Category: English

I had breast cancer. My father, the hospital head, performed the double mastectomy. As the anesthesia faded, I overheard the assistant surgeon: “Dr. Sterling actually did it. Lying to his daughter to appease his ward… Her husband suggested it. Now she just has these bowl-sized scars.” My body shook. Once conscious, I scrambled up to confront them. My husband Damon wrapped an arm around Celeste and smirked. “What’s wrong? You always mocked Celeste for being frail. I guess you’ve learned your lesson.” I staggered forward, but my father shoved me back. “Stop making a scene. Celeste has had a hard life. Losing a bit of flesh is nothing.” Even my son Asher agreed: “He’s right, Mom. The way you look now… step aside for Aunt Celeste.” Then a dormant system woke in my mind: 【Host, your mission was completed long ago! Initiate immediate death and return?】 A relieved smile touched my lips. So this whole “journey of salvation” was a lie. A sick joke. Why should I care if they lived or died? I confirmed instantly. 【Upon death, all characters here will be erased three days after. Returning now. Reward: $700 million and a fully restored, healthy body in your world.】 … The thought of the reward was eclipsed by the sheer, ecstatic joy of finally going home. I stumbled to my feet, awkwardly climbing onto the windowsill. Every movement sent waves of agony through my fresh sutures. I looked out at the glittering skyline of the city, at the thousands of lights twinkling in the night. Not a single one of them was shining for me. The thought spurred me on. A sudden sneer from behind made me turn. It was my son, Asher. “Mom, what are you doing? You should be in bed resting.” He sounded bored. “You’re not some actress in a tragedy. Who are you putting on this ‘to be or not to be’ melodrama for?” “A melodrama? Who’s the one who’s been acting this whole time, lying to my face?” I stared into his eyes, searching for a flicker of remorse. But all I got was cold logic. “It wasn’t a lie. At most, it was a misdiagnosis from Grandpa. You don’t have cancer. You’re not going to die. You can stay with us. Isn’t that a good thing?” Oh. So I was supposed to be grateful that their cruel deception had been exposed? I turned back to the window. The wind whipped my hair around my face. I had climbed onto that operating table to live. Now, I was climbing onto this ledge to die, and in doing so, live again. Without another thought, I leaned forward, ready for the fall. But the exhilarating rush of descent never came. My son had slammed the emergency call button and was now desperately holding onto me. “Mom! What are you doing?! Grab my hand!” “Let go,” I rasped. Veins bulged on Asher’s arms as he gritted his teeth. “No!” “Mom, so you lost a part of yourself? It’s not a big deal! Dad said he’ll never be disgusted by you, no matter what you look like.” I was so tired of hearing those empty words. I thrashed my arms, trying to shake him loose. His eyes reddened, and his voice cracked with tears. “Can you really just leave me and die?” I looked up at the boy I had raised. The terror in his eyes looked so real, as if he truly couldn’t live without me. I gave him a sharp tug, my gaze turning to ice. “If you can’t bear to let me go, then come with me.” I pulled harder, twisting my body so he was dragged off balance. The color drained from his face, and his grip slackened in pure fear. I knew he was terrified. I felt my body begin to slip downwards. Just as I thought I was finally free, a powerful force yanked me back. Security guards and nurses had arrived, swarming around me. Damn it. I was so close. Hauled back from the brink, I lay limply on the bed. Asher was sobbing, completely terrified. Before I could process anything, Damon burst into the room. He pushed through the crowd and stormed over to me. SMACK! The force of the slap snapped my head to the side. The violent movement tore at my wounds, and I felt fresh blood seep through the bandages. “Are you fucking insane?” he roared, his eyes bloodshot. He grabbed my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “Asher is our son! Our own flesh and blood! And you were going to drag him down with you just to make a point?” “Aria, when is this going to end? Do you even have a heart?” The words caught in my throat, but a cold laugh escaped my lips. Was I the heartless one? Who lied to me about having cancer? Who put me through chemotherapy when I wasn’t sick? Who used the pretense of treatment to mutilate my body, all to get a smile from Celeste? But I was done explaining. Seeing my silence, Damon’s patience snapped. He grabbed my arm and started dragging me out of the room. “If you don’t want to be in the hospital, then you can come home with me!” I let him drag me to the car like a doll, my mind fixated on a single thought. I had to find another chance to escape this world. The city lights blurred past the car window. The world was so full of life, yet none of it felt like it was for me. The car turned onto a deserted mountain road. This was my chance. I lunged for the door handle. “You’re asking to die!” Damon snarled, yanking the wheel hard to the right. The car screeched, carving a dangerous arc across the road. I threw all my weight against the door, and it flew open, letting in a blast of icy wind. With what little strength I had left, I threw myself out. Just as I was about to tumble out, Damon unbuckled his seatbelt, abandoning the wheel to slam his body against mine, pinning me inside. The car was completely out of control. It smashed into the mountainside guardrail with a deafening crash. The impact threw us violently against the car’s interior. Damon’s forehead was split open, and blood streamed down his handsome face. He was breathing heavily, his eyes dark and menacing as he stared at me. “You want to die that badly?” I met his gaze, my answer firm. “Yes.” He was about to explode with rage when the sharp, acrid smell of gasoline filled the air. Damon’s face changed. “Damn it!” he cursed. Ignoring the blood pouring from his head, he fought to pull me from the twisted wreckage of my seat. I had no will to live left. In fact, I hoped the fire would come faster. “Just go,” I told him. “Leave me.” He acted as if he hadn’t heard me. He brutally bent the metal trapping me, then scooped me into his arms, holding me tight. The moment we were clear, a deafening explosion ripped through the night. A roaring inferno instantly consumed the expensive sports car. The heat washed over us, and he shielded me with his body, his eyes red-rimmed and furious. “Aria, I’ll say this one more time,” he growled, his voice a low threat. “I decide when you die. Not you.” The scene was eerily familiar. Years ago, we were trapped in a warehouse during a shootout with a rival gang. He had protected me just like this, whispering, “Don’t be afraid, Aria. As long as I’m here, you won’t lose a single hair on your head.” For those words, I had stood by him through everything. I fought beside him through blood and fire, even using my family’s influence—the Sterling family’s power—to secure his position as the undisputed king of the city’s underworld. But now, the same protective gesture felt like nothing but a bitter mockery. I don’t remember how I got back to the villa. As soon as we walked in, a wave of cozy, domestic warmth hit me, making me feel like an intruder. Celeste was carefully blowing on a bowl of soup. My father, Arthur Sterling, hovered behind her, his eyes full of doting concern. “Careful now, Celeste. Don’t burn yourself.” When they saw us, and especially the gash on Damon’s forehead, Celeste gasped and rushed over. “Damon, you’re hurt! What happened?” Her eyes flickered to me, to the flat expanse of my chest, and her look of concern shifted to one of pity. “Was it because of Aria? Don’t blame her. She’s probably just having a hard time accepting her… condition. We should be more supportive.” I snapped. I strode forward and slapped her across the face. “Shut up! What right do you have to stand there and play the saint?” Celeste clutched her cheek, her eyes wide with disbelief. In the same instant, Arthur lunged forward, pushing me to the ground as he shielded her. “That’s enough!” he roared. “Look at you! You have none of the grace of a Sterling. We spoiled you, let you run wild and bully Celeste! This surgery was meant to teach you a lesson, and here you are, threatening to kill yourself over it!” I looked up at the man who had once adored me, my voice shaking with rage. “Is that why? Is that why you lied to me, told me I had a terminal illness, and let them turn me into this?” He didn’t answer. I couldn’t tell if it was out of guilt or because he felt utterly justified. When I first entered this world, Arthur Sterling had just lost his wife. As a man who had married into the powerful Sterling family, he was being crushed by internal politics. The system, driven by the original Aria’s desperate wish, had sent me to save him. For a long time, we saved each other. I had even decided to abandon my mission and stay. But ever since Celeste, a poor student I was sponsoring, appeared, everyone around me began to turn. A simple word of concern for her was twisted into an act of mockery. They were willing to tear me to pieces just to defend her honor. A bitter laugh escaped me. I grabbed a fruit knife from the coffee table… but I failed again. Damon was too fast. He kicked the knife out of my hand. “Aria, you’re getting addicted to this, aren’t you? Threatening to die every chance you get?” His voice was ice. “I, Damon, swear this to you: as long as you behave and leave Celeste alone, you will always be Mrs. Blackwood, no matter how much of a monster you look like.” I collapsed onto the floor, my voice flat and empty. “But I don’t want to be.”

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On the first of every month, my mother, Carol Evans, would review my performance from the previous four weeks before transferring my allowance. It wasn’t money; it was a contract. “A mandatory good-morning or good-night text to your father and me earns you twenty dollars,” her voice, sharp and precise, cut through the phone line. “But you only managed ten days last month, which means two hundred dollars.” I gripped the phone, standing in the cramped kitchen of my off-campus apartment in Seattle. “And the three-hundred-dollar ‘Excellence’ bonus is completely gone, of course. Full attendance, full communication, full grades. You know the rules.” My jaw was tight. “Add that to your ‘base stipend’ of one hundred and fifty, and this month’s grand total is three hundred and fifty dollars.” Three hundred and fifty. The number felt like a physical slap. “You’ll email me a written explanation for your poor performance. A signed, five-hundred-word apology and plan. When I deem it acceptable, I’ll transfer the funds.” My voice, when I finally spoke, was thin with panic. “Mom, I was taking my finals. I had to be at the library by five every morning just to grab a decent study spot. That’s why I missed those evening calls.” Tears were already stinging my eyes, a deep, hot shame mixing with despair. “The Greyhound ticket home to Pine Grove, Idaho, for Spring Break is nearly six hundred dollars. Three hundred and fifty isn’t enough. Mom, please, couldn’t we just—” She cut me off, her tone chillingly decisive. “The allowance contract, Lara, was designed specifically for you. It’s to help you break this entitlement and this deeply ingrained habit of expecting something for nothing. When will you understand my intentions?” The line went dead with a clipped snap. Just as the wall of helplessness was about to crush me, a flash of bright, coppery-blond hair appeared in the common area of the student union. He looked entirely wrong, like a cheap caricature of a bad boy. A guy named Mitch. He offered to buy my bus ticket. If I would just go with him. 1 I lowered my gaze, shame burning my cheeks. “I… I can’t pay you back.” Mitch and the two guys flanking him exchanged a look, the kind of dismissive, condescending glance people give a lost kid. “No repayment needed, sweetheart,” Mitch drawled, a cheap smile splitting his face. “Just have dinner with us. Do a little celebrating. I’ll give you the cash for the ticket right away.” A meal. That’s all it took to get the money to go home. The thought was intoxicating. I had to get home. Just last week, Grandma Betty had called me from the corner store in Pine Grove, using Mrs. Henderson’s landline. She’d made a point of saying she’d fluffed up my quilt with the softest, newest cotton. She’d also spent an entire afternoon sun-drying my favorite pecan brittle in the yard. Take it all back to Seattle, she’d said. Share it with your professors and classmates, ask them to keep an eye on you. Grandma Betty raised me. She was seventy-eight. And last year, she’d been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Every visit now was a gift—a precious, finite moment we wouldn’t get back. A thousand miles away, she was waiting. Home was waiting. I squeezed the pitiful $350 in my pocket, the crumpled bills slick with the sweat of my anxiety. I took a deep, shaky breath, and then, I nodded at Mitch. They took me to a dingy, off-the-grid rental house a few blocks from the bus station. Mitch gestured to a worn kitchen table where six bottles of cheap American beer were lined up. He slapped six hundred-dollar bills down next to them. “One hundred bucks a bottle, little girl. Finish all six, and your bus ticket is yours.” I stared at the cash. My grandmother’s face—wreathed in wrinkles, her eyes full of nothing but unconditional love—floated in my vision. You’re too thin, sweetie, she’d say, her hand stroking my cheek. Didn’t you eat at school? Grandma’s gonna cook you something good. The tears came again, blurring the harsh lines of the room. I quickly wiped them away, giving myself a silent, desperate pep talk. You can do this, Lara. Mom always taught me that if you’re a small-town kid, you have to work twice as hard and pay twice the price for what you want. This was just the price. Six bottles of beer, and I’d be home. It was nothing. I grabbed the nearest bottle, twisted the cap off, and began to chug. I had never had alcohol before. It hit me like a physical blow, choking me, sending me into a fit of violent coughing. The men around me cheered and whistled, their eyes predatory, sweeping over my body with a sickening, vulgar familiarity. The air suddenly turned cold, and a terrifying, primal alarm screamed in my head. I muttered something about needing the bathroom, scrambling to lock the flimsy door behind me. I immediately pulled out my phone and dialed my mother’s number. She has to pick up. She has to. It rang. Once. Twice. Then, a click. “Mom, help—” Her voice, loud and furious, cut me off before I could finish the word. “Lara Evans, I am so utterly disappointed in you!” “You always try to find a loophole. Always trying to break the system and cheat the rules. This need to get ahead without putting in the work is a moral failing!” Her breath hitched with manufactured outrage. “I am going to beat this disgusting entitlement out of you once and for all!” She slammed the phone down. I frantically tried to call her back, but the line went straight to voicemail. The flimsy bathroom door exploded inward. Mitch’s face was a mask of cold fury, and his hand clamped around my arm, yanking me out into the center of the room. 2 He was too strong. I couldn’t break free. Fear paralyzed me, a cold shock that told me it was already too late to run. I struggled, screaming and begging, but my pleas vanished into the indifferent air. They were like hunters with their prey, forcing the beer down my throat, bottle after bottle. My vision swam, and the world dissolved into an endless, terrifying dark. I slipped into a nightmare where I was a blood-soaked lamb, cornered by a pack of wolves, helpless and waiting for the inevitable slaughter. The next time I woke, I was on a bus heading home. I blinked, dazed, then a wave of pure, thrilling excitement washed over me. I was on my way. I would see Grandma Betty soon. But something was wrong. When the ticket attendant walked down the aisle, verifying each passenger, she passed right through me, as if I were thin air. Once off the bus, I ran, my feet barely touching the ground. I had to get to her. When I reached the edge of the village, I saw her immediately. Grandma Betty, frail and small, leaning on her old wooden cane, standing alone by the granite millstone at the town square. She was staring fixedly down the road where my bus should have come from. A neighbor, Mrs. Henderson, walked by and gently touched her shoulder. “Betty, it’s freezing out here. You really should go inside.” Grandma Betty shook her head stubbornly, a hopeful, heartbreaking smile on her face. She kept muttering, “Just a little longer. She’ll be here any minute.” I sprinted toward her, shouting, “Grandma! I’m home! I’m right here!” I threw my arms out, ready to fold myself into her familiar embrace. My hands passed right through her body. No resistance. Nothing. I stopped dead. I’m dead. I had died in that rotten rental house, murdered for a six-hundred-dollar bus ticket. I died during the first Spring Break of my freshman year of college. Grandma Betty waited until the sun had completely vanished below the horizon, and the light in her eyes faded, inch by painful inch. Shoulders slumped in disappointment, she slowly began the walk back home, her figure deeply bowed. The old yellow Labrador, Max, who followed her everywhere, bounded up to me, whining excitedly, nudging my leg with his head. He could see me. I followed Grandma Betty back to the house. A brand-new, sleek SUV was parked in the yard. My parents, Carol and Robert, were cheerfully unloading bags and boxes of expensive Christmas treats and gifts, their faces flushed with good cheer. Since when could we afford a car like that? Mom had been complaining all year that money