Category: English

When the Doppelgangers invaded, I awakened the “Human Mimic System.” The rules were simple: Do something irrational, and I’d earn Mimic Points. These points could upgrade my body parts, allowing me to perform horrific feats—like popping my eyeballs out of their sockets. One day, a group of Doppelgangers gathered, whispering, “I feel like there’s a human hiding among us.” 1 I’m a horror game junkie. Escape rooms, puzzle solvers, battle royales, spotting the imposter—you name it, I’ve played it. Everyone knows the lore: Doppelgangers mimic, kill, and replace humans. Of course, I never thought I’d see one in real life. It was Saturday, and I was trying to activate my new system. This “cheat code” had been in my head for a week, but I hadn’t figured out how to use it. Today, I decided to stalk a random dog. Would stalking a stray dog count as “irrational behavior”? I had no idea. As I walked out of the campus gate, something felt off. A cold gaze followed me, but I couldn’t pinpoint the source. As long as it wasn’t PETA, I was fine. Shaking off my paranoia, I stuck to the plan. I picked a stray mutt on the street and started following it. If you’ve ever been chased by a dog, you know the drill: you walk past, it watches. You run, it barks and chases. Today, the roles were reversed. The dog stopped; I stopped. The dog walked; I walked. The poor thing kept looking back, clearly terrified. Ding. The system chime rang in my head. [Mimic Points +10. A Doppelganger witnessed this event and experienced a cognitive error.] [Note: The entity chasing the dog is your imitator.] [Doppelganger Exposure +50.] [When Exposure reaches 100, you will assimilate the Doppelganger.] A chill ran down my spine. Doppelgangers were real. This was definitely not good news. Imagine the anxiety of realizing everything around you is unpredictable. In games, I’ve accidentally let Doppelgangers into safe zones, leading to gruesome massacres. They could be your friends, your neighbors, your RA, your roommate… Terrifying. In games, you can reload a save. In reality, you can’t. Especially now, when the news of the invasion hasn’t broken yet. How many of them are there? No one knows. Putting aside my fear, I had to deal with the imitator first. To do that, I needed to keep racking up Mimic Points. As the dog whimpered and ran away with its tail between its legs, I dumped all 10 points into the “Brain” stat. [Brain +10. You will generate more “human-like” ideas.] A spark of inspiration hit me—I was going to get a manicure for a chicken foot. Wait, that idea made me blush instantly. I should have put 5 points into “Thick Skin.” This was going to be social suicide. With a heavy heart, I bought three braised chicken feet. I accidentally ate two on the way. Resisting the urge to eat the last one, I clutched it in my hand. I scanned the people around me. Do I need new glasses? Why haven’t I spotted the Doppelganger yet? I walked into a nail salon, holding the chicken foot. I took a deep breath. “Hi, can you give my chicken foot a manicure?” The nail tech looked at me blankly, question marks practically floating above her head. Oh god, I wanted to dig a hole and die. After adding, “I’ll pay extra,” she reluctantly agreed. The mechanical voice rang again: [Mimic Points +10. A Doppelganger witnessed this event. Cognitive error deepening.] [Note: The entity manicuring the chicken foot is your imitator.] [Doppelganger Exposure +50. Total Exposure: 100.] [When you identify the Doppelganger, you will wear its skin.] So it’s basically a skin system? I walked out of the salon holding a glamorized chicken foot. The sun felt exceptionally hot today, burning my face. It felt like my face had been upgraded and reinforced. The nail tech did her best, but my wallet was empty. If my boyfriend didn’t bring me breakfast, I was at risk of eating grass for the next two weeks. Worst case scenario, I could try dumpster diving. Ignoring my wandering thoughts, I dumped the new 10 points into “Eyes.” [Eyes +10. Eye adjustability increased. You can slightly control pupil color, bloodshot level, pupil size, and detachment.] My eyelid twitched. I thought it would boost observation skills. These upgrades were getting weird. At this rate, I wouldn’t know who was more like a Doppelganger—me or them. I opened my front-facing camera. Under my control, red veins crept across my whites, making me look sleep-deprived. Not enough. I tried turning the whole eye white. Just a pale glaze, not quite horror movie level. Shrinking the pupils? Still not pinpoint enough. I needed more points to make it useful. More importantly, I realized something: I only got points when a Doppelganger was watching. Identifying it immediately might be a mistake. I should farm it for points. A new idea popped into my head: “Take a cat to the vet for neutering, then lie on the operating table myself.” I really should have put those 5 points into Thick Skin. After capturing a stray tabby, I dragged it to the vet clinic. “Hi, do you do neutering here?” The cat in my arms started squirming, sensing danger. The nurse nodded and smiled. “Yes, we do.” I put the cat down, kept a straight face, and climbed onto the examination table. “Please neuter me!” The nurse’s eyes widened. Even the cat looked confused. She blurted out, “Huh?” System prompt: [Mimic Points +20. Your behavior has completely distorted the imitator.] [Doppelganger Exposure +100. Note: It is now purple with confusion.] 2 Under the nurse’s “calling the psych ward” gaze, I rolled off the table. Walking out of the clinic felt like escaping death. Social death is still death. That was terrifying. I almost clawed through the floor with my toes. She even patiently explained why she couldn’t do it, which made me even more ashamed. Taking a deep breath, I noticed the sky was getting dark. I immediately spotted someone casually following a dog. As expected, she was the Doppelganger mimicking me. Looking closely, she did resemble me. In dim light, she would be my twin. Seeming to notice my gaze, she subtly showed off the manicure on the chicken foot she was holding. Like she was saying, Look how beautiful this is. Oblivious to how abstract and insane it was. The moment I recognized her, her death sentence was signed. But I’d spare her for now. I continued my “human” behavior—talking to thin air. “What did you think of the surgery?” Pause. “Seems you rate the doctor highly.” Pause. “I’ll treat you to dinner tonight, don’t argue.” Pause. “Just remember to bring your wallet.” After a string of soliloquies, the system chimed: [Mimic Points +5. The imitator believes it has gathered sufficient information and will attack you in a secluded area. Please identify it before the attack.] Night had fallen. The Doppelganger stopped hiding, its gaze filled with naked hunger. Walking through the deserted streets, the cold feeling grew stronger, like I was about to be flayed alive. I reached a dark alley and stopped. “You are a Doppelganger, aren’t you?” She looked surprised, then smirked cruelly. “When did you figure it out?” System prompt: [Do not use questions when identifying.] Strict. I turned around, pointed at her, and said, “You are a Doppelganger.” [Identification Successful. Urban Legend Unlocked: The Human Mimic.] [In the city’s shadows, Doppelgangers lurk. Among them hides the Human Mimic. Its behavior deviates from the norm, bringing error, chaos, and death to Doppelgangers.] [Tonight, a Doppelganger disturbed the Mimic.] [Legend Unlock Progress: 2%. The Doppelganger fears you.] The Doppelganger before me looked terrified. Inch by inch, it crumbled, turning into a set of summer clothes that the system absorbed. I pulled up the description: [Congratulations, you have acquired Identity 1: Incomplete Doppelganger (Mimic Form). She was a failure even among her kind.] [Note: Identity becomes invalid if exposed.] [But don’t worry. Beneath the Doppelganger skin lies the Human Mimic.] 3 “Did you guys hear? Someone from Room 305 went missing.” As soon as I got back to the dorm, my roommate Sarah brought up the news. “Is it that tall, skinny girl?” Emily asked. Sarah looked at her. “Oh, you knew too?” Jessica put down her study materials. “Is this a big deal? Maya, have you heard?” I shook my head. “Nope.” Thinking to myself, Is this related to the Doppelgangers? Sarah looked at us. “Her sister came to the school demanding answers. It might blow up depending on how the admin handles it.” Emily tutted. “Her RA is weird too. The girl’s been gone for two weeks and he didn’t even think to look for her.” Sarah joked, “Maybe he’s a Doppelganger?” My heart skipped a beat. “It’s possible.” She laughed. “I didn’t mean the ones from your game.” I put my suspicion aside. It wasn’t easy to explain Doppelgangers right now. I could show off my adjustable eyes, but that would probably get me chains in a research lab, not understanding. Before the truth surfaced, I had to be careful. I asked, “What’s the RA’s name again?” Emily recalled, “Something like Lee… Fly?” Jessica added, “Lee Xinfei. He’s the advisor for the music club. He’s a nice guy, don’t spread rumors.” I looked at Jessica. I noticed she was watching a lecture video at 1x speed on her laptop. She had headphones on earlier, so I hadn’t noticed. If I recall correctly, she always watches videos at 2x speed. Noticing my gaze, she asked, “What are you looking at, Maya?” I laughed it off. “Nothing, just spacing out.” If she had already been replaced, the situation was worse than I thought. The invasion might have started a long time ago. After lights out, I put my pillow at the foot of the bed, lay facing the other way, and covered my head completely with the duvet. Basically reversing my sleeping position. A normal person wouldn’t do this. I was just testing. Then, the sound I didn’t want to hear rang out: [Mimic Points +1. A Doppelganger witnessed this. It is confused.] I shivered. This meant one of my roommates was gone forever. I dumped 20 points into my “Arms.” I hoped for a strength boost. I needed to protect myself and get revenge. [Arms +20. Your arm joints can now bend freely. Please ignore the clicking sounds.] [Action Unlocked: Handstand. Movement speed increased by 50% while in a handstand.] [Action Unlocked: Crawl. You can briefly cling to walls while crawling.] [Passive Unlocked: Fear Harvest. Reaching 90% triggers a random effect.] Looking at the list, I pondered. Seems like hitting 20 points triggers a major change. I had 6 points left. I’d save them. I had skills now, but couldn’t use them yet. It was a sleepless night. Excitement, fear, sadness, and hatred mixed together. I decided to text my boyfriend, warning him about the Doppelgangers. At 1 AM, he replied: “My roommate sucks at gaming, he must be a Doppelganger.” How to explain? “Not internet slang. The horror game kind. You streamed those games, you know them.” He understood. “The monsters that mimic humans?” I sent a thumbs-up emoji. “Like the Mandela Catalogue, but maybe worse.” I sent him a graphic: Check for biological inconsistencies. Check for stiff movements or expressions. Check for repetitive speech patterns. Check if they stare at you constantly, causing unease. Look for tiny non-human traits. A while later, he replied, “Actually, it is weird. Star is left-handed, but he smokes with his right hand. Today he used his left.” “Is he a Doppelganger?” I sent several messages after that, but he didn’t reply. My eye twitched. Did something happen? The next morning, he replied, “Fell asleep last night. Tell me more later.” Eating breakfast downstairs, he asked, “You know a lot about this?” Alarm bells rang. Was he replaced? “Not much more than you.” He nodded. “There haven’t been any new Doppelganger games in three years. Why bring it up?” “I’m replaying old ones.” He looked disappointed. “Thought there was a new game to stream. My follower count is dropping.” His logic seemed sound, but I had my own test. “Come with me to the car wash.” He was surprised. “You bought a car? Did you win the lottery? Don’t forget me when you’re rich. I can call you Mom if the breakup fee is high enough.” In my bag were two black rooks from a Xiangqi (Chinese Chess) set. I planned to use them on Jessica, but he was first. At the car wash, he asked, “Where’s the car? We walked here.” I pulled out the two chess pieces (which are called ‘Cars’ in Chinese). “Wash these cars.” He gave me the Nick Young question mark face. ??? “You’re hilarious.” “Find a tap and wash them yourself, don’t prank the workers.” I stared into his eyes, heart pounding. No system prompt. I sighed in relief. “Never mind. Let’s go.” He looked at me. “You’re acting weird. Are you a Doppelganger?” I hesitated, but decided not to reveal my identity. “Just be careful. Some have infiltrated.” He looked down at me. “Are you tired lately?” I felt the difficulty of convincing him. I could convince anyone easily, I just chose not to. Selfishness won over love. “Just keep an eye out.” He smiled. “I’m a horror game streamer. Don’t worry.” After parting ways, I met up with Jessica to go shopping. My next move: buy the same item repeatedly at the same stall. After buying lilies for the sixth time at the corner florist, the prompt chimed: [Mimic Points +10.] [Over ten Doppelgangers witnessed this.] 4 I froze, holding the flowers. I scanned the florist, Jessica, and the bustling street outside. Jessica complained, “If you like them so much, buy more. I’m losing my mind here.” The clerk kept her customer service smile, but her eyes were weird. “Enough. Let’s go back.” Back in the dorm, I threw all the lilies in the trash, put the empty vase on the balcony, and filled it to the brim with water. Jessica stared at me like the screaming marmot meme. “Huh?!” System: [Mimic Points +10. The Doppelganger’s brain has been impacted. It cannot believe what it is seeing is real and not a hallucination.] I smiled at her. Gotcha. As I went to close the door, she quietly locked it. The other two roommates were out and wouldn’t be back soon. She was thinking the same thing I was. I smiled and didn’t call her out. Jessica walked up to me. “Maya, I lied yesterday. I know something about the missing girl.” I feigned surprise. “Why didn’t you say so?” She looked around and whispered, “Because one of the other two is a Doppelganger.” The weasel paying respects to the chicken. I sneered internally but kept a straight face. “How can Doppelgangers be real?” She looked anxious. “You have to believe me. Her death is related to them.” “She died?” Jessica nodded. “I saw it. Two weeks ago, I went to Mr. Lee’s office about the choir. I saw that girl leaving.” “She mentioned our room. She said: ‘Mr. Lee, someone in 301 is following me.’” “Mr. Lee told her to calm down, said it was impossible.” “She said: ‘I’ll find proof!’” I said, “That doesn’t prove she’s dead.” Jessica looked at me. “I have proof. Under Emily’s bed. Go look if you don’t believe me.” Unsure of her game, I shook my head. “I can’t rummage through people’s stuff.” She looked exasperated. “Why are you so stubborn!” Jessica stood up, went to Emily’s bed, and pulled out a human skin. “See? Believe me now?” I looked at her strangely. “But that’s your bed.” She smiled sinisterly. “Yes, it is.” I bent down to look. My two eyeballs popped out like ping pong balls and rolled towards her, staring straight up. I stood up, empty sockets facing her. “My eyes fell out. Can you pick them up for me?”

