Category: English

I woke up and did what I always do: burrowed straight into the warmth of the man beside me. “Honey, cuddles,” I mumbled into his chest. He went completely rigid. “Ms. Hayes, please. Control yourself.” My eyes snapped open. Right. I’d forgotten. Julian was deep-fielding a case of amnesia. He had zero memory of the last three years—our entire marriage. Just as the familiar sting of rejection set in, text popped up in my vision, floating over the headboard like a bizarre, augmented-reality feed. 【Yeah right, “control yourself.” Dude’s pitching a tent you could camp in.】 【LOL, who’s he kidding? We all know the hoops he jumped through to lock down this marriage.】 【He’s been obsessed with her for years and now he won’t even admit it. Pathetic.】 【God, I hope she teaches this pretentious jerk a lesson.】 I blinked, the live commentary fading, and looked back at Julian. A slow smile spread across my face. “Oh, my mistake,” I said, sliding out of bed. “Wrong guy.” 1 Julian’s blank expression faltered. “What does that mean?” I walked to the nightstand and pulled out a file. I handed him the top sheet. “Our contract. Signed three years ago. We’re an alliance, a merger of families. Not a marriage.” The clauses were painfully clear: No interference in personal lives. Separate finances. Public appearances as required. It all pointed to one fact: we were strangers who happened to share a house. He gripped the paper, his face a mask of cold professionalism. “So, you see,” I said, pulling on a robe, “even with the amnesia, it doesn’t change anything. We don’t really know each other.” I left the room, but the commentary followed me. 【”Don’t know each other”? Then what do you call those nights you were screaming his name?】 【Right. Total strangers who just happen to have memorized every inch of each other’s bodies.】 【LMAO, he’s already grabbing his phone. Bet he’s searching ‘my wife’s other husband.’】 The text made my cheeks burn. They weren’t wrong. We were a classic case of “started as a business deal, ended in love.” Three years ago, I’d just ended things with my high-school sweetheart, Evan. I was cynical and done with love. When my family pushed for an alliance with the Hayes family, I agreed. Julian Hayes was the perfect candidate. He’s the one who suggested the contract, promising he’d never interfere in my life. A marriage of convenience. It worked for me. For the first two years, we were polite roommates. We slept in separate wings of the house. That changed on a business trip to Japan. We were caught in an earthquake. The ceiling of our hotel room collapsed. When I woke up in the hospital, my head was bandaged, and Julian was gripping my hand so hard his knuckles were white. His eyes were shot with red. He just kept whispering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t protect you.” The raw, unfiltered despair in his eyes—like losing me was a possibility his soul couldn’t handle—cracked something open in my chest. After that, we started trying. And it turned out, we were incredibly compatible. We fell into a deep, real love. Until two weeks ago, when a truck ran a red light and T-boned his car. Now, he’s back to “Mr. Hayes.” But according to this new, magical live commentary, he’d been faking it from the start? Not the love—the indifference. If that was true, he was a hell of an actor. And I couldn’t wait to see what else I didn’t know. 2 We ate breakfast at opposite ends of our twenty-foot dining table, in complete silence. Our housekeeper, Maria, kept shooting us worried looks. As I headed for the door, she hurried over. “Ma’am, you didn’t… you’re not doing Mr. Hayes’s tie today?” I glanced at Julian, who was already standing by the door, his tie perfect. “Looks like he handled it himself.” The second the words left my mouth, Julian, without changing his stoic expression, reached up and yanked the knot completely sideways. “It’s… not quite right,” he said stiffly. 【HAHAHA, busted! He just shot himself in the foot.】 【Amnesia and he’s still finding excuses to have her touch him. You’re not slick, buddy!】 I met his gaze. He looked away, clearing his throat. “If you wouldn’t mind.” I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. I walked over, standing close, and started re-doing the knot. He was rigid as a board. This was new, and I was enjoying it. So I did the most logical thing. I finished the tie, stood on my toes, and gave him a quick, soft kiss on the lips. Julian’s pupils dilated. He literally stopped breathing. I leaned in close, whispering in his ear, “Don’t overthink it. Just keeping up appearances for the staff.” He managed a strangled, “…Right.” As I walked out the door, the commentary was exploding. 【Externally: Cool as a cucumber. Internally: Freaking out like a teen on prom night.】 【HE’S SMILING! THE CEO IS GRINNING LIKE AN IDIOT!】 【Eliza: breathes. Julian: She’s a master of seduction.】 【Aaaaand his good mood just earned a clumsy VP his job. Three years married, and he’s still this down bad.】 【Well, he won’t be smiling for long. His old rival, Evan, flies in tonight.】 Right on cue, my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number. 【Eliza, it’s me. Can we meet?】 3 Evan and I grew up together. We were the textbook “friends to lovers” story. Everyone assumed we’d get married. Until college, when I started seeing pictures of another girl on his feed. It was a long, slow, agonizing breakup. By the end, I was hollow. After the drama, I got married. He got shipped off to the family’s Singapore branch. I couldn’t imagine what he’d have to say to me now. I blocked the number and focused on work. Julian’s accident had put me weeks behind. At 7:30 PM, a text came through from Julian. 【Maria is asking if you’ll be home for dinner.】 The commentary immediately popped up. 【Translation: I’M asking. He’s been staring at his chat window for an hour, debating what to text.】 【He’s been sitting on the living room sofa since he got home. He’s like a golden retriever waiting by the door.】 【Amnesia Julian is somehow even more adorable. This is killing me.】 I had at least three more hours of work. I texted back: 【Working late. Don’t wait up for me.】 I paused, then added: 【You should rest. You’re still recovering.】 He didn’t reply. By the time I left the office, it was almost midnight. As I walked out of the lobby, I saw someone leaning against a pillar. Evan. He looked up, his expression complicated. “Eliza. Long time.” He gestured to the empty lobby. “Figured you were swamped, so I didn’t go up.” I had no interest in reminiscing. “What do you want, Evan?” He looked… older. More polished. But his eyes were still locked on me in that same intense way I used to find captivating and now just found exhausting. “I just wanted to talk,” he said, his voice rough. 【Don’t do it, Eliza! Julian’s face is turning blacker than the sky!】 【Ohhhh shit, he came to pick her up and walked right into this. He’s going to commit a felony!】 【FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!】 4 I turned. Julian was walking toward us, his face dark. He didn’t even look at Evan. He just draped his coat over my shoulders and slid a possessive arm around my waist, pulling me against his side. “I’m here to take you home.” The air crackled. Neither man spoke, but the veins popping on the backs of their hands said everything. I made my choice. I leaned into Julian, looping my arm through his. “Thanks, honey,” I smiled up at him. “Let’s go home.” Julian’s expression softened almost instantly. The second we were in the car, I pulled away. “You can drive.” He glanced at my arm, which was no longer holding his, and his jaw tightened. The computer screen had fried my brain. I yawned, and a single tear squeezed from the corner of my eye. I leaned against the window and was asleep before we hit the highway. … I woke up in my own bed. Julian was gone. The other side of the bed was cold, the pillows untouched. He hadn’t slept here at all. The commentary helpfully supplied the answer. 【Eliza’s fast asleep, meanwhile Julian’s been brooding in his study all night.】 【He saw the tear track on her face and thought she was crying over Evan. LMAO.】 【He’s 100% convinced they’re getting back together.】 【Seriously, Julian? She’s not divorcing you. Who else is gonna put up with your moody ass?】 Oh, for God’s sake. I got up and went downstairs to find him. Maria informed me he’d already left for the office.

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My sister and I were reborn on the same day: the day we stood in the foster home, waiting to be chosen by New York’s wealthiest man. She pointed at me, her eyes wide with fake sincerity. “Mr. Vance, she’s… she’s my big sister. She’s always looked up to you.” “It would be her dream to be chosen by you. I’ll be okay, really.” And just like that, I was adopted by Marcus Vance. As I was leaving, my sister, Maya, gave me a triumphant smile. “Have fun, Ava. This time, you get to enjoy the living hell of being a Vance.” “And I,” she whispered, “am finally going to get the life I deserve.” In our first life, Maya was the one adopted by the Vances. She became the city’s most tragic “It Girl,” a beautiful party favor passed between monsters. I was adopted by a struggling family in Queens. I built a tech empire from scratch and became the new-money queen of the city. When we met again, she chose to swap lives with me. She cornered me on a rooftop, screaming, “You have no idea what they did to me! They trained me to be a whore! You had everything, and you never came to save me!” Then she pushed me. And I pulled her down with me. Now, she thinks she’s dodged the bullet and stolen my “lucky” path. But my dear, stupid sister… the Vance family’s resources? The name, the connections, the power? That isn’t a living hell. It’s a rocket launcher. She stole the wrong life. The “luck” was never the family. It was always my brain. 1 “Mr. Vance, she’s my sister’s hero…” The moment I heard those words, I knew. She remembered, too. In our first life, she locked me in a utility closet during the Vances’ visit, just to make sure I wasn’t seen. She got the billionaire. I got the Millers in Queens. As soon as I moved in with the Millers, their luck changed. Because I changed it. Their tiny savings, which I “borrowed” for stock trades, grew. Their failing hardware store, which I restructured, became a profitable chain. By the time I saw Maya again, I was the one with the real power, and they were the “lucky” family she thought she’d missed out on. She was right about one thing. Her life was hell. At that gala, she was drunk, wearing a dress that was practically transparent, fending off hands from men three times her age. The moment she saw me, poised, respected, and in control, she shattered. She blamed me. She killed me. And now, reborn, she thinks she’s pulling a fast one. Marcus Vance, the titan himself, was charmed by her “selflessness.” He agreed to adopt me. Maya’s eyes were electric with triumph. “This time, you get to be the family puppet,” she mouthed, blowing me a kiss. “Enjoy the torture.” I paused, my hand on my small duffel bag. “What was that, Maya?” “Goodbye, sister,” she sang, already turning toward the Millers, who were waiting in the next room. She’s running toward them, convinced she’s captured the golden goose. But she doesn’t get it. She’s swapping lives, not minds. How can she possibly steal what’s inside my head? 2 Before taking me to their penthouse on Park Avenue, Marcus and his wife, Eliza, took me for a full medical and psychological evaluation. They were… pleased with the results. “Welcome home, Ava,” Eliza finally said, taking my hand. Her smile was genuine, but her eyes were analytical. In the Bentley on the way home, Marcus asked, “So, I’m your hero, huh? In what way?” I clicked into the role. I was eight years old. I looked at him with carefully calibrated awe. “I read an article about you in Forbes at the library. I admire how you built your empire. The way you handle the markets. I want to build my own empire just like you someday.” This deeply pleased him. “You read Forbes? At your age?” “I’ve always been interested in business.” He and Eliza exchanged a look. It was the look of investors who’ve just found a unicorn. So, they didn’t treat me like a child. They treated me like a project. My schedule was packed: Etiquette. Art History. Piano. French. Equestrian. They even had a specialist come in to teach me “social dynamics.” And every night, I had to watch one hour of Bloomberg with Marcus. This was an elite education, designed to forge a successor. A month in, they were more than pleased. They were proud. Their affection was becoming less of an act. One night, Eliza took me into her legendary walk-in closet. It was a vault. “Ava,” she said, gesturing to the glittering shelves, “pick anything you like.” “Thank you, Mom,” I said, using the word deliberately. I then looked at the jewels. “I can identify most of these. Cartier, Harry Winston, the Bulgari heritage pieces. But… I don’t really like them.” I am not Maya. Maya’s downfall, I realized, wasn’t just that they wanted a socialite. It’s that she wanted to be one. She was lazy, shallow, and addicted to luxury. She had no other skills, so they used the only one she had. Eliza’s smile faltered. A complex emotion passed through her eyes. “What… what do you like, then?” I looked up at her, making my eyes wide. “Mom? If I ask for something, will you give it to me?” She paused, the calculation fading, replaced by something softer. “Of course, Ava. Tell me.” “The books say… books say moms read their kids bedtime stories. I know I’m eight, but… I’ve never had one.” “Mom,” I whispered, “could you read to me tonight?” 3 Eliza’s mask finally broke. She knelt and stroked my hair, her eyes suddenly, genuinely warm. “Yes,” she said, her voice thick. “Every night.” There is nothing more powerful than a mother’s devotion. And I had just created it. That night, she held me and read Cinderella. “Do you envy her, Ava?” she asked. “One day, you’ll meet your prince.” I looked up. “Mom? Did you meet your prince?” Her gaze went distant. A bitter shadow crossed her mouth. “No,” she said, smiling. “I didn’t.” She recovered. “Ava, are the lessons too much? If you don’t want to learn all this, you don’t have to. You’re our daughter now. You can just… be a child.” “When you grow up,” she continued, “I’ll find you a wonderful man from a good family. You can marry him and be happy and safe forever.” I knew, in that moment, that she truly saw me as her daughter. And I knew she must have given Maya the exact same offer in our first life. Maya would have taken it. I shook my head, pressing it into her shoulder. “I don’t want to marry a prince, Mom. I want to be like you.” She laughed. “Like me? And what am I?” “You’re powerful. You’re brilliant. You’re on the board. I want to be a strong woman, just like you.” I added, “And I hope I’m as beautiful as you when I grow up.” Marcus and Eliza Vance were a power couple. They’d built their empire together from nothing. But as I’d learned from my financial research, a man who can endure poverty with you can’t always endure wealth. Marcus was drowning in his own vices, and the tabloids loved it. Eliza, I sensed, was lonely. She missed the fight. “My path was very, very difficult, Ava,” she said softly. “I’m not afraid,” I said, my voice steel. “You did it. I can, too. I want to be just as amazing as you.” She kissed my forehead. “Okay, baby girl. Mom will help you.” From then on, Eliza didn’t just train me. She forged me. She poured every ounce of her strategic brilliance into me. She was a legend on Wall Street before she’d stepped back, and she was going to make sure I was, too. “I never want you to suffer what I did,” she’d say. “I won’t,” I’d promise, hugging her. “When I grow up, I’ll protect you.”

