Category: English

Seven hundred yards from the gas station, I found a little girl on the side of the road having a heart attack. The area was remote, and waiting for an ambulance would take too long, so I decided to rush her to the hospital myself. At the gas station, I told the owner it was an emergency and asked him to fill up my tank quickly. He smirked. “Sure. Give me a hundred bucks, and I’ll make it snappy.” Frustrated, I handed over the cash. But then he changed his tune. “Wait, you’re trying to save someone? A hundred won’t cut it. Give me five hundred, and I’ll fill it up.” Realizing he was extorting me, I tried to step out and call 911 to get an ambulance instead. The owner snatched my phone. “Thinking of calling for help? Not a chance!” Inside the car, the girl’s face was turning blue. What the owner didn’t know was that the dying girl in my backseat was his own daughter, on her way home from tutoring. Chapter 1 It was late at night. I was driving back from visiting relatives in the countryside when I saw a small figure curled up on the side of a desolate road. Being alone in such a remote area at night, I was wary of scams, so I slowed down cautiously. But as I got closer, the girl didn’t look like she was acting. She was clutching her chest, collapsed on the gravel. In the headlights, her face looked ghostly pale. Crap. This looks real. I stopped the car and pulled out my phone to record a video, just in case this was a setup. “I’m recording this for my safety,” I said to the camera. “I just found a girl collapsed on the road. I didn’t hit her. My dashcam can prove it. I’m going to help her now.” I ran over and followed the first-aid training I’d taken. I called out to her. She was conscious but weak, murmuring, “Hospital… heart… hurts…” Heart attack. I wanted to call 911, but the GPS signal was spotty out here, and explaining the location on these winding backroads would take forever. Luckily, she was light. I gently lifted her into the backseat, laid her flat, and cracked the windows for air. I was ready to race to the ER when the fuel light pinged. Empty. Damn it. Of all times. I remembered passing a gas station not far ahead. I floored it and arrived in less than a minute. It was late, and only one guy was there. I parked and yelled, “Fill it up, please! Hurry!” Hearing “fill it up,” the owner, who had been lounging in a chair, sat up. He walked over with a greasy smile. “Filling the tank, huh? Don’t worry, Uncle Joe won’t rip you off. I’ll even give you a discount. You take Premium, right?” He reached for the Premium nozzle and tried to open my fuel cap. I always drove this beater SUV on these roads because the gravel destroyed paint jobs. I stopped him. “No need for Premium. Regular is fine. Just fill it up fast!” Uncle Joe’s smile vanished. His mouth turned down, and his brow furrowed with annoyance. “Regular? Fine. Coming right up.” He said he’d do it, but his movements were agonizingly slow. I looked at the girl in the backseat, frantic. “Sir, can you please hurry? I have a sick child in the back. We need to get to the hospital. It’s an emergency!” Hearing “saving someone,” his eyes lit up. He paused and said, “Oh, sorry, miss. We’re out of Regular. If you want gas, you gotta take Premium.” I leaned out and looked at the pump display. The Regular tank indicator showed full. “Sir, you said you wouldn’t rip me off. You clearly have Regular gas. Don’t lie, or I’m calling the cops.” He didn’t look worried at all. He smirked. “Let me tell you something. This is the only gas station for miles. If you don’t fill up here, you’re not going anywhere. Even if you call the cops, it’ll take them forever to get here. By then, that kid in the back will be dead.” I was shocked. “That’s a human life! Are you really that cold-blooded?” He remained unfazed, his attitude aggressive. “Cold-blooded? I’m feeling cold-blooded today! I don’t give a damn about anyone’s life. I only care about money. You want gas, you take Premium, or you can get out and push!” Chapter 2 The girl in the back groaned in pain. I hesitated for two seconds, then caved. “Fine! Premium it is! Just fill it up!” He agreed readily this time, grabbing the Premium nozzle to start pumping. The tank wasn’t big; usually, it took a minute to fill. But as the seconds ticked by, the pump hummed quietly, barely moving. I couldn’t take it. I got out to check. He wasn’t squeezing the handle fully; the gas was trickling out like a leaky faucet. “What are you doing?!” I screamed. “Squeeze the handle! At this rate, we’ll be here until next Christmas!” He whistled, shaking his leg with a thug-like swagger. “Can’t help it. This pump is just slow. But hey, if you want it faster, there might be a way.” My instinct kicked in. “How?” He smiled crookedly, the wrinkles on his face bunching up like a toad’s skin. It was repulsive. “Extra service fee. Give me another hundred bucks, and I’ll fill it instantly.” Veins popped in my forehead. Did I look like an ATM? It was just a gas pump. I knew how to use it. I moved to shove him aside and do it myself. He yelled immediately, “Hey! What do you think you’re doing? I got cameras! If you break anything, you pay for it! And I got a bad back—if you push me and I get paralyzed, you’re paying for my medical bills for life!” Rage swirled in my chest, but I was helpless. The girl couldn’t wait much longer. I decided to call 911 as a backup. But before I could dial, he snatched my phone. “Trying to call for help? No way!” I looked through the window at the weak girl, panic rising in my throat. “If anything happens to her, it’s on you! Her parents won’t let you get away with this!” He shoved my phone into his pocket. “I told you. You want gas fast? You pay. Miss, you’re so kind to save a stranger, why not save poor Uncle Joe too? Business is slow out here. Consider it charity.” I had never seen someone so shameless. This wasn’t begging; it was extortion. The girl kicked the door weakly. She was struggling. Fine. Money. He wanted money. “Okay, I’ll pay. But I don’t have cash. Give me my phone, I’ll Venmo you. A hundred, right?” The notification sound dinged almost instantly. But his hand didn’t move any faster. I screamed like a madwoman. “I sent the money! Hurry up!” He laughed, showing yellow teeth. “A hundred was the price a minute ago. The price has gone up.” “What do you mean?” He smirked. “Think about it. I fill your tank, you rush the kid to the hospital, she lives. Her parents give you a fat reward for saving her life. But without my gas, you can’t be a hero, and you don’t get that reward money. So really, Uncle Joe is helping you get paid. I should get a cut. I’m not greedy—just give me five hundred. Fair, right?” Chapter 3 “Five hundred?! Are you insane? Why don’t you just rob a bank?” He raised an eyebrow. “Five hundred is cheap. When you save that kid, the parents will probably give you thousands. You wouldn’t be doing this if there wasn’t something in it for you. Don’t act like a saint.” So in his twisted mind, I was only helping for money. I took a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll send it.” I had no choice. I had to swallow my anger. He stared at me. “Don’t try anything funny. I’m watching you.” Under his gaze, I Venmoed him five hundred dollars. He grinned. “See? That’s better. You should have done this earlier, saved the kid some suffering. If she dies, it’s your fault for being cheap.” I heard the woosh of gas finally flowing at full speed. My heart rate slowed slightly. Hold on, sweetie. Just a little longer. Suddenly, the noise stopped. I looked at him. His eyes glinted with malice. He had another idea to squeeze me dry. I immediately put my hand behind my back. Relying on muscle memory, I texted my best friend, Maya: [Bring ambulance. Save me. No calls. Hurry.] I sent my location. I had brought Maya here before; I hoped she remembered the way. If I called 911, he’d hear me. Who knows what he’d do then. Just as I predicted, he stopped the pump and snatched the keys from the ignition before I could react. In the struggle, I saw the girl curled into a tight ball. She was fading. “What now?! I paid you!” He smiled. “Don’t panic, miss. Uncle Joe is just being thorough. I’m checking your car. Looks like you need wiper fluid. And an oil change. I’m doing you a favor, taking care of it all right now. Just give me another three hundred.” Three hundred could buy a truckload of wiper fluid. He popped the hood and started “inspecting” the engine. “Miss, I used to be a mechanic. Tell you what, I’ll tighten some loose screws, give it a full service. Total package—just give me a grand!” I was speechless. He was a pro at this. People took this backroad to avoid tolls. He must have scammed dozens of drivers. He tinkered under the hood, stalling. I couldn’t just sit there. The girl was barely moving. Sweat beaded on my forehead. I saw a car approaching. I ran out and waved my arms. “Stop! Please! I have a sick child! I’ll pay you to take us to the hospital!” I had to mention money to get them to stop. The black sedan slowed down. A middle-aged man stepped out, a cigarette dangling from his lip. He didn’t look friendly. He glanced at me, then looked at the gas station owner. “Joe, what’s the deal? Fleecing another tourist?” Joe leaned back, relaxed. “Can’t help it. Slow week. Caught a live one trying to play hero. Had to squeeze her. Help me keep her here, she still owes me a grand. I’ll cut you in.” The smoker nodded. “Deal.” He smirked at me, whispering, “Miss, how much you offering? You gave Joe a grand, don’t shortchange me. I’m reasonable—five hundred, and I’ll take the kid to the ER right now.” Chapter 4 I tried to keep my knees from buckling. Trapped between two men. I didn’t want to think about what else they might want besides money. I had an idea. “Joe, this guy says he’ll take the kid for five hundred. I’m gonna transfer the money to him. I only have five hundred left in my account.” Joe slammed the hood shut. “Bubba, what are you doing? Stealing my business? Don’t you know the rules?” Bubba didn’t back down. “Joe, money doesn’t have rules. First come, first served. Besides, didn’t your daughter tell you to stop this crap? If she finds out, she might have another heart attack.” Joe bristled at the mention of his daughter. “Keep my daughter’s name out of your mouth! She’s healthy as a horse. You curse her, I’ll kill you.” Bubba stubbed out his cigarette, ready to fight. But Joe was smart. He realized quickly I was playing them. Meanwhile, my hand was already dialing 911. Joe snatched the phone before it connected. “Nice try, bitch. Almost fooled me. Transfer the money now, or that kid dies because of you.” Bubba rolled up his sleeves, showing off a tattoo. “And my five hundred. You’re not leaving until you pay.” I was on the verge of tears. I almost knelt. “Sir, you said your daughter has heart problems too. Can’t you have some empathy? If your daughter collapsed on the road and someone tried to save her, only to run into this… how hopeless would she feel?” Joe spat on the ground. “Pah! My daughter ain’t that unlucky. If that kid dies, it’s her bad luck. You’re the cheapskate here. Don’t act like a hero.” I had no choice. I transferred a grand to Joe. Bubba held up his QR code. I paid him too. Getting the girl to the hospital was all that mattered. Joe finally went back to pump the gas. But Bubba looked at me with a different kind of hunger. Suddenly, he said to Joe, “Bro, pump slow. I got some ‘business’ to handle.” Joe winked. “Sure. Take your time.” Bubba rubbed his hands together, walking toward me with a lecherous grin. “Miss, since you’re so generous, help a brother out. I’m lonely. Consider it charity. Just close your eyes, it’ll be over soon.” He stepped closer. My heart hammered against my ribs. I clutched the nail clippers in my pocket—my only weapon. Just as he reached for me, sirens wailed. Police cruisers and an ambulance screeched into the lot. Officers tackled Bubba instantly. Maya jumped out of her car and hugged me. I pushed her away, yelling at the paramedics, “Heart attack! White SUV! Backseat! Hurry!” Joe tried to run but was pinned by a cop. He was still shouting profanities. “Stupid bitch! I’ll be out in a few days! Just you wait!”