was tight, that I needed to scrimp and save and stop asking for transfers. My little brother, Toby, now seven, skipped out of the car and ran to Grandma Betty. “Grandma, where’s Lara? Why isn’t she home yet?” he asked. “I wanted her to read me that storybook.” Grandma Betty gently touched his head. “The bus tickets must have been hard to get, honey. She probably had to book for tomorrow.” At that, Mom—Carol—slammed the heavy suitcase she was holding onto the gravel drive. “That spiteful little brat!” she shrieked. “She’s trying to punish me! Just because I docked her pathetic allowance, she refuses to come home!” “She can stay gone for all I care! I’ll pretend I never had a daughter!” Her face was mottled with rage. “She spends her father’s and my hard-earned money and can’t even manage a polite phone call every day. An ungrateful little wretch!” I stood right in front of her, waving my hands, frantic. “Mom, no! I’m not spiteful! I didn’t refuse to come home! I’m here! You just can’t see me!” “I’m not ungrateful! I tried so hard! I got the highest GPA in my entire major last semester!” But no matter how loudly I screamed or how wildly I waved, they couldn’t hear me. They couldn’t see me. 3 Grandma Betty went inside, and I followed, leaning gently against her back, just as I used to when I was little. I inhaled the familiar, comforting scent of old cotton and lavender, wishing the moment would never end. She put on her reading glasses and pulled a battered wooden box from under her bed. She opened it carefully, revealing three small bundles wrapped in faded floral cloth. She opened the first one. Inside was a passbook. “This is my life savings,” she murmured, a gentle smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “Fifty thousand dollars. I’m saving it for my Lara. For her wedding. A girl needs money of her own so she can stand tall and never be looked down on by her in-laws.” She had terminal cancer and wouldn’t even buy her own medicine, but she was hoarding every penny for me. My eyes were wet. So ghosts can cry. She unwrapped the second cloth. Two heavy, golden bracelets glittered inside. She’d never worn them, but they were polished until they shone. Grandma Betty fell silent, lost in a memory. “These were my mother’s, given to me on my wedding day. They are the most precious things I own.” She sighed, a deep, weary sound. “Oh, I just wish I could hold on a little longer. Wait for my little girl’s wedding day so I can put them on her myself.” I was sobbing now, a tearing, ragged sound no one could hear. “Grandma, I’m so sorry! I can’t do that! I can’t wait!” Finally, she opened the third bundle. Inside was a neatly folded piece of paper—the deed to the old property. A thread of guilt entered her voice. “Your parents already bought Toby a big house in the city, and he’s only five.” (She didn’t know he was seven). “I’m just a foolish old woman, I can’t buy you a mansion. But this old farmhouse… it will always be here to shelter you.” “If you ever get hurt out there, you come home to your own place. And if you miss me, you go to my grave on the east side of the cemetery and tell me about it. I promise you, I will hear you.” I flung myself at her, screaming the truth. I’m dead! Use this money for your treatment! Forget me! Don’t worry about me! Live! But my cries were silenced by the veil between worlds. I could only watch, paralyzed, as she lovingly tucked the wooden box back under the bed, her eyes full of bright, impossible hope. At dinner, Carol prepared a massive feast. Grandma Betty sat at the table, taking only a few small bites. She kept glancing at the door, her face a heartbreaking mixture of hope and anxiety. Robert, my father, finally broke the strained silence. “Maybe we should just call her, Carol.” My mother instantly slammed her chopsticks down. Her face darkened. “Call her what? You’re both spoiling her rotten! Do you think I don’t know how to raise my own daughter?” “I’m telling you now, no one is calling her today. She needs to reflect. We can’t enable her selfish, ungrateful behavior!” Grandma Betty, already frail, was so startled by the sudden violence that she began to cough uncontrollably. Robert rushed to pat her back. Carol spoke to Grandma Betty with a brittle, forced firmness. “Mom, I have to say this. Lara is undisciplined because of how you’ve raised her. My allowance system is good for her.” “It’s teaching her the rules of the working world before she enters it. She needs to understand that you pay the price before you get the reward! No handouts!” “As her grandmother, your indulgence isn’t love, it’s a handicap. She’ll be eaten alive by the real world if she doesn’t learn boundaries!” Grandma Betty was a meek, gentle soul who had never raised her voice in her life, much less argued with her son and daughter-in-law. Her lips trembled as she tried to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. She just sat there, her eyes welling up with tears, looking like a helpless child. 4 After a long, painful silence, Grandma Betty finally found her resolve. “If you two won’t call my girl, I will.” “If you won’t let her come home, I will!” She struggled to her feet, leaning heavily on her cane. My mother was instantly livid. She pointed a trembling finger at Grandma Betty’s back. “See! This is exactly how you’ve spoiled Lara! She’ll never be able to adapt to a tough environment! She’ll never be successful!” Driven by a blinding, self-righteous fury, Carol stormed toward my old bedroom—the room Grandma Betty had carefully prepared for my return. A knot of dread tightened in my ethereal chest, and I followed her in. I watched as Mom violently yanked my brand-new, fresh-smelling quilt off the bed and threw it onto the dusty floor. She stomped on it twice, her mouth twisted in a snarl. “She wants to cross me? Fine! She won’t sleep under this! She can stay out in the cold!” Then, she turned her attention to the wall. It was covered in ribbons, plaques, and awards—my achievements from elementary school all the way through high school. They were my pride, and Grandma Betty’s joy. Carol began to rip them off the wall, tearing them into small, vicious shreds. “What good are these stupid papers? Can they buy her food? Can they teach her respect?” she screamed. “Ungrateful, entitled! All the awards in the world don’t change the fact that she’s a deadbeat! A nothing!” I looked at the fragments of my hard-won honors scattered on the floor and screamed at her, a silent, raging plea. “Mom, I’m not spoiled! I worked so hard!” “I was hauling buckets of water to help Grandma water the garden when I was five!” “I cooked, I did the laundry, I took care of Grandma when she was sick. I knew you struggled for money; I never complained.” “Grandma and I lived on welfare and food stamps. I was careful with every single penny. I never wasted a thing!” I pointed to the closet, begging her to open it. Every garment inside was old, mended, patched. If she wouldn’t believe me, she could ask the neighbors, the teachers. Everyone knew I was kind, devoted, and a hard worker. Grandma Betty always told me that my parents loved me, but they were just too busy building their lives. I worked myself to exhaustion, studied until I was numb, and tried to be the perfect, dutiful daughter so I wouldn’t be a burden, so they would finally like me. Just then, a hurried commotion and the sound of heavy boots came from the doorway. A relaxed smile spread across Robert’s face. “See, Carol? I told you. She came back. The kid caved.” Mom instantly straightened, her spine rigid with smug vindication. The door burst open, and Mayor Thompson, the head of our village council, stumbled in, his face ghostly. Carol saw him and assumed I’d sent him to mediate. She crossed her arms, a cold, unyielding mask settling on her face. “Uncle Thompson, did Lara send you to talk us down? Well, you can tell her no. She made a mistake, and she needs to face the consequences.” “You tell her to write that five-thousand-word letter of apology and read it out loud in the town square. Otherwise, she is not setting foot in this house!” The Mayor’s jaw dropped. He was frantic, shaking his head and waving his arms. Grandma Betty was looking past him, desperate. “Where is my girl, Thompson? Tell me, where is she?” The Mayor looked at Carol’s self-satisfied face, and his own face crumpled. He stomped his foot and let out a tortured cry. “There’s been a tragedy! You blind, foolish parents! How could you push your child to this point?”

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The company’s Annual Gala was coming up, and every employee was required to perform. I’ve been a corporate slave for a whole year, and I really didn’t want to continue being treated like a circus monkey by the leadership. VP Johnson scolded me: “You ungrateful brat. This is a great opportunity to be seen by the C-suite. Since you don’t want to advance, enjoy being a grunt for the rest of your life!” So, he assigned me to cover shifts for other departments while everyone else rehearsed for the Gala. When a client came to sign a contract, I sent them away: “The company is busy rehearsing for the Gala. No contracts today!” When the IRS came to audit, I blocked them at the door: “The company is busy rehearsing for the Gala. We can’t host you!” Chapter 1 The Group executives were attending our Annual Gala. VP Johnson issued a command: “Everyone’s priority for the end of the year is the Gala rehearsal. Everything else can wait.” Besides that, everyone had to participate in a performance to ensure the executives saw a “united and energetic” team. When they were collecting program ideas, I said I had no talent. VP Johnson came to persuade me personally: “Ben, this is a golden opportunity to be seen by the higher-ups. The Group leaders are coming. This is one of the few chances you’ll have to perform directly in front of them.” “VP Johnson, I don’t want to be seen by the higher-ups, nor do I want to perform. I’m just an ordinary employee. It’s useless even if they see me.” VP Johnson probably didn’t expect me to be so unambitious. His “carrot on a stick” tactic failed, and he paused for a moment. “No, your mindset is dangerous! You’re young, don’t you want to climb the ladder?” “No!” I answered decisively. Out of ten people in our department, eight were nepo babies or friends of the boss. Even if I stripped on stage, the promotion and raise wouldn’t be mine. VP Johnson shook his head in anger: “You’re hopeless! You don’t cherish such a good opportunity. You deserve to be a worker for life!” With that, he stormed off. Psycho. I’m here to work, not to sell my dignity. Department Manager Jessica saw that I pissed off VP Johnson and came to talk to me: “Ben, there’s no need to offend VP Johnson. He’s counting on this Gala to go well so the Group leaders will be happy and promote him to HQ.” “So we have to act like monkeys to pave his way?” Jessica was choked by my retort. She paused and continued: “I… I’m doing this for your own good. After all, you still have to work here. There’s no need to offend him.” Psycho. When my mom says “it’s for your own good,” I suspect she’s gaslighting me. Let alone you, a corporate lackey? Hilarious! “If you really want what’s best for me, don’t make me participate in this bullshit Gala.” “Watch your language! I really mean well. Why are you so ungrateful?” Jessica’s tone hardened, which directly caused the anger I had suppressed for a year to explode. “You want me to be blunt? Ten people in our department, eight are useless connections. All the work is dumped on me. I’ve worked my ass off for a year, just wanting a break, and you want me to work overtime for a rehearsal? For what?” Jessica was shocked by my directness, looking at me like I was a madman. “Connections? What nonsense. Our company speaks with results. I became a manager based on ability. Factors outside of ability are zero!” “Yeah, your brother-in-law said the same thing in the meeting!” Her brother-in-law is VP Johnson. Jessica’s face turned purple instantly. Chapter 2 The next morning, I saw Jessica leading the whole department singing “We Are the World,” complete with choreography. I wasn’t sure what they were thankful for. Thankful that the company fed this group of parasites? Logically, that makes sense. I’m just a regular guy. I just want to work quietly and get paid what I deserve. Why do they keep forcing these “values” on me? Those executives should be the ones singing and dancing. After all, their million-dollar salaries are earned by the blood and sweat of us grunts. They should be more grateful. Besides, if you’re going to paint a picture, make it realistic. Don’t just draw a pile of shit and feed it to us: Singing and dancing for leaders, amusing them, and we’ll have a future? Then just hire a professional troupe. If that worked, Enron wouldn’t have collapsed. If they like thanking the leaders, let them. Whether they thank me or not, I do all the work anyway. Sometimes I really feel they are thanking the wrong gods. I used to think about keeping my head down and enduring it. But they crossed the line more and more: The nepo babies slacked off, I worked like a dog; year-end awards went to them; raises, I was always at the bottom. No fame, no fortune. Why should I swallow this anger? I’ve made up my mind. I won’t spoil anyone anymore. If anyone dares to gaslight me, I’ll diss them to their face. Zero tolerance! Since you don’t want dignity, I’ll help you lose it. I’ve had enough of this life. Give me a severance package and let me go. I’m a slave during the year, a monkey during holidays, and a pig to be slaughtered when profits are down. But Jessica didn’t want to let me off that easily. As soon as I got to my desk, I saw the Year-End Performance Review was out. I clicked it. My rating was a C. According to company policy, a C rating means no year-end bonus and immediate probation. Which means I’m on the chopping block, ready to be fired at any time. These bastards. Not only are they ungrateful, they bite the hand that feeds them. I was furious. I couldn’t take it anymore and kicked open the conference room door. Just as they were singing “We make a brighter day,” eyes misty with emotion, I appeared before them like a vengeful spirit. Right. After doing their work for years, I deserve that lyric too. Chapter 3 Jessica saw I was hostile and tried to strike first: “What are you doing? Can’t you see we’re rehearsing?” Rehearse my ass. My bonus is gone, do I care about your bullshit Gala? “Screw the rehearsal! I’m here to ask Manager Jessica why my rating is a C?” Jessica seemed to have expected me. She walked up to me: “I thought something huge happened. It’s just this? Go out and wait, I’ll explain after rehearsal.” I don’t know what’s in her brain. A corporate slave losing his bonus is “not a big deal”? For a worker, this is the sky falling! No, it’s more urgent than the sky falling! “I can’t wait a second. I worked hard all year, why is my bonus gone? If you can’t explain it, stop your gratitude act!” Even at this point, Jessica didn’t seem to realize I was out for blood. “Ben, have some perspective, okay? Do you know how important the Gala is to the company? I’ll explain your little issue later. Why the rush? Honestly!” I learned in my first year: when a company tells you to have “perspective,” the subtext is: Attention, I’m about to gaslight you! “Perspective? Are you brain-dead? My bonus is gone and you tell me to have perspective?” Seeing the tension rising, everyone gathered to watch. Jessica didn’t care and continued her sarcasm: “Don’t you know your own performance? The C rating went through the review process and was approved by company leadership!” “Come on. Everyone in our department is here today. Who did more work than me? Who had better numbers? I did most of the work for ten people. I’d love to know how your review process works!” “Go check the HR file yourself! It’s very clear!” “I can’t understand it. You tell me right now, in front of everyone, where did I fail?” “Do you even need to ask? It’s so obvious.” Seeing her so confident, I was a bit confused until she opened my review form on her phone. Reading it, I was trembling with rage, while she looked triumphant. Chapter 4 “Our assessment mechanism changed this year. Both quantitative KPIs and qualitative competencies are evaluated. The final result is the lower of the two scores.” I looked at the big C under “Core Competencies” and exploded. KPIs are quantitative, objective data. She couldn’t fudge that, so my KPI score was an A. But this so-called “Competency” is entirely subjective, depending on the manager’s mood. Even if subjective, I didn’t expect such a ridiculous result. In all my years here, I’ve never seen a C rating. “Jessica, tell me now. What is wrong with my competency? Am I incompetent? Why is my KPI an A but competency a C? Isn’t that contradictory?” Seeing I was serious, Jessica said slowly: “Other competencies are fine, but your team spirit is lacking…” “Team spirit lacking? What do you mean?” “What do I mean? You have the nerve to ask? Why aren’t you participating in the Annual Gala? This one thing proves you lack the big picture and team spirit!” My head buzzed. So I lost my bonus because I didn’t dance at the party? I felt my blood pressure spiking: “Jessica, hand on your heart, did I achieve most of the department’s results this year? Did I do the most overtime? You give me a C for not going to a party?” “I know, but attitude matters. No collaboration spirit, disobeying company arrangements, not participating in team efforts. Even with good results, that’s not competence, right?” I laughed in anger: “Just because I skipped the Gala, you deny my bonus? So you didn’t see my hard work all year?” “Why haven’t you realized your problem? VP Johnson emphasized the importance of the Gala. The whole company is focused on this. You dropped the ball on such a major event, and you’re not convinced by a C?” “I am not convinced. Why?!”