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1 A medical prodigy, I was fast-tracked to a top university. But when my paper on a new anti-cancer drug was published, I was crucified online as a plagiarist. I soon discovered why: the scholarship student I’d sponsored had published an identical paper a day earlier, securing her a prestigious graduate spot. When I confronted her, my fiancé and brother were there celebrating her success. They turned on me, accusing me of jealousy and slander. The next day, a viral post branded me a campus bully who used family wealth to torment a poor student. I was expelled and became a pariah, while Molly was hailed as a courageous victim. While searching for evidence to clear my name, I was hit by a car driven by one of her fans. Then I woke up—back in time, right before the paper was published. “Lara, I heard your new anti-cancer drug was a success in trials! That’s incredible.” The familiar voice made me flinch. I glanced at the clock on the lab wall and a cold wave of realization washed over me. I was reborn. It was the day after my successful trials, the day before I was supposed to publish my paper. In the next second, Molly was clinging to my arm, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. “Lara, I’m working in the same field. Could I maybe… take a look at your research notes? Just to learn?” Before I could answer, my fiancé, Finn, grabbed my laptop and held it out to her. “What’s the big deal? Her research is done. It’s useless to her now. Just take it.” Molly’s eyes lit up as she reached for it. “Thank you, Finn!” I snatched the laptop back. “That’s mine. What gives you the right to play the generous benefactor with my work?” The other students in the lab turned to stare. Finn’s face contorted with anger. “Lara, the trials are over! You don’t need the data anymore. What’s wrong with letting Molly learn from it? Why are you being so petty and selfish? How can you even be my girlfriend acting like this?” In my last life, the threat of him leaving me sent me into a panic. I’d immediately caved and handed over my research. But after I published my paper, my name was dragged through the mud. I went online and saw it: one day before my publication, Molly had released an identical paper. She’d been hailed as a young genius and offered early admission to Crestview University’s graduate program. I, who published a day later, was labeled a copycat, a pariah. When I found Molly to confront her, I saw Finn and my brother, Ethan, presenting her with a cake to celebrate her grad school acceptance. When she saw me, Molly held the cake out with a triumphant smirk. I’d slapped it out of her hands. My brother had slapped me across the face in return, while Finn accused me of ruining Molly’s big moment. When I demanded to know why she stole my work, she had collapsed into their arms, sobbing. “Just because I wouldn’t give you my research, you accuse me of stealing? How could you?” That was the moment that triggered the avalanche of online hate. The memory of it was a hot poker in my chest. I let out a cold laugh and my hand connected with Finn’s cheek in a sharp slap. “Finn, you knew perfectly well this was my unpublished research, and you were just going to hand it over? Do you have any concept of academic integrity?” Molly’s eyes immediately welled with tears. “Lara, it’s all my fault,” she whimpered. “I’m the one who’s poor and ignorant. It’s only natural for you to look down on me. Finn was just trying to be nice. Please don’t be angry with him because of me.” Seeing Molly so distressed, Finn’s anger boiled over. He stepped in front of her protectively. “Lara, you think just because your family has some money you can look down on people and humiliate them like this?” I was stunned into silence. “Refusing to leak my unpublished data is humiliating someone? How is protecting my own intellectual property wrong?” Molly’s eyes were red with unshed tears. “Lara, it’s my fault. I just wanted to study hard, to try and catch up to you.” “I grew up poor, in the countryside. Coming here, I realized how far behind I was. I study day and night just trying to change my fate.” “If I don’t have good reference material, if I can’t produce results and get into grad school… my parents will drag me back home and marry me off to some old man for money to support my brother. I don’t want to go back there… Lara, please, can’t you just help me?” Finn looked at her with heart-wrenching pity, then turned to me with pure disgust. “Lara, are you really so cruel? Will you be happy once you’ve forced her to drop out?” I could see the onlookers’ expressions softening, their sympathy shifting to her. So I slapped Finn again, harder this time. “Me, cruel? Don’t you both forget, I’m the one paying for your tuition, your apartment, your entire life here! The library is filled with reference materials. Why do you need my unpublished data?” The onlookers blinked, the spell broken. “She’s right. There are tons of resources. Why is she so fixated on Lara’s specific data? It’s normal to say no.” “Yeah, Lara is sponsoring her, and this is how she repays her? By emotionally blackmailing her when she refuses an unreasonable request?” “It’s not Lara’s fault you have a terrible family. Why should she have to fix your life?” Outnumbered, Finn turned his fury back on me. “We may be poor, Lara, but we have dignity! I never would have taken your damned money if you hadn’t begged me to let you sponsor me. You have no right to insult us!” With that, he grabbed Molly’s hand and they fled through the sea of pointing fingers and whispers. Just in case, when I got home, I backed up my real data to a new, secure cloud account. Then, on my laptop, I replaced my data with a copy of a well-known, landmark study published years ago by Dean Wallace of Crestview University. Once everything was in place, I went downstairs for dinner. My parents were already at the table waiting for me. Seeing all my favorite dishes laid out, my eyes stung with tears. In my last life, when I was trapped in that nightmare, when everyone accused me of academic fraud, I fell into a deep depression. My parents’ hair turned white overnight. They never left my side, caring for me, traveling everywhere with me to search for evidence. Seeing them now, healthy and smiling, I was filled with a profound guilt. I had failed them. “Lara, honey, why are you crying?” my mom asked, rushing to my side. “Did someone bully you?” I wiped my tears and shook my head. “No, I just… missed you guys at school.” They both chuckled. “You were only gone for a day! Come on, eat up. We made all your favorites.” I sat down between them, a warmth spreading through my chest. We were halfway through the meal when my brother, Ethan, burst in. His eyes landed on me, and his face twisted into a mask of disgust. “Lara, how can you just sit there eating? Don’t you know Molly has cried her eyes out because of you? When did you become so malicious?” Looking at his furious face, a wave of disappointment washed over me. In my past life, it was Ethan’s testimony against me that sealed my fate. I could still remember the comments online. “Her own brother testified against her. That just shows how rotten she really is.” The memory made me tremble with rage. But before I could speak, my mother shot up and slapped Ethan across the face. “You haven’t been home in six months, and the first thing you do is attack your sister for some outsider?” Ethan glared at her. “Mom, do you have any idea what she did? She used our family’s money to bully someone! Her character is flawed, she’s vicious…” Before he could finish, my father slapped him too. “You disgraceful boy! We know your sister’s character better than anyone. It’s you who is slandering her, humiliating our family’s name!” Ethan’s furious gaze locked on me. “It’s your fault! You’ve spoiled her so rotten she thinks she can do whatever she wants!” Just then, Molly appeared at the door as if on cue, rushing to my brother’s side. “Ethan, it’s my fault, don’t blame Lara. It’s because I’m poor and don’t have access to the right materials. It’s fine if she doesn’t want to share. Don’t make things difficult for her. It just means my parents will take me home and marry me off for my brother’s dowry.” My brother’s eyes filled with anguish for her, which only deepened his loathing for me. “Lara, are you that heartless? You’d rather watch Molly get forced out of school and have her life ruined? How can I have such a cold-blooded sister?” My father raised his hand to strike Ethan again, but I stopped him. “Dad, it’s fine. It’s just research data, right?” I said, my voice heavy with false resignation. “I’m done with it anyway. I’ll give it to her. I don’t want people saying our family uses its power to bully others and damage the company’s reputation.” Molly’s face lit up. “Really? Oh, Lara, thank you so much!” In front of them all, I brought out my laptop and transferred the files to Molly’s phone. “There. Everything you wanted. Are you satisfied now?” A flicker of triumph flashed in her eyes. “Thank you, Lara. I’ll be sure to repay you for this one day.” Repay me? By turning the world against me? By having your fans run me over with a car? Is that the repayment you have in mind? My brother gave me a grudging look. “At least you have some conscience left. You’re not completely rotten.” My mother snatched a pair of chopsticks from the table and threw them at his head. “You say one more word against your sister and I’ll beat you myself. She gave you what you wanted. Now get out!” Ethan grabbed Molly’s hand, and they quickly left. Over the next few days, I polished my real research paper. Instead of publishing it directly, I sent it to a mentor at the World Health Organization, asking for his feedback. If the paper was as solid as I thought, it would be my ticket into any graduate program I wanted.

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My body had been a timeshare for “Players”—interdimensional travelers with one mission: seduce my husband and win over my son. For three years, they hijacked my life. But not a single one succeeded. The System finally gave up and dumped my consciousness back into the driver’s seat. The moment I opened my eyes, neon text floated in the air like a holographic Twitch chat. 【 Is this another Player? 】 【 Seriously? How many is that now? None of them can crack the husband. 】 【 I bet fifty bucks this one quits in a month. The difficulty setting on this family is broken. 】 【 I give her two weeks. 】 The “Feed”—as I called it—was buzzing, placing bets on when I’d flee with my tail between my legs. They didn’t know one crucial detail: I wasn’t a Player. I was the original owner. And no matter what Marcus had become in my absence, I wasn’t going anywhere. 1 I got dressed just as a knock came at the door. It was Martha, our housekeeper. “Ms. Evelyn, breakfast is ready. Please come downstairs.” Ms. Evelyn? My hand froze on my cardigan. I glanced at the floating text. 【 Whoa, the new Player looks shook. 】 【 Why? Martha didn’t stutter. The title of ‘Mrs. Vance’ is reserved for the OG wife only. 】 【 Our male lead is savage. He figured out the first Player was a fake on day one and ordered everyone to call them by her maiden name. 】 【 Gotta love a man who knows his wife that well. 】 A smile tugged at the corner of my lips. Marcus knew. He knew those women weren’t me. I pulled on my coat, ignored the glowing commentary, and went downstairs. Breakfast was laid out, but Martha was still busy in the kitchen, preparing a separate tray. I sat down and sipped my coffee. The text scrolled faster. 【 Leo looks sick today. Martha needs to hurry up and check on the poor kid. 】 Leo was sick? Panic spiked in my chest. The Feed had taught me that the previous “Players” only cared about grinding affection points with Marcus. They ignored our son, Leo. Or worse, they tried to use him as a prop and got frustrated when his trauma made him difficult. I bolted from the chair and ran up the stairs. But on the third-floor landing, a heavy security door with a digital keypad blocked my path. I stared at it. We never had a security door here. 【 Look at her face. She’s clueless. 】 【 What’s she doing on the third floor? Trying to exploit the kid for points? 】 【 Too bad. The Firewall is impenetrable. 】 【 Only the male lead knows the code. Leo and Martha have fingerprint access. The Players usually give up here. 】 The Feed was mocking me, waiting for me to retreat. I pressed my lips together and reached for the keypad. 2 【 What is she doing? 】 【 Another fail incoming. The alarm is gonna trigger in 3… 2… 】 I punched in the numbers. The light didn’t turn red. No alarm blared. Click. The lock disengaged. 【 WTF? How does she know the code? 】 【 Is she using a cheat engine? 】 Ignoring the chaos in the chat, I pushed the door open. The third floor was exactly how I left it. Someone had preserved it like a museum. I navigated the hallway by muscle memory and found Leo’s room. I knocked softly, then entered. The pale blue walls, the glow-in-the-dark stars Marcus and I stuck on the ceiling—it was all the same. A framed photo of the three of us sat on the nightstand. My son lay curled in the center of the king-sized bed, his face flushed an unnatural crimson. I touched his forehead. He was burning up. I frantically searched the room for the first-aid kit. I found it in the bathroom vanity, just where we used to keep it. Inside, I found mostly empty boxes of children’s fever reducers and cold medicine. My heart broke. He had been sick so often these past three years. 3 I found a thermometer. 102.2°F. “Leo,” I whispered, shaking him gently. “Leo, baby, wake up.” I pulled out my phone and called Martha. “Martha, tell the driver to bring the car around. I’m taking Leo to the hospital. Pack some oatmeal and bring it to us later.” Martha hesitated on the other end, clearly confused by the command coming from “Ms. Evelyn,” but the urgency in my voice regarding Leo made her agree. I hung up. Leo groaned, his brow furrowed in pain. I wrapped him in a thick coat and lifted him. “He’s so light,” I whispered, my voice trembling. He felt like a bird in my arms. A seven-year-old shouldn’t be this fragile. As I carried him downstairs, the Feed scrolled in my peripheral vision. 【 Of course he’s light. The last Player kept ‘forgetting’ to feed him whenever Marcus was on business trips. 】 【 Yeah, if the kid didn’t help her ‘quest,’ she punished him. 】 【 Remember the one who made him stand in the rain to pick hydrangeas? Because the profile said the OG wife loved them? 】 My grip tightened on my son. Rage, hot and blinding, surged through me. They used my body to hurt him. I couldn’t change the past. All I could do was spend the rest of my life making it up to them. 4 At the private clinic, the doctors got Leo hooked up to an IV. I sat by the bed, stroking his hair, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. He was so small. How terrified must he have been, seeing his mother’s face look at him with cold, calculating eyes? 【 This Player is acting… different. 】 【 Is nobody gonna talk about how she knew the third-floor code? 】 【 Guys… do you think the Queen is back? 】 【 If Evelyn is back, I’m gonna cry. 】 Knock, knock. I ignored the Feed and opened the door. Martha stood there, clutching a thermos. I took it and set it on the table. Martha didn’t leave. She stood there, wringing her hands, her eyes searching my face. She looked older. Three years of protecting Leo from women wearing my face had taken its toll. “What is it, Martha?” I asked softly. “Is it… is it really you, Ma’am?” I paused. The Feed hadn’t fully figured it out, but Martha knew. “How did you know?” The old woman’s eyes welled up. “Mr. Vance changed the lock codes. He said only two people in the world knew the combination to the third floor.” The code was the date I told Marcus I was pregnant. I remember jumping into his arms, waving the test strip. “Yes,” I whispered, tears pricking my eyes. “I’m back, Martha.”