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On payday, I stared at the direct deposit notification, counting the zeroes three times just to be sure. Then I marched straight to Accounting, ready to tear into them. The finance manager didn’t even look up. She slid a statement across the counter. “It’s accurate,” she clipped. “The ten-million-dollar bonus was processed. Just not to your account.” She paused, then added with a dismissive roll of her eyes, “Everyone knows the system’s success was driven by the intern, Poppy. Don’t think you can coast on your tenure and steal her credit, June.” The game I’d architected, led to development, and pushed to an international award, which then sold for half a billion? The credit—and the money—was given to an intern? I didn’t waste another second. I slammed the office door open and strode into the CEO’s sprawling corner office. I demanded an explanation from Rod Carmichael. Rod, my boss and the son of the company’s founder, barely lifted his head from his leather desk blotter. “Juniper,” he said, using my full, formal name, “I’ve done a deep dive. The core of the game’s code was written by Poppy Greene.” “She’s frequently here until midnight, and works weekends. What about you?” He leaned back, lacing his fingers. “You check your phone, clock out at five on the dot. Attitude determines outcome, June. And yours has been lacking.” I nearly laughed, a sharp, humorless sound that caught in my throat. 1 “She’s an intern, Rod. Does she even recognize the full code base?” “Enough!” Rod cut me off, holding up a manicured hand. “The company’s decision stands. Everyone’s performance is under my observation.” He pulled a pre-written severance package from his desk drawer. “If you’re not satisfied, you’re free to pursue other opportunities.” My blood ran cold. Nine years of loyalty and sweat, summed up in a single, icy document. I picked up his custom fountain pen and signed my name. Before I walked out, I gave him a final, low threat. “Rod, you listen to me. If you ever have a technical issue, you go find your diligently working, late-night coding Poppy Greene to solve it. Don’t you dare call me.” He just smiled, a small, arrogant thing. “Deal.” As I walked through the open-plan office, I could hear the immediate, aggressive whisper mill start up. “Look, she’s out. Face like a storm cloud.” “Ten million dollars, poof. Anyone would be furious.” “Furious? For what? If she couldn’t secure her own contribution, whose fault is that? Rod is right: attitude is everything.” “Seriously, Poppy is here grinding until midnight. Meanwhile, June clocks out like clockwork, never misses an hour. And she still expected the credit? Give me a break.” Bella Marshall, a coworker who had suddenly become Poppy’s shadow, piped up with a particularly venomous tone. “I think she was coasting on her tenure and finally got found out. She deserves this.” “Totally. She thought the project would collapse without her. Poppy stepped up, and her code is cleaner! I bet June’s ‘lead developer’ title was mostly water weight.” “I heard she was running to the hospital every day last month. Family trouble, maybe?” “Pfft. Who doesn’t have issues? The company is a place for dedication. Poppy’s commitment is the real model.” “She’s obsolete. Getting phased out was inevitable.” “Ten million to Poppy? Earned. We need to encourage the young talent.” “Some people get old, they just need to move aside for their betters.” The spite was thick enough to choke on. The quick, mean pleasure in my downfall was clear. They seemed to have collectively forgotten the nine years I’d spent here—the all-nighters, the technical fires I’d put out, the team I’d built from nothing. All they saw was the last month, when my mother’s unexpected, critical illness had forced me to leave on time. Especially Bella. She used to call me ‘sis,’ and now her voice was the loudest, frothing with accusations of how I was “unworthy” and “blocking the path.” I stopped. I turned. I walked directly to Bella’s desk. She was mid-sentence, a smug, cruel smile plastered on her face. My eyes landed on the corporate mug on her desk. It was a cheap, commemorative thing the company had issued after I led the team to secure a major project win last year—a token of the Excellence Award I had earned for them. I grabbed it. Bella’s jaw dropped in startled horror. With all the strength I had, I hurled the mug against the floor. CRASH! The sound of shattering ceramic exploded through the open-plan office, silencing everything. 2 All the whispers, all the judgment, all the furtive glances—all of it ceased. Bella’s face went from pale to beetroot red. Her lips worked silently, unable to form a single word. I swept my gaze over the rest of the office. They all quickly dropped their eyes, pretending to be busy with their screens. I didn’t say anything. I just turned and walked into my private office. Closing the door behind me, I began packing my personal effects. My fingers brushed against the aging picture frame on my desk—a photo of the team after our first successful game test. Everyone was smiling, genuinely, with the pure spark of creation in their eyes. Now, only ghosts remained. The white-hot rage in my chest began to subside, replaced by a deeper, cold sorrow. Nine years. A decade of my prime. I had given it all to this company. How many nights was I the last one to turn off the lights? How many weekends did I spend in the server room debugging? How many technical firewalls did I lead us through? The award-winning, record-selling game—its core architecture, its initial concept, the most complex algorithms, the foundational code—every single line was my blood, sweat, and tears. Then, last month, my mother was rushed to the hospital. It was serious. The main development was complete by then; we were in the tedious, lower-level technical maintenance and polishing stage. Split between work and the hospital, I had no choice but to delegate. Poppy Greene, the seemingly earnest and timid intern, had volunteered to step up, insisting I prioritize my mother. I was so grateful. I handed off tasks that were mostly grunt work—tedious, repetitive, but necessary for clean-up. I even praised her in the department meeting, calling her proactive and committed. I never imagined that the grunt work I delegated would become the “game’s core” in Rod’s eyes. I never imagined that prioritizing my sick mother would become “proof” of my “lacking attitude.” The office door opened gently, and a familiar figure walked in. It was Poppy. She moved hesitantly toward my desk, wearing an expression that looked like a mixture of guilt and discomfort. “June,” she began, her voice soft. “The ten million… I feel terrible about it. The bonus should be yours. I want to give it back.” I stopped packing, but didn’t look up. I flashed back to her first day: quiet, carrying her notebook, timidly asking for help with coding questions, eyes bright with the desire to learn. “Fine.” I finally raised my head. My gaze was steady and calm as I took out my phone. “Transfer it now. I’ll wait.” The look of performative guilt on her face instantly froze. It was like hitting a pause button on a cheap tape recorder. A flicker of shock and pure annoyance crossed her eyes. She hadn’t expected me to call her bluff. After a beat of uncomfortable stiffness, a smirk replaced the guilt. “June,” she said, her voice now edged with undisguised mockery. “I was just being polite. You actually dare to ask for it?” She let out a brittle laugh. “I earned this money. Rod saw my ability and dedication. The core code is mine; I was the one working the late hours. Why do you think this money is yours?” She swelled with arrogance, looking around my private office with a predatory gaze. “In fact, thank you for vacating the space so quickly.” 3 “From now on, this is my private office.” The petty, entitled grin made her unrecognizable from the humble intern I remembered. “Earned it?” I took a step forward, closing the distance. “Do you mean the ability to swap the variable names on pre-tested interface parameters, reformat the comments, and submit an organized pile of my test cases as your ‘core algorithm’?” “Or do you mean the ability to always be furiously typing irrelevant code—or staring at a document you finished days ago—whenever Rod happened to walk past your desk?” My voice was low and even, but every word felt like a technical jab aimed at her greatest insecurity. These were the details I’d only realized later. She had leveraged my distraction with my mother, the fact that an intern wouldn’t have access to the final core, but would have access to process files and test harnesses. She spent a month meticulously manufacturing the illusion of “deep, even lead, involvement.” Poppy’s face twisted. The manufactured arrogance dissolved, replaced by the hot flush of being exposed. Her cheeks reddened, and her breathing hitched. “You—you’re lying!” she spat, but her eyes darted frantically, confirming my accuracy. “You know I’m not,” I said coldly. “Those ‘core modules’ you submitted as independent work? The underlying function calls and logic are an exact replica of the framework I built, merely encapsulated with some clumsy attempts at ‘optimization’ and ‘fluffy’ comments.” “Do you want me to put my original design specs side-by-side with your ‘work’ on a technical forum and let the industry judge your craftsmanship?” That statement utterly broke her defense. Her greatest weakness was her shallow technical foundation—it couldn’t withstand any serious scrutiny. Rod was clueless and easily fooled by appearances, but the tech community was ruthlessly smart. Poppy’s face drained of all color. Just then, her eyes landed on the old picture frame. The photo was a shot of my mother and me on a trip last year. Her eyes flashed with sudden malice. She quickly reached out and, with a subtle, intentional sweep of her hand, knocked the frame off the desk. It hit the floor with a clean smash, the glass fracturing into pieces. Then, she took a deliberate, stumbling step forward and crushed the scattered glass and the photograph beneath her right heel. “Oops,” she said, in a voice dripping with false contrition. “So sorry, June. I wasn’t watching my step.” All the blood in my body surged to my head. SLAP! The sound was sharp, brutal, and loud. Poppy’s head snapped to the side, and a perfect set of finger marks bloomed instantly on her cheek. “Get out!” The door flew open. “Juniper, what the hell is your problem?” Rod stood in the doorway, his face a mask of iron-grey fury. He must have been passing by and seen the whole incident. Poppy instantly transformed into the perfect victim. Her voice was a shaky sob. “Rod… I… I just came to apologize to June about the bonus.” “I don’t know why she suddenly got so angry… and hit me.” “June!” Rod roared, stepping into the room. “I never imagined you were this petty! The bonus is the company’s decision. If you have an issue, you don’t resort to violence against a colleague!” “Especially not when Poppy was trying to make amends!” “Amends?” I pointed at the floor where the broken glass and the image of my mother lay scattered. “She smashed my mother’s photo and then ground it under her heel. Is that her idea of an apology?” 4 Rod glanced at the mess, his brow furrowing slightly. But his expression immediately smoothed over. “It’s a picture frame, June. It broke. Is that worth physical assault?” “I think you’ve lost your mind over the money. You’re unraveling.” Poppy added a perfectly timed, whimpering sob, looking smaller and more defenseless than ever. “Rod, please don’t blame June… Maybe… maybe I did do something to upset her…” Rod, seeing her plight, grew even more incensed. “June, I gave you a chance. You threw it away.” “Now, pack up your things and get out of this company. Immediately!” I picked up the ruined photo and placed the last few remaining personal items into my bag. My silence, my absolute calm, seemed to throw both Rod and Poppy off guard. They had been expecting an eruption, a frantic defense, a meltdown. I zipped my backpack. I walked straight toward the door. I stopped as I passed Rod. I turned my head and looked at him, my voice completely devoid of emotion. “Rod, remember what you said today.” “I hope you won’t regret it.” “And I hope Poppy is truly as capable as she’s pretending to be.” Rod scowled, about to launch into a rebuttal. I didn’t give him the chance. I walked out, not looking back. There was nothing left here worth grieving. When I got home, my mother, recently discharged, was resting on the sofa. Seeing me home hours earlier than usual and sensing my dark mood, she asked what was wrong. I didn’t hide anything. I told her about the firing, the stolen credit, and the ten million. There was no blame in her eyes. She just pulled my hand into hers and patted it gently. “Then you quit. That kind of company isn’t worth my precious daughter’s effort.” “Health comes first, peace of mind comes first. I have some savings; don’t rush into a new job. Take a break.” Her words were a wave of warmth, finally thawing the numbness that the corporate crush had instilled in my heart. The next few days felt like life in slow motion. Mornings were spent with my mother at the farmer’s market, listening to her expertly haggle for the freshest produce. Late mornings were for the park, clumsily following her movements as she did Tai Chi with the seniors. Afternoons were spent on the balcony, brewing herbal tea, watching the leaves drift in the cup, discussing simple things. It was a long-lost, grounded peace that slowly, gently, began to mend the damage. In this rare quiet, the past nine years began to unspool in my mind like faded film footage, each frame now achingly clear. I remembered the company’s early, desperate days. To crack the technical barrier on our first game, I lived at the office with the core team for three straight months, sleeping on a piece of cardboard under my desk. We didn’t just solve the problem; we architected an optimized solution that far exceeded expectations. That was the company’s first big break, the one that established our technical reputation. I remembered the time a competitor launched a massive attack on our servers, nearly crippling our services and inciting customer rage. I led the team, working forty-eight hours straight without sleep, not only repelling the attack but successfully identifying and locking down the attacker’s vulnerability. That move saved the company millions and put us on the industry map. And the award-winning game— 5 The initial spark came from a dream I’d had as a kid. I spent countless late nights, surrounded by code and data, iterating, debugging, and refining it line by line. The rough prototype was even tested on my home computer. The game’s soul and architecture were inextricably linked to my identity. Through these hard-fought battles, the company grew from a small startup squeezed into a single, dingy office to a powerhouse. It won the international award, saw its valuation skyrocket, and was on the verge of a potential IPO. Walter Carmichael, Rod’s father and the founder, was a sharp, shrewd man who had tremendous faith in me. He gave me absolute freedom in the technical division. Off-the-record, he’d often put a hand on my shoulder and say, half-joking, half-serious, “If only Rod had half of June’s steady brilliance, I’d feel better about leaving him—and the company—in her hands.” Rod was away at school studying art and business then, and we all dismissed the comments as a joke. But that trust, that genuine expectation, had once made all the sacrifice feel worthwhile. Then Walter passed away suddenly. Rod, with his arts degree and his management books, rushed back to take over. At first, he was polite, consulting me on major tech decisions. But slowly, the company’s atmosphere began to shift. His management style—all about “attitude,” “dedication,” and “corporate culture”—eclipsed his father’s focus on engineering excellence and measurable results. How beautifully a presentation deck was designed, how late the lights stayed on after hours, how enthusiastically one participated in team-building activities—these superficial metrics seemed to matter more to him than actual, technical contribution. I was too immersed in the actual work to notice the shift—until the ten-million-dollar shock wave hit. Rod didn’t need a technical leader who delivered world-class results; he needed a compliant “role model” for his management philosophy. And Poppy had given him exactly what he wanted. After a month of rest, I started looking for a new job, polishing my resume and applying to a few top-tier gaming studios. My confidence was high; my reputation and track record should have made the search easy. But most of my applications went unanswered. The few companies that invited me for an initial interview quickly cooled off, their excuses vague and their attitude suddenly dismissive. After several weeks of this, an old colleague I trusted finally told me the truth off the record. “June, your skills aren’t the issue. Someone in the industry is talking. They’re saying you’re a toxic manager, that you bullied a young intern, stole her work, and physically assaulted her.” “They’ve painted you as an industry cancer.” I knew instantly: Rod was not content with firing me; he wanted to destroy my career. My mother saw my perpetual frown and, after some gentle prying, learned the whole story. Her face went white. She immediately moved to leave the house. “I’ll confront him! How dare he slander you like this!” I gently took her hand, pressing it down. “Hold on, Mom. Don’t rush.” I looked out the window, a strange, calm certainty in my voice. 6 “The time is almost right.” “Soon, he’ll be the one begging me.” My mother looked at me, confused. She was about to speak when my phone—resting on the table—pierced the silence. The screen flashed with Rod Carmichael. I tapped the answer button and put the call on speakerphone. “June?” Rod’s voice was raw, frantic, completely stripped of its usual arrogance. “You need to get to Synergy Tech on the West Side right now! It’s an emergency!”

