want to say it! Visibly, Kaelen tucked his feet back under his robes. The next second, he roared: “Tear her limb from limb!” I lunged and hugged his leg. “My Lord! I’m not a spy! I’m here to defect! I’m so sick of those righteous sects! You are handsome, magnificent, and the true ruler of this world!” Kaelen sneered. “Handsome? You find me handsome when I’m killing people?” Me: “Ah, no. When you’re not wearing clothes.” Kaelen: “…” Aaaah, this stupid mouth! Kaelen gripped my chin. “You want to defect? Prove it.” Prove I wasn’t with the righteous sects. Easy. I opened my mouth and cursed them, from their ancestors to their descendants. I used every curse word I’d ever learned. By the end, Kaelen was frowning. Bull-Face patted my shoulder. “Kid, stop. That’s too foul. Even I can’t listen to this.” But I saved my life. Kaelen said he’d keep me around, so I was thrown into the servants’ quarters. I was so tired, I passed out. When I woke up… I was a white cat. Me: “System. Explain.” System: “This is your skill, Host. ‘Mutation’.” Mutate… so that’s what it meant. “Wait! Then what’s with all those perverted comments?!” The System was silent for a long time. “Just your personality.” Don’t say it. You’re worse than I am. 3. Under the cover of night, I stretched my new cat body and explored the Demon Palace. The protagonist of this book is the top disciple of the Skyguard Sect. It’s a standard ‘level-up and collect a harem’ fantasy. I’m just cannon fodder. A pretty-face who gets killed off before even joining the hero’s harem. And the villain, Kaelen… the book described him as evil and ruthless. But I latched onto the important part: ‘Strong build, eight-pack abs.’ I mean… I have to go see, right? It was only as I was climbing Kaelen’s roof that I slowly realized… …I really am a pervert. This brief moment of self-reflection made me slip. A powerful force wrapped around my neck and yanked me down. The world spun, and I fell into water. MRRROW! I shrieked and scrambled out of the water, coming face-to-face with two magnificent pecs. I looked up. Kaelen was studying me. “A cat?” A low-level demon scrambled in. “M-My Lord! Forgive me! I’ll dispose of this pest at once!” He lunged for me. I struggled, fell back in the water, and tried to kick off the bottom of the pool to launch myself. I… kicked the wrong spot. There was a low grunt. I was lifted out of the water again. Oho. This kitty… is toast… 4. Kaelen’s face looked… pained. Like he was holding something back. The little demon by his side didn’t dare breathe. In this heavy atmosphere, I started to… knead. Right on Kaelen’s chest, with my little pink paws. “Meeeew~” You think this is a desperate struggle? Wrong! An adorably fluffy kitten! Making biscuits! On your pecs! You’re gonna kill me? Impossible. Absolutely impossible. …His pecs feel really nice… I stared at the spot my paws were kneading… and drooled. I swiped at the drool, missed, and it dripped onto his hand. … “Tonight, we’re having cat.” No! He was about to hand me to the demon when I grabbed his hand and nuzzled it, purring my little heart out. He paused. He squinted at me. “This cat… it seems to have some spiritual energy.” I nodded frantically. “You, leave. I have other plans for this cat.” I’d saved my life. Again. Wait! I clung to the door of the granary. Your “other plans” are… PEST CONTROL??? Before I could object, I was tossed inside. When I was dragged out half an hour later, I was holding a rat, trying to see if it was a boy or a girl. The rat suddenly poofed into a large, burly man, clutching his chest and sobbing. “I’ve never met such a perverted cat in my life! It’s just… too much!” Kaelen waved his hand. The rat-man scrambled away. Kaelen stared at me, deep in thought. “Indeed… a spirit cat. That rat demon has only been cultivating for a hundred years, and your aura let him shapeshift.” He chuckled, pulling me into his arms. “From now on, you stay with me.”

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Chapter 1 When I told Ethan I wanted to break up, he was busy adjusting the settings on his camera. “Is this because I posted her on my Instagram?” “Yes.” He squinted, focusing the lens. “So how long is this one?” he asked with a smile. “A week? Two? Don’t make it too long, I might forget who you are.” After eleven years, he couldn’t fathom the idea of me actually leaving. But this time, I was serious. When college decisions came, he accepted his offer from NYU. I enrolled at UCLA, on the opposite side of the continent. From then on, we were worlds apart. In the coffee shop, the shutter clicked. Ethan looked down at the camera’s display, smiling at the picture he’d just taken of me. “I’m saving all of these for our wedding slideshow. I’ve even got the title: ‘My Brattish Girlfriend Who Cried Wolf 100 Times.’” I kept my face perfectly still. I wasn’t joking. “You know,” he mused, “I can never get the same vibe from you. When I shot Sophie the other day, every frame was perfect.” He clearly didn’t believe a word I’d said. “I’m serious, Ethan.” He finally looked up, his smile fading. “You’re breaking up with me because I posted her on my feed? Clara, seriously? It’s just Instagram.” “Yes, it is.” Of course it was. Ethan had used the $2,000 Canon R6 I got him for his birthday to take graduation photos. He posted a nine-photo carousel. Every single shot was a close-up of Sophie. Our friends commented on how “ethereal” and “effortless” she looked. He replied, “Sophie just has a unique aura.” My photos? He didn’t even keep the RAW files. He said I was “too stiff” and “didn’t know my angles.” “Okay, my little jealous girl. How about I take a bunch of you right now and post a new carousel? Happy?” He was talking to me like I was a child. I took a deep breath. “You don’t get it. I don’t care about the post.” “I get it, I get it. Fine. I’ll delete it. Is that what you want?” I just shook my head. I was so tired of him playing dumb. “You’re deleting it? Can I at least get the original files first?” Sophie had materialized at our table, sliding into the booth without asking. She immediately sensed the tension. “What’s wrong? Ethan, did you make Clara mad again?” Ethan just pouted and said nothing. Sophie immediately jumped into action. “Clara, don’t be mad at him. It’s my fault. I begged him to take more pictures of me. It’s been so long since I’ve had a real photoshoot.” She tugged on Ethan’s sleeve. “I don’t need the originals. Just delete the post, okay? It’s not worth fighting with your girlfriend over.” I let out a cold laugh. “Not worth it? Letting my boyfriend take your pictures is a ‘small thing’? Using a matching phone case with my boyfriend is a ‘small thing’? Secretly changing my boyfriend’s lock screen to a picture of yourself is a ‘small thing’?” “Sophie, how is it that you’re at the center of every single ‘small thing’ that makes me miserable?” “If you like him so much, you can have him.” Sophie’s lip trembled, her eyes instantly welling up. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, pulling the phone case off her phone. “You’re misunderstanding. It’s not like that. I don’t have a family anymore. Ethan’s family… they’re all I have.” She set the case on the table, and a tear rolled down her cheek. Ethan shot me a look of pure disgust. “Why are you attacking her? If you’re mad, be mad at me. She didn’t do anything.” He snatched the phone case and shoved it back into her hand. I suddenly felt incredibly tired. Chapter 2 I got up and left the coffee shop. I didn’t want to stay and watch him comfort her. I couldn’t believe our eleven-year relationship was ending like this. That night, my friends had planned a murder mystery game night. I didn’t want to make it awkward for everyone, so I forced myself to go. I was a few minutes late, and I could hear them talking inside. “Is Clara bailing? Don’t tell me they’re fighting again.” “It’s because of that Instagram post.” Someone laughed. “She’s seriously mad about that? Ethan, you’re the president of the photo club. You take pictures. That’s… what you do. Clara needs to chill.” “Seriously. Remember last time? She got mad because Ethan got the ‘Lovers’ script with someone else and she sulked all night. Ruined the game.” “If I had a girlfriend, I’d want someone sweet. Someone who doesn’t fly off the handle. You know, like Sophie.” I heard Ethan sigh. “It’s my fault. I spoiled her. She’s just… like that.” “Well, you’d better keep spoiling her,” a guy joked. “No one else will put up with that. You’re stuck with her.” A soft, sweet voice cut in. “Clara is so lucky. If I had someone who doted on me like that, I would never, ever get mad at him.” So, Sophie was here too. The group erupted. “Ooooh! Then you two should be the ‘Lovers’ tonight!” “Really?” Sophie giggled. “Can we pick the script where you have to give me a romantic confession?” Ethan’s voice, full of amusement. “Fine. Just for tonight, I’ll indulge you.” He then added, “But seriously guys, don’t tell Clara. You know how she gets.” I let my hand fall from the doorknob. The laughter inside sounded so sharp. He knew. He knew I hated when he did that. He’d say one thing to me, then do the exact opposite, all because he was so sure I’d never actually leave. He’d miscalculated. Later that night, Sophie posted on her Instagram story. “First time playing a murder mystery! I never knew ‘growing old together’ could be so romantic. Thank you for one perfect night that healed me. I used to think there was nothing left for me in this world, but now… now I have a new dream to chase.” Tucked in the corner of a group photo was a close-up: two hands, fingers interlaced. Ethan wasn’t in the photo, but I’d know that hand anywhere. I swiped up to see the comments. Ethan’s was at the top. “Don’t be so pessimistic. There’s still so much beauty in the world waiting for us.” I turned off my phone and knocked on my dad’s study. “Dad, I want to apply to UCLA.” He stopped typing and closed his laptop, motioning for me to sit. “What’s this? A sudden change of heart? I thought you were set on NYU, to be with Ethan.” “Your firm is moving its headquarters to LA, isn’t it? I want to be closer