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On the new dating show set, I’d just drawn the same number as my boyfriend, Lilyan, when a sweet-faced starlet snatched my card. “Looks like you’re my partner now,” she cooed to him. I moved to take it back, but my eyes caught the live comments: 【Our girl is making a move! So cute!】 【Sienna, move! Let our girl stand next to him!】 【Ugh, write Sienna off! We want Lily and Lilyan together!】 Lilyan took the card and returned it to me. “Haven’t you heard ‘first come, first served’?” he said coldly. The chat exploded with anger towards him and me. I turned to the starlet, my voice calm. “Security. Get her off my set.” 1 Lily froze. So did the live comments. 【What a manipulative bitch! Sienna’s pulling strings just to steal Lilyan from our girl! Does she have no shame?】 【This is what happens when you date a controlling monster. Poor Lilyan, he must be suffering so much with her!】 “I have a contract to be on this show! You can’t just kick me off!” Lily’s chin jutted out defiantly. The chat feed erupted in laughter. 【Yesss, that fighting spirit is so hot! Go, Lily, go! Take down that wicked witch!】 So now I was the wicked witch, was I? A cold smirk touched my lips. “I can. Because the director answers to me.” Just as I said it, the director scurried over, his expression panicked, ready to escort her away. Lily’s face went pale. Her eyes darted to Lilyan. “Lilyan…” she whispered, her voice trembling. He just stared back, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. He didn’t seem to understand why this budding starlet was so fixated on him. He turned away, ignoring her completely. 【You’ll regret this, Lilyan!! One day you’ll see how amazing she is!】 【Our girl is so brave! I wouldn’t even have the guts to ask for a celebrity’s autograph, and she just goes for it!】 【That’s why she’s a warrior for love! How else could she melt the ice king’s heart? That snake Sienna doesn’t deserve him!】 Later, during a break, the director approached me, wringing his hands. “Ms. Vance,” he began, his voice dripping with apology, “I’ve already reprimanded Lily for her behavior. She was completely out of line.” He leaned in closer. “But… she was placed here by him. You see my position…” I frowned. “Him?” The director nodded grimly. I pinched the bridge of my nose, a headache beginning to form. “Keep her on a tight leash. If she pulls another stunt like that, I don’t care who he is. I want her gone. Permanently.” “Understood! Absolutely!” He bowed his way out of my trailer. “Wait!” I called after him. “Did the air-freighted package arrive?” “It did, it did! I’ll take you to it right now!” 2 Lilyan and I had kept our relationship under wraps. This show was supposed to be the warm-up for our official debut as a couple. And today, of all days, was his birthday. Lilyan was meticulous about his image. Three months ago, I’d commissioned a one-of-a-kind shirt for him from a legendary brand—a house that once tailored for Napoleon’s own family. It was designed in a vintage European style, a piece of art. But as I walked onto the set, the live comments once again flooded my vision, obscuring everything else. 【OMG! Lily, are you trying to kill him with that look? What man could resist that?!】 【My little vixen! I’d die for you!】 【Lilyan is one lucky bastard…】 There, in the middle of the set, stood Lily. She was swimming in a large man’s dress shirt. The sleeves were so long they swallowed her hands, dangling uselessly at her sides. But the collar had been crudely cut away, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her chest. When she saw Lilyan and me approaching, her eyes skipped right over me and locked onto him. She stuck out her tongue playfully. “Oops,” she giggled. “I think I opened the wrong package…” 【Hahaha, our girl’s little scheme. She knows how to get her man~】 【She’s got guts, I’ll give her that. If only I were that brave! Go, Lily, crush that bitch Sienna!】 【Only the closest people get to open your packages! Lilyan will be begging you to open his from now on~】 【Um… didn’t the other woman, Sienna, custom order that shirt? I remember reading she stayed up for nights personally working on the design…】 【So what if she did? A homewrecker is a homewrecker, no matter how hard she tries!】 The director shot me a look of pure terror. I said nothing. I walked straight up to her and—crack. The sound of my palm connecting with her cheek echoed through the silent studio. The live chat went nuclear. 【HOLY SHIT! THAT BITCH SIENNA DARED TO HIT OUR GIRL!】 Lily crumpled to the floor, a perfect picture of shocked innocence. 【STOP! SIENNA, YOU FUCKING SNAKE, YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS! THE DAY LILYAN COMES CRAWLING BACK TO LILY WILL BE THE DAY YOU DIE!】 Crawling back? Hardly. Not this man. A cruel smile spread across my face as I raised my hand to strike her again. But this time, a strong hand caught my wrist, stopping me mid-air. I whipped my head around to face Lilyan, my brow furrowed. “Feeling sorry for her?” He gently took my hand in his, his thumb stroking the reddened skin of my palm. He brought it to his lips and blew softly on it. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he murmured, his voice low. Then, his eyes, now glacial, fell upon the girl on the floor. “Let me deal with trash like this.” He shot a look at the director, then wrapped an arm around my waist and guided me away, not sparing Lily another glance. The chat feed was a torrent of fury. 【I’m so pissed I could scream! I know he’s going to grovel for her later, but watching him hurt her like this right now is infuriating!】 【I’m crying. Lilyan, you don’t deserve her fierce, beautiful love!!】 【Calm down, everyone. He’s so devoted to her later in the story. This snake Sienna will be gone soon enough!】 【I can stomach this… for the sweet moments to come…】 I stopped in my tracks. I’m not the kind of person who judges someone based on anonymous whispers and online chatter. But Lily… I couldn’t stand her. And these comments… I loathed them even more. I turned back. “Get Lily kicked off this show!” The comment feed, predictably, lost its collective mind. 【AAAAAAAAH I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! CAN WE PLEASE JUST KILL SIENNA OFF NOW? I NEED MY SWEET ROMANCE FIX!】 【I fucking hate homewreckers! You’re the one who ruined everything, and you have the nerve to act like the victim?!】 【I’m just waiting for the day Sienna gets what she deserves.】 A cold smile played on my lips. They didn’t know me at all. I was born to defy expectations. They wanted to see me and Lilyan torn apart. They wanted to see me fall from grace. Well, I was about to give them the disappointment of a lifetime. 3 Lilyan posted on his social media. It was a picture of the shirt Lily had been wearing, the collar clearly showing a jagged cut. The caption was short and brutal: 【Girlfriend’s gift was ruined. Pissed.】 The internet collectively short-circuited. 【Girlfriend? Wait! Since when are Sienna and the superstar actor together?!】 【Oooooh, so that’s why he suddenly agreed to a reality dating show! He brought his partner along!!】 【So the paparazzi leaks about Lily cutting up Sienna’s shirt were real? HOLY SHIT! Okay, Lily might have more followers, but trying to steal someone’s man is just disgusting!】 I scrolled through the comments, my mood lifting with every post. The live comment feed on my screen, however, was in a full-blown panic. They raged, calling the online fans blind and stupid for not seeing that I was the homewrecker. I scoffed. People who only felt brave enough to ship couples from behind a screen always thought they had the right to dictate reality. With Lilyan leading the charge, public opinion on Lily turned viciously. Her private messages were flooded daily with creative insults aimed at her entire family tree. The internet shows no mercy to a perceived homewrecker. Lily vanished from the public eye. A few days later, the director found me, looking hesitant. I took one look at his face and knew. “This is about Lily, isn’t it?” He nodded frantically. “That gentleman heard you kicked her off the show. He came to see me personally. Said he’s willing to add another ten million to the investment if we can just… smooth things over.” I frowned. “Why is he so damn persistent?” The director forced a smile. “He also said that in all future collaborations with you, Ms. Vance, he’s willing to offer a thirty percent profit share.” That got my attention. After a moment of thought, I nodded. “Fine. Lily can stay. And I’ll handle the PR nightmare.” The director’s eyes lit up. “But,” I added, my tone sharp, “she is benched. She does not participate in any of the show’s interactive segments.” “Understood! Absolutely!” 4 When the new location was ready, I arrived for the first day of shooting, impeccably dressed and made up. But as I stepped onto the set, I saw that all the cameras that were supposed to be on me had been moved. In my place, standing beside Lilyan as his partner, was Lily. I marched over to the director, my voice tight with fury. “Who authorized this change? I told you she was not to participate in the filming!” “I did.” A familiar voice came from behind me. I turned. Lily was clinging to Lilyan’s arm, a triumphant smirk on her face. “Lilyan…” I breathed, my disbelief warring with my anger. “Sienna, I’ve made a decision,” he said, his voice flat. “For this show, Lily will be my partner.” He paused, his gaze cold. “You… should just go home.” I thought I’d misheard him. From the day I first discovered him at the drama academy, funding his rise to superstardom, he had never, not once, dared to speak to me like this. “Why?” The word escaped my lips, a mix of genuine curiosity and shock. He scowled, his expression bordering on disgust. “You brought this on yourself.” He thrust a tablet into my hands. A video was playing. And as I watched, I finally understood what had happened to Lilyan. 5 I had agreed to let Lily stay, but only on the condition that she stay off-camera. After being exposed for wearing my gift, she was blacklisted online. No one would hire her. So, she ended up staying with the crew, doing odd jobs as a production assistant. But a film set is a place where people kiss up and kick down. Many nights, she was left behind long after everyone else, tasked with packing up all the equipment by herself. One such night, as she was finishing up alone, she ran into Lilyan, who had also wrapped late. She was crouched on the floor, and when she looked up, her eyes met his. He stopped, surprised. Her eyes instantly welled with tears, and she scrambled to her feet and ran off. Lilyan just frowned and walked away. From behind a stack of equipment, she peeked out, wiping a tear from her eye, her lips pressed into a tight line. After that, Lilyan started receiving videos from Lily’s friends. Videos of Lily being berated by low-level crew members. Lily on her hands and knees, scrubbing the studio floor. Even one where the set painters “accidentally” splattered paint all over her, and she wasn’t allowed to wash it off. Lilyan’s only reply was a single, dismissive text: 【Her methods are pathetic.】 He’d clawed his way to the top of this industry; he could see through a transparent ploy for pity from a mile away. But then came the final video. In it, Lily was being held down on a bed, her clothes torn, while seven or eight phone cameras were pointed at her. “Stop pretending!” a man’s voice sneered. “You’ve done bed scenes before, haven’t you? Who do you think you are, some big star? You should be grateful for any role you can get! Nobody wants to hire you now!” The damsel in distress act. It’s a classic for a reason. A man’s instinct to play the hero. Lilyan stormed in and lifted her off the bed. Lily collapsed into his arms, sobbing, while the crew members stood by, frozen in terror. And in that moment, he could only think of one person who could be pulling the strings behind the scenes. Me. The live comment feed was ecstatic: 【YES! He finally sees what a monster she is! Now you know how much you fucked up, don’t you, Lilyan?】 【Even though Sienna had nothing to do with what happened to our girl, seeing her get put in her place is SO satisfying.】 【Serves her right for trying to ruin their love!】 I turned my gaze to the director. “He’s an idiot. Are you one too?” The director avoided my eyes. “Ms. Vance, I know you’re a successful businesswoman, but in our world, an A-list actor carries more weight than you do. Besides, Mr. Croft has his own production company.” I laughed out loud. He clearly had no idea that I was the one who funded that company. Lilyan was talented, no doubt. In just a few years, he’d become a major player in the industry. But when people find sudden success, they often start to believe they’re invincible. I looked at Lilyan. He seemed to think he finally had the power to defy me. I didn’t argue. I just grabbed my car keys and turned to leave. “In that case, I wish you all a successful shoot.” Lilyan frowned, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. I walked out to my convertible, but when I tried to unlock it, nothing happened. “So sorry, darling.” Lily sauntered out from the studio, dangling a new key fob. “Lilyan already gave this car to me.”