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My childhood best friend thought I was too “good.” So he fell for the scholarship girl who acted even more innocent than me. To spite him, I tried to go bad. I got mixed up with thugs, ran out of options, and begged him to save me. He ignored me. He covered the scholarship girl’s eyes with his hand and whispered gently, “Don’t look. It’ll scare you.” I was left in that dark alley, tortured until I died. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day he rejected me. 01 While cutting the cake, my friends egged me on to confess. I gathered my courage and said, “Liam, my birthday wish is you.” Liam’s hand, holding a cigarette, trembled slightly. He smirked. A bad boy grin. “Sorry,” he drawled. “You’re too good for me.” “Not my type.” In my last life, that sentence drove me crazy. Remembering how I died, a chill ran down my spine. I wanted to grab the knife and stab him right there. “Summer, are you okay?” “Liam, seriously? Can’t you say something nice on her birthday?” Liam kept that nonchalant, slacker attitude. He blew a smoke ring. “Can’t lie, babe. Not my style.” His lazy voice was usually charming. Now, it just made me sick. In front of everyone, I dropped the smile and made a new wish. “Liam, I wish that in this life and the next, we never cross paths again.” I blew out the candles. They tried to stop me, but I was too fast. Liam’s smile froze on his face. “Summer, are you serious?” “I’ll give you another chance. Make a new wish, and I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” No need. I ignored him. I picked up the knife to cut the cake. Liam lunged at me, grabbing the blade with his right hand. “Summer, I’m talking to you.” The blade cut his finger. Blood dripped onto the icing. Someone screamed: “Blood! Liam, you’re bleeding!” I knew what was happening. He was having an episode. Liam had severe mental health issues. In my last life, I was the only one who could calm him down. Oh. To be precise. Before the scholarship girl showed up, I was the only one. Because of that, I always thought I was special to him. Until I heard him comforting her with that same lazy tone. “She’s different from you.” “She’s just a placebo. You’re my only cure.” “Without you, I’d die.” I let go of the knife handle. “If you like it that much, keep it.” I turned to leave, but Liam threw the knife aside and grabbed me. His bloody fingers stained my white shirt. “Summer, who are you throwing a tantrum for?” Blood terrified me. I couldn’t help it. Memories of my past life flooded back—dizziness, nausea. I couldn’t take it. I fainted. When I woke up, Liam was by my bed. “Awake?” “You made me mad, yet I had to carry you back. Summer, how are you gonna make it up to me?” Liam was a player. He loved saying ambiguous things like that. Giving me hope I shouldn’t have. But I wasn’t the old me. I knew the truth. When facing the person he truly loved, Liam couldn’t say a single smooth line. Even his confession had been shaky. I sighed. “I’m tired.” “Liam, let’s not see each other anymore.” 02 The next day, I went to school alone. Liam didn’t wait for me. I knew it was my punishment. He was waiting for me to apologize. But I ignored him all day. In the afternoon, I was napping in homeroom when someone shook me awake. “Summer! Wake up! Liam’s fighting at the basketball court!” I was groggy. My deskmate dragged me to the court. “Hurry up! Liam’s gone crazy. Only you can stop him.” No. She was wrong. I didn’t need to go. His female lead had already appeared. I guessed right. When we arrived, Liam had stopped fighting. He was sitting on the sidelines, sweating bullets. Sitting next to him was a girl. Low ponytail, quiet face. She held his hand, her voice choked with tears. “Liam, you’re hurt.” Liam hated physical contact with strangers. He started to pull his hand away. But then his eyes met mine. He paused, gaze darkening, and let Maya hold his hand. The senior he beat up was limping away, supported by friends. “Wait,” Liam called out. He pointed at Maya. “Apologize.” The senior’s face was a mess of bruises. A friend tried to intervene. “Liam, let him go to the hospital first.” Liam refused. His voice was heavy. “I said, apologize to her.” Maya grabbed Liam’s hand and shook her head. “It’s okay, Liam. I’m fine.” The senior, beaten to a pulp, had to bow and apologize. Someone asked why he got beat up. My deskmate whispered, “He called her a charity case. Liam heard it.” “Deserved it! Watch your mouth!” “Liam is so hot! Hero saving the beauty!” “Is this a teen drama or what?” Only I knew the truth wasn’t like that. In my last life, Liam bullied that senior until he transferred schools. Before he left, he found me. He told me to be careful of Maya. He wouldn’t say more. Probably scared of Liam. The senior needed a hospital. The ambulance would take too long. I ran over. “Take my car.” The senior froze. “Thanks, but no need.” Liam rushed over and grabbed my arm. “Summer, are you trying to piss me off?” I looked at Maya behind him, eyes red and teary. “Mind your own business.” “If you leave now, don’t come looking for me later.” I didn’t look back. I helped the senior and his friends leave. Bang! Liam punched the basketball hoop post. Tsk. Doesn’t that hurt? 03 Liam and I barely interacted lately. I heard he stopped fighting for Maya. He even turned over a new leaf and started studying. When his boys called him to the arcade, Maya would whisper, “You haven’t memorized your vocab words.” Liam would sigh loudly and sit back down. “Mom’s strict. Can’t go.” Stories like this circulated daily. Whenever I walked by, people would stop whispering and look busy. “She’s so pitiful.” “Yeah, chased Liam for so long, only to get beaten by the scholarship girl.” Pitiful? I didn’t think so. My visa was approved. Once I passed the TOEFL, I was going abroad. To study Journalism, my dream major. My beautiful new life was starting. One day after school, Liam’s mom stopped me. “Summer, Liam forgot his meds again. Can you bring them to him?” I wanted to refuse. But seeing the bruises on his mom’s wrist, I sighed. “Okay.” I texted Liam: “Where are you?” He replied a long time later with a location. A pool hall. In my last life, I spent way too much time there. I went downstairs. The smell of smoke made me nauseous. I spotted Liam immediately. He was at the center table, gambling. A thick stack of cash sat on the rail. I walked over and tossed the pill bottle at him. “Your mom sent these.” Seeing me, Liam frowned. “Who asked you to come?” I ignored him. Dropped the meds and turned to leave. Someone blocked my path. “Liam, your girl?” Liam smirked, taking a cigarette from a friend and tucking it behind his ear. “Think that’s possible?” Just then, Maya walked in with her backpack. She started coughing immediately. Liam stood up, blocking the smoke from her. “Put them out.” The guy blocking me grinned, showing yellow teeth. “Looks like the real sister-in-law is here.” Maya blushed crimson. “Liam, don’t talk nonsense. The teacher said we can’t…” “I know.” Liam tapped her nose. “Be good. Call me ‘Oppa’ and I’ll let you go.” Maya squeaked and pointed at the cigarette behind his ear. “Liam, you promised to quit.” I felt Liam’s gaze on me. I remembered asking him to quit once. I’ve had asthma since I was a kid. I can’t handle smoke. Back then, he didn’t even pretend to care. He blew smoke in my face and said, “Can’t do it.” I smirked coldly. Tried to walk around the crowd. Blocked again. “Don’t leave, little sister.” “Liam, hurry up. Two on two. My girlfriend is here, who’s gonna play on your side?” 04 I walked away. Maya grabbed my sleeve. “I… I don’t know how to play pool.” I frowned. “And?” “I…” I glared at her, and Maya’s eyes reddened. Liam rushed over, shielding her, demanding, “Can’t you speak nicely?” “Psycho.” I tried to leave. He blocked me. Fed up, I goaded him. “What, Liam? Playing hard to get? Want me to be your girlfriend?” “In. Your. Dreams.” “Then get out of my way.” I left. No one stopped me this time. I heard Maya panicking behind me. “What do I do, Liam? I can’t play.” Liam comforted her patiently. “Dummy, I’m here. We won’t lose.” I didn’t care about their game. But at dinner, my mom kept sighing. “Saw poor Linda again today. Bruises everywhere. Old Xu is too much…” “By the way, Summer, haven’t seen Liam for dinner lately. Did you guys fight?” “No.” “Good. Invite him over…” I looked up, interrupting her. “We’re not friends anymore.” “Huh? Why?” I took a bite of fish. “No reason. Just hate blind people.” My mom asked cautiously, “Did Liam get a girlfriend?” I put a piece of fish in her bowl. “Yeah. It’s like a Wattpad novel. Super sweet.” They were acting out a romance, but they insisted on dragging me in as the extra. Early morning at school, I heard Maya crying. “What do I do, Liam? It was in my bag this morning, now it’s gone!” My deskmate whispered, “The class funds Maya was holding disappeared. Everyone’s looking for it.” I said casually, “Check the cameras.” Maya snapped. She walked right up to me. “Summer, my family is poor, but I’m not poor enough to steal class funds.” I didn’t say she stole it. Why so defensive? Liam walked over, commanding coldly. “Apologize to her.” I put my bag on my desk and sat down. He threw my bag on the floor. Then he flipped my desk. Liam was having an episode. “Apologize. Did you hear me?” The class went silent. No one dared to interfere. I bent down to pick up my desk. Liam grabbed my neck. His eyes were red. “A-pol-o-gize.” I couldn’t breathe. Tears welled up. A red mark formed on my neck. Maya tried to stop him. “Liam! Liam!” He listened to no one. Staring at me with red eyes. He didn’t know who I was anymore. Finally, teachers rushed in and pulled us apart. Maya hugged the raging Liam. “It’s okay, it’s okay, Liam. I don’t care about others, as long as you believe me.” He buried his face in her neck, but his eyes were locked on me. The teachers took me to the nurse. His gaze was dark. Watching me leave.

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Five years ago, Lucas asked if I wanted to leave with him. I said yes. I was always clear-eyed about it. There was no love between us. He needed a wife. I needed money. I played the role of a wife dutifully, spending his money recklessly. I asked him if it hurt his wallet. He was rich enough to just smile and say: “If it’s not enough, just ask.” Five years into the marriage, Lucas died. Great. No one to nag me about smoking or drinking. I could take the fortune he left me and have fun with young guys whenever I wanted. Three days after Lucas died, I received a letter written five years ago. The first line read: To my beloved wife. 1 The moment Lucas died, I went clubbing for three days straight. I popped bottles worth tens of thousands of dollars without blinking. A row of male models stood before me, waiting for me to pick. When I finally got tired and went home, Lucas’s lawyer handed me a letter. “This is a letter Mr. Vance left for you. According to his will, you are the sole heir to his entire estate.” My eyes widened in shock. Oh my god. Was Lucas crazy? We were only married for five years, no kids, and he left me everything? “Are you sure?” The lawyer nodded. “Mr. Vance drafted the will himself. There is no mistake.” Lucas must have lost his mind. I could barely keep the corners of my mouth from twitching up. The sheer joy went to my head, and I momentarily forgot about the letter he left me. The people most upset about Lucas leaving me everything were, of course, his relatives. When Lucas was dying, they were draped over his hospital bed, crying their lungs out. They put on such a show, only to get absolutely nothing. Lucas’s parents died when he was young. His only heir was me. The relatives stormed my house, looking ferocious, demanding I split the money. I used to hustle on the streets. I’ve seen all kinds of people. Did they think they could out-scum me? I was Lucas’s wife for five years. I earned this money. Trying to pry cash out of my hands? Keep dreaming. I crossed my arms, leaned against the doorframe, and sneered as they barked like dogs. “You want money? Fine.” “Lucas and I didn’t have kids. Whichever one of you gets on your knees and calls me ‘Mommy,’ I’ll give you the kid’s share.” These people were ancient. Their combined age was in the hundreds. They turned purple with rage, pointing fingers at my nose. “You gutter trash! Lucas just died and you’re already spending his money on men! Karma will get you!” I smiled, unbothered. “Uncle, ever heard of carpe diem?” The dead are gone. The living need to live it up, right? Besides, Lucas and I had no feelings. I married him for the money. Picking up a fortune for free? I’d wake up laughing from a dead sleep. In this life, money is king. Everything else is bullshit. 2 After cursing away the leeching relatives, the 6’2″ model I just added on Instagram called me. “Babe, when are you coming to see me? I can’t sleep without you.” His whiny, flirtatious tone made my heart flutter. “Got some stuff to handle. Not coming for a few days.” I transferred him $9,999. A little pocket change to keep him sweet. Hanging up, I sat on the leather sofa, sipping red wine, thinking about how to spend the money. So many zeros. It could cure trypophobia. This was the life I had fantasized about. Money, time, freedom. No more living in the shadows. Eat what I want, buy what I want, answer to no one. Aside from everything else, I was actually grateful to Lucas. Years ago, he met me at a gala where I snuck in to find a sugar daddy. He asked if I wanted to leave with him. I asked why. He smiled and said he needed a wife. Conveniently, I needed money. A fair trade. Win-win. Suddenly, I remembered the letter he left me. I didn’t know where I tossed it. What could he possibly say? A standard, gentle, boring gentleman like him? Probably some poetic nonsense. I didn’t care. I was actually annoyed that even in death, he wanted to lecture me. The wine wasn’t strong enough. I’m a heavy drinker. I went downstairs to get the ice wine I chilled. Opening the fridge, I saw a sticky note on the door. Drink less ice wine. Drink less in general. I froze. I remembered. Lucas wrote this. He hated my smoking and drinking. Said it was bad for my health. He tried to quit with me several times. I never stuck with it. I told him flatly: “Habits from a long time ago. Can’t change.” I clawed my way up from the gutter. I suffered too much. Alcohol and nicotine numb the pain. Of course I was dependent. Even after marrying Lucas and becoming a rich wife, I couldn’t change. Not elegant, not proper, not gentle. Lucas never scolded me. No disgust in his eyes. Just gentle warmth, like a sun-dried quilt. “Good habits can be formed too. I’ll do it with you.” He didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, had no vices. His hobbies were gardening, calligraphy, and reading. Mild and calm, as if he could never get angry. To me, he was boring to the extreme. I liked loud, thrilling things. I liked everything fresh and new. I was flashy, letting everyone know I had money. The complete opposite of Lucas. I dressed loud. Once I got rich, I piled expensive things on myself, regardless of whether they matched. People mocked me as a tasteless nouveau riche. I didn’t care. I asked Lucas if I embarrassed him. He just smiled gently and said: “You are very beautiful.” Just like that, we coexisted peacefully under one roof for five years. 3 Seeing the note, I clicked my tongue in annoyance and slammed the fridge shut. Still trying to control me from the grave. So annoying. Lost the mood to drink. I turned and went back upstairs. The room was quiet. On the nightstand sat the book he used to read every night. Thick and heavy. I used to joke it would make a good paperweight for instant noodles. He laughed and said I could try it after he finished reading. The letter I had tossed aside was sitting right on top of that book. I opened it. Two thin sheets of paper. Strong, elegant handwriting. His handwriting. I’m uneducated. Dropped out of high school to hustle. To me, writing letters is old-fashioned and tacky. But his letter had a faint scent that made me less resistant. The lawyer said this letter was written five years ago. Lucas instructed him to give it to me only after his death. That meant he knew he was going to die a long time ago. We had just gotten married, and he prepared this letter. What would it say? That marrying me was just making do? Or that now that he’s dead, I should divorce him and stay out of his family genealogy because a woman like me would stain his reputation? If he was so afraid of me staining him, why marry me in the first place? Just thinking about it made me furious. I let out a scornful laugh, wanting to see what bullshit this dead man had to say. The first line: To my beloved wife. 4 Growing up, my family favored boys over girls. My parents’ incompetence was the source of my pain. To support the little prince of the family, I was kicked out at fourteen to work illegally. I knew from a young age that no one loved me. To get my parents’ approval, I sent every penny home, keeping only enough to not starve. When I went home for Chinese New Year, my parents were unusually warm and gentle. I was secretly happy, like a kid getting a toy they wanted. New Year’s Eve, after dinner, they told me not to go back to work. They found a “good family” for me. $15,000 dowry. The man was twenty years older than me, had two dead wives, and was disabled. No parent pushes their child into a fire pit. So that night, I packed my things, accepted the fact that my parents didn’t love me, stole their money, and ran. I worked all kinds of jobs. Legal, illegal. As long as I got paid and stayed alive, I didn’t care. At twenty, I met a man. He was thoughtful. Bought me flowers, cakes, dresses. He took me for rides by the river on his electric scooter. The river wind was cold and damp, but my heart was warm. A man working construction sites, yet he had such a warm, sincere heart. He didn’t mind my background. He hurt for my past. He was different from everyone else. I fell deep into his trap of love. Until he gambled, got drunk, beat me black and blue, and ran off with my money. Only then did I clearly realize: no one in this world loves me. I am discarded trash. A fly. Love is worth less than shit to me. I don’t want love anymore. I want money. Lots of it. I became a sugar baby, worked as a hostess, a cam girl. Except for being a homewrecker or committing crimes, I did everything. I saved up a good amount over those years. Later, I met a kid begging on the street because he couldn’t afford school. I felt soft-hearted and gave him a hundred bucks. That night, I was targeted by his gang. Home invasion. Robbery. I almost died. I asked him why. The kid said everyone else gave a dollar or five. I gave a hundred, so I must be rich. With a cold knife against my neck, I swore: If I survive, I will be a bad woman. Mean, vicious, selfish, low, cold. 5 When you read this letter, I will already be dead. I couldn’t read past the second sentence. It was so melodramatic. It made me irritable. I stuffed the letter back messily and rolled my eyes. Did he think he was some savior? Saving a fallen woman like me, giving me warmth and a home, so I should mourn him forever? Ha. Married five years and he still didn’t know me. I’m heartless. He just died, and I’m out clubbing, drinking with models, living the same debauched life as before. I told him before we got married. He said he didn’t mind. I couldn’t help it. I took the letter out again. I knew you wouldn’t have the patience to keep reading. There was a cheeky smiley face drawn after the last word. Something he would do. “Fuck!” He knew me too well in this regard. This is a farewell letter, not a lecture. Read it without worry. I am deeply sorry that knowing my time was short, I still proposed to you and asked you to be my wife. My fingers gripping the paper tightened unconsciously. My heart skipped a beat, like cotton was stuffed in my throat. Why apologize? I was grateful to him. He was generous alive, and generous dead. A man willing to treat his wife well like this wouldn’t be bad at anything. Oh, except having a short life. Just as I was about to read on, my phone rang. Unknown number. As soon as I picked up, I heard a familiar voice: “Vivian, it’s Dad. Your man died and left you a lot of money, right? Your brother is getting married and needs cash. I know you have it. Taking out a hundred or two hundred thousand to help your brother isn’t a big deal.” A hundred thousand? He dared to dream? “I can burn some hell money for you, want that?” I hung up violently, no longer in the mood to read the letter. I could think with my toes and know it was Lucas’s hypocritical relatives who gave my number to that old bastard. What trash. Every single one of them looked down on me, thought I was low-class, unworthy of Lucas. Every holiday gathering, they had to passive-aggressively put me down. In the end, they’re all just trying to scrape some money from me. But Lucas was a good man. Every time those relatives spoke ill of me, gentle, scholarly Lucas would use his vast vocabulary to curse them out without using a single dirty word. Seeing those self-righteous old farts turn red with rage, I had to pinch Lucas’s thigh under the table to stop from laughing. I acted flashy, had no “aristocratic elegance.” Uncle Lucas would lecture me that a wife should be virtuous and raise children. Made sense. Taking Lucas’s money, I should do something. I pinched my throat to make my voice gentle, walked with small, slow steps. I looked like a waddling penguin. Lucas laughed, pulled me onto his lap, and said: “You don’t need to be virtuous. Just be yourself.” Other rich wives managed the household for their husbands. I lay around drinking and singing. Lucas came home and had to carry drunk-me to bed. Tsk tsk. Thinking about it, I really took advantage of him these five years. Kinda sorry about that. I sat on the bed, dazed. The room was so quiet my ears were ringing. The phone rang again. I thought it was my dad. Ready to curse him out, but it was the funeral home.