to you. And I want to study finance. The job market is better on the West Coast.” My dad saw the sadness on my face, but he didn’t push. “I support you, Clara. Prioritizing your own future is never the wrong move. To be honest, I was worried about you being so far away for the first time. This… this is a relief.” Looking at his kind, supportive face, I knew I’d made the right choice. Chapter 3 The day after my final exams, I submitted my application to UCLA. I got an interview notification for the end of the month. I spent the next few weeks prepping for the all-virtual group interview. I’d completely forgotten I’d bought tickets for the Mori Daido exhibit until I got a calendar alert. Ethan had been devastated when they sold out. I’d secretly paid a ridiculous price for two tickets from a reseller, planning to surprise him after finals. Now, it didn’t matter. I took a picture of the tickets and posted it on my story: “One free ticket to the Mori Daido exhibit. First to reply gets it.” A profile pic I didn’t recognize popped up. “Wait, seriously? Those are impossible to get! Can I have it?” I had to think hard. It was Leo, a guy from Ethan’s photo club. He was one of their main models, tall, great build. When I met him at the gallery, I realized he was really tall. And pale, with a sweet smile that showed off a single canine tooth. A few girls walked by, did a double-take, and whispered, clearly debating asking for his number. He was quiet, but when we stood in front of a piece he loved, he came alive, explaining Mori’s shooting style, the context. For the first time, photography actually seemed interesting. “Can I take a picture of you?” he asked suddenly. “This light… the angle… it’s perfect for you.” I was a little embarrassed, but I nodded. “See?” He showed me the screen. “It’s got such a great mood.” “Your profile is amazing. Can we try a full-face shot? Let me find the light.” The moment he picked up the camera, he was a different person—focused, intense. I loved every shot he took. I realized Ethan hadn’t taken a patient, thoughtful picture of me in years. After the exhibit, I asked him to send me the photos. As we were leaving, I asked, “Is it… cool if I post one?” “Of course,” he beamed. “Can I?” “Of course.” I was walking away when he called out, “Hey! Thanks for the ticket. I had a great time. Can I… buy you dinner sometime? To thank you?” I surprised myself by nodding. I was scrolling through the photos, trying to pick one for my post. I remembered the first time I met Ethan. He was holding a camera, too. I was seven. My mom had just passed away. My dad was lost in his own grief. I was hiding in the apartment complex garden, crying, when Ethan peeked out from behind a little toy camera and offered me a gummy bear. “Don’t cry,” he’d said. “You’re prettier when you smile.” He was the one who pulled me out of my shell. When my dad forgot to make dinner, he’d drag me to his house. “Clara, be my exclusive model, okay? When I grow up, I’ll open a whole gallery just for you.” He took my picture every year on my birthday. Until my 17th birthday. That was the day his mom’s best friend died in a car crash, leaving her orphaned daughter, Sophie, in their care. That day, I lost more than just a birthday photo. My phone rang, pulling me from the memory. It was Ethan. He sounded annoyed. “Clara, that’s enough. Leo posted a dozen pictures of you. What are people supposed to think?” “What?” “Don’t play dumb. I’m surprised he agreed to this little stunt. He’s the campus heartthrob, Clara. You really think anyone believes he’s actually into you?” I had no idea what he was talking about. I put him on speaker and opened Instagram. Leo had posted a nine-photo carousel of me. His caption: “In all the light and time, you were the most special part.” “It’s just a few pictures, Ethan. Why do you care?” He was silent for a beat. I had to laugh. So, he did know what it felt like. I heard a door knock on his end. Sophie’s voice. “Ethan? Can you… can you help me with my zipper? I can’t reach.” I smiled. “You’d better go. Don’t want to keep Sophie waiting.” Chapter 4 I hung up and hit ‘post’ on my own carousel. My caption: “Light and time. Made special because you were the one capturing it.” Leo liked it instantly. A DM popped up. “Forgot to ask! Where are you going to college?” I typed back: “Applying to UCLA. Fingers crossed for the interview.” He sent back a random “happy” emoji, then: “Good luck!! You’ll crush it.” My friends were blowing up the comments. “JUST CAME FROM LEO’S PAGE. WHAT IS HAPPENING.” “Clara! This set is gorgeous!” “I am now the captain of this ship.” I had to jump in and explain we were just friends from photo club. The next day, at the graduation party, everyone was still whispering about it. “He’s in the photo club! It’s normal!” I insisted. Ethan was sitting across from me, glaring, sipping a boba tea. Sophie, sitting next to him, leaned over and took a sip from his straw. “Ugh, too cold. Can you hold it for me?” Someone asked about college plans. Sophie chirped, “I’m going to a college right on the west side. I can still meet up with Ethan for dinner on weekends!” Ethan frowned. “Why would you do that? I’m not your boyfriend.” They asked me. I was hesitant to say anything about UCLA before I’d even done the interview. As I was trying to find the words, Ethan answered for me. “Clara’s coming to NYU, of course. She’s only a few points behind me. We’ll probably even take the same classes.” Sophie laughed. “Aww, so she can keep bossing you around.” After dinner, Ethan pulled me aside. “I got the book from the New York Institute of Photography you ordered. Thanks. I love it.” I’d forgotten I’d canceled the order. “Oh. It must have shipped early. Sorry, I meant to cancel that.” His face darkened. “Clara. Can we stop this? Are you thinking business or comp-sci? Just tell me, and I’ll register for the same major.” He reached for my wrist, and I saw it: a red string bracelet. I glanced at Sophie. She was wearing a matching one. Ethan yanked it off. “Sophie made them. It’s stupid. If you don’t like it, I won’t wear it.” He stuffed it in his pocket. Sophie looked furious. Ethan stared at me. “Just… text me what major you pick. Okay?” Suddenly, Sophie clutched his arm, doubling over. “Ethan… my stomach… it hurts. I think it’s… you know…” He sighed, exasperated. “I told you not to drink that boba. It’s right before your period.” Sophie’s eyes filled with tears, and she sagged against him. “I’ll call you tonight. To talk about our classes,” he said, as he helped her into a cab. I smiled and pulled out my phone. “Hey, Dad? You can come get me. My suitcase is by the door. We can go straight to the airport.”

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Leo Hayes and I are Hollywood’s resident cautionary tales. He famously blew up his career for the one that got away; I built mine writing songs for a man who would never love me back. He throws money and resources at his past, I write power ballads about mine. We’re a matching set, a pair of aces in the art of getting our hearts broken publicly. And then, one night, we accidentally fell into bed together. Which led to us accidentally, and secretly, getting married. Which led to this: the four of us—Leo and me, his ghost of girlfriends past, and my great unrequited love—all trapped on the same reality TV show. After finishing a challenge, acting like strangers, Leo and I leaned in and, out of pure habit, kissed right in front of the cameras. That night, the internet didn’t just break; it threw a goddamn parade. #LetThemHaveEachOther became the number one trending topic worldwide. 1 The penthouse suite smelled of Le Labo and last night’s mistakes. My body was a dull, pleasant ache, and the space beside me on the bed was still warm. My phone was vibrating itself off the nightstand, a relentless assault of texts from my agent, Cass. I played dead for a few seconds, but the moment I reached for the phone, a subtle, full-body stiffness reminded me exactly why I was so sore. “The goddamn internet is on fire! Can you give me one week of peace? Just one?!” I sat up, the sheet pooling around my waist. “Bullshit. There’s no way the paparazzi got pictures.” A chart-topping singer and an Oscar-winning actor leaving the same hotel? I could already imagine the TMZ headline. It would be explosive. “No way?” Cass’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Lia, the entire world knows about your pathetic obsession with Ethan Cole.” A wave of relief washed over me, so potent I fell back against the pillows. Thank god. “So what’s the headline?” I asked, feeling like I’d just dodged a bullet. “‘Lia Valentine: Hollywood’s Most Pathetic Hopeless Romantic.’” The afterglow of the night was still humming through my veins. I stalled, needing a moment to clear my head. “What do you mean, ‘most’?” “Because Leo Hayes is a close second,” she shot back. “You two are the king and queen of bad decisions.” Just as she said his name, I heard footsteps approaching from the adjoined room. The man himself appeared, a towel slung low on his hips, his hair wet from the shower. Water droplets trickled down his sculpted chest. I looked up, and my gaze met the sharp, devastatingly handsome face of Leo Hayes. 