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Five years after our breakup, Julian Vance’s sister exposed me on a reality show. “My brother used to date this girl. total gold digger.” “After they broke up, she sent him hundreds of texts begging to get back together.” “But, you know, I deleted all of them.” Netizens locked onto me, a washed-up actress, as the suspect. To grab the headline, a paparazzo dug me out from a pile of “dead bodies” on set. I wiped the dirt off my face and smiled at the camera. “We really aren’t close. Otherwise, would I be playing a corpse here?” The interview went viral. Julian flew back from abroad. That night, I saw him at my apartment door. “Not close? So who was I sleeping with all those years? A ghost?” Chapter 1 After Chloe’s explosive clip aired, it fermented overnight and trended #1 on Twitter. On screen, she smiled nonchalantly, acting like the judge, jury, and executioner of gold diggers. “Anyone with eyes could see she was after our money. My brother thought she was so innocent.” “You know, that ‘innocent’ act is the scariest. None of our friends liked her.” “But my brother was bewitched. He almost cut ties with the family for her.” “My mom wanted to force them apart, but I told her not to lose her son over a gold digger.” “Eventually, I went undercover and used some tricks to reveal her true colors.” “I saved my brother’s life. Families like ours need a match of equal status for everyone to be happy.” Chloe entered showbiz as a “Chaebol heiress.” Publicly, she was the daughter of Vance Real Estate. People naturally assumed the brother she mentioned was the heir to Vance Real Estate. But in reality, Vance Real Estate was just a small asset of the Vance Empire. Anyway, you can’t check your phone while playing a corpse. The guy next to me filled me in on what Chloe said. Somehow, the clues linked back to me, the has-been actress. “Is it really not you?” The director yelled “Cut!”, and the paparazzo and I crawled up together. This guy was dedicated. He snuck in to play a dead body just to get a scoop. I dusted off my gray robe and grinned. “Really not me. If I could hook up with a billionaire heir, would I be playing a corpse here?” He spat out a blade of grass. “Don’t act. I’ve tracked you since your debut. I could never get a pic of your ex-boyfriend. Now this leak matches perfectly.” I ignored him, digging a crumpled business card out of my jeans pocket under the robe. I shoved it into his hand with a flattering smile. “Boss, call me if you have work. Dead bodies, corpses, background trees… I can do it all. My skills are top-notch.” This paparazzo, Mike, bought stock in “Scarlett” when I debuted. In my prime, he bought a house in LA by selling my scandals. Now that I was a flop, only he hadn’t given up, hoping for my comeback tour. He cursed and grabbed the card. “I swear, if you were a stock, I’d have lost my underwear by now.” “Scarlett, you used to be so glorious. How did you end up like this?” I sighed and rubbed my hands. “Heroes don’t brag about the past. Just throw some work my way, Mike, and I’ll be grateful.” I stretched my neck and shouted at his back, “Bro, I’ll play anything! Just give me a role!” The autumn wind was cold. I wrapped my robe tighter. If he hadn’t mentioned the past, I might have forgotten. Glorious? Yeah, it was glorious once. Chapter 2 I debuted at eighteen, scouted from film school. By nineteen, I was a superstar. Magazines criticized me daily but couldn’t deny my fame. Variety called me the brightest star in the galaxy. I lived up to the hype, rocketing to the top. Chloe always said I was after her brother’s money. Others didn’t know, but Julian Vance knew best. I met him when I was nineteen. My future was limitless, and I was arrogant. He didn’t know how to woo a girl, only how to throw money. “Be with me, I’ll fund your movie.” I threw the money in his face. “I need your funding? Directors are lining up to give me scripts.” He smiled, not angry, and stopped his bodyguards from attacking me. After that, he changed tactics. He lowered his noble head. He rode the bus with me to remote sets. He stayed in my rental, cooking soup for me. I took it for granted, patting his shoulder. “I’m a superstar. People line up to cook for me!” “When I win the Oscar, when I’m famous worldwide, you’ll have bragging rights. Out of everyone, you picked me, a treasure.” Julian ran his fingers through my hair, agreeing with my nonsense unconditionally. “That’s why I have good taste. I knew you’d make it since day one.” Back then, Julian seemed like any other rich kid, except for his devastatingly good looks. He really loved me then. The patience cultivated from a privileged upbringing was all spent on me. I got famous early. Young, aggressive, proud. I didn’t know how to bow. No one restrained me. I offended many people along the way. I did whatever I wanted in that circle at such a young age. Not because I was powerful, but because Julian was always cleaning up my mess. Those years, if he handed me a sword, I dared to draw it. Actress marrying a billionaire. A classic trope. I thought, I’m a star. Marrying Julian wouldn’t bring him much glory, but he wouldn’t lose out. So I naively thought it was just a matter of me saying “yes.” Chapter 3 Later, I learned what a true gap in status meant. Julian’s mother didn’t like me. His friends looked down on me. With my pride, I should have broken up with him. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave him. I couldn’t stop loving him. I bowed my head. I compromised. I refused to retreat. Chloe entered the picture then. She was Julian’s adopted sister. Her father was the Vance family driver. He died saving Julian when she was five, so the Vances adopted her. Maybe out of gratitude, maybe childhood friendship. Chloe had a lot of influence in that circle. When she first met me, she was incredibly enthusiastic. “Brother, is this the sister-in-law you found? She’s beautiful.” She linked arms with me, pointing at the circle of snobs. “Be nice to my sister-in-law. With me here, no one bullies her.” In my confusion, I treated her as an ally. I asked her what Julian’s mom thought of me. How to please her. Chloe comforted me. “Don’t worry, Auntie is all bark and no bite. You and my brother just need to hold out. Maybe get pregnant first, give her a grandson, she’ll be happy.” “Or just wait. When my brother gets older, she’ll compromise.” I wasn’t stupid enough to use a baby as a bargaining chip. But Chloe’s words gave me confidence. I thought Julian’s mom was like any mother. She couldn’t beat her child’s will. So when Chloe said Julian’s mom wanted to see me, I believed her. I did my best makeup, wore my most appropriate dress, and went nervously. It was the first time I met Julian’s mother face to face. In a setting clearly not meant for me, I intruded rudely. That moment, I saw deep disgust in her eyes. I looked at Chloe, hoping she would speak up. She smiled and said ambiguously, “Auntie, don’t blame her. She just wanted to please you so much, she lost her sense of propriety.” My pupils shrank. I felt cold all over. The incident blew up. Julian flew back overnight. Seeing me, his eyes were tired. “Scarlett, I said I was planning. I was finding a way. Why the rush? Do you know what occasion that was? How many VIPs were there? You barging in like that, what does my mom think of you?” I knew he was fighting his family for us. Many sleepless nights, he hugged me, whispering to hold on a little longer. So I knew I was wrong. Red-eyed, I said, “I’m sorry. I was too anxious. It was Chloe. She told me…” Long confrontation with his family drained his patience. “Why blame her? Even if she tried to help, you’re an adult. Can’t you read the room?” He didn’t believe me. He thought I was a gold digger in a hurry. Chapter 4 After that, endless fights and cold wars began. Chloe still pretended to be my friend in public. But behind my back, she despised me like the rest. I decided to leave Julian because the messy relationship stalled my career. Before the breakup, Chloe sent me a video. In it, Julian sat on the sofa, surrounded by familiar faces. His mother said sternly, “How long will you be with that girl?” Julian didn’t look up. Lazy tone. “Just playing. Why the rush?” Along with the video came a text from Chloe. “Sister-in-law, don’t misunderstand. My brother is like this. Bad mouth. He said he was ‘playing’ with all his exes, but he gave them money and resources. Dating him for a few days sets you up for life.” I didn’t confront Julian with the video. I broke up directly. But Julian thought I was throwing a tantrum. He humored me patiently. To disgust him, I said cruel things. “Yes, I found a better sponsor. Whatever you can give, others can too!” “You think your family is royalty? I don’t care!” Arguments exploded. Entanglement. Often, I wonder. If Julian had let go then. If I hadn’t had that lingering affection. Maybe I wouldn’t have walked into Chloe’s trap. I wouldn’t have been framed as a mistress sleeping with a director at my peak. Explicit photos everywhere. I wouldn’t have lost every penny to breach of contract fees. I wouldn’t be playing dead bodies now. But there are no “ifs.” Love tripped my early life and threw me into prison. Chapter 5 I looked down and lit a cigarette, swiping the screen. The clip’s heat was still rising. I read the comments. “Wait, this sister feels like a ‘Pick-me girl’. Vance Real Estate owner is named Vance. Is she biological? Does she like her brother? It sounds like she broke them up. The girl didn’t even take any money.” My finger paused on this comment for a few seconds, then scrolled past. My interview video was also trending. Looking at the free publicity, I felt regret. If I had a PR team now, I could push clips of my old roles. Find some marketing accounts to praise my acting and past achievements. Maybe a director would see it and give me a villainess role. I stomped out the cigarette and turned to go upstairs. Headlights flashed. A black car stopped a few steps away. I looked over curiously. The back door opened. A long leg stepped out. I looked up. The man wore a crisp coat, black turtleneck framing a slender neck. Years later, Julian hadn’t changed. High above, noble. Pale skin, sharp brows, narrowed eyes. Looking extremely unapproachable. I scoffed, put my hands in my pockets, and turned away. “Take another step—” Julian called out, voice cold and unfamiliar. I stopped and turned. “Here for the hundred texts? I sent them. But shouldn’t you blame Chloe? Why pick on me? She deleted them.” Julian smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You should thank her for deleting that trash. If I saw them back then, I might not have let you off so easily.” Hate me? Easy. I leaned against a tree, lit another cigarette. Facing Julian’s ugly expression, I smiled brightly. “Boss, if I sleep with you, can you get me a supporting role?” Julian’s face stiffened. He looked me up and down, then asked indifferently. “Scarlett, where is your shame?” I smiled indifferently. “In my line of work, dignity and shame don’t put food on the table, right?” I had shame. No one cared about face more than me back then. But I’m human, not a god. Even thick shame… Was ground to dust over these years. Chapter 6 That night, Julian left with a dark face. His car blew exhaust in my face. The next day, his assistant knocked on my door. Just in time. I almost considered the creepy director who touched my butt a few days ago. Julian’s assistant was an old face. Seeing me sign the contract without hesitation, he reminded me sternly. “Mr. Vance said, as long as you behave, he won’t treat you badly.” I replied perfunctorily, “I get it. From now on, if Boss Vance says go East, I won’t go West.” “Bro, when can you give me a script? Give me a hint?” “You! How did you become…” He stopped, packing the contract noisily. I knew what he wanted to say. Scarlett, how did you become so mercenary? So thick-skinned? The old Scarlett wouldn’t even look at resources Julian offered. I called out to him. “Hey, old friend. Let me know when Julian is getting married. Give me a heads up.” Assistant Xu didn’t reply and left. Julian and I “reconciled” just like that. Calmly, as if nothing happened. I moved into the Malibu beach house. I brought nothing from my rental. That night, I dressed up carefully. Midnight passed. Julian didn’t come back. I leaned on the sofa, figured it out, and smirked. I dumped the food and changed into comfortable pajamas. At 3 or 4 AM, half-asleep, a coldness covered my waist. I woke up and saw Julian in the night light. His features were blurred in the dim light. I didn’t know what year it was. “How did you get this scar?” He pressed the huge scar on my waist slightly. Old wound. No pain anymore. But I frowned dramatically. “Scratched it on set.” Julian smiled thinly. “With such a big scandal, you still had roles?” I sighed. “Someone has to be a body double. I have a good figure. Using me is a bargain.” His face darkened. He pulled the quilt over my head. Out of sight, out of mind. The next day, people came in waves. Scripts for me to pick, luxury endorsements without probation, my first comeback event… Staring at the papers on the table, I suddenly laughed. Why was I so high-and-mighty before? WeChat voice messages popped up. I clicked. Mike’s voice. “Scarlett, why is everyone saying you’re making a comeback?” “Be fair. What’s going on? Which role are you taking?” “Let me be the source this time, please! If the info is real, I promise to hype you up big time.” In this circle, if there’s profit, we are friends. I took a photo of the script I chose and sent it to him.