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While scrolling through parenting forums online, I stumbled upon a thread. “What’s the most immoral thing you’ve ever done?” One highly-rated answer was pinned to the top. “Does stealing my university professor’s husband count?” “My professor sponsored my education, brought me out of a forgotten town in the mountains, and let me live in her home.” “But I fell for her fiancé the first moment I saw him. So I drugged her and made sure she ended up in bed with his father.” “Later, I framed her for poisoning my mother-in-law.” “My husband grew to hate her completely. He not only destroyed her career but personally handed her over to human traffickers.” “And me? I stayed by my husband’s side for five years, under the guise of atoning for my professor’s sins. The clouds finally parted for me. Now, our child is already in preschool.” The comment section exploded. People were stunned, demanding to know if it was real. The author’s reply was dripping with smug satisfaction. “Of course, it’s real. I still have the photo of her being dragged away by the traffickers.” “By now, she’s probably popped out ten kids in some backwater hellhole, left to rot for the rest of her life.” I stared at the familiar photo, my own terrified face from five years ago staring back at me. … My thumb moved on its own, scrolling through the replies. The comment section was a flood of outrage. “You’re a monster. To do that to someone and then brag about it here?” Someone tagged her directly. “Don’t you feel any guilt for destroying the life of such a brilliant young woman?” Sophie’s reply was swift. “Guilt? This world is survival of the fittest. She couldn’t outsmart me. That’s her bad luck. She should have just accepted her fate!” “You’re all just bitter because you can’t have what I have.” She provocatively posted photos of her jewelry, her sprawling villa, and the elite private school her child attended. “See? This life I have? I fought for it myself. Why should I feel guilty?” “Even if my son finds out one day, he’ll only be grateful that I made sure he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth.” My hand clenched, my nails digging deep into my palm. If it weren’t for me, she would have dropped out of school, sold off by her parents for a dowry. For years, I’ve been haunted by the regret of saving such a viper. And now, she dismissed all the damage she’d done, all the pain she’d inflicted, with a casual, flippant, “bad luck.” Hidden behind the anonymity of the forum, she sneered at the criticism, firing back at every comment. But she underestimated the internet. Using the photos of her villa and the IP address on her profile, users quickly identified her husband: Marcus Blackwood, the city’s celebrated tech prodigy. His social media was instantly flooded. “Mr. Blackwood, is it true your ex-fiancée was sold to human traffickers?” “If you knew she was innocent, would you bring her back?” Seeing this, Sophie finally panicked, scrambling to delete her posts. Staring at the storm they had once again stirred up in my life, I felt nothing. Only a phantom pain, throbbing where my right leg used to be. My eyes fell to the sleek prosthesis beneath my skirt, and my mind was dragged back five years. The day my life was irrevocably shattered. I was caught red-handed by Marcus, naked in bed with his own father. When I awoke from a drugged stupor, the first thing I saw was Marcus’s face, contorted with rage. To make matters worse, my most trusted student, Sophie, “found” a bottle of aphrodisiacs in my room. The evidence was damning. My fate was sealed. “Evelyn!” Marcus’s eyes were bloodshot as he choked me, his voice a raw wound. “Are you that desperate? That’s my father!” “How could you be so shameless?” I clawed at his arm, pleading, trying to explain. “It wasn’t me, I didn’t do it.” Sophie immediately knelt before him, her voice choked with tears as she begged on my behalf. “Marcus, please, let Professor Reed go. She made a mistake, but she truly loves you.” Her words were gasoline on the fire. Ignoring my nakedness, Marcus dragged me to the door. “Get out!” he roared. “Don’t you ever let me see your face again, you whore!” I pounded on the door, desperate to explain, but no one opened it. I remember how the bone-deep cold of that night seeped into me as I sat on his doorstep, waiting, until a raging fever consumed me and I passed out. I woke up in a hospital bed. Marcus was there, a ragged beard shadowing his jaw. His voice was a rasp. “Evelyn, you win.” “If you promise to never cheat again, we can go back to how things were.” I opened my mouth to explain, but he smashed a glass of water against the wall. “The evidence is right in front of me! Are you still trying to play me for a fool?” he screamed. “I’ve already forgiven you! What more do you want?” I had no defense. All I could do was weep, repeating my innocence to a man who refused to hear it. After that day, our relationship seemed to return to normal on the surface. But I knew it was a lie. He was no longer the man who put me first. He was there, but an unbridgeable chasm now lay between us. There was no more intimacy. Every accidental touch would make him flinch before he quickly, casually pulled away. I used to be a regular guest for dinner at his parents’ home. They had always treated me with warmth. Now, his mother would slap me the moment she saw me, screaming that I was a slut, pulling my hair and trying to throw me out of the house. The old Marcus would never have let me suffer such humiliation. But the new Marcus just watched, a flicker of pity in his eyes, as his mother assaulted me. When I begged him for help, his face would cloud with irritation. “My mother is losing her mind over this! You owe her this! What’s wrong with letting her vent?” I wanted to go to the police, but the mere mention of it sent him into a rage. “I worked my ass off to bury this story, and you want to broadcast to the world that Marcus Blackwood got cheated on? By his own fiancée and his own father? You might not have any shame left, but I do!” And just like that, the incident became an open, festering wound between us. An alarm on my phone jolted me from the memory. It was time to pick up my daughter from school. The thought of Lily sent a wave of warmth through me. Before her, my world was gray. I often thought of ending it all. She was the one who pulled me back, who gave me a reason to stay. While waiting at the school gate, I glanced at the forum thread again. Sophie had deleted all her comments and her account. But it was too late. Screenshots of everything she’d said were plastered all over the comments. The public’s curiosity about the “pitiful ex-fiancée” had exploded. Soon, they had uncovered my identity. A scholar from a poor background who, through sheer brilliance, had become a celebrated professor at a prestigious university. But they also dug up the old scandal: the accusation that I had driven a student to a suicide attempt, the official reprimand, and my eventual dismissal. The comments section was a chaotic mix of sympathy and condemnation, a distorted echo of the public shaming I had endured five years ago. I once thought that being framed in bed with my future father-in-law was the lowest point of my life. But that was just the beginning. The events that followed pushed me, step by step, toward the abyss. Our wedding date was approaching. Marcus texted, asking me to come over to discuss the final arrangements. I was filled with a fragile hope, thinking his family was finally ready to accept me again. But when I pushed open his bedroom door, I found Sophie straddling him. She turned, a triumphant smirk on her face. “Marcus, darling,” she cooed, “are you going to call off the wedding with the professor?” Marcus’s reply was lazy, indifferent. “I can’t even stand to touch her anymore, let alone marry her…” His words caught in his throat as he saw me standing in the doorway. My fists clenched, my nails biting into my palms as I forced myself to stay calm. One was the man I had loved for years, my fiancé. The man who had once rushed into a burning building to save me. The other was the student I had cherished most. The girl I had sponsored since high school, the one I had treated like a little sister. The two people I trusted most in the world, in bed together. A double betrayal. It was more than I could bear. I lunged forward, swinging my purse at them. But before it could connect with Sophie, Marcus kicked me away. “Are you insane?” The force of the blow sent me sprawling. My head hit the sharp corner of a dresser, and a warm gush of blood streamed down my face. Marcus didn’t even look at me. He was too busy wrapping Sophie tightly in the bedsheets, holding her protectively as he roared at me. “Evelyn, what the hell are you doing barging in here? Have you no decency?” There was no guilt on his face, only the raw anger of being interrupted. A cold dread washed over me. “You’re in bed together, and you’re asking me about decency?” I screamed. He finally saw the blood covering my face. A flicker of concern crossed his features. “Your head…” Sophie immediately seized the moment, her eyes welling with tears as she slid into her familiar kneeling position before me. “Professor, I’m so sorry. Please don’t blame Marcus. It was my fault. I couldn’t control myself.” “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to break you up. I don’t need a title. I just want to be near him.” She wept with the convincing sorrow of a martyr, as if I were the villain tearing them apart. Every word was an apology, and every syllable was a knife. Rage consumed me. I raised my hand to slap her. But the slap landed on Marcus’s face. He had moved in front of her, taking the blow. A red handprint bloomed on his cheek. His face was a thundercloud.