2 Leo Hayes made his debut at eighteen. In the decade since, he’d collected two Oscars. His career was the stuff of legends, a smooth, glittering ascent that made him the fantasy of millions. His only blemish, the only crack in his perfect facade, was the fact that he was, like me, a notorious romantic. One week ago, Leo was nominated for another major international film award. One night ago, he’d accidentally ended up in my bed, where we’d spent hours lost in each other, forgetting the world existed. He’d whispered my name—Ava—in a voice thick with passion, and I’d sobbed out his—Ethan. Cass was still ranting on the phone. “Where are you? Why are you so calm about this?” My eyes fixed on a faint lipstick smudge on Leo’s neck. Because I’m about to give you something much, much bigger to worry about, I thought. “I wasn’t with Ethan last night,” I said. “Just kill the story. You know the drill.” The call ended. I was wearing nothing but Leo Hayes’s blazer, my bare shoulders a canvas of red marks. The silence in the room was thick enough to hear our own breathing. After a moment, he walked over and draped a soft blanket over my shoulders. “You were still asleep when I went to the shower,” Leo said, his voice a calm, low rumble as he knelt to look at me. “You should go wash up.” His dark eyes were impossibly deep. I nodded, but when I tried to stand, my legs gave out. 3 Leo caught me in an instant, his body a wall of warmth and damp heat. The moment our bare skin touched, we both froze, the intoxicating memory of the previous night flooding back. He pulled back slightly, his gaze dropping to my legs. The tips of his ears turned a faint pink. “Is it okay if I carry you?” he asked softly. My answer was to wrap my arms around his neck. We’d already slept together. There was no point in being shy now. Leo Hayes’s official bio listed him at six-foot-two. He was all long legs, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist—a living mannequin. He’d played a soldier, was a fitness fanatic, and had a body that kept him on the top of every luxury brand’s wish list. I’d had the pleasure of experiencing it firsthand last night. His fans’ nickname for him, “The Greek God,” was no exaggeration. As I rested my head against his chest, I had to admit it was true. Leo’s status in the industry was so high that he was practically a recluse, avoiding the Hollywood circus outside of mandatory events. I’d rarely crossed paths with him. At the few galas we’d both attended, he was always surrounded, a remote, unattainable star. But this man, the one holding me now, was surprisingly gentle. He placed me carefully in the large soaking tub and adjusted the water temperature until it was perfect. “Call me if you need anything,” he said, his hair still messy, his features sharp and intense. “I’ll be right outside.” The door clicked shut. As I sank into the warm water, my mind drifted to a movie I’d seen when I was twenty. A Life in Three Acts. It was the film that won Leo his first Oscar. He played a man who accidentally betrayed the woman he loved, a character torn apart by guilt and morality. I let out a small, ironic laugh. For an actor of his caliber, this situation probably felt like method acting. 4 It took me a long time to get clean, and by the time I emerged, my patience had worn thin. A fresh set of clothes was waiting for me. Next to them, a glass of water and the morning-after pill. Leo handed them to me. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice gentle. “In our line of work, we have to be careful.” The veins on the back of his hand stood out as he held the glass, his tone leaving no room for argument. I didn’t waste time. I swallowed the pill and downed the water. “What if it doesn’t work?” I asked. Too much time had passed. I loved my life, and a baby wasn’t part of the plan. But I needed to know where he stood. “Your wishes are all that matter. I will take full responsibility and provide the best possible compensation.” The belt of his robe was loosely tied, revealing the faint scratches on his abdomen. He leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed, his gaze direct and unwavering. “I don’t know how your key card got mixed up, but that doesn’t matter now,” he continued, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If you’re pregnant, it’s your choice. Whether you want to keep it, who raises it—it’s all up to you. I will respect every decision and offer unconditional financial and professional support.” He really was as decent as his reputation suggested. A true gentleman. “It takes two to tango,” he added, “but at the end of the day, I was the one who walked into the wrong suite.” My hips ached and my legs felt like jelly. Last night, all reason had evaporated. I glanced at the man across from me and sank onto the sofa. I pressed a hand to my stomach. His persona was all cool self-control, but in bed, Leo Hayes was an entirely different animal. “Let’s just,” I paused, “call this a one-time thing. A crazy night that never happened.” 5 Leo’s head was bowed, hiding his expression. “Let’s exchange numbers,” he said after a moment of silence, picking up his phone from the island. “You can contact me if anything comes up.” I raised an eyebrow. Everyone in the business knew Leo Hayes came from a powerful family and had access to the best resources in the industry. I’d hit it big with my debut single, but our professional circles were worlds apart. We’d never had a reason to connect. Besides, more than his legendary career, my primary impression of him was the same one the public had of me. One of Hollywood’s most notorious hopeless romantics. His story was as well-known as my five-year public pursuit of Ethan Cole, the CEO of Azure Media. Three years ago, at the absolute peak of his fame, Leo had announced an indefinite hiatus from acting—all for a young starlet named Ava Brooks. A workaholic giving up his career for love, a high-profile declaration, a massive fan exodus—it was spectacular. He only returned to the screen a year ago, after the tabloids reported their breakup. And in less than ten months, he was already nominated for another major award for a gritty indie film. It was at his welcome-home party that he and I had, by some cosmic joke, ended up in bed together. I pulled out my phone, thinking with a cynical smirk that at least I got something out of it. A fantastic night and a powerful new contact. I ignored the dozens of notifications and held my screen out for him to scan. Just then, two new messages from Cass popped up, in full view of both of us. [Your scandal just got buried by Leo Hayes’s.] [His is way bigger. You hopeless romantics have to stick together, I guess.] I froze. As if on cue, Leo’s phone began to vibrate violently. 6 It was Marcus, Leo’s legendary agent. While he took the call, I quickly went online to catch up. An hour ago, I was the top story. The infamous gossip site, LA Buzz, had posted: Lia Valentine finally gets her man? The accompanying photo was a cleverly angled shot of Ethan and me from the party last night. It looked like we were kissing. It was a beautiful photo, capturing the elegant line of Ethan’s jaw. He looked refined, handsome. I was looking up at him, a focused, adoring smile on my face. The comments were brutal. Trolls called me a desperate stalker, while my fans fought a losing battle in the replies, begging me to have some self-respect. But that wasn’t the main event anymore. I clicked on the new, blazing red headline. #LeoAndAvaBackTogether It was another post from LA Buzz. No text this time, just a short surveillance video. A man and a woman, locked in a passionate kiss, stumbled down a hotel corridor and into a suite. The clip was over a minute long, a desperate, breathless tangle of limbs. The man’s larger frame completely obscured the woman, her face never visible. All you could see were her pointed toes, her long hair swinging around her waist, and the man’s hand gripping that waist, the veins on his arm stark and possessive. It was raw, so intense you could practically hear the wet sound of their kisses. It was the kind of video that made you blush. I covered my face, a wave of horror washing over me as I recognized it. It was from last night. It was me and Leo Hayes. I looked up. The man from the video was standing right in front of me. “We need to talk,” Leo said, his expression unreadable. 7 “I swear, I didn’t leak that video.” “I know,” Leo said, surprisingly calm. “You haven’t exactly had the time.” My mind flashed with images of the various positions we’d been in, and I winced. “…” “I’ll handle the trending topics,” he said. “And I took care of the one about you and Ethan Cole while I was at it.” Saving money was always a plus. “Thanks,” I said briskly. Leo glanced at me and held out his phone again. We finally added each other as contacts. As he typed in my name, a belated wave of awkwardness washed over me. Out of habit, to prevent being photographed, the heavy blackout curtains remained drawn, casting the room in a cool, dim light. We were both in bathrobes, our bodies marked by each other. Every time our eyes met, the memories of the night before came rushing back. The kisses, the embraces, his low, seductive whispers, my own helpless crying. We both knew it was more than just a spiked drink. We were adults. In the latter half of the night, we had both been willing participants, a mix of pure indulgence and a shared decision to see it through. A tense, electric ambiguity began to warm the air. “We should leave at different times,” Leo said, standing up first. “And like I said, if you need anything, just contact me.” I was alone in the master suite when Cass called again. “I can’t take it anymore,” she said, her voice strained. “When are you finally leaving Azure Media?” 8 My pursuit of Ethan Cole had been a public spectacle for five years. Three years ago, I’d given up plans to launch my own independent label and instead signed with his company, Azure Media. I was at a critical point in my career, and the move cost me a huge chunk of my fanbase. But I wasn’t a manufactured pop idol; I was a songwriter, young and arrogant, buoyed by real talent. I went on to release two more bestselling albums. My remaining fans, in an act of collective self-soothing, convinced themselves I was just there for artistic inspiration. For years, I’d been the golden goose, bringing Azure countless successful projects and massive revenue. But behind the scenes, I’d paid a heavy price. “What’s wrong?” I asked softly. “Didn’t the story get taken down?” “The watch endorsement—the full line,” Cass said with a cold laugh. “Your beloved CEO gave it to Ava Brooks.” Ava Brooks. The current “it girl.” The woman Leo Hayes had given up his career for. His great, idealized love. For some reason, instead of anger, I felt a strange sense of dark humor. This town was too small. We were all just actors in the same ridiculous play. “What the hell are you laughing at?” Cass snapped. “That son of a bitch has been trying to sideline you for months. Ava signing with Azure after her ‘reunion’ with Leo? He brought her in specifically to replace you.” She took a deep, ragged breath. “If you didn’t pay me so damn well, and if every lovesick song you write for him didn’t turn to gold, I would’ve been gone so long ago!” I was shaking with laughter. It took me a moment to catch my breath. “Don’t worry, Cass. Ava and Leo aren’t back together.” “How would you know? Did you see how fast he killed that story? Who else could make him move like that besides Ava?” Because he just climbed out of my bed. “Get the paperwork ready,” I said. “It’s time to start my own studio.” 