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I asked my best friend to try on her bridesmaid dress. Instead, she walked out wearing my bridal gown. That should have been the first red flag. On the morning of the wedding, the final flag was waved. Sienna and my fiancé, Preston, stumbled out of the same hotel room together, clothes disheveled, hair a mess. The hotel staff froze in shock. My parents were screaming, on the verge of hysterics. Preston walked over to me, guilt written all over his face, and pulled me into a hug. I didn’t scream. I didn’t fight. Instead, I smiled calmly and told them, right then and there, that they could have the wedding. “Take the ceremony,” I said. “It’s yours.” Sienna smirked, triumphant. She thought she had won. She had no idea. Because the moment Preston wrapped his arms around me, the antique silver cross my grandmother left me shattered against my chest. Nana had warned me once: If the cross breaks, it has taken a death blow for you. It blocks a disaster. An Absolute Calamity. 1 “Meredith, listen, last night was a mistake. I grabbed the wrong dress in the dark, and Preston… well, he’d had too much whiskey. He didn’t realize it wasn’t you.” Sienna, my maid of honor and supposed best friend, was saying the words, but the smirk playing on her lips told a different story. It was a look of triumph, sharp and unmistakable. I knew exactly what that look meant. Preston came from old money. He had that effortless, Ivy League charm and the kind of inheritance that meant he’d never have to work a day in his life. In the six months he’d spent courting me, the gifts had piled up—Diamond tennis bracelets, vintage handbags—totaling more than most people earn in a decade. I had finally said yes. And this was how the morning of my wedding began. The scene in the hotel suite was grotesque, almost comical. Sienna was standing there in my custom Vera Wang gown—now shredded at the hem and ripped at the shoulder—her exposed skin a roadmap of what had happened the night before. Preston, my fiancé, stood with his head hanging low, unable to meet my eyes. My father, usually a man of quiet dignity, lost it. He lunged past the hotel staff, landing a clumsy kick on Preston’s thigh, screaming obscenities that echoed down the corridor. The staff held him back, but the fury in the room was suffocating. Preston stumbled, straightened his tuxedo shirt, and finally walked over to me. He pulled me into a tentative, apologetic hug. “Meredith, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his breath stale with last night’s alcohol. “But what’s done is done. Maybe… maybe it’s best if you just let us be happy.” The audacity took my breath away. I wasn’t blind. I had seen the way he looked at her over dinners. Sienna was curvier than me, louder, more willing to play the games men like Preston enjoyed. During our engagement, he had dropped hints about what he wanted in the bedroom, hints I had deflected, saving that intimacy for marriage. Everyone in the room—the staff, my parents, Sienna—braced themselves. They expected a slap. They expected me to scream. Instead, I smiled. It was a calm, hollow thing. “Okay,” I said. The room went silent. “The venue is paid for,” I continued, my voice steady. “The guests are arriving. You two should just get married. Right here. Today.” Preston let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for hours. “Meredith… I knew you were classy. Thank you.” My parents looked like they were going to have strokes. My mother looked ready to grab a broom from the housekeeper and beat me with it. “Meredith!” my dad roared. “You’re letting these—these animals get away with it? Where is your pride?” I didn’t answer. I grabbed their arms and dragged them toward the elevator, away from the wreckage of my wedding. Around the corner, out of sight, I reached into my blouse and pulled out the silver chain I’d worn every day since I was a child. “Mom, Dad,” I said quietly, opening my hand. “Nana’s cross.” The antique silver crucifix, once smooth and solid, lay in my palm in two jagged pieces. The anger instantly drained from my parents’ faces, replaced by a pale, trembling fear. My mother hit the elevator button repeatedly, her eyes darting to the security cameras. “Did that… did that just happen?” she whispered. My father’s face went from flushed to chalk-white. His hands shook. “No. It can’t be.” I nodded. “It shattered the second Preston hugged me.” My parents exchanged a look of pure terror. The elevator doors Dinged open. “We’re moving,” Dad announced, his voice tight. “Now.” As we stormed out of the hotel lobby, we passed the life-sized cutouts of the bride and groom. My father kicked Preston’s cardboard standee across the marble floor, then grabbed the one of me. My mother was already on the phone with the wedding planner, her voice low and frantic. “Take everything down. Every photo of Meredith. Every banner with her name. Burn it if you have to. There can be no trace of her left in that ballroom.” Seeing the genuine panic in their eyes, the numbness in my chest cracked. I pulled out my phone and deleted every photo of Preston, every contact, every digital footprint. We fled the hotel like criminals. By nightfall, we had packed our lives into boxes and were driving out of the state. 2 To understand the panic, you have to understand Nana. My grandmother wasn’t just a superstitious old woman. In the rural county where she grew up, she was known as a Seer. The locals whispered that she wasn’t entirely human, that she had the blood of the mountain spirits in her veins. She never missed a prediction. Not once. She lived to be ninety-nine. She died on a crisp, bright winter afternoon, sitting in her rocking chair on the porch. She had petted the old golden retriever twice, then called my name. “Meredith.” I was eight years old. When I ran to her, she took off the heavy silver cross she had worn her entire life and fastened it around my neck. “Merry, you keep this on. Never take it off,” she had rasped, her voice like dry leaves. “If this cross ever breaks, it means it has taken a death blow for you.” She gripped my small hand with surprising strength. “If it breaks, you run. You run from whoever is closest to you at that moment. Because when the cross breaks, it means a Calamity is coming. An absolute Calamity.” “What kind of calamity, Nana?” I had asked, innocent and confused. She looked at me, her eyes milky with age, and whispered two words. “Hollow Creek.” Then she closed her eyes and was gone. Her funeral was an event. People came from three counties over—mayors, sheriffs, heavy hitters. I told my parents about the cross and the words “Hollow Creek.” They turned pale, refused to explain, and immediately moved us to the city. Now, years later, the memory felt cold against my skin. The scandal of Preston and Sienna was tearing through our social circle. At first, people were disgusted. Sienna was the villain, the treacherous best friend. But when word got out that I had handed over the wedding—gift-wrapped the groom and the venue—the narrative shifted. People called me weak. A doormat. A coward who let them walk all over me. I didn’t care. Let them talk. Sienna, meanwhile, was basking in her victory. She was Mrs. Preston distinct now. Her Instagram stories were a relentless parade of the life that was supposed to be mine. The ten-carat solitaire diamond. The two-million-dollar check from his parents. The video of Preston kneeling to put a crystal shoe on her foot. Thank you, Meredith, she captioned one photo. And thank you to the brave girl I was, for following her heart. I chose love AND money. Life is short. Seize it. Preston played the part of the doting husband, posting photos of them kissing on yachts and in penthouses. Our mutual “friends” flocked to her comments section, eager to stay close to the money. Some people just aren’t meant for the high life, one commented, digging at me. Sienna replied with a winking emoji. I scrolled through her feed in our new, temporary apartment, and for the first time in days, I laughed aloud. She had no idea what she had actually stolen. Sienna wasn’t just enjoying the money; she was monetizing the scandal. She spun the narrative of “The Great Love Story,” gaining 50,000 followers overnight. Her comments were filled with girls calling her a “Queen” and saying “The unloved one is the mistress.” When the internet found out my family had fled the city, the mockery intensified. Cowards, they typed. Running away with their tails between their legs. I could handle the insults aimed at me. But when they started attacking my parents, calling them pathetic, I snapped. I logged into a burner account and typed under Sienna’s latest post: Insult me all you want, but leave my parents out of it. And Sienna, stop using my name for clout. 3 I regretted the comment the second I hit send. I blocked her immediately afterwards. Sienna didn’t reply, but I saw she liked every nasty comment directed at me. I shook my head. Karma is a patient hunter, I thought. We had moved hundreds of miles away, settling in a quiet, nondescript town halfway across the country. It was isolated, the kind of place where neighbors mind their own business. My mother wanted a city nearby, but my father insisted on distance. That night, over a dinner of takeout noodles, I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Mom, Dad,” I asked, putting down my chopsticks. “What did Nana mean? What is the ‘Absolute Calamity’? And what is Hollow Creek?” The room went still. My mother put a piece of braised pork into my father’s bowl, her hand trembling slightly. “She’s an adult now,” Mom said softly. “We should tell her.” Dad hesitated, looking aged and weary, before nodding. “Hollow Creek,” Mom said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Do you remember the name?” “Nana told me before she died.” “Hollow Creek was a village about ten miles from where we grew up,” Mom said. “About three hundred people lived there. Then, one night, every single one of them died.” The air in the kitchen seemed to drop ten degrees. “Died?” I asked. “Like… a plague? A landslide?” “No,” Dad said, staring at the table. “They hung themselves.” I felt the blood drain from my face. “All of them?” “Every man, woman, and child,” Mom whispered. “Mass suicide. Or… mass execution. But there was no one else there.” “Why?” I managed to ask. My parents looked at each other, their eyes dark with a fear that hadn’t faded in decades. “They said,” Dad choked out, “that the village was haunted.” I sat there, the silence ringing in my ears. Nana hadn’t just given me a piece of jewelry; she had given me a shield against something ancient and evil. The cross shattering meant the shield was broken. The target had shifted. Preston wasn’t just a cheater. He was a lightning rod for something terrible. Why now? Why did the cross break when he touched me after sleeping with Sienna? Had Nana foreseen the betrayal too? My phone buzzed on the table. A strange number. I picked it up cautiously. “Hello?” “Meredith? Is that you? Are you okay?” It was Preston. His voice was smooth, concerned, oblivious. I hung up immediately and blocked the number. From that night on, I stopped answering calls. I was terrified. Meanwhile, Sienna’s life of luxury continued online. But she was getting bored. Late one night, I saw a notification. She was live. 4 Sienna was sitting on a velvet sofa that cost more than my car, draped in a white fur coat. She looked impeccable, but there was a manic energy in her eyes. “So bored tonight,” she told the camera, swirling a glass of wine. “Just wanted to chat with my fans.” She showed off a few Birkin bags, preening for the compliments rolling in. Then, inevitably, she brought me up. “Her? Oh, please. Some people just don’t have the destiny for wealth. The universe literally handed her a meal and she couldn’t swallow it.” She giggled. “Best friend? I mean… did she ever really act like one? She hid Preston from me for months. Insecurity is so ugly, isn’t it?” She took a sip of wine. “Where is she now? Probably hiding in some motel with her weird parents. They ran off like fugitives the day of the wedding. Maybe they’re scared I’ll sue them for emotional distress.” I watched, feeling a mix of pity and disgust. How had I ever let this person into my life? But then, the comments shifted. Sienna, the closet door behind you just moved. Is someone in there? I saw a shadow. Hey, stop joking, check the wardrobe. Sienna didn’t see them at first. But the comments flooded in, a wall of warnings. I squinted at the screen. The massive walk-in closet behind her was slightly ajar. And in the darkness near the floor… there was something. It looked like an eye. But it was too low. It was at ankle level. Sienna finally noticed the chat. She clicked her tongue. “You guys are trying to scare me. Preston is out, and the staff is in the guest house. Don’t be weird.” But the comments didn’t stop. To prove them wrong, she stood up, her heels clicking on the hardwood. “Fine. Look.” She marched over and yanked the closet door open. CRASH. A man tumbled out. He was dressed in black, wearing a ski mask, clutching a pillowcase full of jewelry. A burglar. But instead of running, or attacking her, the man scrambled backward on the floor, hyperventilating. He ripped his mask off, revealing a face drained of blood, eyes wide with pure madness. “Ghost… ghost… there’s a ghost…” he gibbered, pointing into the depths of the closet. He looked at Sienna, saw her pale neck, and let out a shriek. He threw himself into a kowtow, slamming his forehead against the floorboards. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Don’t kill me! I didn’t mean to look! Spare me!” He slammed his head down again and again, blood smearing on the expensive wood. Sienna froze for a second, then screamed. “Help! Help! Thief!” The phone was knocked over in the chaos. The screen went black, but the audio kept running—Sienna’s screams and the burglar’s sobbing pleas for mercy from something we couldn’t see. I stared at my phone, my heart hammering against my ribs. What had that thief seen in the closet that terrified him more than getting caught? I thought of Hollow Creek. The hanging village. It was starting.