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Maybe I was born unable to hear what other people call reason. When my wife cheated, she offered one airy, self-pitying phrase: “I couldn’t control myself.” So I took a hammer to the filth, to the part of her that couldn’t be “controlled,” and smashed it to bits. Her parents, my furious in-laws, had me committed to a psych ward. That same night, I set a fire and watched everything burn to ash. Infuriated, they dragged me out and threw me into a cage with a Bengal tiger. They snarled through gritted teeth: “You animal, you deserve to be shredded to pieces!” I stood in the cage and laughed. If they insisted I was mad, I might as well embrace the frenzy. I wrenched the rusty latch open. The tiger roared, and blood—and screams—spattered everywhere. My mother, Evelyn Callahan, finally rushed over. My in-laws, though trembling, were grinning in relief. “You’re finally here… Take your disaster of a son and go. We won’t keep this kind of menace.” My mother was bewildered, focused only on getting me out. But her young, handsome secretary wrapped a hand around her arm, his voice a pleading coo. “Darling, I care about my precious boy too, but he’s just been… released. I worry about the bad juju.” He suddenly turned to me, his voice cloyingly sweet: “How about you walk back, sweetheart? It’s only about twenty miles. A nice long walk will clear the bad energy right out, won’t it?” 1 I looked up at him, my expression feigning innocent curiosity. “Are you really that afraid of bad energy?” Dominic Sawyer, my mother’s secretary, gently looped his arm around her waist. “Of course, I am! Silas, don’t take this the wrong way, but… you’ve just been through so much. I’m just looking out for the Callahan name, for peace and safety.” The tone, the posture—it was the performance of a man who already saw himself as the rightful head of the Callahan household. My mother was instantly swayed. She gave me a severe look. “Silas, listen to Dominic. It’s better to clear out the bad juju. We’ll go ahead and prepare your rooms.” She didn’t spare me a second glance. The engine roared, and she sped away with Dominic, leaving me standing alone. A slow, chilling smile twisted my lips. My dear step-dad. I think you deserve a welcoming gift on your first day back. Late that night, I broke into the estate. I found Dominic bathing in a rose-scented soak, and knocked him out. Then, I tossed his unconscious body into a steel drum I’d filled earlier. He woke up choking, violently struggling as the liquid flooded his nose and mouth. He thrashed, trying to surface, gasping, “H-help…” The moment he broke the surface, I clamped a hand around the back of his neck and ruthlessly forced him under again. “My dearest step-dad, don’t be afraid.” “You worried about the bad juju, didn’t you? I heard animal blood is the best for a full, internal, and external cleanse. This way, you won’t be scared anymore, right?” He was nearly drowned, on the brink of death, when my mother’s voice called from the doorway. “Dominic? You’re just taking a bath. Why is there so much blood?” I lifted my head, meeting her searching gaze. The next second, she saw Dominic, covered in gore. “Silas Vaughn! What have you done to Dominic?” she shrieked, charging forward. I released my grip, my expression guileless. “He said he was afraid of bad energy. I was just helping him.” I gestured to the drum. “I even tracked down a shaman for this remedy!” She ignored me, frantically pulling the unconscious Dominic from the blood and rushing him to the hospital. As expected, my little ‘treatment’ landed Dominic a severe case of pneumonia that night. When he was wheeled out of the ER, my mother grabbed my wrist, her eyes blazing. “Silas, Dominic is your elder! How could you do this to him?” “Kneel and apologize to him right now, or you’ll never set foot inside the Callahan Manor again!” I widened my eyes, genuine confusion etched on my face. “Mother, why should I apologize? He’s the one who said he was terrified of bad luck, isn’t he?” “I worked so hard to cleanse him. What did I do wrong?” My mother was shaking with rage, raising her hand to strike me. Just then, her cell phone rang. She answered, then shot me a deadly look. “There’s a problem with the downtown project, I have to go to the office. The housekeeper will be here soon.” “You behave yourself. If you upset Dominic again, don’t expect me to be so gentle!” I nodded obediently. The moment she was gone, the man lying barely alive on the hospital bed underwent a startling transformation. The fragility vanished, replaced by a gaze full of venomous hatred. “Silas Vaughn, why didn’t you just stay dead out there?” “In all those years without you, do you know how much your mother adored me?” “Just yesterday, because of a limited-edition watch I wanted at the Geneva auction, she flew out immediately, without even checking if her precious son made it home!” Seeing my silence, his twisted smile widened. “A kept man, and you actually have the gall to crawl back? If I were a pathetic disgrace like you, I would have ended myself ages ago.” Before the words were fully out, I grabbed the fruit knife from the tray and viciously drove it through the palm of his hand. Amidst his piercing scream, I gave a light laugh. “Oops! My mistake, my hand slipped!” Real fear finally flooded Dominic’s eyes. Before I could grab the handle for a second attempt, a strong force yanked me away, throwing me hard onto the floor. “Silas Vaughn, are you insane? Are you trying to murder him!” 2 Dominic, barefoot, threw himself into my mother’s arms, his voice shaking with sobs. “Sweetheart, I genuinely treat Silas like my own child, but… I didn’t know he hated me this much. If he can’t stand me, I’ll leave. I’ll go!” My mother’s eyes instantly filled with pity. She quickly soothed him. “It’s my fault. I failed to raise him right. You’ve been wronged.” When she turned back to me, her eyes were full of fury. “Silas, if I hadn’t forgotten my car keys, would you have killed him? How did you become so malicious?” “This time, I absolutely won’t overlook what you did to Dominic. I’m calling the police and having you locked up for good!” I pulled out my phone and pressed the play button. “Silas Vaughn, why didn’t you just stay dead out there?” “A kept man, and you actually have the gall to crawl back?” Dominic’s malicious voice exploded in the sterile room. The anger in my mother’s eyes slowly turned to shock. She looked at the man in her arms in disbelief. “Dominic, Silas is my son, regardless of his flaws. How could you say such a thing?” “I must be delirious from the illness…” Dominic said, his eyes red and his tears flowing freely. “Sweetheart, I honestly don’t know why I said those things… Oh, my head hurts so much.” It was an obvious act. Laughably, my mother bought it. Her brow furrowed. She glanced at me. “Dominic’s illness is your doing. It doesn’t matter if he said a few harsh words while he was disoriented.” Dominic raised his still-seeping hand at the perfect moment, his voice choked. “Silas, I’m sorry, truly sorry. If stabbing me makes you feel better…” “You can stab me a few more times. As long as you can let go of your anger…” My mother snatched my phone, decisively deleting the recording. “Dominic is new to the role of a father figure. He’s still young; you need to be more understanding.” “Look, he insulted you, and you stabbed him. It’s over. Let it go.” I nodded sweetly. The score was settled for now. After Dominic’s wound was bandaged, he insisted on coming home with us. The moment we walked through the door, he spoke to me with an excess of thoughtfulness. “Silas, I specifically had the housekeeper prepare a room for you. It’s on the second floor, spacious and sunny. The light streams in beautifully; you’ll absolutely love it.” “Come on, I’ll take you.” He knew I had Solar Urticaria—a severe, painful allergy to sunlight—yet he deliberately assigned me the sunniest room. A truly painstaking effort. I nodded but didn’t go upstairs. I walked to my old bedroom instead. Pushing the door open, I saw that the room, once mine, was now a lavish expanse filled with high-end designer suits and an endless array of limited-edition accessories. I curved my lips. He had turned my childhood sanctuary into his walk-in closet. He leaned against the doorframe, a hint of panic in his voice. “The decor in this room was a bit dated, so I took the liberty of converting it into a dressing room and gave you the new one. You’re not angry, are you?” I turned around, a chillingly bright smile blooming on my face. “Why would I be angry?” My fingers trailed across the expensive clothes. “I just thought… the colors in here seem a bit too drab. I wanted to add some life to them.” Dominic paused, his eyes lighting up with barely contained glee. He nodded eagerly. “Of course! What would you like to put in here? Statues? Photos? I’ll have the housekeeper arrange it right away.” I shook my head, still smiling. As he watched, bewildered, I flicked open the lighter and casually tossed it into the pile of luxurious garments. 3 “What color in this world is more vibrant than fire?” The flame caught the expensive silk rug and instantly spread. The entire room was immediately engulfed in a rolling inferno. Dominic’s pupils contracted. He let out a desperate shriek: “Silas Vaughn! You goddamn maniac! My clothes!” By the time the housekeeper managed to extinguish the massive blaze, half of his cherished possessions were reduced to ash, and the rest were ruined by smoke. When my mother arrived, Dominic was slumped in the wreckage, sobbing hysterically. “Sweetheart… the gifts you gave me… all our memories are gone…” He clawed at my mother’s sleeve, nearly hyperventilating. Seeing my blank face, my mother’s complexion turned ashen. She dragged me straight to the hospital. The moment the doctor diagnosed me with Bipolar I Disorder with a high-risk for violent tendencies, a flicker of deep conflict crossed her face. Dominic gently placed his hand over hers. “Evie, I know you love Silas. I do too…” “But look at him—the fire, the knife… I’m terrified he’ll hurt himself.” “I have a friend who runs a very private, upscale treatment facility. What if we send Silas there? Just until he gets his violence under control. We can bring him back immediately, okay?” Seeing my mother still hesitate, he let out a timely sigh, his voice dropping lower. “And… the downtown project is at a critical stage. If word gets out about this—the fire, the police—our rivals will use it to destroy our reputation…” After a long silence, my mother finally nodded heavily. She put Dominic in charge of my arrangements. She looked at me, a hint of genuine pain in her eyes. “You be good. When you’re better, Mom will come and get you.” Then, she forcefully shoved me into the car. When the rusted sign reading “THE ACADEMY” came into view, I slowly turned my face to Dominic, asking calmly, “You said we were going to a psychiatric clinic. What is this place?” Dominic didn’t answer. Instead, his lips curled into a cold, contemptuous smile. Not until the steel gate clanged shut behind us did he speak, his voice a mocking chuckle. “It’s a training camp, my dear son.” “The experts here are the best at ‘adjusting’ unruly people. Once you’re trained to be docile and obedient, what need will there be for a diagnosis of violence or mania?” My face remained placid. I simply countered, “Aren’t you afraid my mother will find out?” He suddenly raised his fist and punched my left cheek. “If she truly cared, would she have abandoned you all those years ago for you to become a kept man?” A fiery pain erupted across my face. I licked the corner of my mouth and smiled, my right hand instinctively reaching for the dagger hidden in my boot. But the next second, my wrist was seized. I looked up to see two hulking men pinning my arms, dragging me from the car and pressing me onto the ground. Dominic’s eyes flashed with venom. He punched my right cheek again. “You tried to stab me! I’m going to teach you a lesson today!” He gently touched my swollen face with his fingertips, speaking slowly. “You’re a psychiatric patient with Bipolar I. On one side, a raving madman; on the other, a gentle, thoughtful boyfriend… Who do you think she’ll believe?” “I don’t understand. Why do you hate me so much?” His face contorted with malice. He slammed his foot down hard on my knee. “I hate you, of course.” “You were a kept man! Why didn’t you just settle down and disappear? Why did you come back to fight me for the inheritance? If you vanish, everything the Callahans own will be mine.” I laughed, a low, guttural sound. “You’re the lunatic. Inheriting my father’s estate is my birthright.” He choked my jaw with a tight grip. “Since you insisted on coming back, you deserve to die! If you’re dead… you can’t inherit anything, can you?” He placed his foot on my fingers and twisted hard, his voice sickeningly soft. “You have violent tendencies, don’t you? You love to fight? Let’s see how crazy you can be here.” “Every ounce of pain you inflicted on me, I will make you repay… tenfold, a hundredfold.” I fought through the searing agony, forcing a twisted smile. “Dominic… what do you think my mother will do when she sees the real you?” He grabbed a baseball bat leaning against the wall and violently brought it down on my abdomen. “Scaring me?” He watched my body convulse in pain, then snatched my phone from my jacket pocket and smashed it on the ground. “Your phone’s shattered. You think you can record me now?” “Don’t worry, I won’t let you die easily… The real fun is just beginning.” “I’ll make you experience hell.” The curve of my mouth widened, a look of near-frenzied excitement flashing in my eyes. “A game? Fantastic… I can feel every drop of my blood screaming for more!” “Dominic, if you don’t kill me, you’re the one who dies.” He was shaking with fury. He bent down and picked up the dagger I had dropped. “You bastard. I’ll start by destroying your dignity as a man. Let’s see you act so tough now!” Just as the dagger was about to descend, one of the hulking guards rushed in, panicked. “Mr. Sawyer, stop! The whole thing—it’s being live-streamed!” I licked the blood from my mouth and gave him a look of absolute satisfaction. “Dear step-dad… are you happy with this reunion gift?”