9 On the drive to Azure Media’s headquarters, I thought about how Ethan and I had met. He discovered me. In my early days, trying to make it in music, my family had all but cut me off. I was broke, playing for tips in smoky bars, when Ethan found me. He gave me money, poured resources into my first album, and launched my career into the stratosphere. He was five years older than me, handsome, elegant, wealthy—and a staunch bachelor. Cass always said he’d intentionally cultivated my crush on him. A damn shame he was a coward. He’d reeled me in but refused to either commit or cut me loose, leaving me hanging in limbo. I didn’t used to care. Maybe it was an occupational hazard for a songwriter, but my emotions were always intense. If I loved, I pursued. If I hated, I walked away. All or nothing. So I let him play his games, let my heart be trampled, let the world laugh at me. They were my choices, and I could live with the consequences. But even the most resilient heart gets tired of being taken for granted. Ethan was expecting me. He handed me a cup of freshly brewed tea. He was always like that—thoughtful and gentle in every small way, yet incredibly stingy with the things that truly mattered. I got straight to the point. “My endorsement. Why did you give it to Ava?” “I had to give her a welcome gift for signing with us,” he said, his voice low and persuasive. “Lia, just do this for me, okay? As a favor.” I looked at his handsome face and thought, He’s always so sure I’ll say yes. Time after time, his reassurances had become more and more perfunctory. I smiled, a hollow ache spreading through my chest, like an old wound being torn open. It hurt so much my voice came out raspy. And I gave him the same answer I always did. “Okay.” 10 “I’ll make it up to you,” Ethan said warmly. “There’s a spot for you on Pacific Challenge, the network’s biggest reality show. You’ll be a main cast member.” The discomfort from last night lingered in my body. I sipped my tea, my eyes downcast. “Why her? Why Ava?” Ava was a natural talent, one of those actresses blessed by the gods. She hadn’t made many films, but nearly every one was a classic. Her personality was as bright and fiery as her fame. Three years ago, she and Leo had been cast as leads in a romance, and their on-screen love had spilled into real life. After Leo stepped away for her, Ava remained in the spotlight—not for her acting, but for a string of high-profile flings. I remembered clearly that among the men she was rumored to be with, Ethan had once been photographed with her at a hotel. “The company’s focus for the second half of the year is film investment,” he said with a smile. Then his eyes fell on me, and he paused. “Lia, where were you yesterday?” I looked down and saw it: a faint mark on my collarbone, just visible past the edge of my silk scarf. I adjusted the scarf. “Does it matter to you?” Ethan was taken aback. In all the years I’d chased him, I’d never spoken to him with that tone. But he recovered quickly, smiling. “Still the same little hothead, aren’t you?” His voice became soft, coaxing. “Don’t be mad. I know I’ve been neglecting you lately. That’s my fault.” He brushed his fingers against my palm. “Come over tonight?” There it was again. The slap, then the candy. All of it predicated on the fact that he knew I loved him, giving him license to treat my heart like a plaything. Before, it had been a game I was willing to play. But now— I pulled my hand away. “No, thanks. You’re busy. I should go.” 11 As I walked out of the Azure building, a message popped up on my phone. It was one of a dozen from my mother. “Just meet him. Our families are partners on this project, and he’s in your industry. It won’t kill you to have one dinner.” My career had been stable for years, and as I’d gotten older, the frosty relationship with my family had started to thaw. But the constant pressure to agree to an arranged marriage made me wish we were still estranged. Every part of my body ached. Leo Hayes was an animal in bed. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. The buyout clause in my contract with Azure was steep. I could afford it, but it would be a devastating financial hit. I had an album to release and a whole team of people who depended on me. I typed out a reply, word by word. “Fine. Let me know when and where.” This whole arrangement was born from a massive real estate development deal. My older siblings were already married, leaving me as the only age-appropriate match for the other family’s youngest son. Business is business, I thought grimly. You get your hands dirty one way or another. If this marriage worked, my family would cover the exorbitant contract buyout. I scheduled a doctor’s appointment. The results were clear. As I was leaving the clinic, a message from Leo came in. “Do you need to get a full check-up?” I raised an eyebrow and replied, “Thanks, I already did.” He didn’t write back. Online, every trace of that explosive kissing video had been scrubbed from the internet. I’d seen it before, but it was still staggering to witness the efficiency of Leo Hayes’s team. Of course, that level of damage control had previously been reserved exclusively for Ava Brooks. Today, I’d gotten a taste of it. On the way home, I called Cass. “I know you’ve been waiting for this,” I said with a smile. “It’s officially time to burn it all down with Ethan.” 12 The day I was scheduled to meet my prospective fiancé, my new independent studio’s official social media accounts went live. The news spread like wildfire through gossip blogs and fan communities. The internet was in an uproar. Ethan called me relentlessly. I didn’t answer once. The meeting was at a serene, traditional teahouse, set in a private garden that I was told belonged to the family. While I waited, I reviewed what little I knew about my future husband. The Rhodes family. A real estate empire, one of the most powerful names in the city. Their youngest son, like me, was a rebel who’d gone into entertainment. He couldn’t be very famous, though. I’d been in this business for years and had never heard of a major star named Rhodes. The sound of approaching footsteps broke my train of thought. I looked up, and my eyes widened in disbelief. The man walking toward me was tall and lean, dressed in a simple black t-shirt and jeans, a sleek watch on his wrist. It was a casual outfit, but there was nothing casual about that handsome face. Leo Hayes. The A-list actor who, just one week ago, had been whispering in my ear as we lay tangled in my sheets. His usual cool expression was touched with genuine surprise. He paused for a beat before saying, “Long time no see.” “Not that long,” I said, unable to suppress a smile. The world was ridiculously small. “Your last name isn’t Hayes?” “I use my mother’s surname professionally,” he said, taking the seat across from me. “I had no idea the marriage was arranged with you.” “I didn’t either.” “After that day,” Leo asked, his voice softening, “did you get checked out? Did you feel okay?” I looked at him, his dark hair falling casually across his forehead, a relaxed charm in his sharp features. He had the captivating aura of a mature, confident man. “I’m fine,” I said with a small smile, a spark of mischief igniting in me. “Although, it’s a little too soon to know if I’m pregnant or not.” Leo didn’t smile back. He looked at me, his gaze serious and intense. “Lia Valentine, will you consider marrying me?”

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I had just been reunited with the biological parents who lost me twenty years ago. Before I could feel a single shred of their love, I was tricked into leaving the country by Maya, the “fake daughter” they’d raised. She didn’t just tell my parents I’d run away; she tore up my passport. She sold me to a human trafficking compound, her jealous, twisted face smiling as she said: “A piece of trash like you belongs in the gutter!” As a group of men closed in on me, I stared at the uniforms they were wearing and froze. That wasn’t just a random logo. It was the logo of Donovan Holdings—the company belonging to the adoptive parents who had raised me for twenty years. 