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Accidentally scrolled to a Reddit thread about regrets of youth. But didn’t expect the first comment opened, was posted by my husband Julian Cole. He tagged his high school classmate Hailey’s handle, attached two photos of them together back then: “Have a secret, sophomore year I liked you.” Hailey’s reply was upvoted to top: “Same year, I also liked you.” Netizens were moved and matchmaking, hoping they pursue true love, don’t leave regrets. That night Julian posted a photo of them in a cafe, caption: “Long time no see, always have to be brave once.” Everyone excitedly blessed, I also liked it. By the way, booked tomorrow’s Abortion appointment. Chapter 1 After appointment success, I opened that thread again. Confirmed Julian’s first comment, was posted at midnight three days ago. That time I was blowing out twenty-six birthday candles, saying my wish: “Hope me and Julian love each other for life, never separate.” Julian put down phone, don’t know if heard clearly, casually responded: “Happy birthday, wish you get what you want.” Actually before this, I dared not express my feelings so directly. Seven years ago, Julian’s mother was critically ill, only wish was to see son start a family. But that time Julian was so poor he couldn’t even pay off Student Loans, plus dying mom and alcoholic dad, others avoided him like plague. Just when his mother was about to die with regret, I, this college classmate jumped out: “I don’t need anything, can marry you tomorrow.” Julian didn’t understand, I casually found a reason: “Just for your handsome face.” After marriage, no house no car no wedding, only thing had, was two credits added by school. Others secretly scolded my brain kicked by donkey, I only touched the ring on ring finger smiling silly. After graduation Julian’s startup was difficult, every night after social events, stood on shabby balcony of rental apartment smoking a cigarette. Back view melancholy lonely. I walked over, through smoke looking at his tough side face, let tone sound relaxed: “Dinner ready, today King Crab on sale, I bought two legs, very fat.” He blew a smoke ring, deep voice said: “Leslie, is it worth it with someone like me?” “Worth it.” I answered without hesitation. He turned head deeply looked at me, “If you regret want divorce, just tell me, I won’t force stay, give you freedom anytime.” “But also rest assured, in marriage, I will fulfill husband duty well, absolutely won’t have mistress.” Julian’s words drifted into my ears with evening wind. “This marriage of ours, led by you.” Thoughts pulled back, in downtown luxury villa, I looked at whole plate of King Crab before table, couldn’t help sighing. Just finished food steaming hot, person waiting probably still in gentle land, I took off apron eating alone. “Mr. Cole”, downstairs several maids’ voices rang simultaneously. Not a while, Julian walked up. He arm resting suit jacket, white shirt showed broad back narrow waist figure more. Beautiful face hung shallow smile, seemed mood very good. He walked to table, put down a small piece of cake. “Eat some sweets, mom mood good, baby in belly also happy.” Last month after confirming pregnancy, between me and Julian, added few points sweetness never had before. He would actively say want eat food I make, would bring me delicious food after work, would stick ear on my belly, listen to baby sound… Before this, except in bed, he treated me always polite distant. I thought we finally about to start dating, so that birthday day, said wish of never separate with him. Didn’t expect, he still didn’t forget Hailey. I fixedly looked at cake. Recognized at glance, bought from that cafe he reunited with Hailey. On it still had nuts I’m allergic to. Throat somewhat difficult, I softly asked: “Do you have anything to say?” Say it openly, say you can’t forget first love, say you really want be with her. This way you still count as brave, not sneakily stepping on two boats. I also won’t pester, we frankly separate. “No, I go shower first.” My heart sank. Julian turned to leave, I reached out pulled his suit jacket resting on arm, wanted stop him. “Why not…” Next second, glass jar of Origami Stars hidden in jacket fell out. Clang sound, glass splashed. Red paper stars fell all over floor. Chapter 2 Maid let out a cry. Julian turned head hard voice questioned: “Pull me for what? Want die?” His brows tight frowned, this is first time I saw steady him so furious. I stunned at once. Maid hurried forward, wanted help pick up. Shouted back: “Get out, all fucking not allowed touch.” Julian disregarded image squatting on floor, carefully picking paper stars look, like picking up rare treasure. This paper stars, is reunion gift Hailey brought him. In their cafe photo, can find trace. Splashed glass cut my foot, slowly flowing blood trace. Blood dripped on tile, didn’t stir half ripple in Julian’s heart. Finally, he held paper stars in palm, lightly glanced me once, walked straight downstairs. No one sentence explanation. “Let’s divorce.” I softly shouted. His steps paused half second, don’t know if heard clearly, continued walk down. Night, I lay alone on bed, staring at white ceiling. Julian in next door study, one by one counting paper stars if missing, if still 520. Man vigorous and resolute in business, this moment like a boy first awakening of love. This gift, carried his responded love. Actually, his secret crush was not unknown to anyone. I clearer than anyone, sophomore year, how much Julian liked Hailey. Pillow wet by tears, made dream also become humid. In dream, I returned to that sour youth… Summer vacation before high school start, I wearing heavy mascot suit, distributing flyers under 100 degrees sun. Group of kids surrounded me punching kicking, sweat mixed helpless tears flowing down. “Dead kids, not allowed bully people!” Boy took stick chased them away, patted dust on my body, also helped pick up scattered flyers. “Are you okay? Little Bear.” “Don’t fear, I accompany you finish, they dare not come again.” I followed gentle voice look up, through mascot suit small hole, sight from mole on his nose tip to a pair beautiful eyes. This is first time I saw Julian, also my first time moved heart. High school I was in class next to Julian, always subconsciously looking for his figure. But slowly, I found his gaze often stopped on his deskmate Hailey. That bright smiling girl, everyone said she was Prom Queen little sun. Julian attracted by her, human nature. And I wearing thick black frame glasses, grades ordinary looks ordinary, completely transparent person, not cared is also normal. I only hate myself not beautiful enough. Boy nature Julian, thought his love hidden hidden enough. But what I most familiar, is that silent like dare not look eyes same as him. I watched him such cold boy, sitting beside Hailey, face is shy embarrassment. Watched sports meeting he tried best run first place, secretly put medal into Hailey school bag. Watched him stuff umbrella into Hailey drawer, self rained heavy rain home. Whole high school my only intersection with Julian, was on graduation day, he knocked my shoulder. “Classmate, can help us take a photo?” So I put away camera borrowed want take photo with him, pressed freeze button for him and Hailey. Hailey eyes round, gentle smiling. Julian side head look her, eyes is unspoken love. These two photos, now appear in Julian confession comment section. Chapter 3 Julian didn’t return to bedroom all night. Before no matter how polite distant he treated me, never slept separate room with me. Morning, I pushed open guest room door, Julian already got up, standing before window slowly tying shirt cuff buttons. “Comments in your post, I saw.” I straight to point, voice extremely light. He didn’t have panic of being discovered, action of tying buttons still calm, “So this is reason you propose divorce?” “This reason not enough?” “Enough.” He said again: “But no need.” Julian walked closer to me, handed tie over, meaning couldn’t be more obvious. Every morning tying tie for him, is rare intimate ritual between us. I also very enjoyed this moment sweetness. But now, I didn’t take, only silent. He also didn’t angry, calm open mouth: “Thought about after divorce, what your life will be?” “No villa, no dozen maids serve, those fawning people outside, also won’t give you good face again, can you still accept such days?” He used material and power remind me, let me recognize reality. But person really can’t accept losing everything in front, actually is himself. He thought I same as him, but I married penniless him back then, wanted, only Julian this person. “Leslie, people all like this, heart all have unforgettable first love.” “But you rest assured, me and her, also just dating.” “I won’t let her trouble to you, won’t make illegitimate child, more won’t affect your Mrs. Cole position.” Julian deeply looked at me. Back then on balcony when he said “absolutely won’t have mistress” promise, tone also this certain. I naturally not believe, only inexplicably want laugh. He touched my belly, “Your only task now, is rest assured raise fetus.” I remembered abortion surgery booked yesterday, just wanted open mouth. His phone rang, Hailey voice faintly came from other end: “All blame you, boiled phone porridge with me all night, I have dark circles now.” “Later date, I not beautiful anymore, what to do ah.” Julian hooked mouth corner laugh, “Silly, in my heart, you look good anyway.” He pulled away me standing at door, walked out while chatting. Turns out he didn’t return bedroom sleep last night, was saying love words with Hailey. After Julian went out, I drove alone to hospital. From lying on operating table to down, less than fifteen minutes. Found lawyer simply drafted a divorce agreement, property I only asked for a small apartment. I just want pull out ASAP, don’t want tangle with Julian too long. Holding agreement walking on street, after handling things, dusk already sprinkled city. Called Julian few calls, all mechanical busy tone. Forgot, he said won’t answer my call during work time. Self-made Julian, fight for seconds on work, afraid slow a bit eliminated by society. After phone hung up, big data pushed me nearby amusement park live stream. In lens, wearing cartoon headband Julian and Hailey, sitting on pirate ship ten fingers interlocked. Happiness feeling through screen choked my neck, let my breathing stop. I mentioned request go amusement park together many times before, wanted sit carousel Ferris wheel with him, but he always said busy, said many social events, said that place too noisy too childish. But now him in phone, laughed so wantonly. Turns out he such busy person, also can spare time date. Turns out not didn’t want go, but person want go with isn’t me. Heart calmly numb, after back home, phone rang. Hailey voice pressed low came: “Old classmate, long time no see.” “Speaking of which, back then I should let them beat you to death at North Gate, save you now eyesore.” Chapter 4 Few people believe, Hailey who is sunny and kind in their eyes, would grab hair drag people into alley beat. Graduation day, Julian asked her meet at school gate. Julian waited at West Gate, I saw Hailey chatting with friends at North Gate. “That poor boy really wants ask me out, funny coming.” “But say one thing say one thing, he looks also school grass level, you not count too loss, try first ba.” “Roll ah, face can eat as rice? Usually bored play play okay, really dating will dye me poor sour smell too, disgusting.” My clenched fist waved to Hailey face, trembling voice cursed: “You guys then fucking disgusting!” Finally, I was dragged into alley by them, tore off clothes. Forced kneel in front of them, turn slapping my face. After they left, I limped to West Gate, wanted tell Julian don’t wait. But saw him nervously rehearsing confession, I dared not step forward. Leaned on other side corner wall, secretly substitute female lead, fantasy happiness. “Leslie, Julian just bought me ring worth million, said to you is kinship is responsibility, person loved always me. That stall goods on your hand still embarrassed wear?” Turns out my seven years youth, only exchanged his sentence “kinship only”. I looked down, at somewhat worn plain band on ring finger. Back then Julian spent 200 dollars bought, said later have money then change diamond ring for me. Promise in his mouth, always so light and fragile. “Hailey, you said right.” I took off ring threw into trash can, “So you better help me persuade him, briskly sign, I waiting him come find me divorce.” “Also, those few slaps back then I didn’t forget, next time meet I will count return to you.” “You dare? Do you know…” Her voice sharp rang, I lazy listen again, directly hung up phone. Then sent call record, amusement park live screenshot and thread comments etc cheating evidence together to lawyer, request redraft a divorce agreement. I want take back everything I should take back, even if lengthen time tangling with Julian. But out of my expectation is, Julian who didn’t return all night, next day I haven’t found him, he actively contacted me. Followed address he sent arrived private room. Once open door, a glass red wine splashed over face on. Sticky wine flowed from face into clothes, Hailey aggrieved complain, open mouth just come: “Back then was you, clearly knew Julian waited me at West Gate, but told me North Gate.” “Harmed us missed so many years.” “You love him but can’t get, then intervene break us up, also take advantage emptiness let him marry you, you really so cruel heart!” She tears and voice together, painful extreme. I looked at Julian sitting aside, staring at me indifferently, faintly suppressing anger, tone cold hard like iron: “Hailey already told me truth, you have anything want say?” I light sneered. Want say no, want do thing actually have one. Next second, I fiercely grabbed Hailey carefully styled hair, forcefully pulling, force her look up at me. “Count well.” Slap! One slap. Slap! Two slaps. Slap! … More fan more lost reason, all grievance, anger, insult of being gang slapped that year and pain of losing child, at this moment completely exploded. Chapter 5 “Leslie, you crazy!?” Julian stood up fiercely, shocked rushed. I smoothly also waved a slap over. Julian dead grabbed my wrist, roughly threw me away. Hailey immediately crying hid into his arms. “Julian, my face so painful…” He touched her red swollen face, eyes full of heartache, turn to me again, was full eyes rage and disgust. I didn’t explain, only took out prepared divorce agreement from bag put on table, “Sign.” He picked up agreement flipped few pages, frowned. Before he questioned, I spoke first: “These all clauses I drafted after consulting lawyer, if you have doubt, I don’t mind taking your cheating evidence go court sue.” Julian’s company is at key period of IPO. Once sue, court will prioritize freeze joint property, including his company. Julian fierce pinched my jaw, “Good, I can sign. Then debt you hit people I also calculate well with you.” “What you want do?” Julian didn’t answer, instead called restaurant manager, whispered in his ear. Immediately, manager forcibly tied my hands tight, then took out hood put on my head. Julian indifferent spoke: “All waiters in shop, line up come in, to this woman, punch one punch one thousand dollars, settle on spot.” Finally, he added: “Attention, can’t touch belly.” Turns out hood is for not let people recognize, leave handle of domestic violence. I screamed curse: “Julian Cole, you fucking bastard!” Words fell, my mouth blocked, heavy fists fell on body, back, legs… “Julian, my face ruined then ruined, you spare sister ba.” Hailey嬌声 (coquettish voice) persuade, Julian ruthless said: “So many years, I then saw her clear, this all she asked for.” “You watch just fine, don’t dirty your hands.” In endless beating and humiliation, I through hood small hole, looking Julian cold hard face. Trance, seemed saw that summer many years ago. That teenager stood out, drove away bad people for me, and man commanding others violence me now, actually is same person. Tears silently slid, I closed eyes, completely lost consciousness. Wake up again, was in cold back alley. Whole body severe pain, bones like fell apart, signed divorce agreement thrown in my arms. Passersby quickened steps, disdained look me. I held back urge to cry, determined won’t shed a drop tear for Julian again. Brain only one thought: I miss grandma, I want go home. Morning plane landed, hometown sun just bright, swept some haze on body for me. Passengers landed together beside, suddenly all looking phone whispering something. Eyes time to time glance at me. I opened phone, a video about Julian and Hailey rushed on trending. Seeing video content, my heart tight, missed half beat.