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It was Puppy Adoption Day at the shelter, so I posted on my socials: “Puppy near the university campus needs a home.” A DM came in almost instantly. “Is the puppy obedient?” “Very.” “Does the puppy take discipline?” “It’ll take whatever you give it.” “But you can’t hurt the puppy.” “Then can I be the puppy’s master?” “Wire me a hundred to show you’re serious.” The next second, a wire transfer for $100,000 hit my account. 1. I ran to the shelter manager, bursting with excitement. “Sarah, I found an adopter for Buddy! He’s rich, and he seems so kind.” Buddy was a sweet local mutt we’d rescued from a packed kill shelter truck. He’d thrown himself in front of his siblings to protect them, and the ordeal had left him with serious injuries. His tail was half gone, but worse, he was deeply mistrustful of people. I’d always hoped this brave little guy would find the perfect home. Sarah frowned. “Willow, you need to talk to this person again. Go over all the adoption details and explain Buddy’s situation clearly. The fact that he agreed so quickly… it feels strange.” “Oh.” A prickle of guilt went through me. “I, uh, didn’t tell him the specifics about Buddy. I didn’t even send a photo.” Before Sarah could get angry, I held up my hands in surrender. “I know, I know, my mistake. I’ll fix it right now!” I grabbed my phone. Me: You there? He replied instantly. Him: I’m here. Me: Are you absolutely sure you want to be the puppy’s master? Him: Yes. Him: Is there a problem? Him: Not enough money? The next second, another wire transfer. $10,000. Seeing all that money, I was genuinely embarrassed. I couldn’t lie to an adopter this generous. I declined the transfer. Me: It’s not about the money. Him: Then it’s a problem of not enough money. Another transfer notification popped up. $100,000. I counted the zeros. One, two, three, four, five. A hundred thousand dollars. The sheer amount left me feeling both ashamed and terrified. Me: Actually… there’s something wrong with the puppy. 2. Him: It’s not obedient? Me: No, it’s very obedient! Buddy was always so quiet. He was the most well-behaved dog I’d ever met. Him: Then you’re not ready? I get it. A girl might act on impulse and then have second thoughts. It’s okay to change your mind. Him: But if you ever find yourself looking for a master again, I hope you’ll come to me directly instead of posting publicly. This wasn’t an impulse. Finding a home for Buddy was something I had thought about for a long, long time. I defended myself. Me: No, that’s not it. I’m serious about finding a master. Him: Are you worried I’m a bad person? He sent a few photos of himself along with a link. Him: Here’s some basic info on me. I hope this puts your mind at ease. If anything were to happen, you have everything you need to expose me. I clicked the link. It took me to a Wikipedia page. Adrian Vance, noted entrepreneur and philanthropist in our city, just turned thirty this year… Handsome, rich, and charitable. My guilt deepened. I couldn’t deceive him anymore. Fine. I gritted my teeth and typed it all out. Me: The thing is, the puppy has… issues. I’m worried you won’t be able to handle it. A man like you could have any puppy you want—a prettier one, one with a better temperament… Adrian: It doesn’t matter. I would never be ashamed of my puppy. Adrian: And more importantly, you’re the only puppy I want. My heart skipped a beat. Me: The puppy… has some bad habits. The words were hard to type, so I just let them all spill out at once. Me: The puppy is very sensitive. It can have… accidents and drool when it gets scared. It has severe separation anxiety and is very wary of strangers, so the master would need to be with it every day. Also, the puppy is always hungry. It’s like you can never feed it enough… I was fighting for Buddy now. Me: Basically, there are a lot of problems. But the puppy really, truly needs a home and a master who will take good care of it. Can you accept all of that? A brief silence followed. I prayed he wouldn’t just disappear. Buddy wasn’t pretty or personable, just an ordinary, traumatized mutt. Who would choose to spend so much time and energy healing a broken dog when they could have a perfect one? Just as my mind started to spiral, my phone buzzed. It was an incoming voice call from him. I put in my earbuds and answered. “I will love the puppy with all my heart,” Adrian said, his smooth, rich voice with a cool edge filling my ear. “And I promise, I will always make sure the puppy is well-fed.” His voice was like a feather tickling the inside of my ear, and I felt a blush creep up my neck. “You… you really won’t be ashamed of the puppy?” “Never,” Adrian promised. At the same time, another transfer came through. $100,000. The memo line read: Security Deposit. “Are there any other problems with the puppy?” 3. Hearing Adrian’s voice instead of just reading his texts made me so nervous my fingertips went numb. I stammered, “N-no, no more problems.” I took a deep breath to steady myself, Sarah’s instructions echoing in my head. “Wait, actually, yes, Mr. Vance. I do have a few more questions.” His tone on the other end of the line was still gentle. “Don’t rush. Take your time. I’m listening.” “Mr. Vance, have you ever owned a puppy before?” “To be honest, no,” he admitted. “But I’m willing to learn. Can you teach me? I promise I’ll be a good master.” “Of course, no problem,” I said. “First, you need to have plenty of food and water ready. That’s the most basic thing.” Adrian agreed. “Second, you’ll need to buy a crate, a collar, and a leash.” He sounded surprised. “The puppy has to live in a crate? Isn’t that… cruel? I could prepare a separate house for the puppy if it needs its own space.” Oh, my god. Mr. Vance was so kind and thoughtful, and so ridiculously rich. He was really thinking this much about a dog. But a whole house? That was insane. “That’s really not necessary,” I advised. “A new puppy often feels safer in a crate. It gives them a sense of security.” “Okay, noted. I’ll buy a crate,” he said. “What about the collar and leash? Does the puppy have a preference? Oh, and should I get things like a muzzle, a whip, or a paddle?” I blinked. “The collar and leash can be whatever you like, Mr. Vance. The puppy won’t care about the style. It just wants to be with its master. A muzzle is fine, but I’d advise against using a whip. Puppies are fragile, and you wouldn’t want to hurt it. A paddle… sounds like it wouldn’t be too painful. The puppy could probably handle that.” “Understood,” he said seriously. “I’ll be gentle when I discipline it.” “Mr. Vance, you’re such a good person!” I exclaimed. “I can’t believe you’re willing to take in a puppy that anyone else would see as… broken.” For the first time, Adrian cut me off, his voice firm. “In my eyes, my puppy will always be the best puppy. I hope you can change your perspective and stop saying such things. It lacks confidence.” Huh? That was… bossy. What did my confidence have to do with anything? Was I supposed to lie and pretend Buddy was perfect? By any normal standard, he was a difficult dog. But judging by Adrian’s tone, he truly believed it. Fine. When it came to loving this puppy, I had to admit he had me beat. “I’m sorry, Mr. Vance. You’re right,” I said quickly. “Your puppy is the best puppy in the world.” A soft chuckle came through the line. “Not quite.” “What’s not right?” I asked, confused. “My puppy,” he replied, his voice a low, mesmerizing hum, slightly distorted by the connection, “is the best puppy in the entire universe.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re right. Your puppy is definitely the best puppy in the entire universe.” Hearing my simple agreement, Adrian laughed, a warm, genuine sound. He spoke to me like I was a child he was coaxing. “So, have I passed your inspection?” 4. My heart hammered against my ribs. I stumbled over my words. “Y-yes, you’ve passed.” “Am I the puppy’s master now?” Adrian asked. “Sort of.” “What do you mean, ‘sort of’?” “It’s not official until after the home visit and you’ve signed the papers.” Adrian was quiet for a moment. “Are you free for a home visit this weekend?” “I am.” “Then, as the puppy’s master-to-be, may I ask you to do one thing for me?” “What is it?” “Could you please delete the post about looking for a master?” “Of course, Master-to-be,” I said without hesitation. After the call ended, I sank into the sofa, replaying the sound of Adrian’s voice in my head. The dark screen of my phone reflected my own smiling face. Several minutes passed before I finally picked up my phone, casually opened my socials, and deleted the post. 5. The weather had been gloomy for days, the sky heavy with the promise of a storm. The weekend arrived, the day Adrian and I had scheduled for me to visit his home. Twenty minutes later, I was in his car. He looked exactly like his photos—handsome, with an air of refined elegance. He wore a black trench coat over a crisp, well-tailored white shirt that highlighted his lean, athletic build. We drove in silence, the city skyline gradually giving way to rolling green hills. Why would a busy tycoon like Adrian choose to live so far out in the mountains? The thought made me a little uneasy. As if sensing my anxiety, Adrian spoke, his hands steady on the steering wheel. “Considering the puppy’s condition, I didn’t think living downtown would be suitable. I happen to own a villa out here, so I decided to move.” So that was why. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Mr. Vance,” I nodded. To break the awkward silence, I started explaining the basics of puppy care. “You have to be careful when giving the puppy shots. It can get scared and might scratch or bite. It’s a good idea to restrain it and use a muzzle beforehand…” “Shots?” Adrian sounded surprised. “Is that really okay? Wouldn’t restraining it be uncomfortable for the puppy?” “Not if you do it right,” I shook my head. “It can actually make the puppy feel more secure.” Thinking about the battles I’d had with Buddy during his vaccinations, I couldn’t help but smile. “Puppies are smart. They can sense what you’re about to do. So it’s best to take it by surprise. That way, it can’t refuse.” Adrian’s expression was serious. “Okay, I understand. A surprise attack, muzzle, restraints, and then the shot. Is that right?” “Exactly,” I nodded. “You’re a quick learner, Mr. Vance.” 6. Adrian wasn’t much of a talker, and halfway through the drive, I drifted off to sleep. When I woke up, we had already been at our destination for some time. The villa was huge, and a masterclass in privacy. Adrian led me inside. “There are no live-in maids here, so the puppy can play as much as it wants. We won’t have to worry about being disturbed.” He guided me through the house. “I’ve never been involved in this… scene before, so I’m not entirely sure what puppies like. I spent the last week doing research and rushing to set up this house. I hope the puppy likes it.” That explained the faint dark circles under his eyes. “Mr. Vance, you’ve put so much thought into this,” I said. “I think ninety percent of puppies in the world would love this.” He lowered his gaze to meet mine. “I don’t care if other puppies like it. I only care if my puppy likes it.” He was looking for a definitive answer. I tilted my head back and gave him a bright smile. “Of course, the puppy loves it.” Adrian showed me the different rooms he’d designed. Each had a theme: a playground, a clinic, an office… I watched as his calm explanation turned into a strained attempt at composure, and then, as he opened one particular door, his face went completely red. The room wasn’t large, but its contents were eye-popping. The sheer variety of… items made me wonder if he’d bought out an entire store. But something felt off. These things didn’t look like they were for a dog. They looked like they were for a person. “Mr. Vance, what is all this?” I picked up a small leather whip from an interrogation-style table. “It’s just for disciplining a puppy. Does it really need its own personal prison cell?” I slowly walked around the table to a wall hung with various contraptions. “Mr. Vance, how exactly are you supposed to use these on a puppy?” My fingers brushed against a fluffy, pure-white fox tail. Adrian’s eyelid twitched, his gaze quickly shifting away from the tail in my hand. I then picked up a leather paddle shaped like a cat’s paw. “Is this for punishment? I wonder if it hurts.” With that, I tapped the paddle against the inside of my forearm. The skin immediately turned red, and the paddle itself, surprisingly, changed from black to a soft pink. “Wow, it’s heat-sensitive,” I remarked. “The texture is nice, but that stings a little.” I held out my arm for him to see. A faint red paw print was visible on my skin. Adrian’s eyes darkened, but he said nothing. I pouted. “Mr. Vance, when you discipline the puppy, can you please not use this one? The puppy is very sensitive to pain.” His breathing grew heavy, and the hand at his side clenched into a fist. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his voice raspy when he finally spoke. “Fine. I won’t use this paddle.” I was confused. He was the one who bought all this stuff. Why was he acting so reserved now? So strange. My eyes landed on a string of beads hanging on the wall. I picked them up. “What’s this, Mr. Vance? Is it a pearl necklace for the puppy?” I gave them a squeeze. “That’s odd. Why are the pearls so soft? It feels like rubber. Mr. Vance, did you buy a fake? How is the puppy supposed to wear this?” “Hey, Mr. Vance, what are you— Mmph!?” Without any warning, a rubber ball was shoved into my mouth. Adrian had finally snapped. His lips were against my ear, his voice a low whisper. “Master will now teach the puppy how to use its necklace.”