1 “I swear to God, if you look at me with those filthy eyes again, I’ll dig them out and feed them to the dogs!” Maya Kensington’s plain face was terrifying when it contorted with rage. “Maya, you’re insane! If Mom and Dad find out you did this, they’ll kill you!” I was struggling against three massive guards, but I was like a baby bird in their grip. My helplessness only made Maya smile wider, so much so that she was trembling. “I’ll tell them you’re just loving life abroad. Having so much fun you’ve decided not to come home.” Maya and I were switched at birth. She’d lived as the Kensington heiress for twenty years before the truth came out. Then I showed up. On the surface, she was all smiles and sisterly kindness. In private, she was a venomous snake. It got worse when our biological parents, Richard and Eleanor, announced my engagement to Cole Hartman. She’d been obsessed with Cole for years. I told her, and them, a dozen times that I had no intention of marrying a stranger. Nobody believed me. They all thought I was just being “shy.” Lately, she’d been so nice. I actually thought she’d finally accepted the truth. So when she suggested a “sisters’ trip” abroad to bond, I agreed. And now, here I was, in a remote compound, my passport shredded. “Maya, if you let me go right now, I can pretend this never happened. But if you don’t—” SLAP! Her hand cracked across my face so hard my lip split. She dug her long nails into my cheeks, drawing blood. “You’re in my world now, Stella,” she hissed, using the name the Kensingtons had given me. “You dare threaten me?” “You planned this,” I spat. “Choosing a remote location, far from the city. It was to make the kidnapping easier.” “You’re not as stupid as you look,” she laughed. “You walked right into the trap. So, you’re going to stay here and earn me some money.” She got back in the car and left. The men threw a deck of cards at my feet. “You’ve got one week to learn how to be a dealer.” I saw the logo on the cards. “This is an illegal casino! I won’t do it! This is a crime!” The leader kicked me in the stomach. Pain exploded, and I collapsed, unable to breathe. He grabbed my hair and hauled me back up. “I wasn’t asking,” he growled. “You’ll do it. But since you’re not the cooperative type, let’s start with a lesson.” A wooden baton slammed into my back. “Ah!” Two hits, and I was already covered in a cold sweat. It was the middle of the night, dead silent. This was not a fight I could win. “How much?” I gasped, tasting blood. “How much money to let me go?” They all burst out laughing. “Money? Do we look like we need money?” The leader sneered. “We’re just following Miss Kensington’s orders. This is just bad luck for you, sweetheart.” They closed in, grinning. “And if you don’t want to deal cards, we’ve got… other jobs. Lots of work for a pretty face.” I was pinned. As I thrashed, I ripped open one of the men’s jackets. My eyes locked on the tattoo on his left shoulder. It was a stylized “D” over a globe. The logo for Donovan Holdings. My adoptive family. Mom, Dad, and my brother Ryan had raised me like a princess since they found me. They’d always sworn to me they were out of “the business.” They didn’t even have a branch in this country. “You’re… you’re Donovan Holdings?” The men glanced at each other. “Huh. She knows the name. Smart.” “I’m Cara!” I screamed, using my real name. “I’m Cara Donovan! The boss’s daughter! You have to let me go! My brother… Ryan… he’ll kill you!” They laughed again. “The boss’s daughter? Nice try. We’ve only got one ‘daughter,’ and that’s Miss Cara. You’re not her.” “I AM CARA!” I was about to tell them to check my ID, but Maya had burned it with my passport. “Call Ryan! Call Ryan Donovan! He’ll know my voice!” My desperation gave them a second’s pause. The leader, “Vince,” pulled out his phone… and called Maya. “Hey, what’s the name of the girl you dropped off?” “Stella Kensington,” Maya’s voice tin-canned from the phone. “Stella is the name my biological family gave me!” I shrieked. “My real name is Cara Donovan!” Ptooey! Vince spit in my face. “You fucking liar! I almost fell for it!” He was furious. He kicked me, again and again, right in the stomach. I threw up, and it was dark with blood. “Please… just call Ryan… he’ll save me…” “Save you? You’re not the ‘daughter,’ you’re the ‘entertainment’!” He dragged me by my hair into a filthy shack. The floor was mud and smelled of mold and human waste. He chained me to a post. The baton came down again, this time with a purpose. He was careful, though. He never hit my face. He was saving my face. For what? The phone rang. Vince answered, “Yes, boss.” He hung up. “Change of plans. She’s not going to the tables. She’s too… recognizable. Put her on the back line.” “Boss, a face like that? It’s a waste.” “Are you questioning me? Her face is the problem. If someone recognizes her, we’re all dead!” “Please!” I grabbed his pants leg. “Call Ryan. You’ll regret this. He’ll kill you all. He loves me.” “Then her face is useless,” Vince muttered, pulling out a knife. He brought the cold steel to my cheek. “Since she’s not dealing…” I bit him. I bit down on his hand, tasting the iron and copper of his skin, and screamed for help. The other men jumped on me. The door was kicked open. “What the hell is taking so long? Get this woman processed!” “Right away!” Vince wiped his bleeding hand on his pants and stepped on my throat. “You bitch! You bit me? I’m going to pull every single one of your goddamn teeth!” They pinned me down. It was hopeless. I was too weak. But I thrashed, kicking, fighting. “Jesus, she’s strong for a little thing!” “Hurry up! The Head is here! He can’t stand this kind of filth!” The Head? Jia-zhu? That’s what they called Ryan. I found a new surge of strength. I bit down on one man’s arm, ripping a piece of flesh free, and at the same time, I kneed another in the face, feeling his nose crunch. As they howled, I scrambled free and ran. There, in the clearing, was a black Bugatti. Ryan’s Bugatti. The one I’d given him for his birthday. The one I’d put stupid, giant eyelashes on the headlights of, as a joke. He’d kept them on. “RYAN!” I sobbed. “RYAN!” He looked over. I saw his head turn. A hand clamped around my throat and yanked me back, dragging me through the mud. “You fucking animal! I’ll teach you!” I broke free one last time, but they were ready. A baton slammed into the side of my head. The world went white, then black. I came to, choking. My mouth was full of sweat and grime. They’d shoved a filthy rag in my mouth. They were holding my hands down. One of them had a pair of pliers. He was aiming for my fingernails. I screamed into the gag, bucking and twisting, but I couldn’t move. He tore one out. The pain was absolute. He tore out another. I passed out. When I woke, I was alone. The pain in my hands was a dull, throbbing fire. My tongue was swollen, my head splitting. I looked at my raw, bloody fingers and a despair so total, so crushing, washed over me. But I wasn’t dead. Not yet. Through a crack in the door, I saw them. Ryan. He was with his security team, and they were leaving. I crawled. The chain around my neck pulled taut. “R-y-a-n!” It was a choked, pathetic noise. I bit my own lip, hard. I needed the pain. “RYAN! BROTHER! HELP ME!” He stopped. “Who was that?” Vince, the man who’d pulled my nails, ran up, bowing and scraping. “Just a new girl, Boss. Being… difficult. We’re handling it.” Ryan frowned. “Who?” “Ah… my wife, Boss. She’s… not happy I’m working for you. Thinks the money’s not as good. Always making a scene.” Ryan’s eyes fell on the bloody trail I’d left. “Boss, I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t see this. She… uh… she fell. Broke her leg. Tried to run. We…” Ryan hated this. He hated this entire side of the business. He was here to clean it up. He was about to leave. This was my last chance. I put all my weight against the chain, yanked, and felt the rotten wood splinter. I threw the door open and fell out, grabbing onto his leg. He kicked me. Instinct. He hated being dirty. He kicked me so hard I flew backward. He looked at the blood on his thousand-dollar pants with disgust. But he was looking at me. Vince was faster. He pounced, one hand covering my mouth, the other twisting my hair. I bit him until his hand was a bloody mess, but he didn’t let go. “She’s crazy, Boss! Mental problems! I’ll take care of her!” “Just don’t kill anyone,” Ryan said, his voice cold. “Of course not, Boss. We’re a legitimate operation.” I thrashed, trying to show him my face. But he’d already looked away. “Get it done.” “Yes, Boss. Right away.” Vince dragged me back inside. He looked… impressed. “Twenty years, and you’re the first one who almost got away. You like to scream, huh?” He pulled his knife. “I’ll cut your tongue out. Let’s see you scream then!” “Hold her down!” Tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t stop them. This only made them laugh. They had me. They held my head, pried open my jaws. The cold steel touched my tongue. Just then, Maya walked in. She looked absurd in her designer dress, but she held her nose like she owned the place. She walked over, looked down at me, and then hooked a finger in Vince’s belt loop. “What’s taking so long? Get her processed.” Vince grinned, kissing her, his hands disappearing under her dress as I watched. “What’s the rush?” he said, finally coming up for air. “She’s not important. But I heard the Head was here? Ryan Donovan?” Her eyes were greedy. “Heh. Got your sights set on the big boss, huh? You’ll have to get in line. Everyone knows the Head only has eyes for one girl. His sister. Miss Cara. Whatever she says, goes.” “Cara Donovan?” Maya frowned. “I thought no one had ever seen her.” Vince laughed, jabbing a thumb at me. “This psycho claimed she was Cara Donovan.” “Her?” Maya spit on me. “She’s not fit to kiss Cara’s boots!” She took out her phone and snapped a few pictures of me, half-naked and bloody. “This is perfect. Cole will love this. Should I send it to him now, or wait until after my men have had their turn with you?” I couldn’t speak, so I just stared. “Don’t look at me like that.” She was so angry, she grabbed the knife from Vince. “I’ll cut her tongue out myself.” The door flew open again. It was Ryan. He was holding a small, hand-carved silver charm on a broken chain. “Where did this come from?” I started making animal noises, choking, trying to get his attention. Vince’s men gagged me again. “No idea, Boss,” Vince lied. “Someone must have dropped it.” Ryan kicked him in the face, grinding his heel into his cheek. “I’ll ask again. Where?” “I… I don’t know!” Vince screamed as Ryan pulled a knife and drove it straight through his hand, pinning him to the table. “I SWEAR I DON’T KNOW! A car… a car passed by! It must have fallen!” Ryan stared at him for a full minute, then slowly turned his gaze to me. “Who. Is. She.” Vince, bleeding and terrified, stammered that I was just a girl who’d been “dropped off.” Ryan walked toward me. Each step was a hammer blow to my heart. He tilted my chin up with his boot. I gagged, trying to spit the rag out, trying to make him see me. Then he kicked me away. “Filthy.” He turned to leave. I lunged. I grabbed his leg, bit down on his knee, and as he roared and looked down, I spat the gag out. My jaw was locked, I couldn’t speak. So I held up my hand. I held up my right hand, my index finger pointing at his face. He froze.