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At thirty-seven, my husband cheated. I married him right after graduating college, full fifteen years until now. Everyone says my life now is happy enough, Husband is a glorious corporate executive outside, covers all daily expenses inside, better than many men. This breath of resentment, I seem should swallow it down. Chapter 1 At first, I indeed planned to endure. That girl looked no more than early twenties, while my husband Lucas Griffin just turned thirty-eight this year, our son Leo is already in high school. Until the girl found me with tears like pear blossoms bathed in rain, clutching her clothes begging me to quit. Her eyes were wet, looking extremely like me crazy for love back then, while myself in mirror, nasolabial folds quietly deepened, dark circles left by staying up late with child always can’t fade. “Sister, I really love him, beg you fulfill us.” I casually perfunctory: “If divorced, what do you plan to do?” Sunny’s eyes lit up, cheeks flushed: “We want go Iceland see Aurora, then give birth to a daughter. Brother said, he always wanted a soft little cotton jacket…” Lucas wants a daughter? Back then clearly was him said, as long as have me and son satisfied enough, also said never let me experience pain of childbirth again. Turns out vows in time, long molded. I lost interest in teasing, lightly opened mouth: “Teasing you. Me and Lucas married fifteen years, career family all interwoven together, can’t leave. You rather than fantasize future, better plan more for yourself.” Back home, Lucas leaned on sofa processing work. Time seems especially favor him, suit leather shoes look more mature charm. Hearing door opening sound, he didn’t lift head, continued typing keyboard. This is our tacit understanding for many years, as long as I don’t actively speak, he then treats as nothing happened. I tied apron, soon prepared three dishes one soup. Lucas closed laptop, sat at dining table. “Son said sports meeting next week, let you go cheer for him.” “Okay.” “Dad blood pressure unstable recently, want take hospital recheck.” “You arrange time.” “Living room chandelier should change, I find someone repair?” “All fine.” “Sunny came find me.” He finally raised head, brows slightly frowned, eyes full of impatience. “So?” His lover found door, he actually so understated? Even I always endured, this moment also clenched chopsticks. “Lucas Griffin, we are couple, you are cheating now.” He suddenly slapped chopsticks heavily on table, deep voice said: “Luna, don’t speak so ugly. Sunny age small not sensible, we nothing, you don’t blind guess.” Small? Twenties still count not sensible? I really laughably overestimated his bottom line. This meal, ate taste unknown. Thought would stalemate for a period. Didn’t expect next day, I business trip early home, once open door saw Sunny curled on sofa. She wore my newly bought silk nightdress, looking up at Lucas feeding her strawberry. “Lucas brother, strawberry you feed so sweet!” “Just you can act spoiled, eat more.” Looking at that bright red strawberry, my throat tight. Once I loved eat strawberry, he also like this feed me one by one. Now this gentleness, became other’s exclusive. Sunny giggled, two snow white legs swinging back forth. I clearly saw Lucas eyes darkened, pulled her into arms. Before two about kiss, I pushed door enter. Sunny not only didn’t dodge, instead provocatively hooked lips: “Sister, meet again? Just now my stomach hurt, Lucas brother coaxing me, you won’t angry right?” Saying still rubbed into Lucas arms, his Adam’s apple rolled, bottom of eyes flashed a trace warning. I always dignified decent, this moment actually don’t know how respond. Fight like a mad woman? Or tear his hypocritical mask? Seem all useless. Maybe divorce is relief, joint property these years, enough me and son restart. Divorced, I can also find back lost self, maybe can also like him glow second spring… Thinking here, I put down luggage, looked at Lucas softly but firmly said: “Let’s divorce.” Chapter 2 Lucas disagreed, reason is he didn’t commit principle mistake. He also mobilized relatives friends persuade me. In-laws I took care twenty years said, he also didn’t physically cheat, better endure, that time they come out, let him transfer five percent company shares to me. Me and Lucas mutual friends said, that girl just for money, I left not just right fulfilled her wish? Lucas business thriving, worth also higher and higher, this time only fool would hand wealth to others. Best friend recently also making noise divorce, her husband also cheated, only difference with me is, her husband no money, person also ugly. She sighed, advised me better forget it, as long as is a breathing man all will cheat, Lucas at least rich. Look, seems money became death exemption gold medal, can pardon all sins in marriage. I didn’t utter sound, still preparing divorce related materials. My dad heard news also came, once enter door face full劈头盖脸 (scolding harshly) gave me a slap. He angry face red: “Which man not socialize? Have one two women what happened? He treated you good fifteen years not enough? Must make divorce miserable ending? You now almost forty, divorced who still dare want you?” He red face full light, looks like stepmother took care him very good, new added brother also obedient, naturally can’t care I aggrieved or not. Last one came persuade, is my middle school son. When he back, I subconsciously wanted hug him. Result pushed away: “Why you must divorce with dad?” Me who had confidence in front of everyone, suddenly shrank a bit. “Your dad has other woman, mom doesn’t want continue live with him.” “Just that Sunny? Dad said all, she just a friend.” Son impatiently looked at me, expression exactly same as Lucas. “Mom, you lived like princess half life, divorced really can stand it? That time if not used to, I won’t care you.” Honestly speak, before he came back, I always thought, at least this child I raised single handedly would give me a hug. He would angrily beat his dad, question his dad why bully mom, then stand on same line with me, firmly draw line with cheating man. Didn’t expect, once he back, just fired a big temper at me, then angrily went upstairs. Bang! Door closed shaking sky sound, along with my soul also trembled. Luna, how you just mixed like this? Night shower time, Lucas long lost entered bathroom. Distance last intimacy already one year ago. When he entered, look me eyes very cold. But hand still didn’t stop, familiarly moved on my body. “Don’t angry, hmm?” “Tomorrow I send her away, later won’t appear in front of you again.” Body gradually hot up, heart indeed more and more cold. I closed eyes, let tears mix with water drops slide. “Lucas.” “Mm?” “Did you sleep?” “…” Answer self-evident, anger straight rushed up. “You really… make me sick.” Lucas annoyed, fiercely pushed me away. Chapter 3 Ankle a burst severe pain, no time look, pinched chin by him dragged to mirror. “I sick? You? You not sick?” “You look at your head dog chewed hair, where a bit woman flavor? Look your chest, already sagged to belly! You look your face again, patches spots let people can’t mouth!” “Luna, do you still have a bit woman look now?” He badly pinched my chest, bottom eyes cold ice a piece. “We just live like this, I guarantee you lifetime food clothing worry free, if divorce, you definitely will live worse than death.” Until Lucas left long time, I still whole body trembling. Dare not believe loved twenty years person actually can say such words, or… he long changed, is me one leaf barrier see not clear? I dead pinched hand, let fresh blood slide palm. Severe pain came, brain more clear. Lucas, do you think I have no way with you? You can do whatever you want? You wait, this marriage, I definitely divorce. Next day downstairs, Lucas rarely cooked meal, son eating, seeing me lowered head again, a look unwilling talk to me. He instead acted good person, soft voice coax child: “We yesterday agreed, want forgive mom.” Son then unwillingly shouted: “Mom.” “Child yesterday car tired, you come eat quick, I made sandwich you like eat.” He and I four eyes opposite, bottom eyes unabashed pride. I didn’t speak, a while doorbell rang, servant brought Sunny in. “Mrs. Griffin, good morning, I come send file to Mr. Griffin.” They boldly shook hand, son didn’t feel anything, instead greeted Sunny eat. Sunny twisted a bit, turned sat on my seat. Like to angry with me, Leo put my breakfast in front of her. Also poured her a cup orange juice I usually like drink most. Sunny also used full strength, want please Leo, “Aiya, Leo, your character so good oh~ I still thought you would dislike me like Mrs. Griffin…” “My mom recently menopause, suspicious, she insist say you and my dad have affair, you ignore her.” A meal down, two people actually became good friends. I from Leo said I suspicious started didn’t listen again, walked out home. I want find a person, an old classmate haven’t seen for ten more years. My first love, top lawyer Ethan. Chapter 4 In cafe, I and Ethan said want divorce matter. He sneered: “You willing?” A handful age person, temper still so smelly. If gentle a bit, how I back then break up with him? Lazy say more with this stubborn donkey, I took out a card from bag. “I inquired, your market price now is one million, here has five hundred thousand, after divorce I will pay other half. Business is business, don’t talk feelings.” Ethan played with that card, then put into bag. “Okay, Gold Master adult.” Way back, he said want send me. These years compare my family reunion, he much harder, heard his wife early years sick died, two people also no child. He simply put all mind on work, business thriving, became top lawyer in Shenzhen. Ethan car is a flashy Maserati, drive up boom boom sound. I couldn’t help frown: “Handful age, how still like such flashy things.” Also don’t know his wife back then how fancied him. Ethan raised brow: “You before also liked ah, forgot?” Choked me instead. Twenties indeed liked this kind fancy things, but whose good person almost forty still can play move ah, energy really good. Lazy say more with him, after get off, I transferred three hundred to him again. E: “?” L: “Car fee.” E: “Okay, Gold Master adult.” Although car flashy, but Ethan taught me many preparation items before divorce, according he guided, I thought way checked clear Lucas bank account situation, also found private detective, took photo of his golden house hiding beauty address. That is a house I bought before marriage, dating and married early years we always lived there. Later because had Leo, family hired nanny couldn’t live, then changed current villa. I already few years didn’t go look, Lucas actually hid her there? Found key, found a day they not in opened apartment door. Inside everything didn’t change, just added some sundries. Can see, Sunny is really want marry Lucas. Behind sofa, hung their group photo. Beside dining table, has knitted doll she hand hooked. In kitchen, still has rich soup keeping warm. If photo pose not overlap with me back then. If doll she hooked not orange doll I like most. If soup she boiled not exclusive recipe I developed for Lucas stomach illness. Then I probably would applaud for this pair loving wild mandarin ducks. But soup recipe, I back then only wrote to my mother-in-law. Meaning, in this world besides me, only she knows. Now actually appeared in place Sunny lives. Continuous betrayal let me can’t help start suspect is it I really too failure, only let people around all without hesitation choose hurt me? Just emotion surging, door suddenly opened. Sunny happy walked in. Turned pounced into Lucas arms. “Great! Lucas brother, I finally going to give you daughter!” Lucas dotingly touched her face, looked up, met my four eyes.