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My best friend was dead-set on setting me up with her brother. She swore he was the total package: handsome, sweet, with an eight-pack, and he even knew how to cook. All I had to do was meet him once, she promised, and I’d be completely hooked. After weeks of her relentless pestering, I finally gave in and agreed to go to her family’s house. I didn’t see her brother at first, but I did see her older brother. My best friend, Ruby, leaned in and whispered, “My other brother’s a great guy too, but he’s got a kid from a previous relationship. Word is, the trashy mother just took off after giving birth, leaving him heartbroken and raising their daughter all by himself.” I didn’t think much of it. But halfway through my blind date, a little girl came running up to me, tugged on my sleeve, and called me “Mommy.” And following right behind her was the very same brother Ruby had just told me about. My ex. The man I had dumped three years ago. 1 Ruby and I were partners in poverty. We met working a soul-crushing part-time job and bonded over our shared state of being perpetually broke. We split cheap takeout, shared a tiny apartment with two other people, and our wardrobes were courtesy of fast-fashion websites. To make a little extra bonus pay, we’d work ourselves to the bone, often staying at the office past midnight. Life was tough, but we made do. Then one day, Ruby casually told me she was quitting. I thought she’d been fired and was about to march into our boss’s office to give him a piece of my mind when she stopped me, a mysterious glint in her eye. “I’m rich,” she announced. It turned out Ruby was a long-lost heiress. Her biological parents, ridiculously wealthy, had finally found her. Overnight, Ruby’s savings account went from four figures to seven. But she was loyal. She didn’t forget about me after she hit the jackpot. She started treating me to fancy dinners and designer shopping sprees. “Sienna, this feeling of not having to work for anything is incredible,” she’d sigh, reclining in the back of a town car. “It’s so much easier to spend money when you didn’t actually earn it. You should quit your job too. I’ll find you a rich husband!” She was always impulsive, so I just laughed it off. But three days later, she sat me down with a dead-serious expression. “I’ve gone through all the eligible bachelors I know, and I’ve decided my brother is the perfect match for you.” Before I could refuse, she launched into a full-blown presentation. “First, he’s handsome, tall, and has a great personality, which meets all the basic requirements. Second, he’s rich, works out, and can cook, which are major bonus points. And most importantly, he’s my brother. If he ever treats you badly, I’ll be there to back you up.” She slammed her hand on the table, making her final verdict. “So, this weekend, you’re going on a date with my brother. It’s non-negotiable.” I stared at her, dumbfounded. “Ruby, I can’t.” “Why not? You’re my best friend. You deserve the best man in the world, and that includes him.” She was already pulling out her phone to call him. I lunged forward and grabbed her arm. After a bit of back-and-forth, I knew I had to tell her the secret I’d been hiding for years. “Okay, wait, just listen to me first,” I said, my voice dropping. “I… I’ve had a child. With my ex.” 2 The story of me and Noah is a cliché. We met during my study abroad program in Sydney. I saw him at a party and fell for him instantly. Then, I pursued him relentlessly. Noah was reserved and a little cold. It took me a solid six months to break through his walls. The day I confessed my feelings, he reached up and removed a small device from behind his ear, holding it out for me to see. It was a cochlear implant. “I have a congenital hearing impairment,” he said, his voice flat. “Are you sure you want to be with me?” Seeing my stunned silence, a look of resignation crossed his face. He gave a small, self-deprecating smile and started to turn away. I grabbed his arm. “I’m sure.” I didn’t care about his hearing. I genuinely, truly liked him. So I looked him in the eye and repeated, my voice firm, “Can we try this, Noah?” He stopped, and when he looked back at me, the gloom in his eyes was replaced by a sudden, brilliant light. “Okay.” Noah was a novice when it came to romance, but he was a quick study. He went from being clueless about women to understanding my every mood. He went from clumsy kisses to kisses that left me breathless and weak in the knees. I loved to melt into his arms, feeling the firm muscles of his abdomen through his thin t-shirt, my heart racing. I’ll admit, my attraction to him was intensely physical. Whenever he was near, I felt an almost uncontrollable urge to explore every inch of him. But for some reason, Noah was always incredibly restrained. There were times when he was clearly aroused, his body burning with heat, but he never crossed that final line. That all changed on Christmas Day. 3 I had spent all afternoon getting ready for our Christmas date. But just as I was about to leave, an old friend from back home, who was passing through Sydney, called and asked to meet up. His schedule was tight, and he was leaving the next day, so I had no choice but to postpone my date with Noah for an hour to grab a quick dinner with him. But Noah, who was supposed to be waiting for me at my apartment, showed up at the restaurant. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching us with an unreadable expression, his lips pressed into a thin line. After I said goodbye to my friend, Noah silently took my hand and started walking us back to my place. I tried to talk to him several times along the way, but he didn’t respond. I figured he must have forgotten to wear his implant. When he opened the apartment door, the first thing I saw was a huge Christmas tree, twinkling with lights. Beneath it, on a soft rug, were gift-wrapped boxes and a perfect, shiny apple. Before I could take it all in, he had me pinned against the wall. Noah’s hand was a firm pressure on my waist, while his other hand toyed with the strap of my dress. He looked down at me, his eyes dark. “You look beautiful tonight. Was it for your friend?” he asked, his voice low. “You two seemed to be having a good time at dinner. Laughing a lot. Are you close?” It hit me then. He wasn’t having trouble hearing me. He was jealous. I opened my mouth to explain, but his lips crashed down on mine, fierce and possessive, stealing the air from my lungs. We ended up on the sofa beneath the Christmas tree, the atmosphere in the room thick and electric. I expected him to stop at the last moment, like he always did, and disappear into the bathroom for a cold shower. But this time was different. He pulled me into his lap and reached for one of the small gift boxes. Inside was a ring. He slipped it onto my finger with an almost reverent gentleness. Pressing his forehead against mine, his other hand found the zipper of my dress. “Sienna, I’ll take responsibility for you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll marry you.” His eyes were shimmering, his long lashes wet. “So… can I?” There was no way I could say no. I leaned in and brushed my lips against his. “Yes.” That night blurred into a haze of passion that lasted until dawn. At some point, I was crying and begging him to stop, but he just smiled, mischievously taking out his cochlear implant. “What’s that, Sienna?” he’d ask, his eyes wide with fake innocence. “I can’t hear you.” The ring on my finger was a cool, constant pressure against his skin. At the time, I thought it was just a simple ring. I had no idea how much he meant it when he said he wanted to marry me. Not until I posted a picture of us holding hands on social media. A single comment jumped out at me. “Is that a HARRY WINSTON diamond?! Girl, did you bag a billionaire??” 4 I never imagined Noah came from money. And I certainly never imagined the ring on my finger was worth over half a million dollars. It was too much. I couldn’t accept it. I tried to give it back, but he just smiled at me. “You can’t return a gift.” The sunlight caught the fabric of his white t-shirt. I realized then that even his casual clothes were from obscure, high-end European brands, each shirt costing more than I made in three months. The vast difference in our financial situations suddenly felt like an insurmountable chasm. “Will your family try to force you into an arranged marriage?” I asked him one day. Noah took my hand, his grip firm. “I’ll refuse,” he said, his voice unwavering. “When I said I want to marry you, I wasn’t joking.” Our time in Sydney was pure and simple. After that Christmas, Noah shed his inhibitions. He loved taking off his implant, pulling me into thrilling, secret encounters in every corner of our apartment. We were always careful, but on our last night together, things got a little too wild. The condom broke, and in the heat of the moment, neither of us noticed. Three months later, I was pregnant. At the same time, Noah’s family began to put immense pressure on him to agree to an arranged marriage. His father threatened to disown him if he refused. Honestly, I was prepared for us to break up. But instead, Noah showed up in my city with a suitcase in hand. It was pouring rain, and he was soaked to the bone, but he was grinning. “Sienna, I’m here,” he said. “And I’m not leaving.” Youth makes you reckless, especially when it comes to love. Noah was willing to give up his family fortune to be with me, and I chose to have our child. He was the perfect partner throughout my pregnancy, taking care of my every need. But when his family cut him off financially, the prince was brought down to the gutter. He never complained, but I knew he wasn’t used to hundred-dollar clothes or crowded subways. His friends were learning to take over their family businesses, and he was crammed into a tiny rental with me. When I was seven months pregnant, he lost his cochlear implant. The original was too expensive to replace, so he had to settle for a cheaper model that didn’t work as well. One day, when we were out grocery shopping, a group of young boys surrounded him, mocking him, calling him a deafie. In that moment, Noah just stood there, completely humiliated. He, who had been coddled and praised his whole life, had never experienced such cruelty. Watching him, my heart shattered. For the first time, I realized that our stubborn insistence on being together might have been a terrible mistake. Three months later, I gave birth to a daughter. While Noah was still lost in the joy of being a new father, I told him I wanted to break up. I had my reasons all planned out. I told him his hearing impairment was a burden. I told him I wanted to marry a normal man, not be tied to a deaf one for the rest of my life. My words hit him right where I knew it would hurt the most. He flinched, his whole body seeming to shrink, as if he might break apart. Still, he tried to keep his composure, his voice trembling. “I’ll work harder, I’ll earn enough to buy a better implant, one that makes me just like everyone else. Please, don’t leave me.” He begged me for a long time that day, humbling himself in a way I’d never seen. I remained unmoved. Finally, he brought our daughter to me. “What about her?” he asked, his voice cracking. “You don’t want our baby either?” “No, I don’t.” “She’ll just get in my way. You raise her.” His mother had already told me. If I broke up with him, he could go back to his family. And they would take care of the child. Noah stared at me for a long, long time. Then, a broken, tear-filled laugh escaped him. “Sienna,” he whispered, “when we first got together, you swore you didn’t care about my hearing. If you couldn’t accept it, why did you lie to me? Was it fun, playing with me like that?” Our breakup was ugly, but in the end, I got what I wanted. We went our separate ways. Noah took our daughter and went back to his family. I moved to a new city. Before I left, his mother offered me a check as compensation. I didn’t take it. I was young, and I felt that taking the money would be a betrayal of what we once had. I never contacted Noah again, and I never saw my daughter. When I told Ruby this story, I kept the names vague, giving her just the broad strokes. She was stunned. After a long silence, she pulled me into a hug. “It’s okay, Sienna. That’s all in the past now.” “It doesn’t matter if you’ve had a kid. You’re single now, you can find love again. Not all rich families are that old-fashioned. My parents are really open-minded, you don’t have to worry.” I mumbled, “The main thing is… I’m not really over my ex.” “Then you definitely need to go on this date with my brother! You’re never getting back with your ex, so you might as well use my brother to help you move on.” Once Ruby gets an idea in her head, there’s no stopping her. From that day on, every time she saw me, she brought up the blind date. It was driving me insane. “Please, just meet him,” she’d beg. “He’s totally your type. If you don’t like him, we can leave right away, I promise.” I couldn’t take her constant nagging anymore. I finally caved. “Fine,” I sighed. “But we’re just meeting. That’s it.” 5 Ruby’s family mansion was in New York City. I was a little hesitant about going back. Noah’s family lived there too. But then I thought, New York is a huge city. We weren’t tied by some deep, cosmic fate. The chances of us running into each other were practically zero. Ruby’s parents were definitely rich. The mansion had a sprawling garden that looked like something out of a magazine. The whole way there, Ruby chattered on and on about her brother. I was only half-listening when I saw a man sitting on a veranda in the distance. His back was to me, and I could only see a sliver of his profile, but something about him felt… familiar. Ruby followed my gaze. “Oh, that’s my older brother.” “He’s really handsome too, you know,” she continued. “I thought about setting you up with him, but his love life is way too complicated.” My gossip-loving heart couldn’t resist. “What’s his story?” “Well, I heard he dated this awful girl, and they had a kid together. But right after the baby was born, she just abandoned them both and took off. He was completely heartbroken. Now he’s just focused on his career and raising his daughter, totally sworn off love.” The story sounded eerily familiar. If Ruby’s family name wasn’t Sterling, I would’ve sworn she was talking about Noah.