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The house was on fire with my parents inside when I called my husband for help. His voice was unnervingly calm. “Don’t be so dramatic, Sienna.” “The power was out. Stella was just being thoughtful, dropping off some candles for them.” “It’s probably just the candlelight flickering,” he said. “You’re far away. You’re seeing things.” My voice trembled. “It’s real! The flames have already…” He cut me off, his tone like ice. “If they get themselves killed playing with candles, that’s their own damn fault.” In utter despair, I raced to the scene, meeting the rescue crews there. What we found were two bodies, charred beyond recognition, blackened silhouettes against the smoldering ruins of my childhood home. I saw Stella standing a short distance away and screamed, pointing a shaking finger. “You! You did this! You’re a murderer!” My husband, Grant, lunged at me, his hand connecting with my cheek in a vicious slap. “What the hell is wrong with you!” he snarled, pulling Stella behind him protectively. His eyes were cold, vicious. “If you want to blame someone, blame your useless parents for not having the brains to get out of a simple fire!” He looked down at Stella, his voice softening. “Stella’s already traumatized by this disgusting scene, and you’re here making false accusations. You owe her a million dollars for emotional damages!” Just then, my phone rang. I answered, my hand shaking so hard I could barely hold it. My mother’s familiar voice came through the line. “You silly girl, did you forget your brother’s birthday? We’re all waiting for you. Finish up whatever you’re doing and get over here.” In the background, I could hear my father’s cheerful laugh. “Drive safe, sweetheart!” I froze, the world tilting on its axis. The phone nearly slipped from my grasp. If my parents were at my brother’s house… Then who were the two people who had just burned to death inside my home? 1 I stared at the two charred bodies on the ground, about to step closer to try and identify them. Grant grabbed my arm, his eyes filled with revulsion. “Sienna, they’re charcoal. Are you really going to touch that? How disgusting can you be?” Leaning against his chest, Stella immediately covered her mouth and made an exaggerated gagging sound. A chilling coldness spread from my heart through my entire body. Those were two human lives, and to them, they were nothing more than repulsive garbage. The hushed whispers of the neighbors reached my ears. “Does she have any shame? The fire trucks were here twenty minutes ago, but her car was blocking the fire lane. That’s what held up the rescue!” “The worst part is, she doesn’t have a scratch on her, but she just sat on the ground crying that her legs were too weak to move the car. And the guy was even worse! Instead of moving the damn car, he was too busy comforting her, just watching the flames get bigger and bigger…” “It was awful… you could hear them screaming for help inside. The firefighters couldn’t get through. They were burned alive…” Every word was a hammer blow to my soul. I trembled with rage, pointing at Grant. “You monster! Those were two people in there! You just let them die!” He was utterly unapologetic. “Stella was having a panic attack! Was I supposed to just leave her there? Besides, I didn’t start the fire. What does it have to do with me?” His voice dripped with scorn. “Sienna, the only reason you’re on this moral high horse is because you think it was your parents who died.” “They were too incompetent to watch a single candle. They were asking for it. Who else is there to blame?” This man, whom my parents had treated like their own son for five years, could say something so cruel after hearing of their deaths. I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. “Are you even human!” Stella cried out, jumping in front of him. Her voice was thick with manufactured tears. “Sienna, please, it’s all my fault…” she sobbed. “I was just trying to be helpful, bringing them candles for the blackout. How was I supposed to know they’d be so careless they’d burn themselves alive? I wanted to save them, I really did, but I’ve always been terrified of fire. My legs just gave out…” “If you’re angry, hit me! Don’t hurt Grant! If you can’t forgive me, then… then I’ll go in there and pay for it with my life!” She made a show of trying to run into the smoldering wreckage. Watching her pathetic performance, a dark part of me wished she’d actually do it—that she would pay the price for the lives that were lost. But Grant was too quick. He swept her into his arms, holding her tight. “Stella, you’re too good. It was their own damn fault. How could this ever be on you?” I was done with them. I walked over to a police officer. “Officer, I’m the homeowner, Sienna Hale. Have you determined the cause of the fire? And have the victims been identified?” Before I could finish, Grant’s sharp voice cut through the air. “Sienna! When are you going to stop?” he snapped. “I already signed the incident report. It’s in black and white: accidental fire. And as for Stella’s car blocking the fire lane, I signed a waiver on your behalf. Just drop it.” His tone softened slightly, laced with a kind of patronizing pity. “Look, I know this is hard for you. I’ve already had my assistant select the best burial plots. Consider it a condolence gift from me for the loss of your parents. Let them rest in peace.” 2 I could barely breathe. The man who once cherished me was now twisting the truth, all for Stella. “Grant, this is my house that burned down! What right do you have to sign anything on my behalf?” My voice rose. “And more importantly, the people who died in there were not my parents! So on whose authority do you forgive Stella?” Grant looked at me as if I’d told the world’s greatest joke and let out a short, sharp laugh. “Sienna, have you lost your mind? At this time of night, your parents would have been in the kitchen making me dinner. If it wasn’t them, who else could it be?” Stella, right on cue, reddened her eyes. “She’s right, Sienna. The fire chief had Grant and me identify some personal effects earlier. The watch on the male victim’s wrist, the jade bracelet on the female’s… they were the ones your parents wore every day. There’s no mistake.” I pulled out my phone, ready to call my parents and prove them wrong. Grant snatched it from my hand, threw it to the ground, and crushed it under his heel. “Sienna, are you deaf? They’re dead! How long are you going to keep this up?” Shaking with fury, I turned back to the police officer. “Officer, please,” I begged, “I swear to you as the homeowner, the victims are not my parents. You can call them right now to verify it.” My voice grew firm. “Two strangers died in my home. I have to know who they really are.” Seeing my conviction, the officer took down my parents’ number and dialed. But the phone that had rung just minutes ago now met a cold, continuous busy signal. A flicker of triumph, almost imperceptible, crossed Stella’s face. “Sienna, I know it’s hard to accept that they’re gone… but you can’t make things difficult for everyone. How do you expect the officer to bring your parents back to life?” I ignored her, insisting that the police open a formal investigation. The officer, realizing something was amiss, gave me a solemn promise. “We’ll send the remains to the medical examiner for DNA analysis immediately,” he said. “Please come with us to the station to cooperate with the investigation.” After giving my DNA sample at the station, I went straight to the morgue. My breath caught in my throat when I saw the evidence tray. There was the old watch, engraved with my father’s name, and the jade bracelet with its tiny, familiar hairline crack. These two items… my parents truly never took them off. This was getting stranger and stranger. Who broke into my house, put on my parents’ most personal belongings, and died in a fire? As my mind reeled, the door swung open and Stella walked in. Under the stark, fluorescent lights, the two charred bodies looked even more gruesome. She took one look and couldn’t stop herself from dry heaving. Grant immediately pulled her into his arms, covering her eyes. “Don’t look. It’s filthy.” Stella, however, put on a pained expression. “It’s all my fault… If I hadn’t brought those candles, they wouldn’t have died. I should be the one to apologize to them…” She suddenly looked up at me, the light catching a defiant glint in her eyes. “But then again, with an IQ like that, they were just wasting oxygen. Their dying was probably a public service. Don’t you think, Grant?” Even though I knew they weren’t my parents, her callous disregard for human life made the rage in my stomach boil over. I lunged forward and slapped her hard across the face. “Two human lives, and they mean nothing to you?” I snarled. “You want to apologize? Fine. I’ll kill you right now and you can apologize to them in hell.” I moved to strike her again, but Grant grabbed my wrist. His eyes were devoid of any warmth, only a chilling warning. “Sienna, don’t push your luck.” “At the end of the day, it was your parents’ own incompetence. They burn the house down with a candle and die for it. They got what they deserved. Why should Stella take the blame?” Seeing him defend her so fiercely, I felt a wave of nausea. I looked him straight in the eye, my voice perfectly calm. “Grant, let’s get a divorce.” He was clearly taken aback for a second, then a mocking sneer spread across his face. “What, you’re trying to threaten me with a divorce? You really think too highly of yourself.” He squared his shoulders. “Stella just moved back. She’s about to launch her new design line, and she can’t be associated with any negative press. You want a divorce? Not until you agree to drop this whole fire thing. Forget it.” With that, he wrapped his arm around Stella and they walked out. As I watched their retreating figures, the last ember of love I had for him finally died out. 3 Determined to stay on top of the case, I spent a miserable night curled up on a bench at the police station. The next morning, however, an officer informed me that the case was already closed. Just as Grant had said, the fire was officially ruled an accident. He had already signed the paperwork and taken custody of the two bodies that were burned beyond recognition. Grant… for Stella, he was willing to trample all over the law. A surge of fury shot through me. I drove straight to Harrison Corp. Grant showed no surprise at my arrival. He calmly slid a credit card across his desk toward me. “Here. Compensation for you,” he said with a smirk. “You should really thank Stella. She has such a kind heart, she insisted on giving you ten thousand.” I stared at the card, utterly bewildered. Stella, kind-hearted? Impossible. Grant lifted his chin contemptuously. “Stella arranged an afterlife partnership for your parents.” “The intermediary paid her a hundred-thousand-dollar finder’s fee. It’s a joyous occasion, after all, and she thought you, as their daughter, should share in the good fortune. See how generous she is?” My voice trembled. “You sold their bodies?!” Stella smiled sweetly, picked up the card, and tried to press it into my clenched fist. “Sienna, on your parents’ special day… you should take this. Consider it the last thing they can give you.” I slapped the card out of her hand and onto her face, my voice a raw scream. “Stella, you soulless monster! Making money off the bones of the dead! Aren’t you afraid of being struck by lightning?” Employees began to gather, their whispers filling the air. “Why is the Design Director fighting with someone? That woman keeps hiding behind the CEO. Is she the other woman?” “I heard there was a fire at her house last night. Her parents died. The bodies she’s talking about… are they her parents’?” “Oh my god, is Mr. Harrison insane? Not only is he flaunting his mistress, but he let her sell his wife’s parents’ remains? That’s inhuman!” Hearing the escalating accusations, Stella’s face went from flushed to pale. Suddenly, she dropped to her knees with a thud, slapping her own face as she wailed. “Sienna, I was wrong! I shouldn’t have spent so much time with Grant just because I wanted to repay his kindness… I let you misunderstand our relationship…” “And I shouldn’t have brought candles to the house when the power was out. But I swear, I didn’t know your parents were… mentally unwell. I never thought they would burn themselves alive with a candle.” She looked up, her eyes swimming in tears, her voice growing more earnest. “As for the afterlife partnership… your mother told me about it herself, before she passed. She said she was forced into an arranged marriage with your father and never got over her first love.” “She couldn’t be with him in life, so I just wanted to grant her that happiness in death!” she cried. “And once she had found her partner, I couldn’t just leave your father all alone, could I? So I took the liberty of finding a match for him, too… I consulted a spiritualist. They are both perfect pairings!” Grant immediately rushed to help her up, his face grim as he turned on me. “Sienna, you are so ungrateful! It’s a fact that your mother was in love with someone else. Stella was trying to do a good thing, and you not only refuse to thank her, you attack her?” Stella’s cheeks were now red and swollen, making her look exceptionally pitiful. With Grant backing her up, the crowd’s opinion began to shift. “The director is being way too aggressive. The poor girl just sees Mr. Harrison as a brother, and she’s being accused of being a homewrecker!” “And her own mother was unfaithful, pining for another man. Miss Stella tries to honor her last wish and gets treated like this? That’s just cruel!” I was shaking with rage. Stella was smearing my mother’s name with disgusting lies. I lunged forward, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and slammed her head against the wall. Seeing this, Grant kicked me hard, sending me sprawling to the floor. His voice was glacial. “You bitch. Who gave you permission to touch her?” “I have only ever seen Stella as a sister, nothing more. But you, with your narrow, jealous mind, have constantly harassed her. Now your own parents get themselves killed, and you try to pin the blame on her.” “I see I’ve been too lenient with you. If I don’t teach you a lesson today, you’ll never learn.” He straightened his suit. “Security! Get her out of here. Tie her to the flagpole out front until she’s ready to reflect on what she’s done.” Just then, a familiar, anxious voice cut through the crowd.