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The check for my dad’s settlement had just cleared when the first line of text scrolled across my vision, a ghostly caption overlaid on the real world. 【Wow, the side character is such a simp. She’s even willing to use her dead dad’s money to get the guy.】 【What’s the point? It all goes to the main character in the end anyway. Serves her right for not knowing her place.】 A split second later, Ethan came barreling around the corner, out of breath. “Did you get it? The money? Give it to me, I have to pay my tuition deposit before the deadline.” I instinctively moved the hand holding the envelope behind my back and shook my head. 1 【What is she waiting for? Just give him the money!】 【How is he supposed to go to college without it?】 【This is so frustrating. I wish I could reach into the story and slap some sense into her.】 I stared at the captions as they refreshed, a cold understanding dawning on me. I wasn’t just me. I was a character in a book. A disposable one. The designated stepping-stone. My entire purpose was to give up my own chance at college, using my father’s life insurance payout to fund the male lead’s education. I was supposed to stay behind in our dead-end town, taking care of Ethan’s parents and helping with their failing farm. He’d promise me over and over that he’d marry me after graduation. But the story didn’t end there. The moment he had his degree, he’d cut me loose. He wouldn’t just leave; he would accuse me of trying to buy his love, of trapping him with money. Then he’d make a grand public spectacle of marrying his one true love, the story’s real heroine, turning me into the town joke. In the end, I was left with nothing. Every sacrifice I made was just to pave the way for her. Worse than being broke and alone, I was twisted into the “crazy, bitter ex-girlfriend,” the villain everyone loved to hate. And the grand finale? The happy couple gets their fairy-tale ending. Meanwhile, a tumor bloomed in my breast, fed by bitterness and stress. With no money for treatment, I was written out of the story with a quiet, lonely death. The hero and heroine would weep with joy. “That evil woman finally got what she deserved.” I read it all in a flash. And I thought: The hell with that. Like I would ever be that pathetic. Like I would burn my own life down just to light the way for those two assholes. Ethan noticed my silence. His impatience flared. “Leah, what are you spacing out for?” he snapped. “I’ve told you a million times, senior year is everything. Every second counts. Do you have any idea what you’ll do to my future if you make me miss this deadline?” He looked at me, his expression radiating a sense of absolute entitlement. “I’m not like you. It doesn’t matter if you get into college or not with your grades. I’m this town’s only real hope. Can’t you see the bigger picture for once?” It was the way he said it, so matter-of-fact. As if my life was a foregone conclusion, a minor detail in his grand story. As if I were a traitor to our entire community for not handing over my father’s legacy without a second thought. I had to physically restrain myself from laughing in his face. Instead, I kept my expression blank. “Oh, you mean my dad’s settlement money?” I said, my voice flat. “They said there’s a delay. It hasn’t come through yet.” Please. Wouldn’t that money be better spent on my own college education? Why would I give it to this ungrateful parasite? 2 As if on cue, a soft voice drifted from behind us. “Ethan…” Hannah appeared, as if summoned. Like every girl-next-door fantasy, she had a wholesome beauty and eyes that swam with a kind of curated vulnerability. The kind of look that made every man instantly want to be her protector. Right now, those big, innocent eyes were fixed on us, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “If she doesn’t want to, you shouldn’t force her,” she murmured, her voice full of gentle reason. Ethan whipped his head back to me, his face a mask of indignation. “Is what she’s saying true? Are you lying to me, Leah?” I gave him a look that said, Believe whatever you want. I waved a dismissive hand. “Think what you want.” He seemed genuinely shocked that I would dare use that tone with him. He opened his mouth, a hot retort on his lips, then seemed to swallow it down. He turned his attention back to soothing Hannah. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “She wouldn’t dare. I’m going to college, one way or another. And when I do, you and I…” He remembered I was standing right there and cut himself off. Hannah, ever the gracious one, put on a show of magnanimity. “Leah is so lucky,” she sighed. “If I had a boyfriend as brilliant as you, Ethan, I’d be smiling in my sleep.” She had no idea that the captions had already shown me everything. Their secret meetings, the promises they’d made to each other. I’d always wondered why Ethan, who was so obviously infatuated with Hannah, had suddenly started pursuing me. Now it all made sense. My dad had been a supervisor at the plant, a man with connections that could have helped Ethan’s career. That was the only reason. Now that Dad was gone, killed in a workplace accident, the show was over. All Ethan needed was the settlement money from the plant to squeeze the last bit of value out of my family’s tragedy. A wave of disgust washed over me, so strong it was nauseating. I looked at Hannah and said coolly, “You like him? He’s all yours.” 3 They both just stood there, stunned into silence. I didn’t have the patience to stick around for their reaction. I turned and walked away from the two of them as fast as I could. As I got closer to my street, I saw Ethan’s mom holding court with a group of neighborhood gossips on her front lawn. “Our Ethan doesn’t even have to pay for his own schooling,” she was bragging, her voice loud enough for the whole block to hear. “That silly little Leah is just falling all over herself to please him…” “Well, she’s not entirely stupid,” another woman chimed in. “Once Ethan becomes a college man, she’ll get to follow him to the city and live the good life.” “Ha! In her dreams!” Ethan’s mom spat on the ground. “A country girl with a dead father, thinking she can marry up? My Ethan is going to marry a city girl. He’s just playing along with Leah for now. Who else is going to pay for his tuition?” Someone else asked, “I thought Leah’s grades were pretty good, too. What if she gets into a good college? Then they’d both be college students.” Ethan’s mom looked at her with pure contempt. “Her? Not a chance. And even if some miracle happened and she did get in, she couldn’t go. Who would take care of our farm when Ethan’s away studying? Leah’s strong. We’ll just have her stay here and work the fields for us.” My blood ran cold. A chill seeped into my bones. Just to have an extra farmhand, they were willing to sabotage my entire life. To turn me from a promising student into a woman breaking her back in the dirt, only to be thrown away like trash when I was no longer useful. And the most pathetic part? According to the script, I was supposed to let them clip my wings and still be grateful for it. I almost choked on my own rage. Then, I squared my shoulders and walked directly toward the group. Ethan’s mom was still talking, her expression animated. When she turned and saw me, her eyes flickered with guilt. The conversation died instantly. I acted like I hadn’t heard a thing, putting on my friendliest smile. “Afternoon, Mrs. Reed,” I said brightly. “I just wanted to let you know, I saw Mr. Reed’s truck parked down the street, turning into Mrs. Henderson’s driveway again. You might want to go check on that.” The effect was immediate. A wave of awkward, delicious tension rippled through the group. Ethan’s mom’s face went from pale to beet red, her eyes practically shooting flames. Everyone in town knew about her husband and Mrs. Henderson. It was the worst-kept secret in Harmony Creek. By saying it out loud, in front of everyone, I had taken her precious reputation and ground it into the dirt. A second later, she stormed off without another word. 4 First day of senior year. Mr. Davison, the guidance counselor, pulled me aside. “Leah, Ethan Reed is the only one in the senior class who hasn’t paid his student fees. When are you planning on taking care of that for him?” I looked up from the mountain of practice SATs on my desk. “Ethan hasn’t paid his fees? What does that have to do with me?” My response sent a ripple of confused murmurs through the nearby students. For the past two years, I’d paid for everything. His fees, his books, his class trips. It had become so routine that Mr. Davison didn’t even bother asking Ethan anymore; he just came straight to me. It wasn’t just the money. When his lunch wasn’t enough, I’d give him mine, even though his stomach was a bottomless pit he could never seem to fill. He’d take my food and, not long after, complain he was still hungry. I used to think he just had a big appetite. Then I found out he was giving everything I gave him to Hannah. Meanwhile, I was the one sitting in class, dizzy with hunger, my stomach cramping so badly I couldn’t focus. Thinking about it now, the sheer idiocy of my devotion made me furious. Mr. Davison didn’t give up. Ethan was his star pupil, the one kid with a real shot at the Ivy League. His success was tied to the school’s reputation, and by extension, Mr. Davison’s. He couldn’t afford any hiccups. “You’re his girlfriend, aren’t you? What’s the big deal about helping him out with a small fee?” A small, humorless smile touched my lips. “Oh, it’s no big deal for me. I’m just worried about Ethan. People are already starting to call him a freeloader. You know how proud he is. We wouldn’t want to push him over the edge, would we?” I was completely making it up, of course, but it sounded plausible. Finally, I stood up and raised my voice just enough for everyone in the vicinity to hear. “For the sake of Ethan’s reputation, I will no longer be paying for any of his expenses. From now on, please direct all billing matters to Ethan Reed himself.” I grabbed my practice tests and headed for the library. I didn’t want to stick around for the fallout. But I didn’t get far. Ethan was waiting for me right outside the door, his eyes blazing with anger. 