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1 After the real heiress returned, my parents sent me to the Isle of Innocence. Once you set foot on that island, you become prey for the wealthy. They ignored my pleas, leaving me to be passed around and tormented by the billionaires who frequented its shores. Within days, lewd photos of me on the island landed in the hands of my fiancé, Liam Sterling, the scion of Kingsbridge’s most powerful family. He didn’t defend me. Instead, he announced his engagement to the real heiress. In an interview, when a reporter asked about me, he trembled with rage. “Her? She couldn’t even keep her legs closed while she was ‘abroad.’ She’s nothing but a slut.” My parents feigned heartbreak. “We sent her overseas for a better education, and this is how she behaves! So shameless! As of today, the Thorne family no longer has this daughter!” After I was tortured to death on the island, my ex-fiancé and the real heiress held a multi-million dollar wedding, broadcast live for the whole world to see. It was an unprecedented spectacle. But even more sensational than their wedding was my wedding gift. … When the wedding officiant held up the gift, a wave of murmurs swept through the guests. “Isn’t she supposed to be in another country? What kind of stunt is she pulling now?” “She has no shame. How dare she show up and disgust everyone at Miss Thorne’s wedding!” My spirit floated in the air, my gaze fixed on that gift box. I was already dead. How could I have sent a gift? Liam’s eyes were downcast; I couldn’t read his expression. I expected him to defend Clara, just as he had done countless times before. But this time, he simply said, “Let’s see what it is.” Whispers started again. “Stella Thorne was Liam’s ex-fiancée, and she cheated on him so shamelessly. It’s only natural he’d want to see what game she’s playing.” Clara tried to stop him, but in the next second, Liam opened the box. Inside was an old phone. I recognized it. It was mine. The screen lit up, showing seven unread video files. The guests exchanged glances, their whispers growing louder. “You don’t think it’s… nudes of her from overseas, do you? Hahaha…” “Maybe she’s trying to blackmail him with her own nudes to win him back?” “Wouldn’t surprise me. Wasn’t she some kind of internet influencer before? The trashy kind. She’s capable of anything.” More than anger, I felt a strange curiosity. How did my phone get here? My mother rushed forward and snatched the phone. “This is outrageous! What is Stella trying to do? Today is Clara’s wedding! Is she deliberately trying to cause trouble?!” “She’s an ungrateful snake we raised! Even her gifts are cursed!” My father was even more direct, grabbing the phone to smash it on the ground. “Get rid of it! Don’t let it taint Clara’s wedding!” I let out a bitter, silent laugh. They didn’t seem to know I was dead. Then again, the day they abandoned me on that island, they had already considered me dead. Just as the phone was about to hit the floor, Liam’s hand shot out, catching it securely. His brow was furrowed as he looked at my parents. “I said, let’s watch.” My parents froze. The guests fell silent. Without another word, he unlocked the phone and played the first video. On the screen, the scene was from Clara’s first day back at the Thorne mansion. She stood timidly in the doorway, her eyes red, looking like a frightened rabbit. The moment she saw me, she dropped to her knees, crying, “Sister! I know you don’t want me here! I’m begging you! Please don’t send people to beat me up again!” My mother heard this and slapped me across the face. “You hired people to hurt Clara?! How could you be so vicious?!” The phone was knocked from my hand. I stumbled back. “Mom, I didn’t!” But she wouldn’t listen. She pointed a finger in my face. “Remember this: you are just the adopted daughter of this family. Know your place, and don’t you dare covet what belongs to Clara!” Before the video even finished, my parents were panicking. “We already had it investigated!” my father shouted. “It was Stella who hired thugs to attack Clara! She threatened her to stop her from coming home! We weren’t being unfair!” The video continued. In the frame, my trembling hands picked up the phone from the floor. Tears dripped onto the screen. “I really didn’t,” I whispered. The camera panned over my pale face, then down to my arm, where several large, ugly purple bruises stood out against my skin. The guests noticed. “What happened to Stella’s arm?” someone asked. My mother quickly explained, her voice strained, “She did that to herself! She’s always been an expert at playing the victim to get sympathy! She just wants attention!” A flood of comments appeared on the live stream, a tidal wave of abuse directed at me. “What a manipulative bitch! She’s a total fake!” “She looks so innocent, but she’s pure evil underneath! She deserved to be kicked out of the Thorne family!” Clara smiled smugly, then chose her moment to interrupt. “Darling! It’s our wedding day. Let’s not watch this anymore!” “Even though my sister hired people to hurt me, she’s been punished for it now. I don’t blame her anymore!” I sneered. Punished? Clara, does your conscience feel no pain at all? Liam ignored her pleading. His gaze was cold, fixed on the screen. “Is that so? I’d like to see for myself exactly how she staged all of this.” He tapped the second video. On screen, I was adjusting myself in front of the camera, preparing to record a self-tape for an upcoming audition. Though I wasn’t formally trained, I had acted in several popular web series over the years and had a small following. A director had seen my work and wanted me to audition for a role. I had thought that since I wasn’t the real heiress, I had to become exceptional in my own right to be worthy of Liam. Suddenly, the door opened and Clara walked in, an apologetic look on her face. “Sister, I know Mom and Dad moved you to the maid’s room as soon as I got back. You’re not angry, are you?” Before I could answer, her expression twisted into a manic grin. “You’re such an idiot!” “Can’t you see they only have eyes for me? Why are you still clinging to this family?” “All I did was mention that you might have sent people to hurt me, and they wanted to remove you from the family registry immediately! Isn’t that hilarious?” I didn’t want to fight with her. “It’s not funny, Clara,” I said coldly. “I don’t want anything that’s yours. Please stop coming to me with this nonsense.” My lack of reaction seemed to infuriate her even more. She lunged forward, grabbing a handful of my hair, her face a mask of rage. “Stella Thorne! What right do you have to say you don’t want what’s mine?!” “Liam is mine! If you hadn’t stolen my identity as the Thorne heiress, would you have ever had the chance to marry him?!” “I’m warning you, break off the engagement! Or the bruises on your arm will be the least of your worries!” The video ended abruptly. The hall was silent for a few seconds before someone shouted, “What the hell?! So the one being bullied wasn’t Clara, it was Stella?!” “So Stella never hired anyone to hurt Clara? It was all a lie?!” “The one who staged everything… was Clara!” My parents’ faces turned white as they looked at their daughter. Clara’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “You’ve misunderstood!” she cried pitifully. “My sister and I were just rehearsing a scene!” “She was busy with her audition back then, and she gave me these lines to help her practice!” A flicker of understanding crossed my father’s face, and he chimed in, “I can’t believe how calculating Stella is! This was obviously a trap she set up in advance!” My mother nodded vigorously. “And our kind-hearted Clara was just helping her! For Stella to use this video to slander her sister… it’s despicable!” “I bet she knows she’s filth now. She can’t be Mrs. Sterling, so she doesn’t want Clara to be either! She’s pure venom!” A few guests began to murmur their agreement. “She is filthy. I saw every one of those photos of her. She didn’t look like she was being forced.” “Exactly. To throw away a man like Liam Sterling… what was she thinking?” “So that’s how it was… No wonder the Thornes have no feelings for her! She brought it all on herself!” Floating in the air, I shivered and instinctively looked at Liam. Don’t believe them… But Liam just smiled. “I’d also like to know what she was thinking. Let’s keep watching.” He played the third video. On screen, I was beaming, speaking to the camera. “Liam! I got the part! I passed the audition! Aren’t I amazing?” “Hmph! I’m going to buy you a present, just to show you that I’m a successful woman in my own right!” “What should I get you, though?” “You already have everything…” “I’ve got it! I’ll buy a beautiful new dress and wear it when I see you! Hehe, I’m such a genius.” In the video, I rested my chin in my hands, my eyes sparkling like stars. A few comments popped up on the live stream: “Stella looks so adorable here…” “Is this really the ‘vicious’ heiress? Am I seeing things?” Liam’s hand trembled slightly, his expression unreadable. Clara grabbed his arm. “Liam! Stella is in your past! I’m the one you’re marrying now! Let’s stop, please?” When he didn’t answer, she burst into tears. “There are so many people here… you’re humiliating me…” My mother chimed in, “That’s right. Stella is overseas now, living who knows how wild a life. She’s long forgotten you. There’s no point in watching this.” No… My spirit hovered near him, wanting to scream that I had never forgotten. To my surprise, Liam just chuckled softly. He brushed Clara’s hand away and continued the video. On screen, I was still happily planning my future. The next second, Clara walked in. “Sister, what are you so happy about?” She covered her mouth in mock surprise. “Don’t tell me you actually thought Director Evans gave you the part?” I froze. “What do you mean?” Clara pulled out her phone and put it on speaker. “Director Evans? How was Stella Thorne’s acting?” A greasy, lecherous laugh came from the other end. “Her? She was just a fun little toy.” “You should have seen her. I asked her to unbutton her shirt, and she played coy for a bit, but she did it in the end.” “A girl with no shame, dreaming of becoming a big star. What a joke.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. My face flushed with shame. I pointed a trembling finger at Clara. “Why would you do this to me?” Clara crossed her arms, looking down at me. “Just a little lesson. You’d best not touch what’s mine.” Hearing the argument, my parents burst in. Seeing my state, my mother immediately rushed to protect Clara. “Stella, are you bullying your sister again?!” My father’s eyes were blazing. “You have no manners at all!” I bit my lip, refusing to explain as I had in the past. I knew it was useless. But then Clara started crying. “Mom, just now, sister said that in this house, it’s either her or me. Is that true?” “You!” My mother was shaking with rage. She slapped me, again and again. “I’m sending you away! I’m sending you away right now!” Clara sobbed, “Why not send her to the Isle of Innocence? That will teach her a lesson.” The Isle of Innocence… I’d heard of that place. An island where the rich and powerful traded and toyed with people like commodities. “No!” I dropped to my knees, clinging to my mother’s leg. “Mom, I don’t want to go there! Please don’t send me!” She kicked me away in disgust. “You don’t want to go? You’re leaving tomorrow morning!” I suddenly thought of Liam. “I’m Liam Sterling’s fiancée!” I screamed. “You can’t send me there!” My answer was another sharp slap. My father sneered. “Once you’re on that island, a plaything for billionaires, do you think the Sterling family will still want you?” “When that happens, the only one worthy of marrying into their family will be Clara!” Even as a ghost, I could feel the sting on my cheek. The parents who had raised me for twenty-two years had never loved me, not even for a second. When the video ended, someone in the crowd asked, “Weren’t we told Stella went abroad? Why was she sent to the Isle of Innocence?!” “Can anyone come back from that place… intact?!” Clara panicked, lunging for the phone. “The videos are fake! My sister faked them! She has no self-respect! She went there on her own!” But before her hand could even touch the phone, she was pinned to the floor by the Sterlings’ security guards. My parents moved to intervene but were frozen in place by a single glare. Liam’s eyes were red. He choked out the words, “What exactly did Stella endure on that island? Let’s watch… bit… by bit.”

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1 The day I got my cancer diagnosis, tabloids ran photos of my husband at a prenatal check-up with his intern. My son Jamie smashed my phone—for the first time, father and son united against me. “I’m married to Amy now,” my husband Marcus sneered. “You won’t chase her away like you did Vera.” Jamie held up his name-change papers proudly. “I took Aunt Amy’s last name too! We’re the real family!” I crumpled the diagnosis, clinging to dignity. “Then let’s divorce.” Marcus laughed. “Divorce? We were never married. Just get out if you’re leaving.” Jamie shoved me toward the door. “Get out!” As the door slammed shut, I called my mother-in-law. “You heard him—you’ll agree now.” She sighed. “Raina, the Cole family wronged you years ago.” I hung up. Suddenly, a white snake lunged at me, fangs sinking into my arm. From the balcony, Jamie cheered. “Good job, Snowy! Teach her to tattle on Aunt Amy—die!” My arm’s puncture wounds turned blackish-purple. I scrambled to my car, but a Maybach slammed into it, flipping it over. Marcus stared through the shattered windshield, eyes cold as the snake’s. “You lied about cancer? Let’s see if you die this time.” His car sped off, my screams lost to the wind. … The wind cut through me like a harbinger of death. I squeezed my arm, trying to slow the venom’s spread. My cries finally attracted a passerby. As he helped me into his car, he muttered, “Did you cross the mob or something?” A bitter smile touched my lips. “Maybe.” I barely made it to the hospital, only to find the emergency room deserted. “Mr. Cole’s new wife had a scare with the baby,” a young nurse explained, rolling her eyes. “All the doctors are with her.” She lowered her voice. “Honestly, she just ate too much, but she’s claiming it was a shock. Figures. When you’ve got someone to dote on you, you can be as dramatic as you want.” When she saw my arm, her casual demeanor vanished. She rushed to get a doctor, but Marcus blocked her path. “It’s a pet snake. How venomous can it be? She’s faking.” Jamie puffed out his chest. “Yeah! Even I can play with Snowy. That bad woman is just trying to bully my mom!” The son I had carried for ten months, calling another woman “mom,” and me, a “bad woman.” I collapsed at the door, my nails digging into the frame. “Please,” I begged, “help me…” I wasn’t afraid to die, but I refused to die here, in his territory. Marcus’s gaze flickered for a second as he saw my swollen, discolored arm, but then he sneered. “That’s an old trick, Raina. You could at least try to be more creative.” Amy fluttered her eyelashes. “Wow, sis, you must have used a lot of eyeshadow to get that effect.” Jamie, her loyal little soldier, immediately pounced on me, pinching my arm hard. “I’ll expose her!” The new life I had nurtured with my own blood and love had become my abuser’s sharpest weapon. When rubbing didn’t work, he ran to get a knife, intending to scrape the “makeup” off. A doctor quickly intervened, examining the two puncture wounds. “This is definitely a snakebite. We need to start treatment immediately!” “Liar! Snowy doesn’t bite people! She’s faking!” Jamie shrieked, swinging the small knife toward my wound. The doctor stopped him. “Mr. Cole, this is not a bite from a common pet snake. Please, tell me what kind of snake it was so we can administer the correct antivenom.” Marcus scoffed. “Didn’t you say you have cancer? You’re going to die anyway, why waste the serum?” “Mr. Cole, this is a matter of life and death!” the doctor pleaded. “This is not the time for games. Every second we delay puts the patient in more danger!” A flicker of doubt crossed Marcus’s cold eyes. Seeing this, Amy let out an exaggerated sigh. “Wow, sis, you’re amazing. You can get any man to rush to your defense, can’t you?” The temperature in the room plummeted. The look Marcus gave me was more venomous than any snakebite. “Throw her out! I want to see if a pet snake can actually kill someone.” Two security guards dragged me away. I watched in horror as Jamie slammed the door shut. The heavy frame crushed my fingers, sending a white-hot bolt of pain through me. A cold sweat broke out all over my body as the icy grip of death closed in. Just as I was about to fall into the abyss, a hand grabbed mine. “It’s a long shot, but we have to try! Don’t give up!” I had a brush with death, but I survived. After checking my vitals, the doctor let out a long breath. “We took a gamble and used the right antivenom, but you missed the optimal treatment window. You’ve lost most of the function in your arm.” “But,” he added, looking at my chart, “I’ve seen your cancer diagnosis. Luckily, we caught it early. With aggressive treatment, you can beat this.” I managed a dry laugh. “I’ll take your word for it.” After being discharged, I had just stepped out of the hospital when everything went black. I came to in a moving car. The familiar streets flashing by filled me with a primal fear. We arrived at our destination, and a pellet, shot from an air gun, hit me squarely in the temple. I collapsed, blood beading on the pristine lawn like a string of crimson pearls. For five years, Jamie and I had clung to each other for warmth. Two souls rejected by Marcus, we would lie in bed at night, counting the stars, secretly wiping away each other’s tears, and wishing for a kinder tomorrow. “Mommy,” he would whisper, his small arms wrapped around my neck, “next time Daddy gets angry, you can hide behind me.” But then Amy appeared. It took only one night for Jamie’s initial dislike to blossom into adoration. Under her tutelage, he learned that by hurting me, he could earn Marcus’s affection. “Good job,” Marcus would say, ruffling his hair. That one phrase was enough to erase any lingering guilt Jamie might have felt. “But it’s not enough,” Marcus would add, his eyes like shards of ice. He hated me to his core. “That pathetic, victim act of yours might fool my parents, but it will never fool me!” “Oh no!” Amy would cry. “What if your parents believe her again and try to break us up?” “They won’t!” Marcus’s voice would rise, his fists clenching. “I won’t let history repeat itself!” It was only then that I understood how terribly wrong my “rescue” of him had been. Six years ago, Marcus had been abandoned by Vera, the love of his life. He developed severe PTSD, spiraling into a cycle of manic depression and self-harm, pushing everyone away. My own family had just fallen on hard times. My online plea for help was seen by Marcus’s mother. Realizing I was the daughter of an old family friend, she took me in. To repay her kindness, I took on the impossible task of helping Marcus heal. For countless days, I endured his verbal and physical abuse. On more nights than I could count, I woke up with his hands around my throat. He would confuse me with Vera, sometimes begging for forgiveness, other times raging with accusations. I bore it all in silence. A year later, he was better. But his