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My boyfriend and I had planned to elope before Christmas. Instead, he showed up with a new girlfriend. He told me I wasn’t good enough, that being with me would only drag him down. “I’m sick of this poverty! Leaving you to struggle in the mud alone is better than both of us never seeing the sun.” “Vivian’s family is worth hundreds of millions. She can get me a job in her family’s corporation and pave the way for my success. If you try to harass me again, don’t blame me for being ruthless.” Vivian saw the conflict in his eyes and whispered a threat: “Don’t forget your grandmother is still in the ICU. Without my money, she’s dead.” Then she looked at me with a sneer. “A poor student who only knows how to sleep her way up. Once I buy Miss Ye’s favorite antique at the auction, I’ll enter the upper echelons of New York society. I’ll become a true socialite, a height you’ll never reach in this lifetime.” But as far as I knew, she was just an illegitimate daughter born from her mother’s affair. And the “Miss Ye” she was desperate to suck up to? That would be me. 1 It had been a week since Liam dumped me. If my childhood friend, Cole, hadn’t begged me to come and be his plus-one for a charity gala, I would still be rotting at home. “You don’t have to do anything, just sit there and look pretty. Honestly, just showing your face is giving them more respect than they deserve.” Cole had been chasing me for ten years, and I had been rejecting him for ten years. For something this small, I was willing to help. “Where is Cole?” I muttered as I pushed open the door to the VIP lounge. But inside wasn’t Cole. It was my ex-boyfriend, Liam. He was wearing a bespoke suit, looking more mature and polished than usual. Instantly, the image of the jerk who canceled our engagement and embraced his new girlfriend overlapped with the man in front of me. “I’m sick of this poverty! Leaving you to struggle in the mud alone is better than both of us never seeing the sun.” Hearing those words felt like a knife twisting in my heart. “So, you’re doing this for money? If you want money, I can give it to you.” Liam laughed. But it was a cruel laugh. “How much can a fresh college graduate give? Besides, no amount of money is better than having someone pave the way for me.” “My family has assets worth hundreds of millions. As long as Liam chooses me, he can enter my family business. What can you give him?” I stared at Liam, waiting for him to refute Vivian, even just one sentence. But he turned his head away. “Fine. I hope you get what you want.” When I got home, I found out Liam had transferred all the money he earned from working part-time during our four years of college into my account. “Consider it charity. Take this money and leave. Don’t ever bother me again.” When I tried to text him, he had already blocked me. For a moment, I even worried about how he would live. But then I realized, he had Vivian now. He probably didn’t care about that little bit of money. “Change the deed to the villa in the Hamptons to my name only. Yes, the groom ran away.” Vivian bragged about her family’s millions, but I bought villas worth more than that on a whim. During college, I was afraid of pressuring Liam, so I never told him my true identity. I never thought that would become the reason he dumped me. I laughed at myself. If I had known money was the key to keeping him, I could have drowned him in cash. Liam clearly saw me now. His eyes froze, scanning the room quickly, his brows furrowing. “What are you doing here? Leave, quickly!” “I was wondering who you were talking to. Turns out it’s an old classmate.” A domineering and mocking female voice cut in before I could answer. “Oh my, isn’t this Eva Ye?” Vivian’s eyes lit up the moment she saw me, like she had found a new toy to break. “What, did you come all this way just to find Liam? Or did life not work out, so you came here to try your luck?” Her words were full of provocation and smugness, as if waiting for me to stammer a pathetic explanation, wanting to see me hang my head in shame before Liam. “Why waste your breath on her?” Liam’s tone grew impatient. “Get out! This isn’t a place for people like you.” 2 “Liam, don’t be so mean. Eva came all this way to find you, it wasn’t easy. After all, wasn’t she always obsessed with clinging to you? Maybe she even snuck in.” As soon as Vivian said this, everyone in the VIP lounge looked at me. After all, everyone here was either rich or powerful. No one liked sharing a room with someone who didn’t belong. Liam’s gaze never left me. “Why haven’t you left yet?” The air in the lounge seemed to freeze. Since being dumped, I thought I had let go of this relationship and this person. But the moment I saw him, I realized that the person you loved in your youth always hides in a corner of your heart. It only takes a breeze to reignite the ashes. “Liam, are you really going to marry her?” My voice was calm, but trembling slightly. Liam froze. His lips moved, but no sound came out. “If he doesn’t marry me, is he supposed to marry a pauper like you?” “My family is so rich. Liam will live a life of luxury with me, instead of being dragged down by you.” Tina had been Vivian’s sidekick since college. I didn’t expect her to still be hanging around Vivian after graduation. “By the way, how did you get in?” Tina looked me up and down, her face full of suspicion. “This kind of place isn’t for just anyone.” “Did you steal someone’s invitation?” “Or did you hook up with some old sugar daddy? Tsk tsk, Eva, I didn’t know you had it in you.” Vivian smirked, a meaningful smile on her face. “Are you that good in bed? Otherwise, how would you qualify to be brought here? Girls should really have some self-respect.” I had been too lazy to deal with her, but she insisted on walking into the line of fire. Then don’t blame me for exposing her secrets. “You say that because you learned from the best, right? After all…” I paused, deliberately slowing down. “Wasn’t your mother just a receptionist who climbed into an old man’s bed to have you?” “Oh my god, is that true?” Tina’s eyes widened, clearly shocked by my words. “What nonsense are you spouting!” Vivian’s face went pale instantly. Clearly, I hit a nerve. Her family looked glamorous, but this was an open secret in our circles, just one nobody usually bothered to mention. “Tina, you idiot! You believe that? Fake, of course it’s fake!” Vivian looked at me furiously, grinding her teeth. “You dare spout nonsense here!” The next second, she raised her hand to hit me. Slap! My hand was faster than hers. I slapped her hard across the face, the crisp sound echoing in the VIP room. This slap should have landed on her face years ago. Vivian stumbled back, stunned, then covered her face and screamed. “Eva Ye, are you crazy? You dare hit me!” I glanced at her. “Act crazy again, and I’ll hit you again.” “Liam, are you dead?” Vivian was trembling with rage, screaming at Liam. “Are you just going to stand there and watch?” Liam moved, crossing the distance to me in a few steps. His voice was low. “You shouldn’t have come here.” I looked at him, my lips trembling, the bitterness in my heart about to overflow. “Liam, you…” Slap! He raised his hand and slapped me. My face stung instantly. But more than the physical pain, my heart shattered. I looked at him in disbelief. A flash of pain and reluctance crossed his eyes, but was interrupted by Vivian’s sneer. “Is that all the strength you have? Hit her harder!” Liam’s hand trembled slightly. He gritted his teeth and raised his hand again. Slap! The second slap was heavier than the first. He could actually hit me for another woman. Vivian was still not satisfied. “Again! Not loud enough.” Liam closed his eyes, and his palm fell again. My face was numb with pain. I could even feel it swelling. I had imagined our reunion a thousand times, but never like this. “Liam.” I whispered his name, my voice hoarse. Did he really not care about me at all? Did he never truly love me? I didn’t ask this question six years ago. This time, I wanted to know. Vivian looked at me, her eyes full of triumph. “Eva, this is what happens when you’re cheap. You shameless bitch!” Liam lowered his eyes, his voice barely audible. “Get out. Don’t pester me again. Don’t come looking for me. Eva, save yourself some dignity. You can’t force love.” 3 I touched my burning face, but a feeling of rebellion quickly suppressed the pain in my heart. Since I was little, my parents taught me one thing. Whatever I like, whatever I want, must belong to me. As for whether forced love is sweet or not, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I have it. Tina was acting like a victorious hen now, lifting her chin. “We’re here to bid on the most precious item at this auction, a gift for the most important person in New York—Miss Ye of the Ye family.” “Oh?” I raised an eyebrow. Seeing my curiosity, they couldn’t wait to show off. “Miss Ye isn’t someone just anyone can meet. Vivian used her connections to meet Miss Ye’s childhood friend, Cole from the Cheng family, to get an introduction.” “You’ve probably never even heard of such a VIP. It makes sense, they aren’t people your class can touch.” I listened to their ridicule and found it amusing. Is this the person Cole wanted me to meet today? I looked at Vivian with interest. “Sounds like this VIP is really impressive.” “Miss Ye particularly likes today’s finale item. As long as I win it and give it to her, my family can secure a major project in the city and officially enter the upper echelon of New York society.” Tina’s face was full of envy and flattery. “Yeah, then Vivian will be a true socialite. Even if you were reborn a few times, you couldn’t reach that height.” Precious item? That was just something I mentioned casually to Cole last month as a joke. I didn’t expect anyone to take it seriously. I wonder how much she’s planning to spend on my gift? “Once this is done, my parents will let Liam marry me.” Vivian smiled even brighter. As she spoke, she gently placed her hand on Liam’s arm and leaned her head towards him. Liam stiffened visibly. He subtly moved a step to the side, stealing a glance at me. His expression held a hint of awkwardness, and… uneasiness? “What are you dodging for?” Vivian noticed Liam’s small movement, her tone tinged with dissatisfaction. Liam lowered his head and didn’t reply. Tina seemed to sense the atmosphere was off and quickly spoke up. “Eva, stay and watch the auction. For old times’ sake, we’ll let you see the world.” Vivian sneered. “Yeah, later tonight, I’ll take you to see what true New York luxury looks like. It’s something a lowlife like you would never see in a lifetime. Cherish this opportunity.” I could feel Vivian’s malice towards me. And Tina’s expression was full of ill intent. What they wanted to “show” me definitely wasn’t anything good. Liam’s eyes darkened. He tilted his head and signaled me with his eyes, telling me to leave quickly. There was struggle and pain in his eyes. Liam, what exactly are you thinking? Are you afraid I’ll be humiliated, or do you just want to get rid of me? Well, I’m not leaving. I found a seat right in the center and sat down, casually tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re right. It’s rare to get a chance to see New York’s luxury and such a high-end auction. How could I just leave?” 4 Before the auction started, Liam said he needed to use the restroom. I wanted to follow him, to have a proper talk. Tina suddenly stood up and blocked my way. “What, the dog can’t control itself when it sees a bone?” Her face was full of contempt, with undisguised mockery. “Liam is going to the bathroom. You want to go hold it for him? Have some shame.” Vivian leaned back in her chair, looking at me playfully. “Eva, don’t you get the situation? After graduation, it’s the adult world. Liam is excellent; he need someone who can help him.” “How do you know I can’t? Haven’t you heard of the Ye family in New York?” The Ye family has been at the top of the social ladder since the country’s founding. The people they cultivated occupy leadership positions in all walks of life. They froze for a few seconds, then burst into ear-piercing laughter. “Harvard? Did you get your head caught in a door? Even in dreams, you wouldn’t dare dream this big! Look in a mirror!” Vivian laughed so hard she leaned back. “Right, right, you’re from the Ye family. I think your skin is thick enough to be bulletproof! Are you crazy from being poor, hypnotizing yourself at home?” “Oh, it’s because her family is too poor. If her parents were a bit more capable, like Vivian’s dad, maybe she wouldn’t need a sugar daddy now.” Their laughter pierced my eardrums. Just then, Liam pushed the door open and walked in, hands behind his back. He clearly heard the conversation. His eyes swept over Vivian and finally settled on me. Revealing a trace of pain and self-blame. “Stop talking. The auction is starting.” Liam interrupted their ridicule and my retort. The auctioneer walked onto the stage. He smiled in surprise when he saw me. After all, I was a rare guest they usually couldn’t beg to attend. “Vivian, did the auctioneer recognize you?” “Probably. I’ve been to so many high-society galas with my dad.” Vivian looked proud. I shook my head slightly, signaling the auctioneer not to reveal my identity. As the items were presented one by one, the atmosphere heated up. When it was time for the finale, I made a subtle gesture to the auctioneer. He understood immediately. He coordinated with other buyers to drive up the price. “6 million.” “7 million!” “8 million!” The price skyrocketed. A vein throbbed on Vivian’s forehead. She hesitated more and more with each bid. Tina, oblivious to the situation, excitedly cheered her on. “Quick! Add more! Someone outbid you again!” Vivian gritted her teeth. “But it’s already double the estimate. If I add more…” Before she finished, someone else bid. “30 million!” Vivian finally couldn’t help but take out her phone. “Dad, liquidate some cash quickly! It’s at 30 million. If I don’t win it now, I’ll lose the chance!” Just as the auctioneer was about to hammer down. I suddenly reached out and gently lifted Vivian’s arm. “Miss Vivian bids three times the price!” The auctioneer’s voice was excited. The audience gasped. “Oh my god, 90 million?” “Which family’s daughter is this rich?” Vivian’s lips trembled. “What are you doing? You dare sabotage me?” I looked innocent. “Didn’t you say you had to win this item? I’m just helping you. Why are you blaming me?” The auctioneer hammered down, a professional smile on his face. “Congratulations, Miss Vivian. The amount will be deducted within three hours. We hope you are satisfied with our service.” Vivian froze, clutching her bag tightly, veins popping on her hand. “My dad… my dad will kill me. You deserve to die!” Tina got the hint from Vivian and immediately attacked. “Eva, you’re responsible too! You have to pay part of this!” “You sell your body, you must make a lot!” Saying that, she stepped forward, reaching for my collar. “Stop!” Liam blocked me. “That’s enough.” “Enough?” Vivian was losing it. “Liam, what do you mean? You’re protecting this slut now? She cost me an extra 60 million! Don’t forget, your grandmother is still in the ICU. Without my money, she dies!” Liam’s face changed drastically, like he’d been slapped. Pain and struggle warred on his face. Vivian sneered triumphantly and waved for Tina to continue. “You think you can leave here in one piece today? After all these years, you finally fell into my hands! I’ve been waiting for this day for too long.” “Move, Mr. Cheng is here.” The box door was pushed open, and everyone turned to look. Everyone subconsciously made way. Suddenly, I felt a push from behind, and I stumbled forward. Vivian jumped out and yelled while pointing at me. “Everyone see this? This mistress, this prostitute, has such evil intentions. She’s trying to throw herself at Mr. Cheng to sleep her way to the top. Shameless!”

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We were on a reality show for couples, sitting around a campfire. The host asked the question that would end my marriage: “Among the three couples here tonight, who is your true ideal partner?” My husband, Finn York—the newly minted A-list actor—didn’t hesitate. Right in front of my face, he pointed a finger at another man’s wife: his high school sweetheart, Hailey Vance. My hand, half-raised to point at him, froze in mid-air. The awkwardness was suffocating. Finn looked completely unbothered. He smiled that charming smile and explained, “The whole point of this show is authenticity, right? So I have to follow my heart. I’m choosing my true ideal love.” In an instant, every camera and every pair of eyes turned to me. I felt the mockery, the pity, and the hunger for drama prickling my skin like needles. That night, after filming wrapped, Finn didn’t come to our tent. Instead, he boldly took Hailey’s arm and walked into the darkness, heading for the glamping tent under the stars. They were ready to enjoy their long-awaited reunion, reigniting an old flame. I was left standing alone on the windy edge of the Mojave Desert, clutching a wool blanket I had brought because I was afraid he’d get cold. After a long time, I pulled out my satellite phone and called my executive assistant. “For tomorrow’s Academy Awards ceremony,” I said, my voice steady, “replace my husband’s highlight reel. I want the footage of his affair played on the big screen instead.” “Consider the last five years the price of my blindness.” 1 The second I hung up the phone, a cold sneer came from behind me. I turned around to see Hailey Vance standing there, shivering in a short skirt but looking triumphant. Her eyes swept over me with disdain. She looked at me like I was an ant she was about to crush. “Scarlett, what are you doing standing out here? You aren’t planning to eavesdrop on us all night, are you?” Hailey’s tone was arrogant, dripping with malice. I clenched my fists but said nothing. Before this show, Hailey wasn’t a stranger to me. Five years ago, when I met Finn, he was a nobody—an extra struggling to get a single line. We fell in love, or so I thought. Finn had told me about Hailey. She was the ex-girlfriend who dumped him when he was broke. Whenever he mentioned her, he would tear up, looking broken and vulnerable. Then he would hold me tight, begging me never to leave him like she did. I loved him so much back then. I reassured him over and over again. So, when I first found out Finn was cheating on me with Hailey, I couldn’t believe it. He hated her. How could he be sleeping with her? But the truth doesn’t care about my disbelief. It was right in front of me. Seeing my silence, Hailey stepped closer. “I’m not afraid to tell you the truth. I’m actually one of the investors for this show.” “The reason I invited Finn is simple.” “We needed some alone time. If you’re smart, you won’t interrupt us.” Hailey poked my chest with a manicured finger as she spoke. I knew she was an investor. Two years ago, when Finn and I got married, Hailey sent a gift. It was a tiara encrusted with diamonds and a note: You will always be my Prince Charming. Finn threw a massive tantrum in front of me. He tossed the tiara into the trash without hesitation. I spent hours calming him down just so the wedding could proceed. Back then, I thought he truly loathed her. I forgot the oldest rule in the book: the opposite of love isn’t hate; it’s indifference. Hate is just love that’s lost its way. A week before this show started, I found that “trashed” tiara. It was sitting polished and pristine in Finn’s safe. He cherished it. My reason for joining this show was simple, too. I just wanted closure for the last five years of my life. My mind kept replaying the image of Finn holding Hailey, walking into her tent. He didn’t even glance at me. No explanation. Not a single word. It was as if I was a stranger. “If you want him so bad,” I said, grabbing Hailey’s finger and twisting it slightly, forcing her to look at me, “why don’t you get a divorce and marry him?” Hailey froze, then laughed—a loud, manic sound. “Scarlett Sterling, are you brain-dead?” “Why would I divorce my husband to marry him?” “I can sleep with him right now without all that hassle.” As soon as she finished speaking, Finn’s impatient voice called out from the tent nearby. She yanked her hand away, grabbed something from her designer bag on the chair, blew me a mocking kiss, and sashayed into the tent. I saw clearly what she grabbed. A box of condoms. 2 Not long after Hailey entered the tent, the sounds began. Heavy breathing, low moans. In the empty silence of the desert night, it was impossible to ignore. I stood there, rooted to the spot. It was intentional self-torture. I wanted the wound to be ripped open so wide that it couldn’t be ignored. Only then could I kill the hope and move on. As the sounds of Finn and Hailey grew louder, my mind drifted back to when we first met. Five years ago, outside a studio lot in LA. He was crying because an A-list actor had humiliated him. I was sitting on the curb, defeated because my startup couldn’t secure funding. Two failures, meeting by chance. We bonded over our broken dreams. We became best friends, and then lovers. Finn’s road to stardom wasn’t easy. At our lowest point, we lived in a basement apartment in the Valley, eating instant ramen for dinner every night. We’d finish the salty broth, lie on a mattress on the floor, and dream about the future. We’d cry together, and I’d hold him, promising him that one day, he’d be a star. Later, Finn started getting bigger roles. My company finally took off, becoming a media empire. Everything was getting better. Tomorrow was the Academy Awards. Finn was the favorite for Best Actor. I hadn’t told him yet, but I was the majority investor behind the ceremony. I also hadn’t told him that most of the roles he “auditioned” for and won were secured because of my influence. I wanted to surprise him tomorrow. It was supposed to be his big night, and our second wedding anniversary. What a joke. “Why are you still standing here?” A man’s voice broke my trance. I turned to see Hailey’s husband, Julian Ford, standing a few feet away. With his back to the moonlight, he looked pale and ghostly. In a way, Julian was the only person who could understand how I felt. He sat down on a rock next to me. Surprisingly, he cracked a joke. “Locked out of your tent too?” I didn’t know much about Julian. I knew the tabloids hated him. He was always painted as the villain, the “leech” living off Hailey’s family wealth. But after a few days on set, he seemed nothing like the rumors. “Your wife is in there with my husband,” I said, confused. “Aren’t you angry?” “Why should I be? Marrying her wasn’t my choice anyway.” He shrugged. “Honestly? I hope they hook up permanently. Maybe then my suffering will end.” “And I won’t have to be the scapegoat for Finn’s scandals anymore.” Julian told me the truth. All these years, Hailey and Finn never stopped talking. Whenever Finn had a scandal brewing—skipping school, bar fights, bullying allegations—Hailey would manipulate the press to pin it on Julian. I listened, feeling a knot form in my stomach. “If she treats you like that, why don’t you divorce her?” “Maybe because… if I leave her, no one will even know I exist anymore. She has the power to erase me.” Julian stared at the horizon. His eyes were the only bright things in the dark desert. We sat there all night, talking until sunrise. The next morning, Finn finally emerged from Hailey’s tent. When he saw me, his expression didn’t change. No guilt. Just arrogance. He spoke like he was giving orders to an assistant. “Scarlett, if the producers ask, tell them you locked me out of the tent last night. Got it?” 3 There was a visible hickey on Finn’s neck. He looked refreshed. Anyone with eyes could tell what happened last night. The old Finn never spoke to me like this. He used to be gentle, a gentleman. I realized he changed after he landed his first blockbuster role. That was probably when he decided I was no longer worthy of him. “Why should I?” I asked calmly. “Why should I take the fall for your dirt?” Finn blinked, surprised I was pushing back. Before he could speak, Hailey stepped out, sneering. “Scarlett, don’t bite the hand that feeds you. If it wasn’t for Finn, you’d just be a nobody, a civilian.” “If you’re upset, how about this? After the show, I’ll set you up with a livestream account. I’ll toss you some traffic. Good enough?” She spoke like she was tossing a coin to a beggar. My expression didn’t waver. I looked her dead in the eye. “What’s wrong with being a nobody?” “At least a nobody doesn’t have to deal with two pieces of trash polluting the air.” Hailey’s smile vanished. Her face twisted into an ugly scowl. She marched toward me, raising her hand to slap me. “What did you say?!” Just as she swung, Julian appeared out of nowhere and stepped between us. He was pale, trembling, but he stood his ground. “Hailey, we’re filming! Everyone is watching, you can’t…” Smack. Before Julian could finish, Hailey slapped him across the face. Hard. It was so fast no one reacted. “Who do you think you are?! Trying to stop me?” Hailey scoffed, grinding her teeth. Julian’s cheek swelled instantly. He turned his head away, a single tear caught in his eyelashes. I grabbed his arm to steady him and glared at Hailey. “He’s your husband! How can you hit him?” “Ha. You can’t even control your own man, and you want to lecture me about mine?” Finn walked over and wrapped his arm around Hailey’s waist, as if her violence was completely justified. “Scarlett, if I were you, I’d shut up.” “Unless you want a divorce.” Finn narrowed his eyes, threatening me. He knew I loved him. He used that love as a weapon for years. He thought the word “divorce” would make me beg. But I didn’t even look at him. My eyes were on Julian. Julian shook his head at me, signaling he was okay. “I’ll take you to get some ice,” I whispered to him. “Thank you.” I turned to leave with Julian, but Finn wasn’t done. “Scarlett! Are you listening to me?!” I stopped, but didn’t turn around. “Fine. Let’s divorce then.” 4 Finn went silent. The only sound was his phone ringing. The Awards were tonight. It was probably his agent. Finn answered, grunted a few words, and hung up. His voice turned icy. “Scarlett, don’t think playing hard to get will work.” “You divorcing me? Yeah, when pigs fly.” “Since you want to be ungrateful, don’t bother coming to the ceremony tonight. Hailey is coming with me.” I kept walking. I left Finn’s voice behind in the dust. Hailey’s slap had been brutal. Julian’s face was a mess. Judging by how practiced she was, this wasn’t the first time. I finally understood why Julian had been so hesitant last night. He had been enduring this abuse for years in silence. I looked at this gentle, broken man and felt a surge of protectiveness. Julian looked down, smiling bitterly. “Great. Now Hailey is going to the Awards with your husband, and I’m going to get dragged online again for not being supportive.” I put down the ice pack. “It’s okay. I’ll take you.” Julian looked up, eyes wide. “You? But…” “If they don’t care about reputation, why should we?” Julian looked terrified. I knew he was afraid of Hailey’s wrath. But eventually, he nodded. I called my assistant. An hour later, a stretch Rolls Royce pulled up to the dusty set. Julian’s jaw dropped. “I thought you were a civilian?!” “I never said I was broke.” I shrugged and ushered him into the car. We stopped at a luxury spa to have a makeup artist cover his bruise with professional concealer. By the time we arrived at the Dolby Theatre, the red carpet was in full swing. We arrived just as Finn and Hailey were posing. The livestream comments were flying across the screen on the monitors. [Wait, Finn is married… why is he with Hailey?] [Does the show imply they are a thing now? Disgusting.] [It’s definitely a PR stunt! The producers are sacrificing our Finn to boost some other couple!] I glanced at Julian. He was calm. He expected the hate. When we stepped onto the carpet, the photographers hesitated. The host looked bored. My face wasn’t famous, and Julian was “the loser husband.” We walked into the venue and bumped right into Finn and Hailey. “What are you doing here?! Scarlett, stop following me like a lost dog!” Finn’s voice was full of disgust. Even his handsome face looked ugly in that moment. I smiled. “We were invited. Just like you.” Finn started to argue, but Hailey cut him off. “Forget it. With Julian’s C-list status, they’re probably sitting in the nosebleeds. Let’s not waste our breath.” “Julian, bringing a nobody to the Oscars? Did you hit your head?” Hailey laughed, mocking us. Julian just smiled sadly and said nothing. They strutted past us, noses in the air. Julian tugged my sleeve. “Come on, our seats are probably in the back.” I grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the stage. “Nope. Follow me.” I led him straight to the front row—the VIP section reserved for studio heads and top investors. We sat down directly in front of Finn and Hailey. “Scarlett, are you insane?!” Finn hissed from behind me. “Those are producer seats! Do you want to get kicked out by security? Don’t drag me down with you!” Julian looked nervous. “Scarlett, maybe we should move…” “Sit,” I said, squeezing his hand. I turned my head slightly, whispering to Finn. “Worry about yourself.” Finn opened his mouth to curse me out, but the ceremony began. He had to fix his face for the cameras. I could feel his glare burning a hole in the back of my head. Finally, the category for Best Actor arrived. The spotlight hit Finn. On the big screen, he feigned surprise, hugged Hailey, and walked up to the stage. He looked triumphant, gripping the golden statue. He launched into his prepared speech. “I am so humbled. Thank you to the Academy.” “I want to thank the person who stood by me, whose encouragement got me here.” “She made me a better man.” “And to my fans…” Before he could finish, a gasp rippled through the audience. Finn looked confused, but kept talking. Then he saw the look in my eyes. I was smiling. A cold, mocking smile. He realized something was wrong. Finn spun around to look at the massive screen behind him.

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One hour before the live broadcast of the New Year’s Eve Countdown Gala (NECC), I found out I was being orchestrated, not directed. My entire world—my fiancé, my mentor, my star talent—was a lie, and they were all in on it. My fiancé, Ryan Holloway, texted me: “Quinn, Daisy is broken. You need to fix this and apologize. Otherwise, the anchor spot is a ghost town.” The call came from my trusted mentor, Charles Langdon: “Little Q, don’t be a martyr. Is one intern worth blowing up your career? Just bring her back.” Then, the ultimatum from the A-lister, Beckett Stone, was pure arrogance: “No opening number from me, no show. You want to see the ratings crater? Get on your knees and apologize to Daisy. Maybe then I’ll walk on stage.” All of this, because yesterday I fired an intern named Daisy Miller for stealing the NECC’s Master Rundown. My father, Victor Callahan, the Deputy Director of the Network, finally called, his voice a contained roar: “Quinn, for God’s sake, put the network first! Swallow your ego. Will one apology kill you?” I hung up, clipped the master headset over my hair, the silence a heavy blanket over the empty theater. “All departments, listen up. Initiate Plan B.” “Audio, push my microphone to the limit.” “Control Room, when the countdown hits zero, give me a tight close-up.” “Tonight’s Countdown Gala, I’m taking the stage.” 1 Victor Callahan’s fury pierced through the secure channel. “Quinn! Are you insane? You’re going on air yourself? You’re treating a national broadcast like a joke!” “Twenty seconds.” “Quinn! I am ordering you! Get Ryan back on that set immediately! Beg, if you have to!” “Do you have any idea what’s happening on social media? #NECCAnchorMissing is trending number one! You’re going to ruin the network’s reputation, everything we’ve worked for!” I muted his channel. The world instantly went quiet. “T-minus ten seconds.” “Nine.” “Eight.” I looked at the empty space in the center of the stage, the spot reserved for my fiancé of five years. He was supposed to be there, wearing the custom-tailored tuxedo I had chosen, giving me that practiced, gentle smile. “Seven.” “Six.” My phone screen flared with notifications. First, Charles Langdon. “Little Q, pull back! You can still save this!” Then, Beckett Stone. “Quinn, don’t be an idiot! Without me, this is a punchline!” Finally, Ryan. “Q, babe, stop the drama, come to the green room. We can talk. Daisy really knows she messed up.” They didn’t even bother to call back. They were that certain of my defeat. “Five.” “Four.” I flipped my phone face-down on the control console. The screen went dark. In the green room, Ryan was frowning, staring at his silent phone. Daisy’s eyes welled up again. “Ryan, maybe I went too far… Is Director Callahan really that mad? Should I… should I go apologize?” Charles Langdon took a slow sip of tea. “Relax, Daisy. I know that girl’s temper. All bark, no bite. She’s just playing tough. Give it ten minutes, and she’ll be begging us to come back.” Beckett Stone scrolled through his phone, a smirk playing on his lips. “Begging? She better hurry. Five more minutes and my fans will crash the network’s homepage.” Ryan patted Daisy’s hand with certainty. “Charles is right. She can’t handle this alone. We wait.” He looked smugly at the television screen, utterly convinced I was about to appear before him in a desperate, broken state. “Three.” “Two.” “One!” Brilliant digital fireworks exploded across the studio’s massive LED screen. The electrifying opening theme began right on cue. But the center stage remained empty. In the Executive Suite, Victor Callahan closed his eyes in utter despair. The live stream exploded with questions and ridicule. WHERE IS EVERYONE? HOST SLEPT IN? LOL, BIGGEST BROADCAST FAIL EVER. NO ANCHOR. Quinn Callahan needs to resign! How dare she screw up the NECC! Just then, a single spotlight slammed onto the stage-left shadows. I stepped out, sharp in a power-red suit, and walked deliberately toward the center mark. 2 “Good evening, everyone, and Happy New Year!” My voice, clear and commanding, soared through the microphone and into millions of homes. WAIT, WHAT??? THAT’S QUINN CALLAHAN, THE DIRECTOR??? How is SHE on stage? Where’s Ryan? NGL, she has ten times the presence Ryan Holloway does! In the green room, Beckett Stone’s coffee splashed onto Daisy. “How dare she! How dare she actually go on stage!” Charles Langdon’s face, too, was a portrait of disbelief—this wasn’t the compliant, smart student he remembered. Ryan Holloway’s face was bloodless. He knew exactly what it cost me to get him on that stage. Three years ago, Ryan was a regional anchor nobody had heard of. I was the one who pulled every string, burned every favor, and leveraged my entire network to push him toward the spotlight. I custom-built segments for him, fought for his exposure, and even went head-to-head with competing producers. He had held my hands and promised, sincerely: “Q, you’re my break, my angel, my everything. I’m yours for life.” Now, he was turning on me for an intern, Daisy Miller, who’d been at the network for two months. Yesterday, I caught her using her phone to photograph the core production bible—the final, detailed schedule and contingency plan—the kind of document that, if leaked, could be disastrous for the entire network. I confiscated her intern badge on the spot and told her to leave immediately. I thought that was the end of it. But an hour later, Ryan, Charles, and Beckett were in my office, with Daisy shielded behind them. Ryan was utterly self-righteous. “Quinn, what gives you the right to fire Daisy? She’s just a fan, a kid who wanted to study your work!” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Study? Ryan, look closer. This is corporate espionage! It’s stealing!” “Don’t be so dramatic!” Beckett sneered, arms crossed. “It’s a piece of paper, Callahan. Why the high-and-mighty act? I think you’re just jealous of Daisy’s talent.” I was shaking, turning to the man I respected most. “Charles, you agree with this?” Charles Langdon adjusted his glasses. “Little Q, let’s keep the peace. Give the kid a break, and give yourself some cover. You were too rigid. This one’s on you.” In that moment, I saw the three most important men in my life stand united, speaking in perfect, synchronized defense of a woman they’d known for less than two months, all while pointing the finger at me. The scaffolding of my world disintegrated. Not with a bang, but with the cold, silent realization of my utter expendability. On stage, I finished my opening remarks to polite, measured applause. I smiled flawlessly into the camera. “And now, please welcome the performers for our opening dance number!” The music suddenly shifted. Ryan Holloway’s eyes narrowed. “No… that’s not Beckett’s track.” 3 The green room door burst open, and Victor Callahan’s nervous assistant rushed in, breathless. “Mr. Holloway! Director Langdon! Mr. Stone! What are you doing here?” He saw the three men lounging, then glanced frantically at the TV where a dance number was already underway. He looked like he was about to cry. “The Deputy Director wants you at the ready! Director Callahan… she’s initiated Plan B!” Beckett Stone grabbed the assistant’s lapel, his eyes red with rage. “Plan B? What the hell is Plan B! My dance was the opening! Who are those people on stage?” On the screen, a group of young dancers, dressed in simple rehearsal clothes, were performing a powerful fusion of classical and hip-hop. There were no flashy costumes, no dazzling effects. The raw, explosive life force of their movement instantly captivated the entire room. The assistant stammered, terrified. “I… I don’t know! Director Callahan started prepping this a year ago. Nobody knew the details… only that it existed…” “A year ago?” Charles Langdon, the Network’s Art Director, was utterly blindsided. He immediately called my private number. “Quinn! What the hell are you doing! You replaced Beckett’s number? Do you know what the ramifications are?” I looked at his distorted, enraged face on the control room monitor and spoke calmly. “Charles, I know exactly what it means. It means the stage of the New Year’s Eve Countdown Gala does not close because of any one person’s absence.” “You!” “Didn’t you teach me to keep the peace and have cover? I’m creating my own cover right now.” “You’re doing this for revenge! You’re destroying yourself!” “Destroying? No. I’m saving my own life. I was backed into this corner by certain people.” I hung up. Daisy whimpered, “Director Langdon… this is my fault… if I hadn’t…” “Shut up!” Beckett snapped, rubbing his temples. “What good is that now?” He couldn’t grasp why the woman who always treated him like a god, who always obeyed, would defy him. When the dance ended and the studio erupted in deafening applause, Ryan Holloway knew he had lost the first round. My stage presence and control surpassed all expectations. The transitions were seamless, the dialogue was witty, and I even managed to pull off some sharp, unscripted banter with the live audience. That’s when Victor Callahan’s call went straight to Ryan’s personal cell. “Ryan, you get your ass to the studio floor right now. I don’t care how you do it, take that microphone back from Quinn.” “Mr. Callahan, you mean…” “I mean, Quinn is out of control. If she keeps this up, the whole network goes down! You always said she listened to you. Now, prove it. Make her admit on national television that she was out of her depth, and then let you rescue the show!” “You want her to… publicly surrender?” “Yes! It’s your last chance, and the only way she can save face for the network!” Ryan hung up and looked at Charles and Beckett. Charles Langdon immediately understood Victor’s strategy. “It’s brilliant! The ultimate power move! If you walk back on that stage live, it proves she failed and we are indispensable. The narrative will instantly flip!” Beckett grinned. “Let’s go! I want to watch her cry and beg you to take over!” Ryan took a deep breath and straightened his tuxedo. You can be brilliant, Quinn, but so what? You love me. That was his ultimate power. He was certain that the second he appeared, all my strength would crumble. 4 I had just finished introducing the next segment. “Home is the smallest country, and country is the largest home. In the American heart, patriotism and community are intertwined. Next, let’s look at this year’s Hometown Heroes—a look at the extraordinary in the ordinary.” This was a fixed, emotional segment—a pre-recorded video package that allowed the host a few minutes to step off stage. I was heading to the wings when a commotion broke out near the backstage entrance. Ryan Holloway, Charles Langdon, and Beckett Stone appeared, walking abreast. Trailing behind them was a visibly teary-eyed Daisy Miller. The floor cameras quickly picked them up, and a few lenses swiveled their way. A low buzz of chatter rippled through the audience. In the Control Room, Victor Callahan was screaming into my earpiece. “Quinn! They’re here! Do what I told you! Give the stage to Ryan! Now!” I stopped, looking at them. Ryan stood before me in the tuxedo I’d chosen, handsome and tall. He held out his hand, for all the cameras and all the viewers to see. “Q, babe, that’s enough. Come back to me.” His voice, broadcast through my open mic, was clear. WTF is happening? Ryan’s here! He said ‘stop playing games’? So she was throwing a fit? Knew it. A director can’t handle a live broadcast. Ryan Holloway to the rescue! Beckett and Charles stood a few feet away, their faces showing unconcealed smugness. Daisy hid behind them, looking at me like a victorious, sorry little queen. Seeing my silence, Ryan stepped closer, his voice turning even softer and more patronizing. “I know you’re mad, and I was wrong to upset you. But this is live, and the whole country is watching. Be a good girl, hand me the mic, and take a break. Okay?” “We can talk about this when we get home.” I slowly raised my other hand toward the Control Room, making a specific, familiar hand gesture—the one only my Plan B team understood. Ryan’s smile stiffened, a flicker of unease in his eyes. “Quinn, are you…” My voice cut across the stage, amplified by the mic. “Control Room, prepare to roll the Hometown Heroes segment.” Ryan sighed, relieved. He thought I’d backed down. “That’s my girl…” The very next second, my voice rose again, cold and final. “Cut the planned segment. Play Backup Zero, Tape I.D. 00 on the main screen.” In the Control Room, Victor Callahan shot up, gasping into his mic. “Zero Tape?! What the hell is that! Don’t touch it! Nobody move!” But it was too late. The Plan B team only answered to one director. The colossal LED screen at the center of the studio went instantly dark. Then, a segment of ultra-clear, time-stamped security footage filled the view of the entire nation.

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I accidentally pocket-dialed my boss while my brother was trying on a new sweater. “It’s too small, I can’t get it on.” “Impossible. I measured you before I bought it.” “It’s stuck! Be gentle, ow ow ow.” “Okay, okay, I’m fixing it.” I yanked hard and cooed: “There you go, sweetie. Let big sis rub it better.” “Are you sure?” He tugged at the tight collar, gasping for air. Later, rumor had it that the boss took a mysterious call during a meeting, and his face got darker and darker. He didn’t say a word, just proceeded to roast 28 department heads until they cried. 1 My brother, Leo, pointed at my phone. I realized the screen was lit up with a call in progress. The name [Ethan Cole] stared back at me. I grabbed the phone to explain, but all I heard was the busy tone. He hung up. Seconds later, a text came in: [If you’re cured get your ass back to work you are not the CEO’s wife you can’t do whatever you want.] Two lines, zero punctuation. My brain automatically read it in his calm, cold voice. He must have heard me talking to my brother with full lung capacity and assumed I was faking sick to slack off at home. Evil capitalist. I replied instantly: [Received, Mr. Cole. Returning to work tomorrow.] The “typing” bubble appeared, then vanished. He didn’t send anything. He probably wanted to curse me out but held back. Given his sharp tongue, he usually never hesitates. But I’ve been with him for four years and this was my first leave. Sick leave, at that. The next day, my colleague Wendy saw me and immediately warned me. “Be careful. He ate dynamite for breakfast. Yesterday he made all the VPs cry in the meeting.” I timed it perfectly, made his coffee, and knocked on his office door. I also brought his daily schedule for review. “Good morning, Mr. Cole. Here is today’s schedule. “Two routine meetings during the day, and a dinner with the Sterling Group tonight.” He didn’t touch the coffee. His long fingers rested casually on the desk, his voice cold. “Let the new girl, Chloe, come with me to the dinner tonight. You don’t need to go.” “Wh… Understood, Mr. Cole. I’ll tell her to prepare.” I swallowed my questions and quietly exited his office. He hates when subordinates question his decisions, and he hates prying even more. I adjusted my slightly frayed mood and walked over to Chloe. Upon hearing the news, Chloe covered her mouth dramatically, tears welling up in her eyes. “Really, Lena? I’m sorry, I’m just so excited…” Wendy, always loving the drama, leaned in to stir the pot. “Chloe, you’re amazing. You’ve only been covering for a few days and you’re already stealing your mentor’s job.” “No way, I still have so much to learn from Lena. But Mr. Cole is really so gentle.” Gentle? I turned my head and met Wendy’s equally confused gaze. 2 Chloe was hired a month ago, right after my surgery date was confirmed. Wendy volunteered to cover for me during my leave, but I declined. I had my own agenda. Four years ago, fresh out of college, fate pushed me to Ethan Cole’s side. Back then, this man had just walked away from his family’s empire, Cole Enterprises, to start his own venture. In just four years, he turned his company into an industry titan. I stood by him, basking in his light, but also living in his shadow. Now, everyone in the company respectfully calls me “Lena,” but only because I stand next to him. The doubts have never ceased. Even in Ethan’s heart, I’m just someone who can be replaced at any moment. Only by leaving him can I prove that I stood by his side for so long because of my ability. Plus, when I first joined, rumors flew. They said he hired me on the spot because I looked a bit like his first love who moved abroad. I didn’t believe it at first. Until the day Chloe interviewed. Ethan looked up, and for a split second, his eyes softened, as if seeing someone he knew. That’s when I started to believe the rumors were true. Only this time, when people joked, they didn’t mention the “original.” “Chloe looks a bit like Lena.” “Looks like Mr. Cole has a type.” Late at night, I stared at a photo on my phone and understood. Chloe didn’t look like me. She looked more like her than I did. The photo on my phone was a picture of a picture. A year ago, the cleaner found a photo in Ethan’s trash can and brought it to me. “Lena, Mr. Cole threw this away. Do you think he still wants it?” “Give it to me. I’ll ask him.” I took the photo. Ethan looked young, maybe seventeen or eighteen, with a shy smile. Next to him was a girl, beautiful and sweet. They looked like a golden couple, radiating the same aristocratic aura. A perfect match. Driven by some impulse, I secretly took a picture of it with my phone. When I put the photo back on Ethan’s desk, he glanced at it. His hand reached out, paused in mid-air, then retracted. “I threw it away. “She got married.” I cursed myself for meddling. “I’ll shred it then. It’s safer.” “Forget it. Give it to me.” My fingers barely touched the photo when his hand landed on it, covering mine. He looked up, and I pulled my hand back, throat tight. “Okay, Mr. Cole.” The electric warmth that lingered in my heart… Ethan had surely forgotten it long ago. 3 After briefing Chloe on the dinner protocols, Wendy pulled me aside. “While you were gone, she wore a dress with a slit up to her navel. “Save something for yourself. Don’t teach her everything.” I appreciated her kindness and laughed. “If Mr. Cole didn’t scold her, it means he liked it. “Besides, I don’t plan on following Ethan Cole forever.” I turned to make coffee. The spoon stirred my thoughts, slowly settling them. Before leaving work, I placed a bottle of milk on Ethan’s desk as usual. He had his legs resting lazily on the edge of the desk, his silhouette long and sharp. “Mr. Cole, I’ve briefed Chloe on everything for tonight. “Remember to drink the milk before you start drinking alcohol.” He glanced sideways. Looked at the milk bottle, then his gaze landed on my face. “You lost weight.” Then, a sudden turn. “Am I not paying you enough?” “Huh?” I paused, then realized. It had only been an afternoon, and what I told Wendy had already reached his ears. Fast, but not unexpected. I straightened up. “Mr. Cole, I planned to bring up my resignation once Chloe was fully up to speed. “Thank you for the mentorship these past few years…” “How much are they offering?” He frowned, as if negotiating a difficult deal. Or as if I were an item in a shop window. Whoever offered the highest price could buy me. I shook my head firmly but gently. “It’s not about the money.” “Then what is it? Because I let Chloe come to dinner? Or because you didn’t rest enough? “If something makes you unhappy or uncomfortable, you can say it.” His tone carried a hint of coaxing. Golden sunset rays slanted in, one landing right on his Adam’s apple as it bobbed. His chiseled face hid in the shadows, beautiful like a sculpture. Seeing I was silent, he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, revealing a patch of skin. He closed his eyes and rubbed his brow. 4 In that instant, the scent of desire evaporated into the air. I looked away. In front of employees, he was always buttoned up, never giving anyone room for inappropriate thoughts. Did… Chloe unlock a new world for him? His voice pulled me back to reality. “If it’s because of Chloe, I can understand. If you mind…” “No,” I explained quickly. “Chloe is smart. She’s a very suitable replacement for me.” He adjusted his cuffs, stood up, and unbuttoned another button. Revealing hints of thin, tight chest muscles. Broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. It made one blush to look. I fanned myself with my hand. “Spring weather is so weird. Cold yesterday, hot today. “No rush on my matter. We can talk later. “Mr. Cole, you should get ready to go. “I told the driver that if you drink too much, he should take you straight to the family estate.” He looked at me, tone cold, eyes flashing with a predatory glint. “It’s fine. If I drink too much, Chloe can take care of me. “She’ll take me to my bachelor pad. “She can stay the night, too. If I want. “After all, I’m a big boy now.” Ethan’s tone was breezy, but the flush on his ears betrayed him. He was being petty. Chloe is eight years younger than him. Her desk is never without flowers from suitors. Ethan is a killer in business, but a blank sheet in romance. Him acting out like this was kind of cute, but the fact that it was for someone else made me feel hollow. I looked at my toes, steadied myself, and forced a smile. “Mr. Cole, size isn’t really the issue.” “True. But the younger ones try harder, don’t you think?” That phrase sounded familiar. Before I could think about it, my phone rang. He frowned and waved for me to go out and answer. I backed out while answering my brother. “You’re downstairs? I’m coming down.”

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