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She threw me out of the car on the interstate, in the dead of night, all because I wouldn’t give the passenger seat to her assistant. “You want to act so tough, Ethan? Fine. Walk home. Or die out here for all I care!” Two weeks later, a local news report about a homicide finally jogged her memory. “It’s been two weeks,” she’d muttered, annoyed. “Is he still throwing a tantrum? Does he plan on living on the highway forever?” Her head of security, Marcus, had to deliver the news. “Ma’am… Mr. Hayes… he was killed.” “Impossible!” she’d snapped. “I was just angry! I left the security detail watching him from a distance! How could he possibly be dead?” Marcus hesitated, the words catching in his throat. “Ms. Blackwood, Liam Cole ordered the detail to stand down. He said it was on your authority.” He took a shaky breath. “And… there’s something else. The autopsy report is back. The anonymous heart donor who saved you all those years ago… it was Mr. Hayes. Not Liam Cole…” 1 The shredded remains of the autopsy report rained down on Marcus’s face. Victoria Blackwood, my wife, looked at him as if he were a traitor. “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” she hissed, her voice a blade of ice. “Conspiring with him to lie to me?” Sweat beaded on Marcus’s forehead. “Ms. Blackwood, I swear! This is what the investigation uncovered. I wouldn’t dare fake something like this!” Victoria pointed a trembling finger at the paper confetti on the floor. “Let me tell you something. Ethan can fake his own death for attention, he can throw any tantrum he wants, but he will not use Liam’s heart as a bargaining chip in his pathetic games.” Her voice was low, seething with a protective fury that was never, ever meant for me. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for Liam to live with that artificial heart? The slightest chill could kill him! Does Ethan Hayes have no humanity? To steal the credit for something another man nearly died to do?” Marcus flinched. My soul, a weightless observer, hovered in the air. I almost laughed. Even now, after all this, she still believed Liam Cole was the one who had saved her. Marcus was loyal to a fault. He would never lie to her. He had to tell her the truth, even if she wouldn’t hear it. He swallowed hard, his loyalty warring with his fear. “Ma’am, Mr. Hayes’s autopsy shows… his heart was also artificial.” “Is that so?” Victoria’s smile was pure venom. “Well, if they’re going to the trouble of faking a report that detailed, they might as well go all the way.” She straightened her suit jacket, her expression hardening into something cruel and final. “Let’s make the story real. Make sure he’s dead.” She turned and walked away, leaving Marcus standing in the ruins of her office and my life. 2 Driving home, Victoria’s manicured nails tapped an incessant, agitated rhythm on the leather steering wheel. When she stopped at a red light, she, a woman renowned for her unshakable composure, slammed her fist down on the horn. She kept replaying the words from the report in her mind. “Anonymous heart donor…” A bitter laugh escaped her lips. She lit a slim cigarette, leaving a perfect crimson stain on the filter, her face a mask of irritation. “Ethan, Ethan, Ethan,” she murmured to the empty car. “Your little games are getting more and more pathetic.” The car’s sound system, which she usually kept on a low classical station, had been switched to a news channel. 【…and in a major breakthrough, Olympia City Police have solved the string of recent highway murders.】 【The criminal gang’s final crime took place on the Evergreen Parkway, where their victims were a young man and a five-year-old girl.】 【Authorities say the man, whose name has not yet been released, used himself as bait to draw the attackers’ attention, buying precious time for the girl to be rescued.】 【Tonight, we pay our deepest respects to this selfless hero.】 Victoria froze. She reached out and silenced the radio. Exhaling a plume of smoke, she sighed. “Probably his sister, or his daughter…” A sad smile touched my spectral lips. No, Victoria. I didn’t know her. I just knew that it was better for one life to end than two. So I hid the little girl in a culvert beneath the highway, called 911, and led them away. I thought I could hold on until help arrived. But… I was bleeding too much. The artificial heart just couldn’t keep up. Victoria’s hand, the one holding the cigarette, paused mid-air. “The Evergreen Parkway…” She frowned. That was where she’d left me. Flicking the cigarette butt out the window, she gunned the engine as the light turned green, a cold sneer on her face. “Impossible. A man like him? We should be grateful he’s not the one out there hurting innocent people.” 3 A week passed. I didn’t come home. It was only after she threw a lavish birthday party for Liam Cole that Victoria seemed to remember I existed. “What, is he really going to live on the parkway forever?” she asked Marcus, more annoyed than concerned. “Tell him the game is over. I had plenty of security watching him. He can’t fool me with some fake autopsy report.” Marcus hesitated, then decided the truth was the only path forward. “Ms. Blackwood… Liam Cole told my men to withdraw that night. He said… it was your order.” “Oh?” Victoria’s laugh was sharp and dismissive. “Are you telling me Liam forged my command?” He swallowed hard. It seemed Victoria had conveniently forgotten. Her personal security team answered to only two people. Her, and one other person to whom she had granted the highest level of clearance. It wasn’t me, her husband. It was Liam Cole. “Impossible,” she said, her tone flat and final. “Only Ethan would stoop so low as to frame Liam with a lie like that. I gave Liam that authority precisely because I was afraid of what Ethan might do to him, out of jealousy. I knew he’d try to use his position as my husband to hurt him.” Her eyes narrowed. “Liam is not that kind of person. He would never do something so underhanded. Tell Ethan to stop trying to bribe my staff.” “Ms. Blackwood!” Marcus pleaded, his voice cracking. “I swear I haven’t taken any money from Mr. Hayes!” Victoria held up a hand, silencing him. “You’ve been with me a long time, Marcus. I’ll allow this mistake once, maybe twice. A third time will have consequences. Think carefully about your next move.” A cold sweat broke out across his brow. 4 The moment she was out of the office, Victoria called my phone. Of course, I couldn’t answer. After a dozen rings went to voicemail, she left a message. Her voice was strained, tight with forced patience. “You’ve been making a lot of trouble lately, Ethan. The passenger seat has a better view, and the open air is good for Liam’s health. I owe him my life; it’s my duty to take care of him. This is about gratitude, not an affair. Stop fixating on it. You’re a healthy man. Try to think of someone else for a change.” She paused, and just before hanging up, her voice softened almost imperceptibly. “Honey… you’ve been gone a little too long this time.” Putting the phone down, her gaze fell upon a black umbrella clutched by a mannequin in a store window. Her hand came to rest against the cool glass. It was like five years ago, all over again. She was in a red dress, heels clicking on the wet pavement as she hurried through the rain. I was walking the other way, holding a black umbrella, and as we passed, our eyes met. A spark. A moment. We both turned back to look. I didn’t know then that she was the woman who had received my heart. By the time I found out, Liam Cole was already by her side. But she must have remembered. She knew I loved black. And red. That day, my black umbrella had tilted just so, sheltering her head from the downpour. My birthday was in a week. And the mannequin… it had my build, my height. She was about to call the sales associate, to buy it, when her phone rang. It was Liam. “Victoria… I can’t breathe…” Her expression shifted instantly from wistful to panicked. “I’m on my way!” 5 In the sterile hospital room, Liam sipped the broth Victoria spoon-fed him. He managed a weak smile. “Thank you, Ms. Blackwood. I never thought the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar corporation would cook for anyone.” She brought another spoonful to his lips. “That depends on the man.” Even without a physical body, a phantom ache shot through my chest. Because I knew. That man wasn’t me. Liam’s gaze drifted to the long, elegantly wrapped umbrella leaning against the wall. “I hear you picked that out for Ethan. Are you sure it’s okay to give it to me?” Victoria paused for only a fraction of a second. “You said you liked it, too.” I had to smile at the tragedy of it all. He likes blue, Victoria. He only said he liked black after he heard you bought it for me. Don’t you see that? I closed my eyes. A soul can’t do anything. I could only pray that whatever force governed the universe would let me dissipate, let me fade away, so I wouldn’t have to watch my own wife tear me down, piece by piece. 6 The story of my heroism spread through Olympia City. The organizers of the memorial service invited the city’s most prominent philanthropist to attend: Victoria Blackwood. She accepted without a second thought. As the city’s leading corporate citizen, she even offered to cover all the expenses for the memorial. No budget. A fitting tribute for a true hero. On the day of the service, she stood in the solemn, flower-filled hall. When she saw the name on the main placard—【In Loving Memory of Mr. Ethan Hayes】—her expression faltered. “The same last name…” she murmured. Then, a bitter smile. “If only my Ethan had half the character of this Mr. Hayes, we wouldn’t be where we are today.” It was just about repaying a debt to Liam. Why did he have to make it such an issue? She just couldn’t understand. After paying her respects, the event organizer approached her, the primary benefactor. “Ms. Blackwood, someone has raised questions about the autopsy report, claiming it’s a fabrication. Should we… perform another one?” “Who’s questioning it?” Victoria’s brow furrowed. The organizer looked uncomfortable. “Well…” Victoria’s patience snapped. “This man’s face and body were mutilated by his attackers. The coroner did their best to make him whole again. Who in their right mind would want to subject him to that all over again, and for what reason?” The organizer wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. I sighed. The irony was suffocating. She had no idea. It was her own man, Marcus, who had requested the second autopsy, all because she refused to believe the first one. In the morgue, Victoria gave the final order. “Cremate him. Let him rest in peace.” “Would you like to see him one last time, Ms. Blackwood?” “No,” she said, a flicker of genuine empathy in her eyes. “No one would want to be remembered that way, stitched together and broken.” My body was pushed into the incinerator. After a final, respectful nod, Victoria walked out of the hall. “What’s trending with men these days?” she asked her new assistant. The assistant, startled, quickly recovered. “For Mr. Cole, it’s always high-end luxury. Patek Philippe, Louis Vuitton…” “I meant for Ethan.” The assistant blinked. “You’re buying a gift for Mr. Hayes?” “Yes,” Victoria sighed. “There’s been… a misunderstanding between us. This isn’t just for his birthday. It’s an apology.” She patted the assistant’s shoulder. “I’m leaving this to you. The budget is unlimited. Get it done.” “Yes, Ms. Blackwood!” Behind her, my ashes were being sealed in an urn. 7 The assistant tracked down an original, handwritten manuscript from an obscure but brilliant composer, Arthur Finch, at an old collector’s estate. I had always been fascinated by his work. But the score was badly damaged, almost illegible. “Ms. Blackwood, Mr. Hayes loves Finch’s compositions. We’ve had this professionally restored, but it’s still not perfect. Perhaps I should just commission a custom luxury item instead?” “No.” Victoria stared at the tattered pages. “Anything that can be bought with money is a cop-out. Leave it. I’ll restore it myself.” “Ma’am?!” The assistant’s eyes went wide. Victoria knew how. In the early days, when she loved me most, she had learned about antique restoration to share my passion. For five days, she didn’t leave the studio. When she finally emerged, the Arthur Finch manuscript hung on the wall, pristine, as if the ink had just dried. “When he sees this,” she whispered to herself, “he’ll come back.” Just then, her phone rang. It was Liam, his voice a ragged whisper. “Victoria… I think I’m dying…” 8 She found him by the riverbank, soaked and covered in blood. He was coughing up water and blood, his hand gripping her blazer with surprising strength. “It was Ethan…” he choked out. “He tried to kill me…” My spirit froze. After a harrowing trip to the ER, once Liam was stable, he told his story through tear-filled eyes. “I knew Ethan was upset with you because of me. His birthday is coming up, and I just wanted to find him, convince him to come home and clear the air. But when I finally tracked him down… he was by the river… with another woman.” He choked on a sob. Victoria gripped his shoulders. “What happened?” Liam shook his head violently. “I can’t say… they weren’t wearing anything…” Victoria’s pupils constricted. “Ethan said… if I came back, I’d tell you everything. He said his meal ticket would be gone… I tried to run, but they pushed me into the river. If the tide hadn’t washed me ashore… I would have never seen you again, Victoria…” He clung to her, sobbing. I watched her face, my non-existent heart pounding. Victoria… you know me. Don’t you? You know I’m not that person. He’s lying! He got into trouble with his own creditors! Victoria gently pushed Liam back onto the pillow, her touch surprisingly steady. She wiped a tear from his cheek. “Get some rest.” Then she turned, walked out, and drove home. In the studio, she stood before the restored Finch manuscript. She dialed my number. Ten times. Twenty. Fifty. A hundred unanswered calls. Her eyes began to burn. The fingers on her right hand, raw and scarred from the chemicals and tools she’d used for the restoration, throbbed with a dull pain. RIIIIIP! She tore the manuscript from the wall. “ETHAN HAYES, YOU BASTARD!” The paper disintegrated in her hands. The violent motion tore open the healing cuts on her fingers, and droplets of blood spattered across the ruined notes. Panting, she threw open the studio door. Her staff, waiting outside, stared at her in alarm. Her face was flecked with her own blood. “Get the word out,” she commanded, her voice ragged. “I’m marrying Liam Cole. Announce it to the entire city. Spare no expense.” On the last four words, her grip was so tight on the doorframe, it seemed the wood itself might splinter.