mind, as a defense mechanism, had rewritten history. In his new reality, I was a gold-digger who had forced my way into his life and driven Vera away. His doctors advised me to let him believe it, to become the villain in his story. I had nearly lost my life saving him, and this was my reward. He had the butler bring the family whip. “Slandering others with your lies,” he’d said, his voice dangerously low. “Do you admit your mistake?” CRACK! The whip tore through my skin. My strength evaporated. Blood and sweat mingled on my skin. I bit the inside of my cheek until it bled. “You’re the one who’s mistaken!” CRACK! “Admit it!” He put all his strength into it. I felt my soul being ripped from my body. A strangled sound escaped my throat, but I couldn’t form any words. CRACK! “Say it! Say you were wrong!” My clothes were shredded, sticking to my raw flesh. “I… was wrong…” I whispered, my breath failing. Another lash. “Louder!” Blood trickled down my back, pooling on the floor. “Oh, dear,” Amy gasped. “My shoes.” Jamie immediately knelt and picked up her stilettos. Seeing a speck of blood on them, he kicked me hard. “You witch! You got Mommy’s shoes dirty!” Marcus glanced over, his voice softening as he spoke to Amy. “Don’t be upset, darling. I’ll buy you new ones.” The hatred in Amy’s eyes faded, replaced by a simpering sweetness. “You were a little rough with her, honey. She looks like she’s in a lot of pain.” Marcus laughed coldly. “She’s a great actress. You could hit her, and she’d still pretend it hurts.” “Really? Let me try.” She took the whip, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Marcus came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and patiently explained the proper technique. “Careful now, don’t hurt yourself.” He sounded as if he were teaching her to play golf, as if the person at their feet wasn’t a living, breathing human being. Amy, who bore a slight resemblance to Vera, brought the whip down with even more force than Marcus had. Pain wracked my body. I choked back a mouthful of blood. “It’s true!” she squealed with delight. “I barely used any force, and she’s acting like she’s dying.” She held her hand out to Marcus. “You made me hold this nasty thing. My hand hurts.” He kissed her fingers and led her to the sofa, ordering the bodyguards to continue. They hesitated, but his voice was sharp. “If you don’t do it, you’ll be next!” The whip whistled through the air. Amy covered her eyes, crying, “It’s too scary!” Jamie took her hand. “Let’s go upstairs, Mommy. I bought you some beautiful flowers.” Marcus stood up as well. “Don’t stop,” he commanded, “until I say so.” But I passed out long before I heard the word “stop.” When I woke up, only my assistant was by my side. “Mr. and Mrs. Cole know what happened. They’ll be here this evening.” She looked at me with pity. “Mr. Cole announced this morning that Amy has been appointed as a director. You’ve been… reassigned to the warehouse.” “Some of your colleagues tried to speak up for you, but they were fired on the spot.” I could tell she had also been affected. I patted her hand. “Then come with me. We’ll go abroad.” Marcus’s mother had promised me this. To compensate, she was giving me control of their overseas operations. Her eyes widened. “Abroad? You’re the new CEO they’ve been talking about?” I smiled, which pulled at the wounds on my back. Wincing, I said, “Help me contact someone.” That evening, Marcus’s parents came straight to the hospital from the airport. They promised me justice. At nine o’clock, the cream of society gathered at the Cole family estate for a grand gala. My carefully chosen gown hid the ugly whip marks. I stepped out of the car in high heels, entering this house for the last time. A bodyguard blocked my way. “No unauthorized personnel.” It was the man who had whipped me yesterday. He held his arm out, barring my path, his eyes filled with contempt. After five years of pouring my life into this family, I was now a nobody, someone anyone could step on. I lifted my chin. “I was invited.” I didn’t reveal that I was the guest of honor. I simply handed him my invitation. The next second, Jamie was pointing a toy gun at me. “She’s a thief! Don’t let her in!” From a distance, Amy shot me a triumphant look. This was her doing, of course. The bodyguard straightened up, tossing my invitation aside. “We’ll have to search you.” The guests around us scattered like I had the plague. This was the ultimate humiliation. In front of everyone. I tried to back away, but strong hands seized me. The pain and shame were unbearable. “Marcus!” I cried out. “Is this how you treat your guests?” His eyes narrowed, turning even colder when he saw the guard’s hands on my waist. “Fine,” he sneered. “Then take it off yourself.” Amy, nestled in his arms, giggled and playfully punched his chest. “Honey, you’re so naughty. If she really takes it off, how will she ever show her face in public again?” Marcus raised his voice, making sure everyone could hear. “A woman who sleeps her way to the top doesn’t care about things like that.” “Either you take it off, or you get out!” His glare was sharp enough to cut. “Don’t be a hypocrite!” Our eyes met across the room. A wave of despair washed over me. I bit my lip until I tasted blood and slowly, deliberately, pulled down the zipper of my dress. “Marcus, I truly regret the day I saved you.” With every inch the zipper descended, another inch of my scarred, mangled back was revealed. I heard gasps from the crowd. “What is that? Is she a monster? It’s hideous…” Marcus’s eyes flickered. For a second, it looked like he remembered something, but then he shook his head, chasing the fleeting images away. “Nonsense!” he snapped. “What are you waiting for? Help her!” They tore at my clothes, ignoring my struggles. Every inch of my skin was violated. They found the newly formed scabs from the whipping and ripped them open without hesitation. Blood splattered on the floor. I was too weak from the pain to fight back. I could only watch as my dress was torn from my body. “Stop!” My mother-in-law’s voice cracked like a whip. A suit jacket was draped over my shoulders. She was trembling with rage. “Marcus, how could you do this? Raina is our family…” “She’s your family! I never agreed to it!” Even facing his parents, his anger barely subsided. His mother pointed at Jamie. “You didn’t agree to have a child with her? If she hadn’t gotten pregnant, I never would have begged her to stay…” Jamie shrank back, his eyes wide with terror. He clung to Amy, shaking his head frantically. “No! I wasn’t born from that bad woman! I’m Amy’s son!” His mother froze, staring at them in disbelief. “Jamie, who taught you to say that? How can you disown your own mother?” “Nobody taught me!” Jamie glanced at Amy, then pointed a defiant finger at me. “She’s a wicked witch, not my mother!” His mother swayed, nearly fainting. His father caught her, his face grim. “Marcus,” the man in his fifties said, his voice laced with steel, “is this how you treat the person who saved your life?” Marcus’s head snapped toward me. “What lies have you been telling them now?” His mother, having recovered slightly, told him the truth, her voice choked with sobs. “I’ve failed my dearest friend. I’ve ruined her daughter’s life to save an ungrateful monster.” “And I’ve failed Raina,” she cried. “She gave up everything for this family, for you, and ended up with cancer, only to be humiliated like this.” “If I had known, I would have told you from the beginning that Vera left you of her own accord. Then Raina wouldn’t have had to suffer all these years…” She sank to her knees, weeping. I moved to help her up, but Marcus grabbed me by the throat and slammed me against the wall. This was his most common symptom when he had an episode. I had endured this feeling of suffocation for a year. “Feel familiar, Marcus?” I rasped, my face turning purple, my eyes filled with scorn. His grip faltered for a second, then tightened again. “You’re lying!” “Cancer? The wicked live long lives. You’re not that easy to kill.” “And you dare to slander Vera! If it weren’t for you, she never would have left me!” he roared, demanding proof. His mother tried to speak again, but he silenced her with a shout. “Shut up! You’re just as untrustworthy as she is!” The bodyguards moved in, restraining his parents. This party, which was supposed to be my vindication, had become my execution. He squeezed my throat, his eyes bloodshot. “You saved me? Vera abandoned me? Who can prove it?” Below the stage, his parents were gagged. Onstage, I was being strangled. His fingers tightened, his face contorted like a vengeful ghost. “No one can prove it! Because it never happened…” “You’re lying. And the price for lying… is death…” “I can prove it!” A clear, bright voice cut through the tension. Marcus’s pupils dilated. He turned, his movements stiff and robotic…

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1 I returned to the world ten years after I died. I reappeared just in time to see Claire Ashton—the woman I loved—finally letting me go. She was marrying Sam, the assistant who had been by her side for years. My parents were in the front row, weeping with joy. My sister, Sarah, stood next to the groom, smiling, watching them exchange vows. And then I walked in. My arrival was a match thrown on gasoline. The joy evaporated. Claire, my Claire, let go of her new husband’s hand and lunged at me, her fingers digging into my wrist like claws. “Where have you been?” The ballroom erupted in whispers. The groom, Sam, humiliated, turned and ran. He bolted from the hall, right into the street. We heard the screech of tires and a sickening thud. The sudden shock was too much for my mother. She collapsed. My sister, Sarah, her eyes blazing, shoved me. Hard. “We were finally okay! We were healing! Why did you have to come back and destroy everything?” My fingertips tingled. I looked down. They didn’t seem to want me back. Not really. The clock in the grand hall chimed. I felt a strange lightness in my wrist. One of the three faint scars that had appeared there when I woke up… simply faded away. They were getting their wish. I only had two days left. … The EMTs were shouting, “Who’s family? We need family for the vic!” My parents and Sarah all shoved their hands in the air, “We are! We are!” They climbed into the ambulance without a single look back. I didn’t get it. Their son, their “lost” son, was standing right here, and they didn’t even… they weren’t happy. A shadow fell over me. Claire. Her face was an iron mask. Ten years had forged her into someone I barely recognized, someone who could lock down her emotions in a split second. Her eyes were flat, cold. “Get in the car.” She’s a billionaire now, the CEO of Ashton Enterprises, but she was still driving the old Cullinan I’d bought for her when I was 20. Habit took over. I reached for the passenger door. “Wait—” Claire’s voice was sharp. I stopped. The passenger seat was covered in tacky, cutesy stickers. A little plaque read, “Hubby’s Spot.” Tucked onto the dash was a photo of her and Sam, laughing. Claire. My Claire, who hated clutter, who was so territorial she’d once yelled at me for leaving a water bottle in her car… had let someone else leave his mark all over her space. I tried to smile. “Right.” I slid into the back. The silence in the car was suffocating. She’s probably trying to figure out how to get rid of me, I thought. I nervously picked at my cuticles. “Claire, you don’t have to… I know this is a lot. I’ll be gone soon.” The brakes shrieked. The Cullinan screeched to a halt, throwing me hard against the front seat. My head snapped back. I looked up, rubbing my forehead. Claire was staring at me in the rearview mirror, her calm expression fractured by a sudden, terrifying rage. “Julian,” she hissed, “do you even have a goddamn heart?” I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Her phone buzzed, a frantic, jarring ring. She glanced at the screen and wrenched the car back into traffic, heading for the hospital. When we got there, Sarah was waiting, blocking the door to Sam’s room. “He’s not stable. You can’t go in.” I could hear my mom’s voice from inside, soft and cooing. “You need to rest, Sonny. Momma’s here.” Sonny. That was my nickname. Through the crack in the door, I saw my dad. He was sitting by the bed, hand-feeding Sam yellow Jell-O from a plastic cup. These were my things. My parents. My nickname. Sam saw Claire and his face lit up. Then, as if remembering, his expression crumpled. Claire went right to him, her hand brushing his. “The doctor said you’re going to be fine. A few bumps, that’s all.” Her voice was… gentle. A gentleness I hadn’t heard since I got back. “Jealous?” Sarah’s voice was like acid in my ear. “You have no idea, do you, Julian? You just… disappeared. Vanished. Not a call, not a text. Mom and Dad were wrecked! They thought you were dead! And Claire…” She jabbed a finger at me. “Claire nearly died looking for you. A car crash. She was in a coma for a year, and in a hospital bed for five. Sam was the one who sat by her bed. Sam was the one who came to our house every goddamn Sunday, who dragged Mom and Dad out of their grief. He put this family back together.” Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “And now you show up? Because you heard she was marrying someone else? You couldn’t stand that, could you?” Every word was a nail. I couldn’t breathe. “Sarah,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I didn’t… I didn’t go abroad.” “This whole time. These ten years… I… I’ve been dead.” 2 “Bullshit!” Sarah’s comeback was instant, but her eyes flickered. “Dead men don’t just… walk back in.” “Sam found it all! Your plane ticket to Brazil. The security footage of you at JFK! You left us!” I closed my eyes. A bitter laugh escaped me. “I booked the ticket. But I never got on the plane.” On the way to the airport… a tanker truck. It jackknifed on the BQE. I was right beside it. I was… vaporized. There was nothing left. The next thing I knew, I woke up, standing at the back of a church. Ten years later. To them, it was a decade. To me, it was a blink. I looked at my wrist. Only two scars left. Two days. I forced a smile. “Sarah… I was wrong. I’m sorry. Please. I just want to spend these last two days with you. With Mom and Dad. Please.” Before she could answer, Sam spotted me. “Mr. Vance…” He flinched, pulling his hand out of Claire’s. The movement was too sharp, and it ripped his IV out. Blood welled up on the back of his hand. And then, before I could even process it, Claire leaned down and… licked the blood from his skin. Sam’s ears turned bright red. I just… stared at my feet. My nose burned. Claire. My Claire, who had a borderline phobia of germs. Who used to make me wash my hands three times before I could even touch her. She just licked another man’s blood. “Sonny, you need to rest that leg,” Mom fussed, fluffing his pillow. I felt like a ghost. A complete stranger. “Mr. Vance… Julian… please, sit,” Sam said, his voice polite. On his hand, a massive, deep-green emerald ring flashed under the fluorescent lights. I felt the air rush out of me. The Ashton family ring. I remembered the night I turned 18. Claire, shivering on my doorstep, having waited hours in the cold just to give it to me. “Julian, I’m all in. I want this to be forever.” And I remembered the fight, when I was 22. “I’m not ready for this, Claire! I need to live my life!” I’d thrown the ring back at her. She’d cried. For the first time, she’d cried in front of me. “It will never be anyone else, Julian. Only you.” She lied. But… I couldn’t blame her. I sat down, my head spinning. “Julian.” Claire’s voice was cold, sharp. “You haven’t explained. Where were you?” My parents, Sarah… they all turned. Waiting. I couldn’t tell them the truth. It was too cruel. So I made something up. A story about amnesia, getting lost, finding my way back. It sounded weak. Pathetic. Dad snorted. “You should have just stayed lost. We were better off.” A direct hit. The tears I’d been holding back finally broke. They just… streamed down my face. A long silence. Then a sigh. “Oh, for… stop crying.” I looked up through the blur. My dad was holding something out to me. A little boat, carved out of an apple. Just like he used to make me. My heart hammered. I reached for it… But Sam’s hand shot out first. He grabbed it, took a huge bite, and smiled. “Thanks, Dad! It’s great!” I licked my lips. A long time passed. “So sweet,” I whispered. Claire, who had been watching this whole exchange, her face unreadable, suddenly spoke. “I’m not marrying him.” Sam froze, the apple halfway to his mouth. “I’m not marrying Sam. I… I always just saw him as a brother.” Dad exploded. “What? Claire, you can’t! He’s waited for you for ten years!” “No!” he roared, slamming his fist on the tray table. “You and Sam are getting married. Two days from now. That’s final!” 3 Claire didn’t even look at him. Her eyes were locked on me. Sam was looking at me, too. His eyes were wide, pleading. I clenched my fists. I was the one who left. I was the one who broke her heart. Sam was the one who’d stayed. I forced a smile. “She’s right, Julian. He’s waited so long. Don’t… don’t fail him.” Claire’s face went blank. “What right do you have to say that?” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. “Who are you to me, Julian? Who the hell are you?” The air was so thick I could barely breathe. Sarah, finally, broke the tension. “Let’s just… let’s let Sam rest.” Everyone filed out. Everyone except Claire. I went back to the house I grew up in. It was the same, but my room… wasn’t my room. Mom wrung her hands. “It… it has the best light, and Sam was working from home so much… We just… I’m sorry, Julian.” “It’s fine,” I said, smiling. “The guest room is fine.” She looked at me, surprised. “You’re so… calm. You used to have such a temper.” She didn’t wait for an answer, already bustling off to the kitchen to make Sam her special bone broth. The swing set Dad and Sarah built for me in the backyard… it was a gazebo now. Sam’s “reading nook.” I stayed up all night, packing the few things of mine that were left in the guest room. Making space. Claire arrived early, just as I was zipping up the last duffel bag. Her face went ashen. “Where are you going?” She crossed the room in two strides, her hand clamping down on my arm. Her nails dug in. “Claire, you’re hurting me—” She pulled me into a hug, burying her face in my neck. Her whole body was shaking. “Julian… don’t. Don’t leave me again.” Her voice was a broken whisper. “It was… it was so bad, Jules. The last ten years… I wasn’t… I wasn’t okay.” My heart ached. I wanted to promise her, but I couldn’t. I looked at my wrist. One scar left. Tomorrow. “Cl-Claire?” Sam was standing in the doorway, leaning on a cane. He’d seen us. I gently pushed Claire away. I ran over to Sam, picked up the cane he’d dropped. His lip was trembling, his eyes filling with tears. And that’s when I saw it. Just below his collarbone, on his neck. A bright, angry-red hickey. My stomach dropped. They… they slept together. Last night. I forced myself to look away, to push down the bile in my throat. And in that second of distraction, it happened. A car, an SUV, came screeching around the corner, fishtailing, aiming right for Claire. Before I could even shout, Sam threw himself, cane and all, in front of her. “CLAIRE!” The tires shrieked. The SUV stopped, inches from them. Sam’s legs gave out, and he crumpled. Claire caught him, pulling him into her arms.