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Before the SATs, my childhood friend, Alex, was having a mental breakdown. He kept talking about jumping off the roof. I tutored him day and night, cheering him on, until my own class rank dropped by over a hundred spots. But one day, I went back to the classroom to grab some forgotten notes. I saw Alex, the guy who supposedly couldn’t even solve the first multiple-choice question on a practice test, effortlessly solve the final, hardest calculus problem in ten minutes. He slid his work over to the housekeeper’s daughter: “See? It’s simple. And Sarah’s rank has already dropped. You don’t need to feel inferior anymore.” 1 I stood at the back door of the classroom, staring blankly as Alex held a pen, solving the final calculus problem in under ten minutes. He slid the paper over to the housekeeper’s daughter, Lily. His tone, usually irritable these days, was calm and gentle: “See? It’s simple. And Sarah’s rank has already dropped. You don’t need to feel inferior anymore.” I walked slowly towards them, step by step. The steps on the paper were clear and logical, the handwriting steady. It didn’t look like something written by someone on the verge of a breakdown. Yet, just this afternoon, Alex had cried to me about the immense pressure he was under, about not knowing what to do as his grades slipped. I heard my own voice trembling: “Alex…” Lily turned first. Her almond eyes widened when she saw me, and she hurriedly tried to distance herself from Alex: “Uh, Sarah… it’s so late… what are you doing here?” She wrung her hands nervously. Alex, however, only paused for a second before reaching out and pulling Lily back close to him: “Don’t be afraid. She won’t dare bully you.” I clenched my fists, pointing at the solution on the paper: “What is this?” He sighed. “Since you already know, I won’t hide it from you.” I looked at him, waiting for a reasonable explanation. But his words stopped my breath: “Sarah, you’re too strong. You’re putting too much pressure on Lily.” “So you faked test anxiety? Faked suicidal tendencies? Tricked me into using my study time to watch over you, to tutor you? You watched me act like a clown while waiting for my grades to plummet, is that it?!” Alex sighed again. “Sarah, Lily is a scholarship student. Don’t be a bully.” “Is getting good grades bullying her?!” I stepped forward, but someone grabbed me in a hug: “Sarah!” Lily was crying: “Don’t hit Alex! It’s my fault. My mental state was bad. Seeing you so successful gave me too much pressure… “Alex did this for me! If you want to hit someone, hit me!” She grabbed my hand and tried to slap her own face with it. “Enough!” Alex pushed me away. “If you have a problem, come at me. What kind of person bullies her?” Slap! I slapped him hard across the face. Alex stood there, stunned. I gritted my teeth, tears streaming down my face: “I just wanted to help you… and you used me like this…” He looked at my tears, froze, and suddenly panicked: “Uh, no, I just… I didn’t think this would hurt you so much…” “Get out!” I slapped his reaching hand away and stepped back. “I don’t know you anymore!” 2 I ran back to the dorms, crying. Tomorrow was a holiday, and I was the only one in the dorm who had applied to stay on campus. In the empty room, I hugged a boxed fountain pen and cried until I couldn’t breathe. It was the last gift my brother left me. “Brother… I miss you so much…” Two years ago, my brother also walked to the roof because his grades suddenly dropped before the SATs. I came out of evening study hall to hear the commotion, people saying someone had jumped. The last thing I saw was my brother’s bloodied face being covered by a white sheet. All he left me was a fountain pen and a diary. And I lost the diary the very next day. I was depressed for two months. Those two months, Alex was the one who walked with me through it. He knew my mental state best during that time. He was terrified I’d walk into traffic, following me to and from school every day. But ever since Lily transferred to our school, he changed. He knew how deep that trauma scarred me, yet he chose the most hurtful way to deceive me! He knew I wouldn’t refuse. Even though helping him made my rank drop by over a hundred spots, I didn’t give up. Because I was so afraid he would become the next victim, just like my brother. Turns out, it was all to make Lily feel better. And I had been worried sick about him every day. I wiped my tears, took out my prep books, and started grinding problems like crazy. He wanted my grades to drop so Lily wouldn’t feel inferior? I’m going to make sure Lily can never catch up to me! 3 The mock exam results came out quickly. Everyone gasped as soon as they saw the rankings: “Whoa! Sarah is back!” “Damn! Sarah is number one! Didn’t she drop to like 200 last time?” “How come I don’t see Lily’s name this time? She used to be number one.” “Can you guys shut up?!” Someone yelled. Everyone turned to see Lily lying on her desk, sobbing uncontrollably. A group of her friends surrounded her, comforting her: “It’s okay, it’s normal to have a bad test. Who gets first place every time?” “Don’t be sad. That Sarah girl dropped to 200, and now suddenly she’s first? Who believes that? She probably cheated.” “Exactly. Everyone knows her grades were trash lately.” Lily sobbed: “Don’t say that… Sarah wouldn’t do that.” “Lily, you’re too kind!” Someone shouted angrily: “She bullies you because your mom is her housekeeper, and you still defend her!” Some classmates were confused: “What housekeeper?” The friends got excited: “You guys don’t know? Lily’s mom is a maid at Sarah’s house. Sarah bullies her every day, even forbidding Lily to score higher than her, or she’ll dock her mom’s wages!” The girl patted Lily’s head as she spoke: “She only tells us about these grievances. “Lily wanted to try her real level before the SATs, so she tried hard a few times. Sarah scolded her mom immediately. “Lily had no choice but to tutor Sarah, pushing her to first place while wasting her own time. That’s why she failed this time.” The classmates realized: “So Sarah’s good grades were all because Lily helped her!” “Yeah, the times Lily tried for herself and didn’t tutor Sarah, those trash grades were Sarah’s real level!” Bang! I kicked the door open. The chatter in the classroom vanished instantly. 4 Lily’s eyes widened: “Sarah…” Slap! I slammed a stack of scratch paper onto the desk, looking down at her: “Done acting? Hmm?” She blinked. I threw the papers into the air. Sheets fluttered down like snow, covered in solutions to various problems. On every sheet, there were two distinct handwritings. One guiding, one solving. Someone recognized it: “This… isn’t this Lily and Alex’s handwriting?” “Wait, so Alex was tutoring Lily?” “Damn, Alex is this good? Then why did he tank the last few exams?” “They said it was test anxiety.” … I sneered, looking at Alex in the corner of the classroom: “Yeah, Alex. Did it feel good faking anxiety? Did it feel good tricking me into tutoring you, wasting my own study time?!” The classmates paused, looking at Alex: “Faked?” “Whoa, look at these steps, look at this handwriting. Does this look like someone with test anxiety?” “Oh~ Alex played us? How much did Lily pay you to sabotage your childhood friend?” “Maybe he wasn’t paid with money…” Meaningful laughter rippled through the room. “You… you guys are talking nonsense!” Alex slammed his desk and stood up. Lily just cried harder. I scoffed: “If I’m an eyesore, then get your grades up and beat me! “If you beat me fair and square, I’ll respect it. But this? This is disgusting!” Finally, I bent down to look Lily in the eye: “The pressure I give you will continue. If you don’t like me, get your skills up.” I turned and walked out, slamming the door behind me.

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When it came to the arranged marriage for our family merger, I picked the only doctor in a sea of billionaire heirs. But after the wedding, I realized he was basically that one overworked doctor friend in every romance novel who gets called at 3 AM to treat the female lead. After witnessing it firsthand several times, I gave up on trying to develop feelings for him. I mean, who knows if I’ll end up having to fight his billionaire friends for his attention? But what I didn’t expect was… he could read my mind. 1 For people like us, we always knew the day of the arranged marriage would come. It’s fine. After enjoying so many privileges, it’s normal to pay a price. I was lucky enough to choose my own partner—from a pool of heirs in our social circle. Honestly, it didn’t matter who it was. Everyone knows these marriages are just for show, a business transaction between two families. But since I had a choice, I wanted someone relatively normal. According to my intel: One guy was entangled with his first love abroad. Pass. Another was playing a game of “she runs, he chases” with his sugar baby. Pass. Another just started sponsoring a D-list actress. Hard pass. After filtering through the trash, I thought of Julian Sterling. My impression of him was limited: gentle, reserved, expensive. His name sounded like a standard CEO, but he was the only one in the group who wasn’t a corporate shark. Julian was a doctor. A genuine academic who got into Johns Hopkins Medical School on his own merit and completed his MD/PhD. He fit the image perfectly: soft-spoken, polite, clean-cut. Every time I saw him, he was in light-colored suits. With the doctor filter, he seemed almost saintly. Our engagement went smoothly. Our parents hit it off immediately. I heard Julian agreed without hesitation too. So, within a month, I went from single since birth to a married woman. On our wedding day, I moved into the house he bought. Beige decor, very him. Julian gave me a tour, then led me to the master bedroom door. His voice was warm. “I know this is an arranged marriage, but I don’t want it to be just a formality. I hope we can take it slow, get to know each other, and build a relationship.” He pointed to the guest room opposite. “I’ll sleep there. Don’t be nervous. I won’t force anything until we’re both ready.” I went into my room and closed the door. Honestly, he was better than I expected. I always assumed that even without scandals, birds of a feather flock together. His friends all had “CEO Syndrome”—keeping mistresses, dramatic relationships. Although he seemed different, I didn’t have high hopes. I just wanted a peaceful coexistence. As long as no one caused a scene in front of me, I wouldn’t meddle in his private life. Two months flew by. One night, after a shower, I lay in bed looking at a skimpy nightgown I’d bought. My heart started racing. Julian might be a gentleman with no impure thoughts. But I wasn’t! Single for twenty-something years, barely held a man’s hand, but my mind was full of yellow trash. With a legitimate, incredibly handsome husband right there, why live like a nun? Plus, over the last two months, he came home at 6 PM sharp every day. We had cozy dinners, leisurely weekend shopping trips. He waited while I got my nails and hair done, and watched trashy soap operas with me on the couch. I had to admit, I was catching feelings. 2 One day, while shopping with friends, I checked my phone: 5:30 PM. My first thought was, Time to go home. I paused, then felt a wave of complex emotions. I realized I truly considered that house my home. I felt a sense of belonging I never expected. Having seen the chaos in our circle—including my own parents’ messes with lovers showing up or secret children appearing—I thought I had given up on love and family. But the power of a slow burn surprised me. Thinking about my time with Julian and what I knew of his character, I gained the confidence to gamble once. Maybe trusting someone, trusting love, could lead to a good result? Julian’s parents were a rare example of a loving couple in our circle. Raised by them, Julian’s character should be trustworthy, right? Even if it’s a trap, maybe everyone has to walk through it once. I changed into a black lace nightgown, tiptoed to Julian’s door, struck the most flattering pose I learned online, and knocked lightly. The door opened. Julian froze. He looked around blankly, finding nothing to cover me with, and gave up. After a few moments of eye contact, his gaze darkened. He asked slowly, “Chloe, are you sure?” Upon my confirmation, he picked me up. The room was dim, lit only by a warm bedside lamp. I felt my temperature rising, my brain turning to mush. Head tilted, I saw the pristine white sheets and thought inappropriately, Those are going to be hard to clean. I never found out. Just as Julian loosened his tie, his phone rang. He took a few deep breaths, exhaling hot air, braced one hand by my ear, and grabbed his phone. “Dr. Sterling, Mr. Vance drank too much and is in severe pain. Can you come take a look?” The anxious male voice on the other end sounded familiar—like an assistant to one of the CEOs. Julian paused. His voice was incredibly hoarse. “I know. Wait a moment.” I snapped out of my haze, grabbing his half-removed shirt. With mixed emotions, I murmured, “Don’t go!” Julian met my gaze, then lowered his head to coax me gently. “Be good. I’ll go check on him.” Watching him dress to leave, anger flared. I stared at his back, cursing internally: “Be good~ I’ll go check~ Heh, who knows if he’s checking on a bro or a babe.” He paused, stuttered in his movements, and turned to look at me with a complicated expression. “What?” I asked. He shook his head and continued dressing. I continued my internal monologue: “Go, go. Who can stop you? You’re the savior. Ambulances are useless, hospitals are useless. You have magic powers; only you can save him…” After venting, I felt better. I thought I saw him stumble on his way out, but maybe I imagined it. He was known for being unflappable. Before closing the door, he said, “Chloe, I’ll be back soon.” I fell asleep waiting. When I woke up, he was sleeping next to me, back in last night’s pajamas. It made me even angrier. What kind of man changes clothes and leaves in that situation?! I angrily bit into my toast. Julian appeared from somewhere. Seeing my expression, he chuckled softly, hugged me from behind, and whispered in my ear, “Sorry. Liam Vance is in big trouble lately. He had a gastric bleed recently, so I was worried and went to check.” It happened; I didn’t want to dwell on it. However, after he went to work, I watched a CEO drama on TV. The plot reached the point where the female lead got hurt while running away, and the male lead called his doctor friend to treat her. Epiphany struck. Every CEO novel I’d read flooded my brain. Wait, isn’t Julian exactly like that miserable doctor friend who always gets called at midnight? We have tons of CEOs around us. Gastric bleeds. Doctor friend. Midnight calls. Bingo. Imagining Julian being summoned by this CEO today and that CEO tomorrow, treated like a tool, looking like a dusty puppy… I couldn’t help but laugh. That night, I made no move, but Julian knocked on my door. Hair styled, faint cologne. His eyes smiled as they landed on me. “Can you take me in tonight?” 3 I raised an eyebrow. “What? No one needs a checkup tonight?” He didn’t speak. He cupped my face and lowered his head for a kiss, gently nibbling. With last night’s experience, things went smoother. Until he took off his shirt. We both froze, terrified of a phone call. We looked at the phone simultaneously, then at each other, and almost burst out laughing. He leaned in, voice unable to hide his amusement. “I won’t leave tonight.” My face flushed red. Whatever. He made it sound like I was desperate. … That night reminded me of a saying: Don’t judge a book by its cover. Julian was a good man. Objectively speaking. At work, he was dedicated to researching cures for terminal illnesses. He had a great temper, was filial to his parents, sincere to friends, and consistently caring toward me. However, being too good had its downsides. It wasn’t the first time a friend called during our anniversary or a planned trip. Not often, but always catching us off guard. The assistants’ voices were always trembling and pitiful. Sometimes a CEO drank until his stomach bled. Sometimes a forced-love scenario left someone physically collapsed. What could I do? They made it sound life-threatening. Even though I wondered: Is calling an ambulance that hard? Does it have to be Julian? I laughed about him being a tool in a novel, but this was reality. Not calling the police or going to a hospital was ridiculous. Even though he always rushed back as soon as possible. The mood was ruined. The excitement was gone. Today was our first wedding anniversary. Last night, I specifically told Julian I didn’t want any disturbances today. His lab work had made progress recently, and he’d been working late. We finally had a leisurely grocery trip together. For my birthday, Julian came home early and cooked. It shocked me. It tasted as good as our family chef’s cooking, and every dish was my favorite. When we first got together, we made a big deal of every holiday. Now, for our anniversary, we just wanted to shop and cook a cozy dinner. I sat at the table watching Julian busy in the kitchen, feeling a bit dazed. A year ago, I never would have imagined my married life would be like this. Not fiery, but warm. I walked over and hugged his waist from behind. He laughed and was about to speak. The phone rang. I pressed my lips together. After a year, I had PTSD from his ringtone. I pressed my ear against his back. On the phone, another assistant, voice anxious: “Dr. Sterling, please come quickly…” Anger surged. I bit my lip, snatched the phone, and asked genuinely, “Can you not call an ambulance? Can you not drive him to the hospital?” Silence on the other end. I hung up, still angry. “That was Noah’s assistant, right? I recognize the voice. Do you really believe Noah, that playboy, is drinking himself to death over a woman?!” Julian frowned, hesitating. “I heard he really likes someone recently…” “The people he’s liked over the years wouldn’t fit in a bus!” I gritted my teeth. “Anyway, if you go, let’s stop talking about feelings. Your bros are clearly more important. Just live with your bros.” He left anyway. 4 Even though he coaxed me gently, “I’ll just take a look. I’ll be back in the time it takes you to watch one episode, okay?” I was disappointed. My heart sank. Compared to others’ dramatic loves, our journey was too smooth, too plain. My only complaint was wishing the CEOs would grow up and stop dragging Julian into their messes. I had thought about it. Even though my “rivals” were these unexpected men. Julian’s attitude mattered. I’d heard rumors in our circle that some of these illnesses were fake. Tricks to win sympathy or fool the board. They were lies. Even I could tell the difference now. I didn’t believe Julian couldn’t. I’m not smart, and I hate trouble. My solution to difficult things is acceptance or avoidance. Like the arranged marriage. Who wants to marry a stranger? But I couldn’t resist. And honestly, I couldn’t give up my luxurious life. So I accepted it. Simplest way. Julian was nice. We got along. As a political marriage partner, he was perfect. I didn’t care when he was home or if his friends called him away. But as a lover? I couldn’t accept fighting his friends for him. I didn’t want to live in fear of a ringtone. My words weren’t just out of spite. I had decided. If this happened again—if he left knowing it was likely fake—then forget it. We could just be a business couple. Simple. Julian panicked on the drive. Since the wedding day, he could inexplicably hear Chloe’s thoughts. He usually knew her reactions. But when he left just now, he heard nothing. Silence. He sped up, wanting to check on Noah and get home. At the bar, Julian found Noah drinking and flirting, perfectly fine. Julian gritted his teeth and turned to leave. He’d seen Noah act dramatic over love before. That’s why he came, worried it might be real, even angering Chloe. Noah saw him and had his assistant block him. Noah lounged on the sofa, smiling lazily. “No way, Julian. Leaving before you sit?” Julian frowned, eyes cold. “Noah, you know the story of the boy who cried wolf. Don’t call me again.” “Don’t be like that. It’s hard to get you out since you got married. Is the wife… strict?” Noah didn’t care, still slouching. Julian glared. Noah straightened up. Julian was known for his temper—good until you crossed a line. This was the first time Noah saw him this serious. Silence. Julian pushed past the assistant. “She is my wife. Don’t talk about her like that.” After he left, the assistant hesitated. “Actually, when I called, Dr. Sterling’s wife seemed to know it was fake and didn’t want him to come.” Noah felt a pang of guilt. So Julian fought with his wife for him? The assistant continued, “Today seems to be their anniversary.” In the dark corner, Noah put down his glass. “Damn. I really am a piece of sh*t.” When Julian returned, I was in the living room. Normal. He tried to hug me. I dodged. He looked at me with puppy dog eyes, using his beauty against me. I ignored it. After dinner, I stopped him before he showered. I pointed to the guest room. “I had it cleaned. Since it’s a family alliance, no need for intimacy. We just need to keep up appearances.” I raised a brow. “If that room is too small, I can move there. You take the master. You bought the house, after all.” I closed the door, shutting him out. I didn’t want to see his face. I was afraid I’d soften. Back in my room, I exhaled. Seeing him affected me too much. So, I shouldn’t see him. I never knew I had such executive function. I booked a ticket and packed that night. The next morning, I sneaked out early with my luggage.