5 “Leah, what the hell was that? Are you backing out on me?” Seeing his face, twisted with indignation, sent a strange jolt of satisfaction through me. “Backing out on you?” I shot back. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. Everyone in town knows about you and Hannah. You’re just like your father—can’t seem to keep it in your pants.” “You—” Ethan’s face flushed a deep, mottled red. He sputtered, “There’s nothing going on with me and Hannah. You shouldn’t listen to stupid gossip.” Without even waiting to see if I believed him, he stuck his hand out. “Now give me the money. I have to pay those fees. Today is the deadline, and I’m not going to miss class because of this.” Seriously? What was wrong with this guy? Did he think I was his mother? I wouldn’t even dare ask my own mom for money with that kind of attitude. Even the captions were disgusted. 【Seriously? I never realized how shameless the male lead is.】 【This is giving me flashbacks to my deadbeat ex. Loved spending my money.】 【Ugh, if I were her, I’d slap him. Twice.】 I rolled my eyes so hard I felt a strain. “No money,” I said, turning to leave. He grabbed my arm, his grip surprisingly strong. “I already asked around. Your dad’s settlement came through last week. Stop lying to me.” 6 “How can you be such a selfish person?” Ethan’s voice was rising, getting louder with every word. A small crowd was gathering, kids peering out of classroom windows to watch the drama unfold. Their stares were a mixture of curiosity and judgment, most of it aimed at me. I couldn’t take it anymore. I opened my mouth to fire back. But just then, Hannah materialized behind me again. The moment she saw me, her eyes welled up with tears. Her already petite frame seemed to shrink, making her look impossibly fragile. She grabbed my sleeve, her voice a desperate plea. “Leah, please… is this because of me? Are you refusing to help Ethan because of me?” she whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear. “You can’t listen to those rumors. Ethan is a top student. He’s our town’s only hope. You have to help him!” Every word was delivered with the dramatic weight of a Shakespearean tragedy. Anyone watching would think I was a monster bullying this poor, sweet girl. Ethan’s face hardened with protective anger. “Leah, when are you going to stop this?” he yelled, his voice echoing in the hallway. “Look at yourself! You’re acting like some crazy, irrational shrew! I’m about to apply to college. Can’t you for one second think about the pressure I’m under?” That was the cue for the audience to chime in. “Come on, Leah. Everyone knows you two are a couple. What’s the big deal?” “Yeah, Ethan’s family doesn’t have much. The guy works his butt off and gets straight A’s. If he were my boyfriend, I’d sell my car to help him.” “I see what this is. She’s just a user. No loyalty at all.” One by one, they tore me down, piling on accusations that had no basis in reality. In their eyes, Ethan was the golden boy destined for greatness, and I was just the lucky girl who got to cling to his coattails. They had no idea that he wouldn’t be where he was without me. I did his laundry and cleaned his classrooms so he would have more time to study. I stayed up all night copying study guides he couldn’t afford so he’d have them first thing in the morning. I was more invested in his grades than my own. And my grades hadn’t been bad. My dream of going to college was just as real, just as fierce as his. But I had always put his dream first. Not anymore. 7 “Ethan,” I said, my voice cutting through the noise. It was quiet, but it carried. “You have a mother and a father. You have two hands and two feet. Why do you need me to pay your way through school?” His face went white. Hannah jumped in. “His family is poor! You have all that money now, why can’t you help him? Do you have any idea what it’s like to go hungry sometimes…” Before she could finish her sob story, I let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, I see. So because I have money, I’m obligated to give it away? Poverty makes you morally superior, is that it?” Hannah stammered, her face flushing bright red. I ignored her completely, my eyes locked on Ethan. “And speaking of money,” I said, my voice dripping with acid, “you knew how tight things were, Hannah, but you still let him use my money to buy you that new J.Crew blouse, didn’t you?” “You—” Hannah looked like I’d struck her. She clearly hadn’t known I knew about that, much less that I’d announce it publicly. The truth was, I’d only just learned it from a pop-up caption myself. She nervously glanced around as the other students’ eyes immediately darted to the crisp, new shirt she was wearing. I pressed on. “You talk about him going hungry. Well, he gave you the lunch I packed for him every single day. Of course he was hungry.” I turned my attention back to the crowd. “I dated him for a year. I did his laundry, cooked his meals, helped on his family’s farm, and paid his school fees. In all that time, he never bought me so much as a piece of candy. Everything he got from me, he turned around and gave to her. Tell me, was I just a pawn in some twisted game you two were playing?” The hallway erupted. “Wait, I thought Ethan was with Leah. Who is this other girl?” “He used his girlfriend’s money to buy clothes for another chick? That’s pathetic.” “Who cares how smart he is? The guy’s a leech.” “Worse, he’s a leech who thinks he’s entitled to it.” The sharp, judgmental stares were now directed at Ethan and Hannah. No matter how thick-skinned they were, they couldn’t withstand that kind of scrutiny. Hannah looked down, twisting the hem of her skirt, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. Ethan just glared at me, his eyes filled with pure venom. I glanced at the captions scrolling in my periphery. 【Is it just me or does this feel like catching a cheating couple in the act?】 【Okay, I’m not the only one who thinks the ‘hero’ is a dirtbag and the ‘heroine’ is a fake, right?】 【Why is it so satisfying to see them get called out? I’m living for this.】 【This side character is kind of a badass. I’m officially a fan.】 A small smile played on my lips. My confidence surged. I was about to go in for the kill when a furious voice cut me off. “That’s enough!” Ethan roared. “I see what this is. You’re just jealous of Hannah. She’s kinder than you, she’s more thoughtful than you, she’s more of a human being than you’ll ever be. And you’re so desperate to tear her down you’ll make up any lie you can think of.” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed Hannah’s hand and pulled her away, disappearing down the hall. 8 Somehow, Ethan managed to scrape together the money and pay his fees. After that, he made it his mission to make my life hell. He turned our friends against me, gave me the silent treatment, and acted like I was invisible. I couldn’t have cared less. My entire focus was on my schoolwork. I took a small amount of my dad’s settlement and set it aside for a “food fund.” Before, I was constantly starving myself for Ethan’s sake. Now, I ate protein with every meal. I was no longer dizzy in class, and my concentration improved dramatically. If I got hungry studying late at night, I’d make myself a snack. I had more energy than ever before. The only downside was the look on Ethan’s face whenever he saw me eating a chicken leg I’d originally bought for him, while his own lunch consisted of stale bread and a jar of pickles. If looks could kill, I’d be dead. One afternoon, I was struggling with a particularly brutal geometry proof. Ethan suddenly appeared at my desk. “You’re not built for math, Leah,” he sneered. “You can work at it all you want, but you’ll never be good at it. You should just accept it.” I felt a flash of white-hot anger. But then, a cold, clear thought cut through it. Only the weak lash out. The strong face reality. The anger subsided. He wasn’t wrong. Math was my Achilles’ heel. According to the captions, my math scores were what would ultimately drag my grades down. I was smart enough for Yale, but I would end up at a second-rate state school because of this one subject. The thought was unbearable. Seeing the frustration on my face, Ethan’s expression shifted to one of smug superiority. “Look,” he said, his tone dripping with condescension. “If you apologize to Hannah—publicly—and admit that everything you said about her was a lie, I might consider tutoring you.” He paused for effect. “You know how good I am. A few pointers from me would be worth more than a hundred hours of you banging your head against the wall.” He was right. His talent for math was infuriatingly natural. Ten minutes of his help would probably be more effective than ten hours of me studying on my own. Especially now, with senior year flying by, I didn’t have time to waste. But I still shut him down. “The only thing I want from you, Ethan, is for you to stay as far away from me as possible.” I remembered all the times I had begged him to help me with math before. He always had an excuse. “You just don’t have the aptitude for it…” “When would I possibly have the time?” “Instead of wasting energy on this, why don’t you do my laundry for me…” And now, he was offering to teach me, but only as a tool to defend Hannah’s honor. The irony was suffocating. I had my pride. I had my self-respect. I would rather never go to college than beg for scraps of affection from him.