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Chapter 1 The night before the study abroad applications locked, our friend group chat exploded. [Jake]: HOLY SHIT! Liam, why’d you switch your preference to the UK? Aren’t you and Mia supposed to be doing the Paris program?? Liam’s reply was so casual it made my blood run cold. [Liam]: Eh, I switched. She has my login. It’s fine. He followed it up with a voice memo, his laugh echoing. [Liam (Voice Memo)]: “She’ll see I switched, and she’ll follow me. C’mon, you guys know my shadow. She can’t live without me!” My phone slipped from my hand. My mind went completely blank. My suitcase, half-packed on the floor, was full of things I’d bought for him. For Paris. I left the group chat. I took the gifts and dumped them in the trash. I never looked at the application portal again. He had no idea. He could throw away our future for Chloe, but I could just as easily throw him away and choose my own. All those all-nighters, all that work… it was never just for him. Liam’s words were like glass in my stomach. The Paris program. Twelve years of dreaming, three years of AP French, and countless late-night study sessions. A goal we had set together. And he just… changed it. He didn’t even have the guts to tell me to my face. Someone in the chat was still typing. [Sarah]: What if Mia doesn’t see it? The portal closes tomorrow at midnight, Liam. Liam’s text was sharp, mocking. [Liam]: Are you kidding? Mia’s been checking that portal every ten minutes since it opened. She’s more on top of it than my mom. Tsk, you guys don’t get it. A few guys replied with “true” and “savage.” Then, someone else chimed in. [Jake]: But what if she doesn’t change? That Paris design program is way better for her. Liam’s reply was slow this time, and cold. [Liam]: Bullshit. [Liam]: Mia’s got major separation anxiety. She freaked out that one time I was gone for a day and drove three hours to find me. If she doesn’t come with me, she won’t see me for three years. You do the math. [Liam]: She cares more about me than some stupid school. She’ll pick me. The chat went silent. Finally, Sarah typed again, slowly. [Sarah]: Liam, that’s… not cool. We all saw how hard she worked for this. You should at least tell her. Liam’s response was just an emoji: 🙄 [Liam]: Ugh. It’s annoying. I don’t want to explain it. You guys know how Mia is. If she knew it was because of Chloe, she’d start crying and I don’t have the energy for that drama. This is just… less hassle for me. The chat instantly lit up again. [Guy 1]: Yeah, I get it. Mia’s cool, but Chloe is… well. 🔥 [Guy 2]: Liam, you dog! … The joking messages piled up, each one like a boot on my chest. I wanted to call him. To scream. To demand an explanation. But my fingers wouldn’t move. In the end, I just turned off my phone, pulled the covers over my head, and let the darkness swallow me. Chapter 2 I stared at the ceiling until my vision blurred. How can a person change so fast? All those times we nearly cried over French verb conjugations, we never thought about quitting. Whenever we got overwhelmed, we’d pull up pictures of the Eiffel Tower and joke about which cafe we’d hit first. The day we got our acceptance letters, we both cried, then laughed. We thought the hard part was over. Our perfect happy ending was right there. And he just… let go of my hand and ran toward someone else. I wouldn’t have even been this mad if he’d just told me. But to not even say a word… In his eyes, am I really that small? And if I’m so “annoying,” then what was that promise he made me under the stars last month? The one that sounded so much like a proposal? Was it just… too dark for him to see who he was talking to? I curled into a ball, pulling my knees to my chest, and finally, I let myself cry. The truth is, I don’t need him to survive. I don’t have separation anxiety. He does. Ever since we were kids, if we ended up in different classes or on different teams, he’d get quiet and moody, and he’d only cheer up when I was back. I’ve always been the one with the plan. He was just… the one I was bringing with me. Liam was right about one thing: I had always factored him into my future. I was willing to pay the price for a high-school sweetheart, as long as it didn’t compromise my goals. But this… this was a compromise I wasn’t willing to make. I wiped my eyes, my hand hovering over the application I’d accidentally opened. I closed the tab. I didn’t open the portal again. He made his choice. I’m making mine. We’re even. I’d just washed my face when a video call request popped up from Liam. [Liam]: Hey, Shadow! Pick up! I wanna see you! I ignored it. It popped up again. And again. Finally, a text. [Liam]: We’re at the usual spot. Everyone’s waiting. Get anU uber, hurry up. I didn’t want to go. [Me]: Tired. Not coming out. His reply was instant. [Liam]: You sick? I’m coming over. [Me]: No. Don’t. I’d barely hit send when a new message popped up from a number I didn’t have saved. Chloe. [Chloe]: Hey, Mia, I’m so sorry. I’m the one who dragged Liam out tonight. I had no idea you’d be upset. I’ll leave right now, it’s totally fine. My phone suddenly felt like it was coated in that fake, sugary “green tea” air freshener. Before I could even think of a reply, my phone blew up with notifications from a different group chat. [Girl 1]: @Mia What’s your problem? Can’t stand seeing Liam with someone else? [Girl 2]: Just ’cause you’re jealous Chloe’s prettier than you, you’re gonna throw a tantrum? Psycho. I just stared. I was about to type, to defend myself, when a text from Liam came through. [Liam]: Mia, I invited Chloe. Your problem is with me. Stop being a bitch to her. [Liam]: You know what, forget it. Come or don’t. We’re having more fun without you anyway. He followed that with a picture of their food. Someone else in the chat added: “Wow, dinner is so much better without all the drama.” A bunch of psychos. I left that group chat, too. Then I went to his contact, blocked his number, and deleted it. For years, he was my “pinned” contact. Now, he belongs in the blocklist. Chapter 3 The crazy part is, when Chloe transferred here, she was my friend first. Back then, Liam was the one who warned me. “She seems fake, Mia. Be careful.” I actually tried to get them to like each other. Then came the winter formal. Chloe took off her dorky glasses, let her hair down, and showed up in this stunning red dress. After that night, Liam never told me to stay away from her again. Their “friendship” got closer. He introduced her to all his friends, our friends. Before I knew it, my circle had become her circle. He was… different with her. We had a massive fight about it once. A three-month cold war. I told him, “If you like her, just tell me. I’ll back off.” He cried. He actually cried. “You’re the only one I care about, Mia,” he said. “Chloe’s just… she’s got anxiety, her family life is a mess. I’m just trying to be a good guy.” And I believed him. He played me for a fool. The line between “helping” and “cheating” blurred until it disappeared. And now, he’d changed his entire future for her. Leaving me looking like the biggest idiot in the world. I’d lost track of time. My mom came home, saw me staring at the wall, and smiled. “Fighting with Liam again? He texted me. Said you blocked him and to tell you to add him back.” I mumbled something noncommittal and left. Our academic advisor had called a last-minute meeting to confirm our applications. When I got to the lecture hall, Liam was there. The seat next to him—my seat—was empty for a second. Then Chloe slid into it. Liam didn’t say anything. He just took the bag she handed him and put it under the chair. But his eyes kept flicking toward me. He was waiting for me to break. To make a scene. He thought wrong. I turned and sat down in the empty seat next to Ethan, the school’s resident quiet-and-handsome guy. Miles away from them. “This is it, people!” the advisor said. “The portal locks at midnight tonight. This is your last chance to triple-check. No regrets!” As she droned on, Ethan glanced at my confirmation sheet. “Hey. The Paris program, right?” he said, his voice low. “Me too. Small world.” Before I could answer, someone tapped my shoulder. Hard. “Mia. Don’t you have something to say?” I ignored him, turning back to Ethan. Liam grabbed my arm and physically dragged me out into the hallway. “Mia, are you done?” he snapped. “Throwing a tantrum is one thing, but blocking me? Seriously?” “I’m warning you, add me back right now, or you’ll never get the chance again.” I just stared at him. “Oh,” I said. “I wasn’t planning on it.” His face went pale, then dark red. “Fine. Don’t come crying to me later.” He turned to leave, but then spun back, his eyes suddenly intense. “It’s almost the deadline,” he said, his voice lower. “Just… check your application one more time, okay? Don’t… don’t mess it up.” He wanted to say more, but Chloe walked up, interrupting. “Liam? I don’t get this part of the financial aid form. Can you help me?” “Yeah, of course,” he said, his attention instantly shifting. I just smiled, a small, bitter smile, and walked away. As I reached the door, I heard him call out one last time. “Mia! Remember to check it! Really check it!” Chapter 4 Check it. Like it’s a royal decree. He really thinks I’m going to log on, see his “surprise” UK application, and immediately pivot my entire life to follow him. What a dream world he lives in. He’s too cowardly to tell me, so I’ll just pretend I don’t know. He thinks explaining things to me is “drama.” Well, I think explaining my choices to him is a waste of my time. Back in my seat, Ethan looked at me. “You okay? You look… pissed.” “I’m fine.” “Good. ‘Cause I have an extra ticket to that band playing downtown tonight, and you should come. My treat.” I was about to say no, but I was so sick of sitting at home. “Okay.” The show was great. We were leaving the venue, laughing about the drummer, when I ran right into Liam. He was standing by the exit, his face like a thundercloud. He looked at me, then at Ethan. I knew exactly what he was thinking. I didn’t care enough to explain. I just treated him like air. But I got stuck in the crowd, and I ended up in the hallway, right behind him and one of his friends. “Bro, just tell her,” his friend was saying. “The UK is a long way from France. You’re really gonna let her go alone?” Liam snorted. “What’s it to me? Besides, she’s definitely already changed it. She’s just throwing a tantrum. God, she’s so clingy, it’s annoying.” I just stood there, stunned. We rounded the corner, and he saw me. He told his friend and Ethan to go on ahead, then he backed me into an alcove. “You come to a show, and you bring him? You’ve got a lot of nerve, Shadow.” “Trying to make me jealous?” He grabbed my hand, his voice low and cocky. “Fine. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have yelled at you. We good now?” He squeezed my hand. “Did you check the application portal? Did you… check mine, too?” I said nothing. The silence stretched. And, right on cue… “Liam? They’re all ganging up on me! You have to come help!” Chloe appeared, then did a fake little gasp. “Oh! Mia! You’re here too! Did you see my IG story and follow us? That’s so sweet! You have to stop doing that, I just invited Liam ’cause I know this band is my absolute favorite, and…” There it was again. That cloying, green tea smell. I was done. I didn’t want to be in this play anymore. I ducked under Liam’s arm as he was looking at her. As I broke free, Chloe stuck out her arm, blocking me.