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Brooks gave me the divorce papers the same day his Great Love finally flew home. “Serena,” he said, his voice flat, devoid of the emotion that used to flicker for me in public. “We’re done. Daphne’s back in the States and she’s been struggling. She needs me.” I looked down at my phone, where I’d been finalizing the details for our tenth anniversary surprise—a weekend trip to the Vineyard and a vintage Patek Philippe he’d mentioned once. Quietly, I hit the ‘delete’ button on the itinerary. “When I spent the first decade of my life helping you pay off a half-billion in inherited debt,” I replied, my voice disturbingly calm, “you swore to me you’d only ever need me.” But Brooks’ eyes held only a consuming guilt—a guilt reserved entirely for Daphne. “I didn’t have a choice then, Ren. Now I’m finally choosing to be honest with myself. I need to live my own life. Please. Just set me free.” I stared at the documents for a long time. Then I signed on the line. The first thing I did after dropping the pen was dial a number. “It’s done,” I said into the phone. “We’re divorced. Does the original dare still stand?” A high-pitched, excited squeal came through the receiver. “God, yes! Absolutely it does!” I barely hung up before a crowd of people burst through the door of my office. Streamers and champagne corks flew. Pop! Foam sprayed everywhere. “Congratulations, Brooks! You’re finally free from the gold shackles!” They cheered, shoving a woman directly in front of him. It was Daphne Wells—his legendary, unattainable high school sweetheart. Daphne’s voice was thick with the thrill of a long-awaited reunion. “Brooks. I’m home.” Brooks completely lost control, yanking her into a fierce embrace. The room erupted in wolf-whistles. “Look, look! The great American romance! True love always wins!” “If Brooks’ family hadn’t imploded and Daphne hadn’t left for Paris, we wouldn’t have had this awkward decade with the convenient replacement. Some people are just opportunists, trying to capitalize on a man’s ruin.” I didn’t say a word. I simply picked up the nearest glass of whiskey and emptied it. The bitter, raw burn wasn’t pleasant, but it was the flavor of the last ten years. The endless grind of keeping the Ashton Enterprises conglomerate afloat—the frantic corporate dinners, the backroom deals, the time I pushed myself so hard to secure funding I landed in the emergency room with a bleeding ulcer. Daphne leaned back in Brooks’ arms, then turned her attention to me. “Serena Ashton,” she purred, the lack of a formal title deliberate. “I’m truly sorry I had to take Brooks back. If you’re not busy, I’d love to take everyone out tonight to celebrate. We can all be friends.” I set the empty glass down, my eyes locking on hers. “Dinner isn’t necessary.” My voice was low, cutting. “It was ten years of marriage, and I haven’t quite finished digesting the fact that my ex-husband’s low-rent sidepiece broke up my home.” Brooks’ face flushed a deep crimson, his agitation immediate. “Serena, don’t be ridiculous! You signed the agreement! I didn’t cheat! You have no right to insult Daphne!” Daphne placed a soft hand on his chest, a calming gesture for the crowd. “It’s okay, Brooks. Serena, you don’t have to attack me. I know you’re having trouble accepting that Brooks never truly loved you.” She offered a saccharine smile. “Now that I’m back, I’ll make things right. I’ll make sure the half-billion dollars you paid off gets reimbursed.” A fresh wave of applause broke out. “That’s our Daphne! Now that’s devotion!” “Some people think a little dirty money can buy love. Disgusting.” I laughed, looking down at a new text message on my phone. Brooks. Brooks. Daphne had been gone for ten years. She returns and immediately takes him. Didn’t he ever wonder why? But I was tired. I was utterly done. Some lessons, especially the painful, concrete ones, a man just has to learn for himself. “Fine,” I said, shrugging into my coat. “Since Ms. Wells is so principled, I’ll wait for that wire transfer.” Ten years ago, Brooks was a shell of a man, alone and broken. Today, he was surrounded by sycophants. But as I watched the group leave, I was hit by a moment of disorientation. I remembered when his father’s real estate venture collapsed and he took his own life. My family took Brooks in out of loyalty to his father. He was a trembling, tearful boy. “R-Renny,” he’d whispered, his eyes red and swollen. “Hello. I’m Brooks Tanner.” Renny. I hadn’t heard that childhood nickname in years. He was quiet, incredibly eager to please. He’d help the housekeeper, hand me a chilled bottle of water after my morning run, or bring me a mug of hot cocoa when I studied late. I treated him well because of that dependent, shaky delivery of my name. When his father’s creditors came calling, my dad proposed the only way out: an immediate marriage alliance between us. I didn’t object. Brooks, however, panicked. “Renny, I can’t marry you! I… I have someone I love. Her name is Daphne. We were supposed to go to the same university.” My chest had tightened painfully. “Where is she now?” He shook his head, looking lost. “She went abroad. I can’t reach her.” I saw the tremor in his shoulders and softened. “Marry me, Brooks. You won’t have to worry about the debt, and you can still pursue your education. If you find Daphne, and she can fix this mess, I’ll let you go. No strings.” On our wedding night, he slept with his back to me. “Serena. Thank you. But I won’t ever love you. Daphne is my only love.” I lay on my side of the massive king-sized bed, a gulf between us. I thought: It’s fine. Ten years. Twenty years. A lifetime is long. Love will come. I cleared the $500 million debt and launched his career. Everyone in our circle called Brooks the luckiest man in America, blessed with a wife who saw only him. Yet in ten years, he never called me his wife. And even that tentative, dependent nickname—Renny—vanished, along with the desperate boy I’d taken in. My phone vibrated, dragging me back from the memory. I answered, and a drunken howl blasted through the speaker. “Serena! Where the hell are you? Get down here and cover this tab!” I drove to the address. As soon as I walked in, a body cannonballed into my arms. “Cuz! You took forever! Where’s Brooks? Why didn’t he come with you?” My cousin, Max Riley, was visibly wasted. I steadied him before he hit the floor. “He’s not my husband anymore, Max. We divorced.” The alcohol seemed to drain out of Max instantly. “No way! Ren, you’re messing with me! You practically risked your life for him—you almost…” I knew exactly what he was about to say. That year, Brooks was set up by a competitor and tangled in a lawsuit. I’d gone to meet the sharks to negotiate for a crucial piece of evidence that would clear his name. They demanded $30 million. I agreed. Then they changed the deal. They wanted a limb. They said they were sick of rich kids having everything. I took a beating for that piece of evidence. A compound fracture. Doctors said a few more millimeters and I’d have lost the use of my left leg. I hid the true extent of the injury from Brooks. Max was the one who nursed me for three months. I was trying to stop the memory when the room filled with the sound of laughter. Brooks, Daphne, and their posse walked in. One of Brooks’ friends sneered. “Well, look at Serena Ashton. Divorced for barely two hours and she’s already got a new boy toy in tow. Fast work.” Brooks frowned, stepping in. “Don’t be an idiot. That’s her cousin.” “Cousin?” The man winked suggestively at his friends. “We know the routine. Brother > Stepbrother, Stepbrother > Toyboy. We get it, Brooks. Don’t worry.” The vulgarity was nauseating. Before I could speak, Max exploded. He snatched a glass bottle off a table and brandished it, pointing. “Know my mother, you mean? Say one more word about my cousin and I will tear your throat out, you disgusting pig.” Daphne’s face hardened. “It was a joke. We’re all friends here. Take it down a notch.” Max laughed—a furious, derisive sound—and shoved the bottle closer. “Jokes? That garbage spewing from your mouth is a joke? Were you not raised by human beings? Do you have no concept of manners?” “Max!” Brooks roared, his face contorted in anger. “You’ve gone far enough! Apologize to Daphne, right now!” Max stared at Brooks, aghast. “Brooks—no, Serena’s ex! You want me to apologize to her? She insulted me, insulted Ren, and you’re defending her? Who came crying to my cousin to save your family’s ass ten years ago? Now that your Great Love is back, you’re kicking Ren to the curb and acting like a martyr?” Max’s voice rose to a shout. “You’re a despicable opportunist!” Brooks physically stepped in front of Daphne. “I’m divorced from Serena! I only ever loved Daphne! And Serena isn’t even bothered, so why are you so hysterical?” He shot me a look of pure accusation, as if I had orchestrated the entire confrontation. Daphne tucked her hand into the crook of Brooks’ arm and gave me a victorious, challenging look. “Serena, control your cousin. He’s making a fool of himself.” Max was shaking with fury, but he let me pull him away toward the exit. Daphne suddenly blocked our path with her foot. “You insult me, and you think you can just leave?” She lowered her voice to a dangerous hiss. “Kneel. And apologize.” “Kiss my ass!” Max screamed back. The next second, a glass bottle shattered against Max’s skull. Blood immediately streamed down his forehead. Daphne stood there, the broken neck of the bottle in her hand. She feigned surprise and dropped the jagged remains. “Oops. My hand slipped.” Her eyes were cold. “But honestly, your mouth needed a little cleansing. Consider this a wake-up call.” The crowd roared with laughter. Max was pale with pain, but he tried to lunge at her. I gripped his arm, holding him fast. I looked up at Brooks. He wasn’t looking at Max. He was looking at Daphne’s hand, his face etched with concern. “Daphne, are you cut? Did the glass hurt you?” Max, bleeding profusely, might as well have been furniture. “Brooks!” I finally snapped. “Max has been calling you ‘Cuz’ for ten years. Do you have a heart?” Brooks glanced at Max, annoyed. “Stop being dramatic. It’s a shallow cut. Get a few stitches and you’ll be fine. He brought it on himself by insulting Daphne.” Without another word, I grabbed a bottle of red wine off the table. CRASH. The bottle shattered against the marble table edge, leaving me holding the jagged neck, a razor-sharp weapon. Daphne didn’t even have time to react before I was in front of her. The sharp point of the glass rested against her carotid artery. “Serena! You’re insane!” Brooks shrieked, charging at me, trying to pull me away. “You let go of Daphne! Your cousin started it! Are you going to murder her over a scratch?” I turned my head, my gaze chilling him instantly. “Get out.” I said the word slowly, with absolute finality. I pressed the glass just a fraction deeper. Brooks panicked. “Serena! Don’t do this! I’ll apologize for her! I’ll pay any medical bill! Max has a scratch, you’re acting like a psychopath! Are you trying to blackmail me into coming back? You’re pathetic, Serena. You’re utterly vile!” But watching Max, pale and in pain, still trying to protect me, I realized the full extent of Brooks’ moral decay. He truly repulsed me. “What makes you think you’re so important?” I yelled, giving them all a target. “I have a fiancé now. Why would I want a divorced, leeching opportunist like you?” While I shouted, the men in the group managed to pry Daphne from my grasp. They immediately surrounded me, roaring with contemptuous laughter. “Serena, did you develop a delusion disorder after the divorce?” “A fiancé? Who did you call, a random gigolo off the street?” Brooks shoved his way to the front, shielding Daphne, his face a mask of scorn. “Stop the lies! You can’t love anyone but me! You’re just saying this to provoke me, to make me regret it! Serena, stop acting like a child. Who else would ever want you?” The crowd waited for my humiliation. But the next second, a man flanked by a phalanx of security guards strode into the room. “I do.” The familiar, deep voice made Brooks swing around. When he saw the man’s face, Brooks went dead silent.

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