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I lost a game of Truth or Dare, and my penalty was to text Julian Thorne. I typed out the dare: [You’re the one who forced me into this twisted relationship—not quite an adopted son, not quite a lover.] The second it sent, I panicked and hit “unsend.” [Sorry, wrong person.] One second later, my phone rang. It was Julian. Beside me, my roommate yelled, “Hey Sawyer, where are the condoms?” Over the phone, Julian’s voice dropped to sub-zero temperatures. “What are you doing?” I looked around the room. My roommates had cleared the mahjong table and replaced it with enough snacks and drinks to fuel a small army. They were clearly pulling an all-nighter. I smirked into the receiver. “Getting a room.” A few hours later, I found Julian standing outside my dorm building. 1 I lost at mahjong. The punishment was a dare. The dare was to send a line of dialogue from a soap opera to the person pinned at the top of my chat list. [You’re the one who forced me into this twisted relationship—not quite an adopted son, not quite a lover.] I stared at the pinned contact: Julian Thorne. My throat went dry. Can I really send this? This is playing with fire. My roommates were jeering, making sure I didn’t chicken out. I took a deep breath, steeled my nerves, and hit send. Three seconds later, I unsent it. But I watched as the little “Typing…” bubble appeared. Then it vanished. Then my screen lit up with an incoming call. My hand shook so hard I almost threw my phone across the room. My roommate, Leo, winked at me. “Who’d you text? They called back fast.” I ignored his teasing and bolted for the balcony. When I pressed answer, my heart was pounding like a drum solo. This was our first conversation since we parted on bad terms three months ago. “Julian,” I said, my voice dry. There was a pause on the other end. “I’m your elder. You should call me Uncle Julian.” He’s not my uncle. He’s barely older than me—definitely younger than my dad would have been. He just insists on the title because he and my late father were “brothers.” Julian was clearly hung up on the text. “Just now, you…” Before he could finish, my dorm president, Greg, yelled from inside the room: “Sawyer! Where are the condoms?” Greg had just lost a round of Truth or Dare and had to make everyone’s bed. He was asking for the duvet covers, but in his slang, it sounded… suggestive. Greg has a voice that carries. I guarantee Julian heard it. Because the line went dead silent. I couldn’t even hear him breathing. After a long pause, his voice came through, colder than liquid nitrogen. “Sawyer. What are you doing?” I looked back at the mahjong table, the scattered chip bags, the beer cans, and my roommates’ excited faces ready for a night of debauchery. I let the devil take the wheel. I chuckled. “Getting a room. What else?” Julian laughed. It was a dry, angry sound. “Stop messing around.” Damn man. When I confessed to you, you said I was too young and didn’t understand my feelings. Now you care? I hung up on him. Click. The phone rang again. And again. I put it on silent. I went back inside and told everyone to keep playing. Julian sent one last text. [Sawyer, don’t make me come get you.] I scoffed. Like he’d drive all the way to campus in the middle of the night just to catch me. 2 Turns out, you shouldn’t tempt fate. We played for another two hours. It was only 11 PM. We ran out of snacks and beer. I volunteered to go on a run. I needed a breather anyway. Walking downstairs, I checked my phone. Julian had blown it up with messages. I couldn’t deny the twisted satisfaction I felt. He cares so much, yet he keeps pushing me away. The thought made me frustrated. I ran a hand through my hair and fished a cigarette out of my pocket. Just as I lit it, I saw a figure standing under the streetlamp outside the dorm. The light was dim, but I knew that silhouette. Julian. He saw me, too. He started walking toward me. My stomach dropped. Instinctively, I hid the cigarette in my palm. Julian hates smoking. He doesn’t even know I smoke. I stammered, “W-what are you doing here?” “You know why.” Julian grabbed my wrist and pried my fingers open, taking the cigarette. Only then did I feel the sting. In my panic, I’d burned my palm. “Since when do you smoke?” I opened my mouth and lied. “Just started a few days ago.” Actually, I’ve smoked for years. I just played the good boy whenever he was around. Julian hummed but didn’t press it. He walked to his car and gestured. “Get in.” Sitting in the passenger seat, I noticed his hair was a little messy. There were shadows under his eyes. Guilt washed over me. His company has been swamped lately. And he drove all this way, late at night, just for me. I wanted to explain the text, but I wanted something else more. I wanted to know why he was so panicked. I wanted him to admit he cared. That he liked me. “Julian, you care about me, don’t you? You’re afraid I’ll hook up with someone else, right?” Julian rubbed his temples, looking exhausted. He took off his coat and tossed it aside, his movements agitated. “Sawyer, this is an elder worrying about a junior. If your parents were here, they’d be worried too.” My chest tightened. That excuse again. I lowered my head, not wanting to look at him, but I explained anyway. “I wasn’t messing around. I lost a game of Truth or Dare. I sent it randomly.” Julian sighed at my silence. He reached over and ruffled my hair. “You’ll understand the difference eventually. Stop throwing tantrums, okay?” We hadn’t had a real conversation in three months. Ever since I impulsively confessed after high school graduation, he’d put up a wall. He started sleeping at the office, avoiding coming home. I’d never been treated like that by him. So I gave him the cold shoulder right back. I missed him. I didn’t want to fight anymore. “It’s late. Stay here tonight. Drive back tomorrow.” Julian nodded. “You go back to the dorm. I’ll get a hotel.” “Curfew’s passed.” A lie. But I wanted to be with him. Julian looked at me. Finally, he said nothing and drove us to a hotel. 3 Back at the hotel, Julian went out again. When he came back, he was holding a pharmacy bag. He beckoned. “Come here.” I sat next to him obediently. He took out a tube of burn ointment and gestured for my hand. I gave him my right hand. He applied the ointment carefully. His fingertips brushed against my palm, sending shivers up my arm. I watched his lowered eyelashes. Like I was possessed, I leaned in. My lips barely grazed his eyelid before he dodged. He pushed me away. Just like that night three months ago. After my graduation party, I was riding a high. Julian took the day off just to be with me. That night, I got a little tipsy. Julian asked what I wanted for a graduation gift. I stared into his eyes, unable to stop myself from hugging him. “Uncle Julian, will you give me anything I want?” Julian hugged me back, laughing. “Of course. Whatever you want, Uncle will get it for you.” The feelings I’d buried for years exploded. I cupped his face. And I kissed him. The moment our lips touched, he shoved me away. I fell back onto the sofa. “Uncle, I like you. Can I have you?” Julian stood up abruptly. His face was tight. His fists were clenched and shaking. “Sawyer, you’re drunk.” I shook my head frantically. “No, I’m not! I like you. I like you in the way that I want to be with you…” I tried to take his hand, but he avoided me. My heart ached. Julian wasn’t comforting me like he used to. He stood there, cold and distant, telling me my feelings were an illusion. That I couldn’t tell the difference between dependence and love. I was hearing the same lecture for the second time. The pain in my hand traveled to my chest. “I know the difference, Julian. I’m not a kid. I know what love is.” But Julian is stubborn. Especially with me. He set the ointment down and stood up to leave. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I forced an ugly smile. “Julian, I don’t get hard for people I don’t like.” Julian paused. Then he walked out without looking back. I barely slept. The next morning, I met him with dark circles under my eyes. He didn’t ask. He drove me back to campus. When the car stopped, I realized we were parting ways again. I didn’t move. I just wanted a few more minutes. Julian didn’t rush me. He leaned back in his seat. “Sawyer, your parents are gone. They entrusted me to raise you. You call me Uncle, so I am your elder.” “I don’t want you wasting your time on me. I’m ten years older than you. You have youth and potential. Go look at other people.” I stayed silent, protesting without words. Finally, Julian said: “Go. I have to leave too.” 4 After that, we entered a weird “Cold War.” He’d show appropriate concern, like an elder. But he stopped replying to my endless texts about my day. Like he was constantly reminding me: We are impossible. I knew how decisive Julian could be. But I was stubborn too. I threw myself into my studies, trying to numb the pain. My roommates thought I’d lost my mind. College freshman, grinding like a Ph.D. candidate. This went on for a month until Fall Break approached. Greg asked, “Sawyer, did you buy your ticket home?” I paused. Shook my head. “No. I’m not going back.” There was a competition coming up. I planned to stay and prep. But mostly, I didn’t know how to face Julian. I knew this drift was my fault. I pushed too hard. I was greedy. If I could do it over, maybe I wouldn’t have been so impulsive. Then, even if Julian stayed my “Uncle” forever, he wouldn’t push me away. I could still hug him, be his closest family. Greg patted my shoulder. “Alright. I’ll bring you some local specialties when I get back.” “Thanks,” I smiled. I opened Julian’s chat. Just a few sporadic messages over the last month. I stared at the screen. Maybe he heard me thinking about him, because the phone rang. It was Julian. I answered instantly. “Hello?” “Sawyer.” His voice made my heart tremble. “Did you buy a ticket? If not, I’ll have the driver pick you up…” For the first time in my life, I interrupted him. “Julian, I’m not coming back.” Silence. He hadn’t expected that. He paused for a few seconds, said a few polite words of concern, and hung up. I stared at the two-minute call log, feeling incredibly wronged. I say I’m not coming back, and you just let it go? For the next few days, I don’t know if I was mad at Julian or myself. I focused entirely on the competition. Zero communication with him. Once, I even missed his call. Finally, on a break, I got a call from Driver Wang. “Hello, Uncle Wang?” His voice was frantic. “Sawyer! Mr. Thorne… he’s been drinking all night. His stomach is acting up, but he won’t go to the hospital, and he won’t let anyone help him. I can’t talk sense into him. I had to call you.” Uncle Wang used to drive me to school. We were close. He knew to call me if anything happened to Julian. I frowned immediately. “Where is he?” “At home.” I hung up and dialed Julian. It rang and rang. No answer. My anxiety spiked. I told Uncle Wang to watch him and call an ambulance if it got bad. Then I bought the next ticket home. 5 I got home after 10 PM. Uncle Wang had checked on him a few times. Stubborn as a mule. I don’t know what got into him. No one forces Julian Thorne to drink these days. The house was dark. I fumbled for the light switch and saw Julian lying on the sofa. He eyes were closed. Asleep or passed out from pain? I walked over and squatted down, whispering. “Julian?” I touched his face. Hot. Worried he had a fever, I shook him. “Hey, don’t sleep yet. Let me take your temperature. Take some medicine first.” Julian opened his eyes and stared at me blankly. He looked pale. I’d never seen him this fragile. It broke my heart. I helped him sit up, grumbling, “Who pissed you off? Why drink so much? Don’t you know your stomach is bad?” Julian leaned into me, taking the thermometer. “Why are you back?” I draped a blanket over him. “If I didn’t come back, you’d die of pain.” He didn’t speak. I assumed he was still hurting. I stood up to make him honey water. Julian grabbed my wrist. “What?” He opened his mouth, then whispered, “Stomach hurts.” I frowned and sat back down, gently rubbing his stomach. I used to do this when he came home drunk from business dinners. Maybe because of the alcohol, he didn’t push me away. When he looked a bit better, I said, “Rest a bit, don’t sleep. I’ll make the water, then take the meds.” Julian nodded. “Okay.” By the time everything was done, it was late. I herded him to his bedroom and tucked him in. “Rest properly. You really don’t care about your body.” I was sleepy too. I turned to go to my room. “Sawyer,” Julian called out. “When… are you going back to school?” My drowsiness vanished. I turned around, looking at him in disbelief. I run all the way back here, nurse him back to health, and all he cares about is when I leave? Am I an eyesore now? But seeing him sick and pale, I couldn’t get angry. I glared at him, suffocating on my own frustration. “I’m leaving tomorrow.” I slammed the door and left.

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