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1 To build a “scholarly genius” persona for his celebrity crush, my boyfriend sent my antique collection to a TV appraisal show. The celebrity, his crush, declared it a fake and smashed my antique vase on the spot. I didn’t even know my prized possession was missing until the show aired. When I went public, accusing them both, they joined forces to call me an extortionist. As the internet mob turned on me, I countered by suing them both for theft. I wonder, for a few tens of millions, how many years will they get in prison? … The day Treasure Quest aired, I was in my new apartment, unpacking boxes with the TV on for background noise. The host was introducing the celebrity guest, Seraphina Remar, in his usual over-the-top tone. On screen, Seraphina was the picture of elegance in an ethereal white dress, smiling sweetly as she spoke. She lived up to her reputation as the entertainment industry’s resident intellectual. “And now—let’s have Seraphina determine if our next treasure is the real deal or a clever fake!” At the host’s cue, a short-necked porcelain vase was carefully brought onto the stage. I shot upright. That vase… it looked identical to one from my collection. But wasn’t my vase supposed to be at my boyfriend Caleb’s place? Before I could process the thought, Seraphina’s saccharine voice filled the room. “This vase,” she announced with unwavering confidence, “is clearly a modern reproduction. The craftsmanship is crude, and the glaze is all wrong.” She picked it up and, with a casual flick of her wrist, tossed it to the ground. A sharp crack echoed as porcelain shattered into a thousand pieces. The studio audience gasped. My mind went blank. The bag of chips in my lap tumbled to the floor. A sickening premonition washed over me. I had to be sure. I grabbed my keys and raced to Caleb’s apartment. I’d recently bought my own place and, before the official move, had stored most of my belongings at his. Could he really have taken my things, put them on national television, and let Seraphina destroy them? My heart hammered against my ribs as the image of the shattering vase played on a loop in my head. When I got to his rented apartment, I pulled out the spare key he’d given me. But the key wouldn’t turn. The lock was stuck. He’d changed the locks. That bastard had changed the locks and hadn’t even bothered to tell me. I took a deep, shaky breath and called him. He answered, his voice thick with annoyance. “What is it?” “I’m almost done with my new place,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m ready to move my stuff out.” Caleb scoffed. “I’m busy. We’ll talk about it later.” “What about the lock—” He hung up before I could finish. Come to think of it, he’d been impatient and distant for a while now, never even messaging me first. Forcing myself to stay calm, I called a locksmith. After describing the situation and sending a photo of my ID, the locksmith had the door open in minutes. I burst inside, tearing through the living room, the bedroom, the storage closet. The vase was nowhere. My body trembled with fury. I took pictures of everything with my phone. And then I realized it wasn’t just the multi-million dollar Meissen porcelain vase that was gone. A Renaissance-era gilt-bronze statuette and a rare Dürer sketch, Winter Woods, were also missing. Each one was worth a fortune. I tried calling Caleb again, but he rejected the call every time. Finally, a text came through. “I said I’m busy, can’t you understand English? Whatever it is can wait.” I tried calling one more time and discovered he’d blocked my number. “Fine, Caleb. Just you wait,” I seethed, my teeth clenched. I called a moving service and had them transport the rest of my belongings to my new apartment. Then, I scrolled through my contacts and dialed a number I hadn’t called in a long time. “Bill, I need to borrow your lawyer. I’ve run into a bit of trouble.” An infuriatingly smug voice answered from the other end. “Well, well. If it isn’t my dear sister. The one who said she was chasing her passion for history, joining some archaeological dig, and blocked us all. Has Miss Peyton decided to grace the mortal world with her presence again? Finally remembered you have a brother?” I was in no mood for his games. “Cut the crap, Bill. Someone smashed my Meissen vase. I need to make them pay.” Bill clicked his tongue. “The one you bought at the auction last year? Your favorite little toy? Fine. Send me your address. I’ll have my lawyer head over.” After hanging up, I still couldn’t calm down. I’d met Caleb during a time when I was estranged from my family, trying to pursue my own dreams. I thought he was kind, gentle, understanding. I never imagined he was capable of something like this. The lawyer arrived half an hour later and helped me take inventory of my losses. Most of my collection had been purchased at auctions with my allowance over the years. I had meticulous records for every single piece. The lawyer, Mr. Liu, pushed up his glasses. “Mr. Caleb took antiques valued at nearly forty million dollars without your consent, then changed the locks to prevent you from retrieving your property. We have a strong case for theft.” “How much time would he get for something like this?” I asked. “Given the extraordinary value, the statutory sentence is ten years to life in prison.” I nodded. That was all I needed to know. Just as I was about to tell the lawyer to proceed, my phone rang. I answered it. A stern male voice was on the line. “Hello, is this Miss Peyton? This is the police department. We need you to come in to assist with an investigation.” I froze. An investigation? What investigation? Baffled, I went to the station with my lawyer. The moment I walked in, I saw Caleb sitting across from an officer. And next to him, scrolling through her phone with a faint, smug smile, was Seraphina Remar. The officer got straight to the point. “Miss Peyton, we’ve received a complaint that you broke into a private residence. Please explain.” Caleb lifted his chin. “That’s right. Did you break into my apartment? That’s illegal, you know.” “Illegal?” I laughed, a bitter, angry sound. I turned to the officer. “I paid for half the rent on that apartment. All of my belongings are there. He changed the locks without my permission and stole my vase and other antiques! And now he has the audacity to accuse me?” Mr. Liu produced printouts of the rent transfers and the lease agreement and handed them to the officer. “These are records of Miss Peyton’s rent payments to the landlord, spanning six months. We also have records of other transfers.” “Legally speaking,” he continued, “Miss Peyton was a co-tenant for this period and possessed the same rights as Mr. Caleb. He had no right to change the locks and bar her from the premises without notice.” The officer reviewed the documents, his brow furrowed as he looked at Caleb. “What’s this about?” Caleb’s face stiffened. “She… she gave me some money, but I’m the one who rented the place. She has no right to go through my things!” “Go through your things?” I gestured towards the contract. “I have every right to retrieve what belongs to me. You, on the other hand, stole my Meissen vase, sent it to that show, and let Seraphina smash it. Are you going to deny it?” Seraphina finally looked up, her tone light and dismissive. “Honey, you can stop the act now. I saw that vase. It was a cheap reproduction. It’s broken, so what? I don’t know where you picked up that piece of junk, but to claim it’s a priceless antique? Are you trying to extort us?” Caleb’s expression soured. “Peyton, I knew you were desperate for money, but I didn’t think you were this crazy. You’d stoop to this?” As he spoke, he shot a contemptuous look at Mr. Liu standing beside me. “I’ve been busy lately, and look at you, already hooked up with some rich guy. You know what? I won’t even bother with you. Just take your junk and get out.” Mr. Liu ignored Caleb’s taunts and addressed the key issue. “While taking inventory of the missing items, we also discovered that a bronze statuette and a sketch are gone. Mr. Caleb, it would be in your best interest to return them immediately. These are also antiques, each valued in the millions.” Caleb waved his hand impatiently. “Are you done with the theatrics? Seriously. I threw all her stuff out a long time ago. It was worth a few hundred bucks at most. Millions? That’s hilarious. Go ahead, sue me. Let’s see what you can possibly dig up.” I gritted my teeth, my voice ringing with conviction. “Fine. I’ll see you in court.” Caleb and Seraphina sauntered out, while my lawyer and I stayed behind to give our statements and solidify the evidence. But the moment we stepped out of the police station, I was blinded by a barrage of camera flashes. A swarm of reporters had appeared from nowhere, their lenses all pointed at me. They surrounded us, microphones practically shoved in my face. Questions came like machine-gun fire. “We just got a tip that a civilian is trying to extort the show and its guest, Miss Seraphina Remar, for publicity. Are you that person?” “Were you brought to the police station for extortion? Or for breaking and entering?” “Do you have any comment?” Even with my lawyer trying to shield me, they were relentless, like flies buzzing around my head. The noise was deafening. But I understood. This was Seraphina and Caleb’s doing. They had arranged this. Just as I was trying to figure out their endgame, Seraphina, who had been waiting outside, stepped in front of the cameras, playing the victim with a look of pure innocence. “Everyone, please don’t misunderstand,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Miss Peyton might have some misconceptions about me. She claims the vase was worth millions, but perhaps she was deceived when she bought it. After all, I’ve studied these things since I was a child. I do know a little something.” Her words sent a ripple through the crowd of reporters. Their gazes shifted to me, as if I were some pathetic clown. One of them said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “I bet she’s doing it on purpose. You see these types all the time. They think celebrities are easy targets, that they’ll pay anything to protect their reputation. Shameless.” I pointed a shaking finger at Seraphina. “If my things are fakes, then why are you still holding onto my statuette and my sketch? Why won’t you give them back?” Seraphina sighed dramatically. “I didn’t want to make a scene, but since Miss Peyton is being so aggressive, I suggest we have them appraised on the next episode of Treasure Quest. You claim the statuette and sketch are valuable, right? Then let’s have a master appraiser examine them in front of a live audience. We’ll see then if they’re fakes.” The reporters’ eyes lit up. “Great idea!” they chorused. “Miss Peyton, you wouldn’t be too scared, would you?” I gritted my teeth, fury rising in my chest. I finally saw their plan. They wanted to use the show to humiliate me again and boost Seraphina’s fame. I laughed coldly. “You’re on! Let’s see how you spin this lie.” A triumphant smirk touched Seraphina’s lips. “Excellent. The show will arrange a time. Then you can be reunited with your precious ‘treasures,’ Miss Peyton.” The crowd dispersed. I clutched my phone, watching the victorious silhouettes of Seraphina and Caleb walk away. It was a vicious move, using public opinion to crush me. But she’d forgotten one thing. My antiques all had certificates of authenticity. Every last one of them was real. She and Caleb were holding onto my statuette and sketch, thinking they could pass off fakes? Just you wait. On that show, I was going to make them choke on their own medicine. On the day of the Treasure Quest taping, I sat in the audience, blinded by the stage lights. The whispers from the crowd around me were like daggers. The producers had deliberately seated me in the audience. According to the schedule, I would only be brought on stage for an “interview” after the appraisal. The camera kept panning over to me, and the host smirked. “We have a very special guest in our audience today, Miss Peyton. We hear you have some objections to Miss Remar’s last appraisal?” The audience erupted in laughter. “The nerve of some people,” someone whispered. “Trying to pass off fakes.” “She’s probably just jealous of Seraphina’s fame. Probably some rival fan trying to cause trouble.” I clenched my fists, the anger churning in my stomach. All I could do was bite my tongue and stare at the stage. Let’s see how they were going to play this. Seraphina, dressed in a stunning haute couture gown, was her usual charming self, effortlessly maintaining her scholarly persona. After a brief, superficial lecture on appraisal basics, she gestured to the statuette and sketch on the table, her tone dripping with contempt. “The provider of these… ‘treasures,’ Miss Peyton, despite being from a working-class background, insists they are genuine and worth millions. She has even threatened to sue me for compensation. So today, we have invited the most respected authority in the field of archaeology, Professor Albright, to give his expert opinion.” Seraphina let out a small, condescending laugh. “Let’s just hope Miss Peyton doesn’t try to deny the results this time.” From the director’s booth at the side of the stage, Caleb spoke into a headset. The host immediately turned his malicious gaze back to me. “Miss Peyton, would you care to come on stage and say a few words? Or are you only brave enough to cry foul online?” Another wave of derisive laughter swept through the audience. “Look at how she’s dressed. She doesn’t look like someone who can afford multi-million-dollar antiques. She must be desperate for money.” “I bet after the appraisal, she’ll just deny it again and keep slandering our Seraphina.” “She’s not bad-looking. Maybe she’s trying to become an influencer by stirring up drama.” I shot to my feet, my eyes sweeping over the people who had spoken. “Is that all you do? Spout baseless rumors? Every single piece in my collection is genuine, with certificates from world-renowned experts. What does Seraphina Remar have? A carefully crafted public image?” The studio fell silent, stunned by my outburst. But the host quickly recovered, his voice laced with false sympathy and obvious mockery. “Miss Peyton, please calm down. Rest assured, the expert we have today is the most authoritative history professor from Cambridge University. His appraisal is far more reliable than some questionable certificate you might have, wouldn’t you agree?” The most authoritative history professor from Cambridge? An elegant, familiar face flashed in my mind: Professor Albright, the mentor who had guided me into the world of history. His every word, every appraisal, was considered the gold standard in the field. And then, in the next second, Professor Albright himself walked onto the stage. He moved with a quiet dignity that instantly captivated the audience, drawing a round of applause. Seraphina rushed to greet him, her face plastered with a sycophantic smile. But the professor paid her no mind. He turned to face the audience. “I am here today,” he announced, his voice clear and strong, “for my student.”

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My data-tracking algorithm, in its infinite wisdom, pushed a video of my daughter, Chloe, to the top of my feed. She was using a ‘Crying Baby’ filter, the audio a high-pitched, cutesy song. She pouted at the camera. “Hey guys, so, like, major dilemma,” she whined. “Should I take the million-dollar education trust my parents set up and… like, secretly have this baby instead? Just to, you know, surprise them?” She panned the camera down, rubbing a hand over her stomach. “I mean, I’m already five months, and it’s getting, like, super hard to hide. What should I do, guys? Give me your best ideas!” The comment section was a dumpster fire. In my last life, that “surprise” sent me into a blind rage. I dragged her to a clinic, I forced the termination. It ended on a rainy night, with her and her boyfriend pushing me down the grand staircase of our home. As I bled out, I heard her whisper, “You ruined my life.” This time, I’m letting go. I just want to watch her and that deadbeat boyfriend, Leo, pay for their own “surprise.” 1 I scrolled through the comments, my face blank. Yasss queen! A baby is a *life*! You can go to college anytime, but a baby is so much more important! Do it and then play ‘guess the daddy’ with your parents, they’ll think it’s HILARIOUS. [clown emoji] omg ur preggo?? that’s gonna be the cutest baby ever! [heart emoji] Just tell them you’re taking a ‘gap year’ lol. A long one. In my last life, I’d thrown my phone so hard it shattered the screen of my office monitor. I couldn’t understand how my daughter—our only child, raised with every privilege—could be so stupid. To be pregnant, by him, and to treat her future and our family’s reputation like a joke for her online followers. I’d immediately frozen her cards and had my security team pull her out of Leo’s squalid one-bedroom apartment. She’d screamed, of course. That I was a tyrant. That I didn’t respect her. That Leo loved her, and they had a right to their “miracle.” I’d looked at that boy—who had nothing but a pretty, vacant face and a sleeve of bad tattoos—and felt nothing but disgust. I told her the plan was Columbia. The trust was for Columbia. The child was an obstacle. It had to be removed. After the clinic, she’d never looked at me again. I was the enemy. Until that rainy night. She and Leo, blocking my path on the second-floor landing. The argument. His hands on my back, shoving hard. The sickening crunch as I hit the marble floor. “Don’t worry,” she’d told him, as my vision faded. “She slipped. It’s her own fault. She ruined my life. She deserved it.” A familiar, sharp pain clenched my chest. I snapped back to the present. I would not be that mother again. I calmly saved the video. I called my husband. “Richard, be home early tonight. We need to talk.” “Is everything… okay, Claire?” He sounded surprised. I was never the one to call for “talks.” “It’s fine. Just be home.” I hung up and messaged my personal assistant. “I need a full background check on a ‘Leo Rojas.’ Everything. The dirtier, the better.” I leaned back in my chair. Chloe, my darling girl. We have a debt to settle. 2 Richard walked in at seven on the dot. He handed his suit jacket to the housekeeper, loosening his tie. “Claire? What’s this about? You look… serious.” I didn’t say a word. I just handed him my phone. His face darkened as he watched. Richard is a traditional man. He cares about legacy. He cares about appearances. Last time, he was just as angry as I was. But he’d let me be the “bad cop.” He’d played the sympathetic father, telling Chloe, “I’m trying, sweetheart, but your mother is… she’s just so upset. My hands are tied.” So, in the end, I was the only villain. “This is… a disgrace!” he finally boomed. “She’s dragged our name through the mud! I’ll call security, have them drag her home!” “And do what?” I asked, my voice quiet. He stared at me. “Do what? We take her to the clinic! We can’t let her… let her keep this… thing.” “Why not?” I met his gaze. “She’s twenty. She’s an adult. She has the right to make her own choices. We, as parents, should respect that.” Richard looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “Claire, are you in shock? What about her life? What about the company?” “It’s her life. She wants to ruin it, that’s her choice. As for the company,” I gave a small, cold laugh, “as long as our stock price is high, do you really think anyone on the board cares if our granddaughter is a bastard?” I stood up, walking over to him. “Richard. We’ve done enough. I’m done with her. She wants the baby? Fine. She can have it. But two things are not negotiable.” He was so thrown by my calm, he just nodded. “What things?” “One: The education trust. It’s a million dollars. It’s for Columbia. It is not a ‘having a baby’ fund. She chooses the baby, the trust dissolves. Two: We cut her off. Completely. She wants to be an adult, she can pay her own bills.” “Claire…” he hesitated. “She’s… she’s just a kid. That Leo… he’s a bum. How will they live?” “That,” I said, “is her problem. Not ours.” I thought of the cold marble floor. The pain. “But if you feel sorry for her,” I continued, “if you slip her so much as a dollar, I will file for divorce, I will initiate a full division of our assets, and I will be gone. It’s Chloe… or me. Choose.” He looked at me, really looked at me, for the first time in years. He saw I wasn’t bluffing. “Okay, Claire,” he said, all the fight gone. “Okay. We do it your way.” As if on cue, the doorbell rang. The housekeeper let them in. Chloe, her belly pushed out, holding Leo’s hand like he was a prince. 3 “Dad? Mom? We’re home!” Chloe waltzed in, pulling Leo behind her. She was wearing a tight dress, clearly meant to showcase the “surprise.” Leo was holding a cheap bouquet of flowers, playing the part of the nervous, humble suitor. It was the same act as last time. Richard and I just sat on the sofa. We didn’t get up. We didn’t speak. The silence in the room stretched. Chloe’s smile faltered. “Mom? Dad? This is Leo. We’re in love. And… I’m pregnant!” She waited, bracing for the explosion. I just sipped my tea. Richard folded his newspaper. “Is that all? We were about to go to bed.” They both just stared, completely baffled. This wasn’t in their script. “Dad! Are you listening to me?” Chloe’s voice cracked. “I’m pregnant! I’m five months pregnant!” “We see that,” Richard said, his voice flat. “And? This is your life. Your choice. Why are you here?” Chloe was speechless. Her eyes filled with tears of frustration. Leo stepped forward, striking a protective pose. “Mr. and Mrs. Sheng. I know this is a shock. But I love Chloe, and I will take care of her and our child. I promise. We just… we need your blessing.” He started to pull Chloe to her knees. “Don’t,” I said. My voice was low, but it stopped them cold. I finally looked at Leo. “Take care of her with what, exactly? Your part-time job at the vape shop? Your dreams of being a music producer? Do you have any idea what a nanny costs in this city? Or is Chloe supposed to do that, in your fourth-floor walk-up in Bushwick?” Leo’s face flushed. “Money isn’t everything! We love each other! I’ll get a better job!” “Will you?” I pushed a file across the coffee table. “That is Chloe’s education trust. It’s worth one million dollars. It’s hers, on the condition she enrolls at Columbia this fall.” I watched the greed flicker in their eyes. “However,” I continued, “if she chooses not to go… if she chooses to have this baby… the trust is void. Her credit cards will be deactivated. She will be removed from our will, our insurance, everything. She will be, for all legal purposes, on her own.” “You… you can’t!” Chloe was shaking. “I’m your daughter!” “And as your mother, this is my last lesson for you: choices have consequences.” I stood up. “So, you have a decision to make. A million dollars and a future… or him. Think it over.” I turned to Richard. “I’m tired. Let’s go to bed.” We walked right past them and went upstairs. Behind us, I heard the first real, terrified sob.