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Six years after I died, I came back to the living world to collect a debt. Turns out, I racked up a massive bill in the afterlife. I’m an orphan, no parents to mooch off, so I pinned all my hopes on my best friend. But the moment I stepped into her house, glowing text started floating across my vision like a glitchy livestream chat: [ Help! The tragic heroine is spiraling again! She just smashed all the designer bags the male lead bought her. ] [ Her husband cheated, her son hates her… she’s been suicidal for a while now. ] [ Nobody dares to go in. They’re scared they’ll push her over the edge… Wait!? Who just took the door off its hinges?! And moved it?! And just walked in like she owns the place?! ] That would be me. I watched my best friend, Chloe, getting ready to slit her wrists. I grabbed her arm, snatched the knife away, and screamed with excitement: “Bestie! You know I hate snakes! But that Bvlgari Serpenti bracelet on your wrist? Exception made.” “Also, don’t die yet. I owe a ton of money in Hell and I need you to pay it off.” Hearing this, Chloe stopped crying. She forgot about killing herself. Instead, she started chasing me with the knife. “You brat! You didn’t visit me once when you were dead, but the moment you need money, I’m your first stop?!” The floating chat was confused: [ What kind of home invasion friendship is this…? ] 1 When I burst into the master bedroom of Chloe’s luxurious mansion, she was holding a fruit knife to her wrist. The maids were clustered outside, terrified to intervene. Until I grabbed her wrist and gave her a thumbs up. “Wow, Chloe. Flexing your diamond snake bracelet without me? Rude.” Chloe looked bewildered. The maids’ jaws dropped. The chat exploded with question marks: [ ??? ] [ Sis, are you seeing what I’m seeing? The heroine is literally committing suicide and you’re admiring her jewelry… ] [ She’s built different. ] Chloe stared at me with swollen, red-rimmed eyes. The despair in her gaze was replaced by pure shock. In my memory, she was bright and beautiful, always wearing a high ponytail, resilient and full of hope. She used to say: “Tay, you have to be my maid of honor when I marry Julian.” But now, looking at her pale face, her dull eyes, her messy hair, and crumpled pajamas… it felt like a lifetime ago. Chloe was so thin she looked like a skeleton. One touch and she might shatter. I’d never seen her this broken. A sharp pain pricked my heart. Six years. When I finally appeared before her again, she looked ready to pass out. She stared at me, buffering. I took the opportunity to snatch the fruit knife from her hand and leaned in to admire the blindingly sparkly bracelet under the light. “Bestie, you know I’m terrified of snakes. But Bvlgari? That’s not a snake, that’s art.” I looked at my own bare wrist and felt a pang of envy. Shamelessly, I said: “You selfish brat! Share the wealth. Take off that diamond encrusted thing and let me wear it for a bit.” The maids outside were staring like I was an alien. One of them couldn’t take it anymore and spoke up: “Who brought you in here? Have you no manners? You think you can just ask for a million-dollar bracelet and get it?” But the next second, Chloe stopped crying. She wiped her tears messily, took off the bracelet right there, and slid it onto my wrist. Her voice was hoarse, choked with sobs: “If you told me you liked it earlier, I would have bought you another one.” The maids looked at each other, eyes popping out of their heads. She actually gave it to her? 2 After the maids dispersed, I looked at the empty doorway. I dragged the door I’d removed back into place, leaning it precariously against the frame to block the view. Ignoring the chaos, I sneakily pulled a crumpled IOU from my pocket and handed it to Chloe with a sycophantic grin. “Guess what goodie I brought back from the Underworld for you?” Chloe was still a bit down, but at least she wasn’t trying to off herself anymore. But after unfolding my astronomical debt note, she transformed back into the crazy woman I knew from high school. No more staring blankly at the ceiling, no more pondering the meaning of life. She picked up the fruit knife I’d thrown away and started chasing me. Her voice wasn’t weak anymore. Her shout scared the birds out of the garden trees. The maids rushed back, only to see this: Chloe chasing me around the room with a knife. “Taylor! You dead brat! You didn’t visit me in a dream once, but now you show up for money?!” “Do I owe you from a past life?! I’m gonna kill you, let’s just die together!” I raised my hands in surrender, running for my life. “Chloe! Chloe! Don’t be like this! Let me explain…” The butler, arriving late and missing everything, quietly pulled out his phone and dialed. “Hello, sir. You might not believe this, but the Madam, who was too weak to walk earlier, is currently chasing someone with a knife.” 3 Chloe refused to pay my debt directly. She ruthlessly made me work it off as a maid in her villa. One thousand dollars an hour. I humbly started my career as a domestic servant. Because she was emotionally unstable, she often threw things and refused to eat. So, when the chef’s food was sent back to the kitchen again, everyone looked defeated. The head chef even started questioning his life choices. I glanced at the floating text: [ The heroine is basically anorexic. So pitiful. ] [ Ever since her parents went bankrupt and jumped off a building a few years ago, she’s been all alone. Husband doesn’t love her, son doesn’t love her. I would have given up too. ] [ It’s a tragic novel, what do you expect? Later, the male lead will force her to donate a kidney to the female villain. She almost dies on the table, and THEN he starts his redemption arc! Can’t wait! ] I walked into the kitchen and started chopping vegetables like I was chopping up a scumbag. I made a bowl of noodles and excitedly brought it to Chloe. Chloe had no appetite. She turned her head away, refusing to eat even when I tried to force her. She said bluntly: “I want to vomit when I see food. I can’t eat.” I raised an eyebrow at her dramatic flair. I picked up a piece of beef with chopsticks and switched to a baby voice: “Here comes the airplane~” “Say ahhh~” Chloe’s mouth opened wider than my fist. … Heh. Women. The chat was losing it: [ Is Taylor a new character? I’m dying laughing. She knows exactly how to handle the heroine. ] [ Has anyone noticed the heroine is gaining weight? She looks so much healthier now. Her beauty is coming back! ] [ Who is this Taylor? She keeps calling the heroine ‘bestie’, but she wasn’t in the story before? ] … 4 These days, with me by her side, Chloe rarely lost control. During my time in the Underworld, I learned everything about her last ten years. I knew about the nightmares of her parents jumping. I knew about her husband, Julian, keeping a mistress who came to the house to humiliate her. I knew Julian turned a blind eye, forcing her to apologize to the mistress on her knees. She had lost herself, pushed around like a puppet with no strings. … Today, I pestered Chloe to take a walk in the front garden. The chat sighed: [ Damn, bestie power is real. If the husband asked, he would have gotten a pillow to the face. ] [ Wait, I remember this plot point. This is when the grandparents bring back her demon spawn son! ] [ Taylor, don’t let Liam see her! He hates his mom. He’s her biological son but refuses to acknowledge her. ] … Before the text could finish, two elegantly dressed elderly people walked into the yard, holding a child’s hand. Chloe and I were currently fighting for space on a swing bench. Chloe smiled at me. But for some reason, this scene triggered her son, Liam. Liam furiously threw his limited edition model car on the ground, charged at us, and screamed: “Get lost! Why are you sitting on my swing!” He started shoving Chloe’s legs with all his might. Chloe’s smile froze. She grabbed my hand insecurely but looked at Liam: “Liam, don’t be like this…” The chat was wailing: [ Sob… she carried him for ten months, how can she not love him? She really wants to be close to her son! ] [ Ungrateful wolf, just like his dad! ] [ Seriously, can someone discipline this brat? He has no manners. I want to jump into the book and spank him! ] I raised an eyebrow at this hands-on-hips, angry little meatball. Looks just like his dad. Liam huffed arrogantly, sure that Chloe wouldn’t do anything to him. He looked like he owned the place. The next second, I sneered, grabbed him by the ear, yanked him onto my lap, and spanked his butt with full force. Smack! Smack! In the distance, his grandparents, who had looked indifferent, suddenly reacted. They hobbled over with their canes as fast as they could. “Who is this crazy woman?! How dare you hit my grandson! Put him down! Put him down!” Liam howled, crying harder: “Ahhh! Grandpa, Grandma, my butt hurts! She’s hitting me! Save me woo woo woo…” I didn’t stop. I hit him harder. Hearing him cry made me excited: “You brat! If your mom won’t teach you a lesson, your godmother will!” When I got tired, the grandparents snatched Liam from my arms and started wailing: “Oh my god! Are the servants deaf?! Security? Where is security?!” Three of them, hugging and crying. The chat exploded: [ Holy sht holy sht holy sht! Sis, you are my hero! You really did it!* ] [ Wait guys, why does the heroine look like she’s trying not to laugh? She looks… happy? ] [ Omg, she IS laughing! She’s not even hiding it! She’s laughing so loud! I feel like she’s about to applaud! Hahaha! ] The servants rushed over with spatulas and brooms, but when they saw the old couple pointing at me, they froze. Liam wiped his tears, face red, stomping his feet. He rushed at me to hit me. His grandparents joined in, grabbing my clothes. Chloe saw the situation going south and tried to block them with her arms. The servants rushed to break it up. Chaos. Liam wound up a chubby fist, but before he could hit me, I sat on the ground and started wailing: “Oh my god! Is there no justice?! Help! Help! Liam is hitting people! None of the kids in the Hope Class will play with him! Oh my god~” Liam blinked his big eyes, confused. Then he waved his hands frantically, trying to explain: “Liar! You bad woman! I didn’t touch you! …I… I didn’t!” Seeing me pushed down, Chloe, who was always composed, suddenly hardened her face. She shoved the people around her away. No one expected the gentle, patient mother to grab Liam by the collar, drag him into her arms, and spank him just as hard as I did. Liam started howling again. His grandparents couldn’t believe their eyes. They thought Chloe had gone insane: “Chloe Lu! You little bitch! You’ve lost your mind! I’m telling Julian! Let’s see if he tolerates this rebellion!” The servants tried to intervene: “Madam, please let the young master go! The master will be angry! Madam…!” Chloe ignored them. Her voice was ice cold: “Liam! What did Mommy tell you?! Can you hit people?! “What do you say now?!” Liam was stunned by the beating. He cried and begged: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I was wrong… I was wrong! Stop hitting me! Woo woo woo…” The servants stopped intervening. The grandparents stopped wailing. Everyone watched Chloe discipline her child live. “Who are you sorry to?! Speak!” I leaned in and whispered in Liam’s ear: “It’s Godmother.” Liam struggled violently. Seeing my smug face, he turned red, snot and tears flying: “I don’t want to call this bad woman Godmother! I don’t want to woo woo woo…” Chloe raised her hand again. Liam surrendered. He stopped crying and forced a smile: “Sorry Godmother, I was wrong.” I nodded with satisfaction. The chat was a mess, firing off confetti for me: [ Damn! Did I see that right? The brat never listened to her before! He always hurt her! She gave up on him! Taylor used a little trick and got the heroine back in the game! ] [ I’ve never seen the heroine this angry! Even when the husband paraded the mistress in front of her, she did nothing. Taylor gets pushed gently and she snaps… ] [ So satisfying! Following Taylor is like watching a revenge drama! I will follow Sister Tay forever! ] [ Heroine: You touch my bestie, I destroy your world (and beat my son). ] Liam’s grandparents were so angry they almost fainted. They called Julian immediately: “Come back quick! Your wife is leading a rebellion!”

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Seven years after my divorce from Ethan. We ran into each other in a flower shop. He was there to buy flowers for his pregnant wife. I was just hiding from the rain. After a moment of charged silence, we managed to say hello. Ethan asked, politely, how I’d been these past few years. I answered, just as politely, that everything was fine. As we were about to part, he said something out of the blue. “You seem different, Leah.” I just smiled, offering no reply. The truth is, nothing about me had changed. I had just stopped loving him. 1. A damp, cold wind snaked through the gap in the door, and for a long moment, the only sound in the small shop was the relentless drumming of rain against the windowpanes. The awkward quiet was finally broken when the florist emerged from the back, cradling a bouquet of irises. “Mr. Vance, you and your wife are so sweet,” she said, beaming. “Coming all the way out in this weather to buy her flowers.” Ethan took the bouquet, his gaze flickering instinctively toward me. He had a habit of over-explaining. “Nora’s been a little emotional during the pregnancy,” he murmured. “The flowers seem to help…” I nodded and offered a few bland compliments. Seeing the rain outside begin to let up, I picked up my bag, ready to leave. As I reached the door, Ethan’s hand suddenly shot out and closed around my wrist. “Where do you live? Let me give you a ride.” “That’s not necessary.” I took a half-step back, creating a careful distance between us. My voice was perfectly steady. “I wouldn’t want your wife to get the wrong idea.” As I turned to walk away, I thought I heard him say something else. The wind was too loud; the words were lost. The only casualty of the encounter was the breakfast pastry in my bag, now soaked through with rain. A shame. I tossed the ruined croissant into a nearby trash can without a second thought. A gust of wind billowed the sleeve of my coat, exposing the faint, silvery scars that lined my wrist—souvenirs from a past life. I paused, the thought striking me with a strange lack of emotion. This was the seventh year since my divorce from Ethan. And the third year since I had truly, finally, let him go. There was no pang of sadness, none of the hysteria that had defined our separation. Looking at him had been like looking at a complete stranger. The rain had stopped. The sky was beginning to clear. I pulled my sleeve down and headed for the bakery. Stella, the young woman who helps me out, greeted me with a wide grin. “Leah, you’re here! I found a box when I was cleaning out the storage closet.” She pointed to a dusty cardboard carton in the corner. “Should I keep it, or toss it with the rest of this junk? I need to make room for the new dough sheeter.” I wiped the layer of dust from the lid. And there it was, in elegant, looping script: Ethan’s handwriting. For Leah. Stella’s interest was immediately piqued. “Ooh, who’s this from?” she teased. “Fancy packaging. Somebody was trying to impress you.” She eagerly scanned the box for a signature. When her eyes landed on the familiar name, she froze. Her voice dropped to a stuttering whisper. “Ethan Vance?” She looked up at me, her eyes wide. “Wait, the Ethan Vance? The legendary genius, the astrophysicist from MIT?” Her voice climbed with each question. “The one who discovered that new asteroid and was in all the magazines? That handsome-as-hell Ethan Vance?!” Stella’s gaze was now filled with a kind of bewildered reverence. “Leah, who are you?” I lifted the lid of the box. My voice was calm, a simple statement of fact. “I’m Ethan Vance’s ex-wife.” The paranoid, unhinged ex-wife. The one who had a stint in a psychiatric hospital. The one he considered the greatest shame of his life. 2. Under Stella’s relentless questioning, I finally sat down and told her the story of Ethan and me. When I first met Ethan Vance, he wasn’t some celebrated boy genius. He was just the problem child from down the street, the weird, quiet kid everyone in the neighborhood whispered about. No friends, no family to speak of. His parents were in the middle of a nasty divorce and treated him like a piece of luggage they were both trying to lose. The winters in Boston are bone-deep cold. I found him one evening huddled in the stairwell of our apartment building, shivering in a threadbare sweatshirt. He looked so lost. I couldn’t just leave him there, so I brought him home. One day, while we were all playing a board game, my father noticed something incredible about the way Ethan’s mind worked with numbers. It was a flash of lightning. From that day on, everything changed. My dad saw a spark in him that no one else had, and he fanned it into a flame. At ten, Ethan won the National Math Olympiad. At fourteen, he got early admission to MIT. By sixteen, a paper he published was making waves across the globe, and awards started piling up. Suddenly, the same parents who couldn’t get rid of him fast enough were fighting tooth and nail for custody. But Ethan did something none of them expected. He knelt before my father and bowed his head, a gesture so formal and final it silenced the room. “I know who was good to me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I know who really loves me. From now on, you and Mom are my real parents.” He looked at me. “I’ll take care of you both. I’ll always take care of Leah.” From that day forward, Ethan’s trajectory was a straight line pointing up, but he never tried to leave me behind. When MIT accepted him, he insisted they find a place for me, lobbying for them to lower their admission standards. When he was offered a teaching position after his doctorate, he demanded they create an administrative role for me in his department. I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to keep up. But Ethan would look at me with that unwavering intensity. “When I was eight, my parents left me in that stairwell. I sat there all night, from dusk till dawn. You were the one who found me, Leah. You brought me home. I swore to myself in that moment that I would never, ever leave you. I wouldn’t be who I am today without you. No matter how high I fly, I will never let you go.” That was Ethan. Stubborn to his core. Once he fixed on something, he never let go. It was true for his research projects. It was true when he pursued me. And, it turned out, it was true when he fell for someone else. “He cheated?” Stella’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “But you guys were childhood sweethearts. You grew up together. After all that, he cheated?” She leaned forward. “Who was she? Some rich heiress? A supermodel? One of those scheming, femme fatale types you see in the movies?” None of the above. Ethan’s affair was with a dark and wiry, entirely unremarkable girl who sold flowers from a cart at the farmer’s market. By the time he was twenty-seven, Ethan had achieved more professionally than most people do in a lifetime. He was no longer chasing accolades or money. He started pouring his energy into personal hobbies. He had no interest in stocks or golf or any of the usual pastimes. Instead, he developed a sudden, all-consuming passion for botany. Exotic imports, cheap annuals, common daisies, rare orchids—Ethan bought them all, filling a small greenhouse he’d built behind our house. His favorite, he always said, was the iris. The same type I had given him as a seedling for his birthday years ago. “This is the plant that started it all,” he told me once, his eyes gleaming. “To think that such an unremarkable seed, with the right human intervention, can be cultivated into something so magnificent. The process… it’s fascinating.” He said he loved flowers. But what he loved more was the process of making them bloom. In that small, glass-walled world, he was God. He decided what flourished and what withered. Life and death were entirely up to him. I never really understood what he meant. A flower was a flower. It bloomed when it bloomed. Why try to control it so much? But Nora, the flower girl who was helping him unload a shipment of soil that day, looked up at him with wide, adoring eyes. “Professor Vance is right,” she said, her voice breathy with awe. “I feel the same way. A flower’s beauty depends entirely on the gardener’s care. Look how well this iris grew. That was all my work.” And just like that, on a crisp autumn day surrounded by blooming irises, they connected. Because of the flowers. And because of me. 3. After that, Ethan started ordering flowers from Nora all the time. Roses, lilies, lilacs, peonies. The house we lived in began to look less like a home and more like a botanical garden. And as the flowers accumulated, so did the time they spent together. Then one day, Ethan came to me with a proposal. He wanted to sponsor Nora’s education. “She’s just a teenager, Leah. She’s brilliant and hardworking. It’s a tragedy to let that kind of potential go to waste.” Nora stood beside him, nervously picking at the thick calluses on her hands. A small, anxious smile played on her chapped lips. “I’ll study hard, I promise,” she said, her eyes fixed on me. “My grades were good. I only had to drop out of school because my mom was in a car accident and I had to support my family. If you just give me a chance, I swear I won’t let you down.” Her young face was etched with a weariness that didn’t belong on someone her age. Looking into her earnest eyes, I was suddenly reminded of an eight-year-old boy, huddled and helpless in a cold stairwell. My heart softened. For a long time, I treated Nora like a younger sister. I bought her new clothes, taught her about skincare, and helped her navigate the social cues she’d never had a chance to learn. She called me her big sister, swore I was the kindest person she’d ever met, and promised that one day, she would repay my kindness. And she didn’t disappoint me. She was accepted into the very university where Ethan and I both worked. The night she received her acceptance letter, she climbed into Ethan’s bed. I had left work early that day, planning to cook a special dinner to celebrate her achievement. I walked into our home to find them tangled together in our bedroom, their clothes in a heap on the floor. In that single, shattering moment, I lost my mind. I threw the celebratory cake at them, smearing frosting across their bare skin. I tore through the house like a hurricane, smashing every pot and vase, shredding every petal and leaf until our home was a graveyard of flowers. Ethan shielded Nora with his body, his eyes cold as he watched my rampage. “That’s enough, Leah. Close the door on your way out.” His voice was flat. “You may not have any shame, but Nora does.” Between me and Nora, his choice was clear and instantaneous. He had chosen the other woman. I couldn’t breathe. I demanded he give me an explanation. He just frowned. “You are still my wife, Leah. As long as you don’t make trouble, Nora will never threaten your position.” Nora, for her part, scrambled to her knees in front of me, tears streaming down her face. “Sister, I know I’ve wronged you, but Ethan and I are in love! We’re soulmates. We understand each other in a way no one else can. Don’t worry, I’ll never forget your kindness. I don’t need a title, I won’t fight you for anything. Just please, let me stay by his side!” I was only in my twenties. I was proud, and I had never known a hurt like this. I sent a formal complaint to the university, an email detailing their unethical and inappropriate relationship. I wanted to expose them. But reality delivered a swift, brutal lesson. The university was never going to fire a star like Ethan Vance. Instead, to appease him, they put me on disciplinary probation. Ethan then went a step further, releasing a public statement to the faculty, asking his colleagues to look out for Nora. “She is my student,” he wrote. “She is brilliant, diligent, and hardworking. I hope you will all, for my sake, give her the support she deserves. She has overcome immense hardship to get here. She may not have the most polished academic record, but in my eyes, she is the finest student I have ever had the privilege of teaching. She is my greatest pride.” He even admitted to pulling strings to get her into the university, acknowledging it was against the rules. He didn’t care. All he wanted was to ensure Nora had a brilliant future. And me? What was I? A joke? A footnote? I hid at home, crying myself to sleep every night, haunted by the smirking, whispering faces of colleagues and strangers. Ethan continued to tend to his irises, unbothered. “Don’t you get it yet, Leah?” he said to me one evening, not even looking up from his pruning. “Your job, your reputation, your entire status—it all comes from me. Without me, you are nothing. I told you Nora wouldn’t affect your position. Just be reasonable. Can’t we just live our lives in peace?” No. We couldn’t. I couldn’t bear it, living with a husband whose heart and mind were constantly with another woman. I started fighting back. I became hysterical, vindictive. I launched a scorched-earth campaign against them. When Ethan gave a major lecture, I swapped his presentation slides with intimate photos of him and Nora. When they gave a joint interview for a university publication, I stormed the room and screamed the truth about their affair. I wrote countless letters. I posted anonymous videos. All I got for my efforts was a diagnosis. Ethan was too smart. He provoked me into these manic episodes, then calmly recorded my breakdowns and presented them as evidence of my instability. His intellect, his status, his intimate knowledge of my every weakness—he used it all to crush me. In the end, I was the one who lost everything. I was fired from my job. My graduate degree was revoked. And then, Ethan Vance, my husband, had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. My voice was steady as I told this to Stella, but her eyes were red. She sniffled, wiping at tears. “What happened then?” Then, in the sterile quiet of the hospital, I found out I was nearly five months pregnant. And Ethan came to take me home. 4. The existence of the child forced Ethan into a truce. He checked me out of the hospital, took my hand, and spoke in that calm, rational voice I had come to hate. “Leah, I know I made a mistake. But you can’t keep acting like this. Your parents… they’re worried sick. People are gossiping about them everywhere they go. You’re not a child anymore. Can’t you stop being so selfish?” He placed my hand on my still-flat stomach. “Think about the baby. Think about your parents.” A tear slid down my cheek and landed on my knuckles. This time, I was the one who gave in. The fight had gone out of me. My spirit was broken. I spent my days like a ghost, wandering through that house filled with another woman’s flowers, staring into space. Ethan’s life became a neatly organized schedule. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays were for me. He would come home, read to my growing belly, and talk about prenatal education. Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays were for Nora. With her, he explored the sweet, dizzying passion of new love. He, a man with a chronic stomach condition, would accompany Nora to every trendy, new restaurant she wanted to try—spicy food, greasy food, bubble tea, ice cream. Whatever she liked, he ate without complaint. This was the man who once believed wasting ten minutes was a cardinal sin, now sitting patiently through Nora’s favorite vapid romantic comedies. This was the man who valued his career above all else, now engaging in childish antics to make her laugh. He put her name on one of his academic papers—in a completely different field—to boost her credentials. He blew off important seminars and played pranks on his colleagues, all to amuse her. He ground my dignity into the dust. And with it, he trampled the rules and ethics of the world he supposedly revered. The final, explosive moment came with the proposal. That was the year Ethan discovered a new asteroid, a feat that propelled him from academic stardom to mainstream fame. He was featured in international magazines, his brilliant mind and handsome face suddenly everywhere. And at this pinnacle of his life, he chose to share the glory with Nora. He named the asteroid Nora’s Horizon. Beneath the horizon, Ethan Vance and Nora promised to be together forever. On the night he officially received the award, he held a private ceremony for her at the city’s planetarium. Beneath the projected image of the asteroid that bore her name, he staged a wedding. When I saw Nora, radiant in a white gown, walking toward him… when I saw them exchange vows under that canopy of artificial stars, something inside me finally, irrevocably, snapped. We never had a wedding. I had begged him for one, but he had always dismissed it. “Leah, you know me. I hate all that superficial pomp and circumstance,” he’d said. “It’s a waste of time and energy that could be better spent on my work.” Because I loved him, I accepted it. And because I loved him, I had lost everything. My suppressed rage erupted. I stormed into the ceremony in front of all their guests, ripped the veil from Nora’s head, and slapped her hard across the face, twice. Ethan’s reaction was swift. He threw a glass of ice water in my face. His voice was arctic. “You’ve crossed a line, Leah.” He told me he wanted a divorce. He was leaving with Nora. I refused. I couldn’t accept it. I wouldn’t let him go. “If you walk out that door tonight,” I sobbed, climbing onto the railing of the planetarium’s observation deck, “I’ll jump, and I’ll take this baby with me.” Ethan didn’t leave. He pushed me. Maybe he only meant to scare me. To call my bluff. But the result was the same. I lost the child I had wanted so desperately. And I found myself back in the psychiatric hospital. This time, the diagnosis was severe depression.

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