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I was accidentally dragged into a live-action horror game, only to find my boyfriend, who’d been missing for a week. He was dressed in a stunning red suit, clearly the groom in a wedding. I dug a piece of chalk out of my pocket, chucked it square at his head, and asked sweetly, “Honey, you said you were on a business trip. You failed to mention you were getting hitched.” The live chat feed exploded, everyone eagerly awaiting my gruesome death. 【This newb has a death wish. That’s the #1 ranked BOSS in the game. His kill count could circle the server three times.】 【I can’t watch. She’s going to be ripped to shreds.】 Who would have guessed the BOSS would execute a perfect three-foot slide-and-kneel, grabbing my leg. “Babe, I swear, you’ve got it all wrong! This is just work!” My boyfriend had been out of reach on a “business trip” for a solid week. I was frantic and had already filed a police report. After school, I finished packing up my students’ homework. The moment I stepped out of the classroom, the world dissolved. The hallway of Westview High morphed into a towering stone maze. 【All players, please be aware: You have entered the Horror Game.】 【Current Dungeon: The Harvest Rite.】 【Difficulty: SSS-Class.】 【The village of Black Rock Creek, nestled in the mountains, worships the Shepherd. Every year on March 3rd, they hold a Harvest Rite, offering human sacrifices to ensure a bountiful year. This year, twenty ‘tourists’ have arrived…】 【Objective: Leave the village. Alive.】 【Players: 20】 【Role: Tourist】 【Good luck, players.】 The area erupted into chaos. Some people were calm, others were hyperventilating. It was easy to tell the difference between the veterans and the newbs. “Where are we? How did I get here?” “Is this some new kind of VR prank?” “Let me go home! LET ME GO HOME, WAAAAH!” The screaming and crying were grating, giving me a massive headache. A veteran player eyed the rookies with a sneer. “This batch is low-quality. They’re already breaking down.” “Why are there so many newbs this time?” “An SSS-Class dungeon with this many newbs? They’re just free points for the house.” The noise was so overwhelming my teacher-mode activated on instinct. I roared: “Chatter, chatter, chatter! What is this, a field trip? You’re louder than my sophomore homeroom! Quiet!” The clearing fell dead silent. Nineteen people, thirty-eight eyeballs, all staring at me. I suddenly remembered this was not, in fact, Westview High. I rubbed the back of my neck, embarrassed. “Ah, sorry about that. Occupational hazard. As you were, as you were.” A chat feed flickered to life in the sky above us. 【Who else just got PTSD flashbacks to high school?】 【You can’t fake that ‘disappointed teacher’ voice. She’s gotta be at least 20 years in.】 【Hello, Teach. Goodbye, Teach.】 【No, but seriously, she shut them all up. That was impressive.】 The veteran players looked awkward, seemingly annoyed they’d been cowed by a newb. A guy I’ll call Brock, with a face that looked permanently stuck in a sneer, scoffed at me. “Nice power trip. Never seen a newb try to pull rank so fast.” Others chimed in. “Seriously, who does she think she is?” “Watch her piss her pants the second a real monster shows up.” “She won’t even live long enough to see the BOSS.” A sharp, clear voice cut through the insults. “That’s enough! How dare you speak to my teacher that way! If you don’t have anything nice to say, shut your mouths.” At her words, the other vets, looking annoyed, actually went quiet. 【Whoa, it’s ‘The Sorceress,’ rank #3! No wonder this dungeon is SSS-Class.】 【The newb knows the Sorceress? And she’s protecting her?】 【Even with the Sorceress, this is a tough clear. The BOSS is ‘The Shepherd,’ the #1 player killer. The body count on that guy is legendary.】 I looked at the girl the chat called “The Sorceress.” She was maybe seventeen, eighteen, with her hair in a high ponytail. Wait a minute. That was my star student, my class TA, Maya. I gave a weak laugh. “Maya? You’re here too? Any idea what’s going on?” Her voice was exasperated, as if she was wondering how on earth I got dragged in. “Ms. Weaver, this is a horror game. People only get pulled in if they have a desperate, overwhelming wish. If you clear a dungeon, you get points. Points can grant wishes.” “And if you fail?” “You’re ‘erased.’ You die here, you disappear in the real world. No one ever remembers you existed.” I suddenly understood why she was here. Maya’s mother has late-stage cancer. She doesn’t have much time. I’d seen Maya crying in the halls. If there was even a sliver of hope, of course she’d take it. I leaned in close and whispered, “Can you see those… text boxes in the sky?” “Of course. That’s the chat feed. It’s one of the few lifelines the game gives us. We can get information from the audience.” “Ms. Weaver, stick with me on this one. I’ll protect you.” Being shielded by my own student was a little embarrassing, but I was clearly out of my element. I nodded. “Thank you, Maya.” 【Man, I wish I had a high-ranker adopt me my first time.】 【With the Sorceress protecting her, her survival odds just shot way up.】 【Doesn’t matter who’s carrying you. A noob is a noob. They always find a way to die.】 The system voice returned. 【Task 1: The Maze.】 【Black Rock Creek is sealed. The entrance is a labyrinth built centuries ago. It contains idols of the Shepherd. The villagers believe the maze is blessed, protecting them from outsiders.】 【Objective: Clear the maze in thirty minutes, enter Black Rock Creek, and attend the Harvest Rite.】 【Warning: Beware the idols. Touching an idol will result in ‘Conversion.’】 【Good luck.】 The maze was made of gray, crumbling stone. There were no lights inside. It was a dark, gaping maw, like a beast waiting to swallow us. Maya grabbed my hand and pulled me forward. The others followed close behind. Our lives were on the line, so all twenty of us decided to stick together. 【I’d love to help the Sorceress, but the top-down view is just fog. Can’t see a thing.】 【Duh. If we could just give them the map, it wouldn’t be an SSS-Class dungeon.】 【Sorceress, watch the idols! They move when you’re not looking at them!】 【If you touch one, you get Converted!】 Maya nodded, acknowledging the chat. We rounded a corner and—BAM—an idol was right there. A total jump scare. If Maya hadn’t yanked me back, I’d have walked right into it. The player behind me wasn’t so lucky. He couldn’t stop in time and stumbled right into the stone statue. He didn’t even have time to scream before he, too, turned to stone. 【Player Mike has failed the task. He has been Converted.】 【Remaining Players: 19】 I stared at the new statue. It looked… vaguely familiar. The people behind us slammed on the brakes, tumbling into a pile. Someone scraped their knee, and blood spattered on the ground. The maze groaned. The walls began to shift. 【Blood on the floor activates the maze. That’s a hidden mechanic, it’s not supposed to happen this early.】 【This group has the worst luck. F. Paying respects in advance.】 The system chimed in. 【Maze hidden mechanic: ‘The Hunger’ has been activated.】 【The maze will now shift every five minutes. Idols will spawn every three minutes. ‘Locals’ will also spawn randomly. A Local may guide you, or they may kill you.】 【Reminder: You have thirty minutes. Failure to exit in time will result in you becoming part of the maze.】 I scrambled up, putting my hand on the wall to steady myself. The texture was wrong. It was… moving. Like it was breathing. It wasn’t hard stone, but soft and warm, like human skin. It was sticky. My skin crawled. A scream ripped through the air. A man’s entire lower half was being absorbed by the wall. The stone made a wet, chewing sound. I snatched my hand back. 【HOLY HELL THE MAZE EATS PEOPLE?!】 【How else do you think it moves? Touch the walls for too long and you’re lunch.】 【Why wasn’t that in the warning?!】 【SSS-Class, genius. They have hidden death traps. This isn’t a tutorial.】 The players all exchanged panicked looks and started pulling out various items and tools. But it was no use; players kept getting Converted by the idols. We ran for what felt like an eternity, only to find our path blocked by another Shepherd idol. It just stood there, motionless, covered in moss that smelled like a damp basement. I glanced down for one second, and when I looked up, it had jumped ten feet closer. Its carved smile seemed wider, more like a caricature. Maya looked pale. She was running out of attack items. The system’s countdown began. 【Warning. Ten minutes remaining until maze lockdown.】 【Remaining Players: 15】 【This is just bad RNG. A narrow path and an idol spawn.】 【And the maze just shifted. It’s a dead end behind them. They’re trapped.】 【RIP.】 I was just… so annoyed. I fished a chalk nub from my pocket and winged it at the statue. I wasn’t trying to do anything; I was just venting. “Block, block, block! That’s all you do! You’re worse than the 405 on a holiday weekend!” 【…Is the newb insane? She’s talking to the statue.】 【She thinks this is school? That’s a monster, not a kid in detention.】 【Can we please vote-kick mentally unstable players?】 Brock, who was clutching some kind of explosive talisman, rolled his eyes at me. “If you’re gonna have a mental breakdown, don’t do it here, lady. What’s that little bit of chalk gonna do?” But the idol’s serenely carved smile… slowly… turned… down. It looked… upset? Gray pebbles started to chip off its face, like it was crying. Sobbing, the idol began to shuffle to the side, slowly clearing the path. Its turtle-like pace just made me see red, reminding me of every student who ever dawdled in the hall. “Hustle! Hustle! Don’t dawdle! I want to see you run!” The idol suddenly tucked and rolled, careening down the hallway at high speed. 【???】 【Did that statue just… obey her? Like a dog?】 【Hold on, I’m going to go stand on my head. This can’t be real.】 【You guys don’t actually believe she scolded it into moving, do you? She must have hit a secret trigger.】 【This newb… she’s got something weird going on.】 Everyone, including the hyper-critical Brock, was staring at me like I’d grown a second head. We pushed forward. The players who had been glued to Maya’s back were now slowly drifting behind me. The maze shifted again, and the players at the tail end were cut off. As we walked, I saw a figure at the next intersection. It was a young girl, maybe fourteen or fifteen. She was wearing strange, rustic clothing, and her bangs were so long they completely covered her eyes. She was holding a bizarre, curved knife, which was dripping blood onto the floor. 【Warning. Three minutes remaining until maze lockdown.】 【Remaining Players: 12】 The girl, dragging her bloody knife, started walking toward us. 【Oh, their luck is just the worst. That’s Lily, the ‘Butcher’s Daughter.’ She’s a mini-boss.】 【Don’t let her size fool you. She’s killed five people in the last three minutes. Doesn’t even ask questions.】 【I’ll bet a bag of chips only the Sorceress and Brock get out of this.】 Everyone froze. I looked at the girl, clenching my fists. I tried to hold it in. I really did. I couldn’t. THWACK. I slapped the knife out of her hand. I then reached into my bag, pulled out a small elastic hair tie, and swept her greasy bangs up, tying them in a ridiculous sprout on top of her head. “Young lady, you are too young to be this gloomy.” “We show our faces. We are bright! We are presentable!” “If you showed up to my school like this, you’d get sent straight to the office for violating the dress code!” The chat feed was just a stream of question marks. 【Challenging the mini-boss. She has guts, I’ll give her that.】 【Can I borrow some of her confidence? Asking for a friend.】 【This NPC is a literal psychopath and the teacher is disciplining her. If she lives, I will… I will finally do my taxes.】 【I think she has a plan. She has to.】 Maya instantly jumped in front of me, shielding me. The little girl, Lily, sniffled. Her eyes, which hadn’t seen proper light in ages, squinted and teared up. Exposed, her face was just… confused. The “Sprout” on her head made her look like a dazed cartoon character. After a long, stunned silence, she just… whispered, “Oh.” 【Huh? She’s fine?】 【Am I hallucinating? The psycho-killer kid didn’t kill her.】 【This is the same kid who was shanking players a minute ago!】 【Okay, tax guy. Pay up.】 My professional instincts were now completely overriding my survival instincts. “What’s your name, honey? What grade are you in?” “I’m… I’m Lily. I… I don’t go to school.” Don’t… go… to… school. The words echoed in my head. This was 2025. This was America. A kid not in school? I grabbed Lily’s hand. “Take me to your village. Now.” Every child deserves an education! This truancy was unacceptable! She looked at our joined hands, then at my face, clearly confused by my sudden fiery passion. Finally, she just nodded. “Okay.” Brock, who had been bracing for a bloodbath, just gaped. “Huh?” Chat: 【?】

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My roommate’s livestreamed confession to the campus belle was a total train wreck. To save face, he swiped my phone and confessed to her again. Her reply came in a flood: 【Babe, I’m already head over heels for you. How much more do you want me to like you?】 【Can we go public? Please? I’m so tired of sneaking around.】 【Some other loser just confessed to me, and I shut him down so fast!】 【You’re the only one for me, babe. The only one!】 My roommate stared, dumbfounded. The live chat went into meltdown. And I just froze. 1 My roommate, Ian, was live again. He’s a minor influencer, with a couple hundred thousand followers on a popular streaming platform. To keep them engaged, he spends a few nights a week live, just hanging out. For him, it’s just business. For me and our other two roommates, it’s a nightmare. A dorm room is supposed to be a private space. In the sweltering summer heat, walking around shirtless isn’t exactly a rare occurrence. But after we accidentally wandered into his stream once, we all started dressing like we were heading into a blizzard, even in our own room. But even fully clothed, you can’t avoid pajamas. And no one wants to be an unintentional background character in someone else’s content. The three of us sat Ian down and gently suggested he be a little more careful. He got all self-righteous. “Come on, guys. My whole brand is the ‘college guy’ lifestyle. My fans watch me for an authentic look at my life, you know?” “If I stream from behind my bed curtain, what’s the point? Are you guys going to cover the ad revenue I lose?” “Besides,” he added, “I’m doing you a favor. Do you have any idea how much I make a month from this? A little screen time could make you guys famous, too.” My other two roommates and I just stood there, speechless. Then he turned on me. “And you, Leo!” “You were wearing those gray sweatpants and walking behind me on purpose last time, weren’t you? Do you know how many DMs I get asking for your number? Seriously, if you’re that desperate for clout, just say so. Don’t pull cheap tricks like that.” I was about to lose it. The next day, he had the nerve to go on stream and complain to his fans that his roommates were bullying him. He even worked up some tears, his eyes red as he sobbed about being an outcast. His fans, of course, went on the attack. In that unhinged comment section, I was called things I’d never even heard before. A regular person’s voice is no match for an influencer’s. We were branded as bullies overnight. Our new motto became: If you can’t beat him, avoid him. Today, the other two guys were out. But I was stuck with a last-minute group project, forced to sit at my desk, a prisoner in my own room. Even with noise-canceling headphones on, Ian’s voice cut through. “Two hundred thousand followers! You guys asked for a special stream, and the number one request was to watch me confess to my crush.” He feigned a blush. “So, I guess today’s the day. I’m going to confess to Miss C.” “And yes, it’ll be live. This is a huge moment for me, and I want all of you to be here for it!” Ian was a master at crafting his online persona. He was cute, and he filled his feed with photos of himself paired with angsty captions about his secret crush. It had a very old-school, sentimental vibe. The contrast of a good-looking guy nursing a secret love was catnip for his audience, and he quickly became a minor celebrity in the online romance niche. A live confession was guaranteed to pull massive numbers. I had to admit, the guy would do anything for views. Ian added, almost shyly, “And I guess I can stop calling her Miss C. Her name… it’s Chloe Reed. Yeah, the Chloe Reed.” He smiled into the camera. “So, yeah. I’m about to confess to Chloe Reed.” My head snapped up. What the hell?! The girl he’s confessing to is my girlfriend? 2 Even though she’s not a celebrity, Chloe has her own online following. Unlike Ian, who meticulously curated his content, Chloe’s fame was a complete accident. It started with a campus news interview. A breakfast spot near the university was embroiled in a scandal—someone claimed they found a dead rat in a meat bun. To salvage their reputation, the shop arranged for a reporter to interview customers out front. By sheer luck, they flagged down Chloe. She was half-asleep, a carton of soy milk dangling from her lips, holding a massive bag of meat buns. The reporter was thrilled. “You bought so many! These buns must be amazing, right?” “Nope,” Chloe said, deadpan. “We’ve got a mouse problem in our dorm. I heard these buns are so bad they could kill a rat. Figured I’d buy a few and see if the rumors are true.” The reporter started sweating. “Haha, well, you don’t need that many, do you?” Chloe replied, “My roommate said she wanted to taste the legendary bun that could take down a rodent. I’m getting some for her.” Desperate, the reporter changed tactics, pointing to her soy milk. “You seem to be enjoying that! Their soy milk must be delicious, at least?” Chloe paused for a beat, then delivered the final blow. “I got this from the place next door.” The interview ended there. Someone uploaded the clip, and it went viral. Chloe’s stunning looks, her status as a student at a top university, and her dry, deadpan humor earned her a legion of fans overnight. Her actual social media account was incredibly boring. A few everyday videos, a couple of photos. Normally, an account that inactive would fade into obscurity. But then, on a popular talk show, the award-winning actress Claire Reed casually mentioned that the viral “rat-bun girl” was her little sister. Her actual, biological sister. And just like that, Chloe Reed was a name everyone on the internet knew. I discreetly opened Ian’s stream. The viewer count was already over ten thousand, a massive jump from his usual numbers, and it was still climbing fast. Ian was beaming. “Yes, I’m really doing it! No clickbait. If you want to see it happen, stick around.” The chat was exploding with comments about Chloe. 【Is he really confessing to her? Why am I so excited about this!】 【Claire Reed’s fan here! This guy is cute, hope it works out!】 【Our new brother-in-law, lol. Our new brother-in-law, lol. Our new brother-in-law, lol.】 【Hey, back off my man!】 【Chloe’s fan reporting in! I love a gorgeous girl with a deadpan sense of humor!】 【Is it just me, or does Chloe seem totally different from the ‘Miss C’ Ian always talks about? I pictured Miss C being more of an ice queen.】 【@ a few comments up, you know Chloe personally? Maybe she is an ice queen in private.】 【The interview proves she can’t be an ice queen!】 【Who knows her better, Ian or you guys? You all act like one viral video is the gospel truth.】 【But Claire also said her sister is a total goofball…】 Ian bit his lip, pretending to be nervous. “She is a little cold to me sometimes. Maybe I shouldn’t do this?” His fans rushed to comfort him. 【NOOOO! Ian, all your stories about Miss C are so sweet! There’s no way she doesn’t like you!】 【And you guys have ‘run into each other’ so many times! That’s not a coincidence. I’ll eat my hat if she wasn’t doing it on purpose!】 【I bet you a bag of chips she’s just playing hard to get in front of the guy she likes.】 【That fits the ice queen persona perfectly, lol.】 【So the little minx was leading our Ian on this whole time, just to make him confess publicly? What a schemer!】 【Go for it, Ian! You got this!】 Buoyed by his fans’ encouragement, Ian pumped his fist. “Okay!” 3 I scrolled through Ian’s profile, skeptical. He had a whole series of videos about “Miss C.” Ian had a knack for making ordinary events sound magical, which was probably how he’d gotten so many followers in the first place. But the more I watched, the more I doubted this “Miss C” was actually Chloe. It wasn’t that I blindly trusted my girlfriend not to cheat. It was that the Chloe he described was a complete stranger to me. My Chloe was childish. She was proud, immature, incredibly competitive and possessive, loved to be coddled, and was super clingy. Ian’s “Miss C,” on the other hand, was a character straight out of a romance novel. Giving him an umbrella in the rain, a hand-warmer in the winter, guiding him through a library blackout, a shared, meaningful glance across a crowded concert hall… even the stories sounded like fiction. I frowned and went back to the stream. The viewer count had skyrocketed past one hundred thousand. They were all here for Chloe. 【I wish he was doing a video call. I want to see her face again.】 【Didn’t her student ID photo leak a while back? Still gorgeous.】 【This has to be a publicity stunt, right? Are they going to launch a couple’s channel next?】 【Please, Chloe doesn’t even ride her own sister’s coattails for clout. Why would she care about some streamer’s numbers?】 【She’s not even active online.】 【Conspiracy theory: what if he’s the one using her for clout?】 【Anyone saying he’s clout-chasing needs to go watch his ‘Miss C’ series! It’s so obvious they both have feelings!】 On screen, Ian opened his contacts list, found the profile picture labeled “Chloe Reed,” and tapped it. As if to prove it was really her, he even scrolled through her feed for the camera. I was stunned that they were even connected. And since Claire had posted a few chat screenshots with her sister before, Chloe’s profile picture was instantly recognizable to her fans. The entire chat held its breath. For some reason, I felt a knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach. Just then, my phone buzzed with a message from the source of all this chaos. 【Babe, are you still mad at me?】 【Please don’t be mad?】 【I really didn’t mean it, I just lost control for a second…】 【Babe, please answer me. You’re scaring me.】 【Leo, I’m begging you.】 【{Crying}{Kneeling}.jpg】 【Hubby hubby hubby hubby hubby hubby hubby hubby!】 I meant to just hide the notification, but my thumb slipped and hit “Delete and Clear History.” The entire chat log vanished. Even more annoyed, I tossed my phone aside. But I couldn’t just ignore the live confession. My roommate was broadcasting from five feet away. Even with my headphones cranked up, his voice bled through between songs. He was telling the story of how they first met. I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed my pajamas and headed for the shower. I had no idea that when I came back out, my entire world would be turned upside down. 4 Ian was still streaming. And it seemed to have gone well. He was grinning from ear to ear, thanking viewer after viewer for sending him expensive virtual gifts. The donations were pouring in. I was confused. A live confession, and people were sending him this much? Did Chloe actually say yes? No way, I thought, as I started searching my desk for my phone. It had been right there before my shower, but now it was gone, as if it had grown legs and walked away. I checked my bed, my closet, even the trash can. Nothing. A drop of water from my wet hair trickled down my neck. Ian’s triumphant laughter echoed in the room. I forced myself to calm down. The phone was gone, but then I remembered: I was logged into my messaging app on my laptop. I clicked it open. The number of unread messages made my heart pound. From my roommate, Sam: 【Leo, is that your phone Ian is holding?】 【Why did you let him use your phone?】 【HOLY SHIT! You and Chloe are dating???】 From my other roommate, Mark: 【You finish that group project yet?】 【Man, Ian is really making a big deal out of this. I heard about his live confession to Chloe all the way over at the library.】 【LMAO of course he failed. Serves him right!】 【Wait, why did he just grab your phone?】 【DUDE, get your phone back! Why did you give it to him?!】 【WTF!】 【You’re dating Chloe Reed?】 【And she’s your secret, lovesick girlfriend?!】 A wave of panic washed over me. It wasn’t until I clicked on my chat with Chloe that I understood what had happened. The chat log I’d accidentally erased was now filled with new messages. The first two were even from “me.” 【I like you.】 【Do you like me?】 Chloe’s reply was instantaneous. 【Babe, I’m already head over heels for you. How much more do you want me to like you?】 【Can I just rip my heart out and show you? I love you so much! Mwah mwah mwah~】 【Can we go public? Please?】 【I’m so tired of sneaking around.】 【Sometimes I feel like your dirty little secret, crying QAQ】 【Some other loser just confessed to me, and I shut him down so fast!】 【You’re the only one for me, babe. The only one!】 Ian had finished his stream at some point. With a loud clatter, he threw my long-lost phone onto my desk. He leaned against his bedpost, arms crossed, a smug look on his face. “Thanks for the help.” 5 “You used my phone to confess to her?” I asked, my voice shaking with disbelief. Ian shrugged, the picture of innocence. “Hey, as long as it makes for a good stream, right? Everyone thinks it’s my phone now anyway.” He flashed me a grin. “Why didn’t you tell me you and Chloe were dating? If I’d known, I wouldn’t have wasted all that time trying to get her number.” “I thought you guys were just acquaintances. Turns out it’s a little more than that, huh?” “That was my phone!” I yelled, my anger boiling over. He rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. It’s yours. So what? The entire internet thinks it’s mine. Are you going to go out and correct them?” Ian took a step closer. “Besides, you’re the one who wanted to keep it a secret, right? Now her public boyfriend is me. Isn’t that exactly what you wanted?” He clapped me on the shoulder. “You should be thanking me.” I slapped his hand away. Just then, the door opened and our other two roommates walked in. Sam took one look at the scene, immediately stepped in front of me, and glared at Ian. “Your own confession failed, so you stole Leo’s phone to do it again? How can you be so shameless?” Mark backed him up. “We’ve put up with enough of your crap! You think you’re so special just because you have a few followers?” Ian just smirked. “Actually, yeah. Having followers is pretty special.” He casually checked his phone. “And thanks to tonight’s stream, I’m up to three hundred thousand. So, Leo… how about you let me have your girlfriend?” I stared him down. “You’re not afraid I’ll expose you online?” He looked completely unfazed. “Go ahead. Let’s see who they believe. You, or me.” “Have you already forgotten what happened last time?” he said. “You tried to clear your names. Did anyone listen? Did anyone care? But all I have to do is cry a little, and my fans will believe anything I say. So go on, trash me online. My three hundred and forty thousand followers are ready for a fight.” He glanced at his phone again. “Oh, wait. Make that three hundred and fifty.” My fists clenched. My other roommates were stunned into silence by his sheer audacity. They looked at me, their eyes asking, What now? The false bullying accusation had been a painful lesson. I still remembered how helpless we’d felt. All Ian had to do was cry on camera, and we were suddenly the villains. The online hate from strangers was one thing, but the looks we got from other students on campus were worse. I took a deep breath. Just as I was about to retort, my phone lit up on the desk. The caller ID read: Chloe Reed. I met Ian’s triumphant gaze. “You’re right. No one will listen to me. No one will believe me,” I said, picking up the phone. “But what about Chloe?” The color drained from Ian’s face.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385754”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel