Category: English

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

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

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In my last life, I helped my neighbor chase away her abusive ex-boyfriend. But I never expected her to be so hopelessly love-blind. Not only did she quickly move in with him, but she also told him I was trying to break them up. In the end, I was dragged into her apartment by her ex and brutally murdered. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I first witnessed her ex harassing her. Hearing her cries for help, I simply offered my “thoughts and prayers.” After all, she loves him so much. 1 “Bitch! Who told you to call the cops? Ray loves me, why would he hurt me? You’re just jealous of us!” In the cramped living room, I lay on the floor, gagged with a dirty rag, covered in blood. My neighbor, Chloe, stood over me, her face twisted in rage, occasionally kicking my ribs. My consciousness was fading from blood loss, but I could still hear the couple discussing how to dispose of my body. Then, Ray raised a baseball bat and brought it down hard on my head. Pain exploded, and my world went black. “Ray, please let me go.” “Put the knife down, we can talk about this.” I don’t know how much time passed before I jerked awake to the sound of violent pounding and shouting. The phantom pain throbbed in my memory, soaking me in cold sweat. I frantically checked my body. No blood. No broken bones. I wasn’t dead? Hearing the familiar commotion in the hallway, I instinctively checked the calendar on my phone. It was the third day after I moved into this apartment. I was reborn? I crept out of bed and pressed my eye to the peephole. I saw the man who killed me, Ray, wielding a kitchen knife and hammering on Chloe’s door. Seeing this familiar scene confirmed it. I was back. Memories of my previous life flooded back, and I held my breath, retreating silently to my bedroom. Last time, because I called the police, Chloe and Ray held a grudge that ended in my murder. This time, I wouldn’t interfere. Respect. Bless. Goodbye. The pounding and shouting continued. I was afraid to go out, afraid of getting entangled. But Ray was unemployed; he could stay there all day. I couldn’t. I had just started a new job a week ago. If I was late, I might fail my probation. Looking at the three-digit balance in my bank account, I wanted to cry. As the time I usually left for work approached, an idea struck me. The moment I opened my apartment door, Ray whipped his head around. His eyes were fierce, the look of a desperate thug. The fear of being beaten to death by him almost made me look away, but I forced myself to hold it. I raised my hand, tentatively touching the peeling wall, and shuffled out slowly, my eyes unfocused. “Is that the new neighbor? Please, can you call 911 for me?” Chloe heard my door open and cried out, clinging to me like a lifeline. Just like last time. She begged for help, but later blamed me for helping. This time, absolutely not. I kept my gaze vacant and turned towards the sound. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” “My ex is trying to kill me! Please help me call the police!” I shook my head blankly. “I’m sorry, I have bad vision. I can’t see anything clearly.” “Is there a misunderstanding? Couples fight all the time. Don’t do anything rash.” As I spoke, I saw Ray slowly lower the knife, a menacing grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, just a misunderstanding. She’s just throwing a tantrum. Don’t worry about it.” I shuffled down the stairs carefully, forcing a smile. “It’s normal for couples to bicker. You should treat her better, man.” Amidst Ray’s dismissive agreement and Chloe’s shrieks for help, I made my way down step by step. Once outside the building, my legs turned to jelly. I didn’t dare linger and hurried toward the subway station. 2 Squeezed into the corner of a crowded subway car, I clutched my bag and thought about my next move. I wanted to move immediately, but remembering my bank balance and the lease-breaking fee, the idea crumbled. Go back to my parents? Escaping that house took everything I had. Going back wasn’t an option. I didn’t have the plot armor or windfalls of a novel protagonist. I couldn’t just quit my job or switch apartments on a whim. Since I couldn’t run, I had to attack. During my lunch break, I checked the building’s group chat. People were discussing the morning’s police incident. After scrolling through the history, I learned that after I left, Chloe asked the lady upstairs, Mrs. Gable, for help. When the police arrived, Ray tried to run but was eventually caught at the gate. Just like last time. Only the person who called the cops was different. I stared at the screen and saw Mrs. Gable send a long voice message. I transcribed it to text. [Oh my god, I just got back from the station. The girl forgave the guy! They left together, happy as clams!] [Can you believe it? That man was banging on the door with a cleaver! I went through all that trouble with the police, and she just forgave him. What a waste of time!] Other neighbors chimed in with their shock. I stared at the screen without smiling. Thankfully, Mrs. Gable had a son who was a gym trainer. She should be safe. After work, I didn’t go straight home. I navigated to a shop. Based on the timeline, Ray hadn’t moved in with Chloe yet. I still had time. I bought a smart doorbell with a camera. Then I went to a print shop that specialized in funeral portraits and ordered a large framed photo. When I sent the file, the clerk turned pale. “It’s my twin sister,” I explained. The clerk visibly relaxed. Carrying my purchases home, I didn’t see Chloe or Ray. The gossiping neighbors said Ray took Chloe out for street tacos. Of course. Their reconciliation speed was faster than a rocket. Chloe was a terminal case of love-blindness. But this time, no matter what drama she stirred up, she wouldn’t drag me down. I installed the doorbell and placed the black-and-white funeral portrait in a spot visible as soon as the door opened. Only then did I exhale and collapse onto my bed. The next few days were peaceful. No noise from across the hall. I knew Ray’s lease elsewhere had about two weeks left. Last time, after I helped Chloe, we became somewhat close. We’d chat, shop, and eat together. That’s why when she invited me over, I went without suspicion, only to be met with Ray’s baseball bat. On the weekend, I was woken up by noise upstairs. “What do you mean? You want revenge because I called the cops?” “Ow! My heart! You… you… pay up!” Following the sound of Mrs. Gable falling, a deep male voice roared in anger. “What’s your problem? Did you just hit my mom?” “Bullying an old lady? Do you think her son is dead?” “Bro, bro, misunderstanding! I didn’t, I wasn’t…” Ray’s voice sounded cowardly. Imagining Ray charging upstairs only to be met by a muscle-bound gym trainer made me laugh. Bully the weak, fear the strong. Typical scum. After they went to the hospital to sort it out, I drifted back to sleep. … “Bitch! Why didn’t you tell me an old lady lived with a hulk? You cost me so much in medical bills!” “I’m gonna beat you to death!” Ray’s roaring and Chloe’s crying woke me up again. Checking my phone, it was 1 PM. Listening to Chloe cry, I felt zero sympathy. Chloe had told me countless times that Ray beat her, cheated on her, and solicited prostitutes. Yet she always forgave him. Love-brain is terrifying. When the noise finally died down, I heard… other noises. Moaning. Huh? Is this makeup sex? They disrupt everyone’s lives and then go back to domestic bliss? I laughed in disbelief. 3 I thought that without interacting with Chloe, I’d be safe. But the day after their “reconciliation,” I got a friend request. [Hi, I’m your neighbor. Let’s get to know each other. Neighbors should help each other out~] Afraid that refusing would make them suspicious, I accepted. [Hi, I’m Chloe from across the hall.] [I noticed you just moved in. Can we be friends?] Thinking of the ugliness hidden under her friendly facade, I pursed my lips and typed back. [Sure.] For the first few days, Chloe was reserved. We chatted only via text. Whenever she asked to meet up, I used work as an excuse. Gradually, she started pushing boundaries. [Sarah, can I borrow some cooking oil?] She started borrowing things frequently, from cheap spices to my jewelry and clothes. I agreed to almost everything, except meeting in person. Blindly avoiding them might provoke retaliation, so I decided to be “generous.” A plan formed in my mind. She likes taking advantage of people? Let her. But borrowing from a “dead person” isn’t so simple. Ray’s lease was up. He would be moving in with Chloe soon. I wasn’t ready to deal with them yet. “The company has a project that requires travel. Who wants to go?” On Monday, the manager asked during a meeting. My colleagues looked at each other. No one volunteered. The destination was remote, deep in the mountains. The bonus didn’t match the hardship. As the manager’s face darkened, I raised my hand. “I’ll go.” Everyone stared at me in confusion. Even the manager was surprised. Usually, he had to force someone to go. I was the first volunteer. The manager beamed and praised me. The project was urgent, so I was booked on a flight that night. To reward my initiative, the manager added a $200 bonus. While I was reading the project plan, my phone started vibrating like crazy. [Sarah, are you home? Emergency.] [Can you come back if you aren’t?] I frowned and turned off my phone. After dinner, sitting in the company car to the airport, I turned it back on. Chloe’s message bombardment almost froze my screen. After reading dozens of messages, I realized that when I didn’t reply, she started calling. When the calls failed, she sent voice messages crying that Ray was beating her again and begging me to come save her. Save her with what? My life? My manager was downstairs waiting while I packed. As I reached the third floor, I saw Chloe pounding on my door. “Sarah, you’re finally back!” She lunged at me, showing off her bruises. “Look! It’s all because you didn’t come back in time. Ray beat me like this. You have to pay for my medical bills!” 4 She tried to grab me. I dodged and smiled. “I can’t. I’m busy.” To stop her pestering, I added, “I have a business trip. My boss is driving me to the airport right now.” Chloe’s face fell instantly. Her disappointment was palpable. I ignored her and unlocked my door. Leaving with my suitcase, I saw the opposite door wide open. Ray and Chloe stood there, staring. It felt like they had been watching my door since I arrived. “You aren’t blind?” Seeing my clear eyes and sure movements, Ray looked angry, like he’d been played. “Blind?” I acted surprised. “What blind person? Do you know me? We’ve never met.” “Are you messing with me?” Ray looked murderous. “Why would I lie? I don’t know you.” I paused, then slapped my forehead in realization. “Oh! My twin sister is blind. But… she died years ago…” Ray and Chloe’s faces went white. They slammed their door shut. As the plane took off, I suppressed a smile and focused on my plan. Ray didn’t dare retaliate against Mrs. Gable because of her muscular son. He was a coward. He might bully a single woman like me, but if that single woman’s apartment was haunted… The props I prepared for self-defense were about to become offensive weapons. I arrived at my hotel at 2 AM. Perfect time for ghost stories. I remotely activated the smart speaker in my apartment and played the audio file I prepared. On the surveillance feed, my empty apartment filled with the sounds of footsteps, toilets flushing, TikTok scrolling, and water being poured. Eerie enough to keep some people awake. Sure enough, the next morning, I got a call from Chloe. Her voice was full of exhaustion and fear. “Sarah, isn’t your apartment empty?” “Yes, why?” I asked, suppressing a laugh. “There were… noises coming from your place last night!” Hearing her on the verge of tears, I smiled and offered fake comfort. “It’s fine. Maybe my sister came back to visit me. Oh, gotta run, bye.” I hung up and washed my face happily. … During my days in the mountains, Chloe called repeatedly. I rejected them all, citing bad signal. Through my efforts, rumors of my haunted apartment spread through the complex. The most terrified were my neighbors, Ray and Chloe. Guilty consciences fear ghosts knocking at the door. While I was gone, they complained to management multiple times but were dismissed as superstitious. The elderly residents agreed they were making a fuss over nothing. Combined with Ray’s previous failed intimidation attempt, the couple became pariahs in the complex. When I returned, they both looked haggard. Dark circles, puffy eyes. Seeing me, Chloe grabbed my hand like a lifeline. “Sarah, you’re finally back! Your apartment is haunted! Do something!” I pushed her away gently and smiled. “I can’t help that. I’ve never had issues living there. As long as you don’t do anything guilty, ghosts won’t hurt you.” As I unpacked, I got a message. [Sarah dear, that girl across from you has a bad heart. While you were gone, I heard her boyfriend say he wants to break into your place to check for ghosts.] [Guilty conscience, I tell you. Be careful. If you need, I can give you my son’s number. He’s a trainer, he can protect you.] [He’s single, by the way.] I thanked Mrs. Gable profusely but hesitated before adding her son. Before my trip, I had told Mrs. Gable my plan. She held a grudge too, so we partnered up. I created the “haunting,” and she spread the rumors. Never underestimate the power of neighborhood gossip.

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My parents took me to the group home to pick out a sister. I scanned the swarm of girls our age. I was about to walk toward the quiet girl from my homeroom class, the one I knew—Autumn. Then, a sudden barrage of text—like subtitles or a bad movie scroll—slashed across my vision. [Ugh, the side character is so annoying. Our FL Baby is poor but has integrity. Who wants to sell their freedom for cash?] [He uses his wealth to adopt the FL, then tries to emotionally blackmail her, causing all the drama with the ML.] [Who cares about his dirty money? His family deserves to be ruined by the ML later on.] [Poor FL Baby, always stuck under someone else’s roof.] I froze, horrified by the invasive, toxic commentary. I yanked my hand back from where it was reaching for Autumn and quickly grabbed the hand of a different girl, huddled in the far corner. Emotional blackmail? Ruined by the ML? No way was I going to be that guy. No way was my family, the Montgomerys, going to go bankrupt because of some idiotic web novel plot. She needed her freedom—the freedom to eat gruel and live miserably, apparently. I wasn’t going to stand in the way of her noble poverty. 1 “Tris, you said you wanted a little sister, right?” My mother, Eleanor, patted my shoulder and gestured toward the room full of kids. “Go on, pick the one who catches your eye. ” I was just scanning the sea of girls. My eyes landed on Autumn, the girl I already knew. She was solitary but seemed polite. I had said I wanted a sister, but I hadn’t expected them to take me seriously. Still, since my parents had brought me here, picking a quiet, likable one seemed easy enough. Our family certainly wasn’t struggling. With that thought, I headed straight for Autumn. But just as I was about to reach out my hand, that wall of text exploded across my vision again. [Is the side character seriously going to keep hounding our FL Baby even here? Isn’t it enough that he follows her around school?] [Seriously! The side character is the worst! Our FL Baby doesn’t want to go with you!] Side character? Female Lead? I stopped, confused. Were they talking about Autumn and me? [Can the smelly side character please back off? Our FL Baby is poor but has integrity. Who wants to sell their freedom for cash?] [I’m a first-time reader. Why are they saying that? What happened later?] [Oh, you don’t know. The side character, a rich kid, adopts the FL, then tries to emotionally blackmail her, causing all the drama with the ML.] [Who cares about his dirty money? His family deserves to be ruined by the ML later on.] [Poor FL Baby, always stuck under someone else’s roof. She hates the side character but never dares to say it. So tragic.] [It’s okay! He won’t be a nuisance for long. The Male Lead will make sure he and his whole family pay!] Bankrupt? Male Lead? He’ll make sure my whole family pays? I jumped back, my move toward Autumn stopping dead. “Son? What’s wrong? Are you shy?” My mother misinterpreted my sudden halt, immediately stepping forward to take Autumn’s hand herself. I reacted instantly, grabbing Mom’s arm. The move was too sharp, too obvious. She looked surprised. The bullet screen commentary went nuts. [What’s going on? Why isn’t the side character grabbing our little Autumn?] That one line sealed it. I was the doomed “”side character”” who would blackmail the “”Female Lead,”” be utterly despised by her, and finally get bankrupted by the “”Male Lead. “” Bankruptcy? No! Absolutely not! “I don’t want her!” I shouted, the volume surprising even me. Autumn looked stunned. My mother was completely taken aback. “I want her to be my sister!” I quickly scanned the room, my eyes landing on the girl I’d seen earlier, huddled in the quietest corner, looking completely isolated. It didn’t matter who the new sister was. It just couldn’t be Autumn. Mom hadn’t expected me to choose that particular girl. She was pretty, yes, but radiated an almost palpable ‘stay away’ vibe. However, since they had given me the choice, they wouldn’t argue with my selection. We quickly handled the adoption paperwork. As I led my new sister out of the group home, the familiar text reappeared. [What is this? Didn’t the story say the side character would adopt the FL?] [Who cares why he didn’t! This is a good thing for our FL Baby!] [Exactly! The FL didn’t end up in a gilded cage! She’s finally free to wait for the ML to find her and love her!] Yeah, I’m truly evil, aren’t I? I thought cynically. I would have forced her to leave a life of misery for a big house, pressured her to spend our money, and forced her to have a good life. A villain like me definitely shouldn’t inflict such harm on the “”FL Baby. “” Let her enjoy her freedom and eat her metaphorical gruel at the group home. I tightened my grip on my new sister’s hand and strode out the front door. 2 My new sister was exactly as she appeared—solitary and shy. But she was undeniably cute, which made her reserved nature easy to overlook. “What’s your name?” I asked her, once we were home. “She’s called Watery,” Mom answered for her, using the name from the paperwork. “I’m not Watery,” she said. It was her first time speaking since arriving. Her voice was soft and sweet, and her demeanor was incredibly endearing. “I don’t have a name. Whatever Papa, Mama, and Brother say I’m called, that’s what I’ll be. ” Hearing that, Mom and Dad were immediately heartbroken, and they handed the naming rights back to me. “Then you’ll be Marina,” I decided. “”It’s Latin for ‘of the sea’ or ‘star of the sea,’ but even in Chinese, the character for Miao is triple water symbols. It suits you. “” She nodded fiercely, clutching my hand tightly, her eyes shining with joy. Her happiness was infectious, and I felt a genuine warmth. Watching her, I couldn’t help but think of Autumn. If Autumn had been the one to come home with us, she would never have been this sweet. She probably would have complained that the food wasn’t organic, or the house wasn’t “”free”” enough, spending our money while whining about being restricted. Then, she’d run off with the “”Male Lead”” and ruin my family. A complete user! No. I wouldn’t allow that kind of person into my life. Now that Marina was adopted, the next step was school. She was only a few months younger than me, but her previous school was miles away. I convinced Dad to arrange a transfer to Northwood Prep, the school I attended. “I want her to go to school with me,” I insisted. “I want to go to school with Brother, too,” Marina murmured softly, standing beside me. She’d just been dressed in a new designer dress by Mom, her hair pulled into two neat little braids. She looked like a delicate porcelain doll. The transfer was simple enough for my father, Robert Montgomery, to arrange. The next morning, Marina took my hand, and we walked into my homeroom. The class went silent, seeing me walk in with an unfamiliar girl. “Tris, what’s up? Since when do you hang out with anyone besides Autumn? Who is this?” A guy named Joel asked. “This is my sister, Marina Montgomery,” I announced. Marina was a little shy, but she didn’t hide. She just gripped the edge of my blazer, her wide eyes taking in the room. The teacher assigned her a desk two rows away from mine. Marina’s brow instantly furrowed, and her eyes welled up. “Can’t I sit next to Brother?” she asked, pulling on my sleeve, her voice thick with hurt. “Of course, you can,” I said without hesitation. But another voice cut in at the exact same time. “No, I don’t agree!” It was Autumn. She stood by her desk, her expression dark. I glanced at her, and the bullet screen commentary flared up again. [I almost forgot—the side character and our FL Baby are still seatmates.] [Why doesn’t Baby want to switch? If he moves, no one will bother her!] “What business is it of yours?” The sight of her, coupled with the toxic plot summary I’d read, instantly made her unlikable. “You’re my current seatmate,” Autumn frowned. “Even if you don’t like me, you can’t just force me to give up my spot to someone else. ” [Exactly! Baby is so brave! She won’t submit to the villain!] [The side character is too much. Why does he think he can just demand the FL’s seat? Does he think being rich means he can get whatever he wants?] What were these people talking about? Did they have any common sense? I looked at Autumn as if she were insane, then addressed the bullet screen. “When did I ever say I wanted you to move?” I then turned to the kid who sat next to Marina: “Hey, why don’t we switch? You can take my spot. ” My desk was perfectly situated—prime real estate in the classroom. The student agreed immediately. And Autumn? The one who had just righteously stood up for her right to her seat? Though no one had touched her spot, her eyes suddenly went red. She began to sniffle and cry softly, but the loud, dramatic inhalation meant everyone knew she was upset. It was completely ridiculous. No one had even looked at her crossly. Why was she crying? The commentary instantly erupted. [See? The side character made the FL cry again.] [He’s a total scumbag. If he didn’t want to switch, fine, but why be so cruel?] [Thank God the FL Baby wasn’t adopted by him. Who knows how much she’d have been bullied. ] The comments were as nonsensical as Autumn’s tears. 3 I had assumed the weirdness was confined to the bullet screen and Autumn, but it turned out some of my classmates were just as delusional. They had been right there. They had seen what happened. Yet, knowing I hadn’t bullied Autumn, they still treated her like she had suffered a terrible trauma. They seemed to instinctively protect her, their “”own kind,”” the first girl in the class, against me—and by extension, against Marina. The strange thing was, they blamed Marina for my actions. The malice on their faces was palpable whenever I left the room. The worst incident happened on Marina’s birthday. I gave her a delicate silver locket. It was expensive—a small fortune for my allowance, saved up over three months. But when she opened it, her eyes lit up like scattered starlight, and her smile was so genuine that I decided the money was worth it. I told Marina to wear the locket to school, and it immediately attracted everyone’s attention. “My brother gave it to me,” Marina whispered to the kids who gathered around her desk, showing it off modestly. The kids “”oohed”” and “”aahed. “” “It must be great to be Tris Montgomery’s sister,” someone sighed. “It must be great to be his seatmate, too,” someone else chimed in. “Autumn used to get tons of nice gifts from him. ” “That’s different,” I snapped, not wanting to be associated with Autumn. “The gift I gave Marina was carefully chosen, perfect for her. Autumn’s were just random trinkets I bought on impulse. ” Another soft, annoying cry immediately echoed through the classroom. I glared at Autumn, annoyed, then crouched down to ruffle Marina’s hair. “I’ll buy you fried chicken tonight. ” “Okay!” Marina answered sweetly. My Marina is so much better. My favoritism was completely obvious. I thought this blatant partiality would make others understand her importance to me and prevent them from bothering her. I was wrong. Because of Autumn’s presence—and the narrative inertia that still favored her—my preference for Marina became the ridiculous, unwritten reason they started to bully her. The next day, I had a slight fever, so Mom and Dad kept me home. Marina went to school alone. She was perfectly sweet and told me, “Goodbye, Brother,” before she left. I watched her go, but she never came home. Thirty minutes after the bell should have rung, I grew frantic. Ignoring my stomach ache, I rushed to the school to find her. The classroom was empty. Except for Marina. She was curled up, alone, sobbing quietly in the corner. My heart shattered. I rushed to hug her, and that’s when I saw it—the silver locket, now lying in pieces near her feet. “Who did this? Who hurt you?” I demanded. “They… they broke my necklace,” Marina choked out. 4 The next morning, I stood on the dais with Marina next to me, my face grim as students filed into the room. The shattered pieces of the locket lay on the teacher’s desk. As the kids arrived, those who were close to Autumn couldn’t meet my eyes. They fiddled with their backpacks or stared at their shoes. Their guilt was perfectly obvious to me. I scoffed. “Yesterday, when I wasn’t here, someone destroyed a locket I gave Marina, worth nearly twenty thousand dollars. ” “I’ve already notified the principal, and she’ll be here soon to pull the security footage. Whoever touched my sister needs to give me an explanation today. ” I spoke with a deep, menacing tone, focusing my gaze pointedly on Autumn. Autumn’s face instantly went pale. The bullet screen reappeared. [What is the side character doing? He’s trying to intimidate our Baby!] [That look is so cruel. It’s not like our FL Baby did it.] [The FL Baby deserves the best things in the world!] [Anyone who loves Autumn knows that locket should have been hers! Good job, kids! If our Female Lead can’t have the best, no one else should!] If the earlier comments were just nonsensical, these last ones genuinely enraged me. I didn’t care where these invisible idiots came from, but they were, in effect, accomplices. Female Lead? Side Character? This was my life. I was the only real protagonist here. Before Autumn could start her inevitable, preemptive tears, the principal arrived. Her expression was severe. She played the security footage from the previous afternoon for the entire class. My face darkened with every passing second. Four or five small boys had surrounded Marina just as she was packing up. She hadn’t worn the locket during the day; she’d kept it safely tucked away, only putting it on to wear home for me. As she put it on and turned to leave, one of the boys blocked her way. Then, he reached out, snatching at the chain around her neck. Marina was terrified and confused. She immediately covered the locket with her hands, asking fearfully, “What are you doing?” At that time, the only other student in the room was Autumn. Autumn was watching them the entire time. Yet, she allowed her friends to continue. She watched as they shoved Marina, screaming insults, trying to snatch the locket. Marina was tiny and slight—she was no match for a group of boys. She was quickly pushed to the floor, and the locket was ripped off her neck. The boy who grabbed it held it up to Autumn like a trophy. “Autumn! Look! We got it! Don’t worry, we’ll give it to you right away! This pretty locket should have been yours!” “No, it’s not!” Marina cried out from the floor. “My brother gave it to me!” “Why are you crying? The best things in the world belong to Autumn. If she likes it, it belongs to her,” the boy scoffed. “Your brother likes Autumn, too. He won’t even blame her! Even if he came here, that locket would still be Autumn’s!” “It is not!” Marina wailed, suddenly finding the strength to jump up and shove the boy holding the locket. The locket went flying, smashing instantly into a dozen glittering pieces on the hard floor. I finished watching the footage, my gaze settling on the frightened, wide-eyed Autumn. Autumn. Again. It all stemmed from her, and yet here she was, playing the innocent victim. “Who said that locket was Autumn’s to begin with?”

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1 I was the village punching bag. Anyone who felt like it could take a shot. But every single person who bullied me ended up crippled, one way or another. My foster mother, who called me a “bastard” and tried to sell me, was struck dumb. My foster brother, who locked me in the pigpen, was swarmed by the hogs and left paralyzed. My foster father, who stole my money, lost a hand in a gambling den. And the mayor’s son, who wanted to play a “stripping game” with me, lost the one thing that made him a man. When my wealthy birth parents finally came looking for me, the butcher knife in my hand was still dripping with blood. It was only then that the villagers realized I wasn’t a punching bag. I was a goddamn psycho. I thought my real parents would be horrified, but instead, their faces lit up with excitement. “Honey, we’re being bullied. Please, will you come home and help us?” … The mayor’s son lay in a rapidly expanding pool of his own blood and gore. My hand, holding the knife, didn’t even tremble. “Jed! My boy!” The mayor shoved his way through the stunned crowd, his usually commanding face now the color of bleached paper. He stumbled, his knees giving out, and collapsed into the bloody mess, clutching his son’s mangled body. His eyes, burning with a hatred that could have flayed me alive, fixed on me in utter disbelief. “You did this? You bitch!” His roar snapped the villagers out of their trance. The crowd erupted in a chaotic buzz, but strangely, no one dared to step forward. Instead, they all took a collective step back. “God Almighty, Jed’s… his thing… is it chopped off?” “It was Quinn. How could she?” “But… but she’s the girl who never fights back! The one who takes every insult without a word!” A wave of terror washed over them. They stared at me as if seeing me for the very first time. Faced with their questions, I just couldn’t understand the fuss. I offered a helpful explanation. “He said we were good friends and wanted to play a stripping game. But good friends should be the same, right? I don’t have one, so why should he?” Dead silence fell over the yard. Then, from somewhere in the quiet, a trembling voice piped up. “Her foster mom called her a bastard, and the next day she was poisoned dumb, can’t even talk now.” “Her foster brother threw her in the pigpen, and then he got mauled by the pigs. He’s still laid up in bed, can’t move.” “Her foster father… he stole the money she’d saved up, and a few days later, some thugs chopped off his arm!” “And… and what about that creep who tried to have his way with her a while back? He fell and broke his leg, nearly drowned in the river.” All these incidents, once dismissed as bizarre coincidences, were now being threaded together, and every single thread pointed directly at me—the girl who always kept her head down, the girl who took everything they dished out. The fear in the crowd curdled into pure horror. Seeing the hint of a smile on my face, a woman stumbled backward, scrambling away on her hands and knees. “Monster…” she whimpered. “She’s a monster!” “Could it be? Did she do all of it?” another man stammered, his legs barely holding him up. I ignored them, finding a rough stone to sharpen my knife. The blade was getting dull. A dull knife makes for a messy, unsatisfying job. Just then, a long, black Maybach pushed its way through the dirt roads of our village. A man and a woman, dripping with wealth but looking deeply troubled, stepped out. Their eyes scanned the crowd and locked onto me with unnerving precision. Before I could react, the woman rushed forward and threw her arms around me, her voice a raw, desperate cry. “My darling daughter, I’ve finally found you! Oh, thank God!” I tensed, unused to being touched. My questioning gaze met the red-rimmed eyes of the middle-aged man standing beside her. “Quinn,” he explained, his voice thick with emotion. “We did a test. You’re our biological daughter.” The villagers gasped, their eyes darting between me, my supposed parents, and the multi-million dollar car. The terror on their faces began to fade, replaced by a hungry, predatory greed. “So you’re her parents? Let me tell you, your daughter has hurt a lot of people in this village!” “That’s right! We all raised her, you know. How are you planning on thanking us?” “Just look at our mayor’s son, still bleeding on the ground! What are you going to do about that?” The crowd parted, revealing the gruesome scene of the mayor cradling his bloody son. The sticky, crimson mud, the severed piece of flesh lying nearby… it was enough to make anyone gag. But the man, my father, didn’t even flinch. He turned to me, his tone as gentle as if he were asking about the weather. “Quinn, did you do this?” Quinn. I liked the name. So I answered casually, “His little toy was always wiggling around where it shouldn’t. I didn’t like the look of it.” These rich people, I’d seen them on TV. All polished and proper. They wouldn’t want a daughter like me. I was about to tell them not to bother taking me home, but then I heard their thoughts, loud and clear. My God, our daughter is a certified badass! That’s how a woman should be! Fierce! That’s my girl! Alistair Croft’s daughter! Now, how should I deal with this pack of vultures? Interesting. For years, everyone in this village had avoided me like the plague. This was the first time anyone had ever actually liked me for who I was. This family… I’ll check it out. 2 I turned to the two people who looked so much like me and gave my order. “I’ll go with you.” Alistair and Evelyn Croft exchanged a look, on the verge of tears of joy. But the villagers weren’t having it. Their lust for money had finally overpowered their fear of me. One by one, they stepped forward, blocking our path. “Hold on! You’re not leaving without compensating us!” “Yeah, your daughter assaulted someone! You think you can just walk away?” “Let me tell you, if you don’t pay up today, none of you are leaving this village!” The mayor laid his unconscious son down and slowly walked over. “Sir, Ma’am,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “Your daughter did, in fact, harm my son. It’s not unreasonable for the entire village to demand some form of justice, is it?” My father, Alistair, started to step forward, but I blocked him with my knife. The huge butcher knife spun in my hand like a tiny toy. The rhythmic thump, thump, thump of me catching the handle seemed to beat in time with every villager’s heart. A few of them started trembling again. That silent, primal terror crept back onto their faces. I flashed a deceptively innocent smile, then slipped into the car. As the engine roared to life and we pulled away, the crowd was still frozen in place, paralyzed by my presence. Soon, the car entered a quiet, gated community of sprawling mansions. Alistair honked the horn several times, expecting a groundskeeper to open the wrought iron gates, but the man standing by the entrance didn’t move a muscle, acting as if he hadn’t heard a thing. Alistair shot me an embarrassed smile, trying to salvage some dignity. “We’re… very relaxed with our staff here. Very lenient.” His thoughts, however, were a storm of curses. That useless boyfriend of Tiffany’s is really pushing it. I pay him fifty thousand a month, he’s always joyriding in my cars, and now he won’t even open the gate for me? Am I going to have to get out and open it myself, like I always do? But what will Quinn think? She’ll think I’m a pushover. I just smiled, grabbed the steering wheel, and stomped on the gas. The car lunged forward with the force of a battering ram, aiming straight for the man. With a sickening crunch of metal on bone, the million-dollar Maybach’s front end crumpled. The man had jumped back, but not fast enough. One of his legs was caught, pinned and broken. “Alistair, are you insane? You hit me! You got a death wish?!” Still screaming like a dog, even with a broken leg. Annoying. I revved the engine again, the car inching forward as if to crush him completely. The man’s eyes widened in terror as the tire stopped just a centimeter from his chest. That’s my girl! I’ve wanted to get rid of that little punk for ages! She really took out the trash for me today! Where did she learn to drive like that? I need lessons! I got out of the car, my movements sharp and efficient, and looked at my two shell-shocked parents. “Am I in charge of this house?” Confused, Alistair and Evelyn nodded. Satisfied, I walked over to the man on the ground and planted my foot directly on his shattered leg. “AGHHHHH! IT HURTS! WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!” “Stop it! Who dares touch my man? Do you want to die?!” A sharp, shrill female voice cut through the air. I looked up to see a woman in a fiery red dress storming toward us, her face a mask of fury. Trailing behind her was a slim, pale girl in a white dress. Oh my god, is that my real sister? She’s so cool! She actually dared to mess with Tiffany’s boyfriend. So, the timid girl with the curious eyes must be the fake heiress, Sophie. The girl in red, Tiffany, saw us and struck a haughty pose. “Get your filthy foot off my boyfriend!” Seeing her, the man on the ground seemed to find his backbone, his voice turning into a pathetic whine. “Babe, you have to stand up for me! They drove right into me! If I’m… broken… how will I keep my baby happy?” His voice grated on my ears like a rusty hinge. I pressed down harder with my foot. Strangely, Alistair and Evelyn, who had stood their ground against the entire village, now seemed to shrink in on themselves in front of this younger woman, Tiffany. “Tiffany, we’re all family here,” Alistair pleaded. “Quinn didn’t mean it. Uncle will transfer five million to your account as an apology.” Evelyn also forced a smile, trying to smooth things over. “It’s all a misunderstanding, just a misunderstanding! We didn’t do it on purpose!” Even Sophie, the quiet girl, tried to pull Tiffany back. “Tiffany, please, let’s just drop it. I’ll give you that sculpture you liked, okay?” But her thoughts were frantic. I have to calm Tiffany down, or she’ll bully my new sister just like she bullies me. I frowned. Bullying? I don’t have much empathy, but if there’s one thing I despise, it’s people who use their power to torment others. Tiffany, soaking in the apologies and appeasements, started to look smug. She crossed her arms, staring down at me. “Fine. I’ll let it go. But first, I want her on her knees, barking like a dog.” 3 Alistair’s face hardened. “Tiffany, that’s going too far! Quinn is your cousin, your elder cousin.” Evelyn was right behind him. “Absolutely not! We will not let you do that!” Sophie’s eyes instantly welled with tears, her lip trembling. “Tiffany, if you have to break someone’s leg, break mine! You can do whatever you want to me!” she pleaded. “My sister just got here, she doesn’t know the rules of the house. Please, let it go this time!” The sight of my new family, so pathetic and weak, begging for mercy, struck a nerve. I hate cowards. A fire ignited in my gut. I lifted my foot off the man. Tiffany was about to say something triumphant, a smug smirk already forming on her lips, but she never got the chance. The crack of the blow echoed through the driveway. I slapped her so hard she flew sideways and landed in a heap on the manicured lawn. For five full seconds, no one moved. Then, a flood of silent thoughts crashed over me. What did she just do? She hit Tiffany? That’s it, she’s my hero! Am I seeing things? My daughter just did what her father never had the guts to do! But what am I going to do when my brother comes looking for revenge? Holy hell! A true warrior! That bastard Marcus won’t be able to steal our family fortune now! Tiffany lay on the ground, stunned. “You… you… you hit me.” I flexed my wrist, then grabbed the collar of Tiffany’s dress, hauling her up like a stray dog. She struggled uselessly, completely powerless in my grip. The household staff, drawn by the commotion, stared in horror as I dragged the family’s proudest peacock across the gravel. A wave of whispers rippled through them, but one hard look from me silenced them instantly. I dragged her right in front of Sophie and kicked the back of her knees. With a thump, Tiffany collapsed to the ground, forced into a kneeling position. Sophie stared at me, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and awe, and took several stumbling steps backward. Alistair and Evelyn watched, holding their breath. My voice was tight with irritation. I bit out a single word. “Hit her.” “What?” Sophie asked, her voice trembling. My patience frayed. “She bullied you before. Bully her back.” Sophie glanced at me nervously, then squeezed her eyes shut as if to gather courage and gave Tiffany a tentative slap. It had less force than a mosquito bite. “You bitch! You actually hit me! Sophie, you are so dead!” Sophie flinched back in terror, but then she met my cold, unblinking gaze. Steeling herself, she stepped forward again and delivered another slap, and another, and another, ten in total, each one harder than the last. The slender girl was panting when she finished, her eyes shining with a newfound sense of triumph and adoration as she looked at me. “Thank you, sis.” I gave a slight nod, then turned to the assembled staff. “Get these two off the property.”

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The year my desires were most pure, I forced the reclusive male lead to sleep with me every day. He refused to go out, so I stripped off his clothes. “The sun is so nice today. Look, speaking of nice, hubby, you…” He was sulking in the bathroom, and I barged in. “Hubby, why have you been washing for so long? Look, speaking of long…” He went on a hunger strike, so I slid my hand under his clothes. “Your abs got smaller from not eating. Look, speaking of abs, let me touch…” Later. I accidentally found out he was actually the villain, so I ran away quickly. Who knew he would catch me, tears streaming down his face, stripping off his clothes piece by piece. “Wifey, I won’t refuse you anymore. My clothes only open for you. Do you like hearing sweet talk or dirty talk?” Barrage: [Making love to the point where the recluse talks dirty in bed, that’s really something.] [Who understands, the reclusive villain’s first solo shopping trip was to buy ultra-thin condoms.] 1 The day I picked up Julian Reed. I knew he was the male lead. The favored son of heaven, incredibly handsome. Unfortunately, he went bankrupt. He could only be kept by me in my private villa. Not only that, but he also became a recluse. Didn’t step out of the door during the day. At night, he sat hugging his knees, weeping secretly. That was truly pitiful. I wanted him to cheer up, so I took out the marriage certificate. He stared at me numbly, not saying a word. I touched my nose awkwardly. Although this marriage certificate was approved by the system. From Julian’s perspective, I took advantage of his drunkenness to trick him into getting the certificate. He should hate me very much. 2 Late at night, Julian went to the guest bedroom to sleep as usual. Listening to the splashing sound in the bathroom, my mind wandered. Although he is now a recluse. His figure is solidly good. Lean muscles, broad shoulders and narrow waist, inverted triangle figure, legs longer than life, perky butt and big pecs. Anyone who sees it would drool. But because of his illness, he ignores me completely. But then again, does he ignore people in bed too? Cold-faced sex, I was actually looking forward to it a bit. I changed into my skimpiest nightgown and barged into his bathroom. Mist swirled, Julian reached out to grab his bangs. Between movements, pulling out the inverted triangle figure. Water flowed down his back muscles, over the beautiful dimples of Venus, and finally over the full and round peach. Hearing the commotion, Julian turned around abruptly. Shock flashed in his long-numb eyes, followed by spreading anger. He pulled a towel to cover his legs. “What are you doing in here?” I softened my voice. “Hubby, I was worried about you, why haven’t you finished washing?” I approached him as I spoke. The mist wet my thin dress, lace fabric sticking to my body. Outlining a looming figure. Julian’s Adam’s apple rolled, turning his head away with red ear tips. Panic flashed in those eyes. He bit his lip silently. Like a frightened prey, forced back into the corner by me step by step. I pretended not to understand his panic. Lifted my leg to rub against him. “Hubby, need help? Why do you take so long to shower? “Look, speaking of long, hubby, you…” I suddenly pulled off his towel. Julian’s eyes widened, nowhere to retreat. I glanced and mocked lightly. “You’re a recluse, yet it’s so spirited, truly terrifying~” “You—” Touched by me, Julian looked enduring, but didn’t make a sound. Veins popped on his neck, feeling like he was about to explode. I hooked his neck and pulled him down to kiss. Since he still wasn’t talking, kissing would do. Under my fierce offensive, Julian’s eyes turned red, collapsing dejectedly. My forehead pressed against the bathroom glass, backhand pulling the man working silently behind me. Waist was held tighter. 3 Since that night. I seemed to have found a way to save the reclusive male lead. Julian often skipped meals. I put my hand inside his clothes. “Hubby, let me see if your abs disappeared? “Look, speaking of abs, you there…” Words fell, Julian’s body trembled. I ravaged him unscrupulously. “Eat or not?” Julian was not only a recluse but also stubborn. “Not eating.” I turned around and straddled him. “I’m hungry, if you don’t eat, I’ll eat.” Julian’s pupils dilated slightly, he lowered his eyes. “Don’t.” “Do you know? When a man says no, he means yes. Not eating is playing hard to get.” Julian couldn’t believe my hooligan words. He blushed: “No.” Ignoring his will, I drained him dry. That day, Julian ate two extra bowls of rice for the first time. He also often looked at a diary late at night, lamenting the passing of spring and autumn. I knew, that was his secret crush diary for the heroine. But he was destined not to get the heroine. I grabbed his diary. Julian reached out to snatch it. A little anger showed in the corners of his narrow eyes. “Oh my, such sweet love, so sweet that pink bubbles are popping around me. “Look, speaking of pink, hubby, you are quite pink there.” I grabbed Julian’s lifeblood, he grunted and lost his arrogance. Since then, he never took out the diary to read again. Later, I went further and further on the path of forcing him to have sex. My classic quote is: “Hubby, I can listen to the pain of your original family, but you know what I’m going to do next.” 4 Julian’s condition improved a bit. But he still didn’t like going out during the day. I pulled open the curtains. Julian feared the light, he raised his hand to cover his eyes. I used a tie to blindfold him. “Hubby, the sun is so big today.” I pounced on him: “Look, speaking of big, you there…” Julian couldn’t resist, letting me ride him. He clutched the sheets under him. Thin lips tightly pursed, but wisps of panting still escaped. I coaxed him: “Hubby, say something, say something and I’ll stop.” Tortured by me unbearably, Julian opened his mouth with a hoarse voice. “I, want to see.” Oh, finally want to go out and see. I reached out and pulled off the blindfold tie. Julian’s eye corners were thin red, soaked with desire. I raised my hand to wipe the sweat beads on my chest. Julian’s gaze followed my fingertips. My head hot, vision dim. Didn’t notice Julian looked at me almost greedily. Afterwards, I found Julian locked himself in the bedroom again. I stood outside the door: “Didn’t you want to see? Not seeing anymore?” His voice trying hard to calm down came from inside: “Seen enough.” ??? Seems the intensity of sex is still not enough. “Hubby, if you don’t open the door, I’ll pick the lock.” I took out tools, determined to make him go out today. But a string of glowing text suddenly floated before my eyes. [Oh my my, what exactly did he want to see? So hard to guess.] [Of course, he wanted to see Baby Girl’s blurred eyes, the perky hills under the storm, see Baby Girl enduring shame yet having to let go, see Baby Girl’s enchanting face.] [Hahaha Baby Girl still doesn’t know the villain she forced to have sex with.] [Although he looks like a soft bun now, crying as soon as sex happens, he holds a grudge against Baby Girl for taking his innocence, and will definitely retaliate later.] [What to do, although Baby Girl is a cannon fodder character not in the original plot, I kind of ship them.] My body trembled. System online in time. [Sorry host, actually your role was originally a passerby who gets a fake marriage certificate with the male lead to make the heroine jealous, but accidentally assigned you to the villain. To ensure safety, you’d better not provoke him for now!!] I f***. No time to lose. I quickly grabbed my ID. Pretending to be calm, I shouted to the door. “Hubby~ If you don’t want to go out today then don’t, I’m going to buy kid-killer bags (condoms), you stay home obediently don’t go out.” 5 I bought the earliest flight to City A. After half a month of anxiety, I finally relaxed. During the system’s window period to save the plot, I went wild in bars. “Call all your best-looking male models over.” Male model brothers were handsome one after another. I rested my chin on my hand, ordered several. But at this moment, the barrage exploded. [Done for done for, the villain saw Baby Girl, Baby Girl run!] [Who understands, the villain flew here from City C, didn’t say a word, didn’t eat a bite, ignored everyone, just focused on finding her.] [He has been floating in City A for three days, swearing not to stop until he finds her, smells like a male ghost.] My heart chilled. The male model beside me hadn’t noticed the danger, he took my hand and put it to his lips. “Sister, why rush to leave? Don’t you want to touch my abs?” I turned around and saw Julian’s gloomy face. His bangs had grown longer, hanging down in pieces, blocking some vision. Ink-black deep eyes looked over, locking eyes with me. I shrank back in fear, shrinking right into the male model’s arms. Julian walked over step by step, calling me in a gloomy tone. His gaze licking my whole body like a snake’s tongue. “Wife, don’t you want me anymore?” “I…” “Who are you? Sister is mine, don’t think about snatching her.” The male model got closer to me again. !!! Seeing a broken look flash in Julian’s eyes, I quickly let the male model leave. Julian squatted in front of me, a posture of submission, looking up at me. In this appearance, no one could tell he would be a ruthless big villain in the future. He unbuttoned his shirt one by one, revealing a fair neck. Because of shyness, he lowered his trembling eyelashes. Knees walked forward two steps, upper body pressing tightly against my legs. “Wife… I won’t refuse you anymore. “My clothes, only open for you. “I will say, little… dirty words, do you want to hear sweet talk, or dirty talk?” I was directly shocked, this was the most Julian had spoken since I met him. The barrage exploded too. [Wait, is this real? How did Baby Girl tune our big villain into this?!] [Who understands, making love until a recluse talks dirty, that’s very lively.] [You guys hurry up bang bang bang, I want to see the active big villain.] [Hahaha the villain’s first solo shopping trip was to buy kid-killer bags, his face was about to explode red, stammering like a pure virgin.] [I screen recorded hahaha ‘video.mp4’] [Blackened big villain: Bring that broken video to court.] The system hasn’t told me the correction plan yet, how dare I act rashly. Seeing I didn’t speak, Julian’s eyes looked hurt. Took out a box of things from his pocket. “I, I bought it for you, now, I can.” He was like a concubine waiting for bed, waiting for favor. My hand hot, suppressed the restless urge in my heart. “I don’t like this type, be good, let’s go home first.” Julian was hurt again and again, stubbornly said: “It has ribs, you like it.” I… Barrage full of holy crap. I quickly covered Julian’s mouth, guarding against him saying more explosive words. Julian fell silent, eyes like holding a pool of water, looking at me obediently. Suddenly, I felt my palm wet. I retracted my hand like an electric shock. “Wife also, likes puppy licks, right?” Wait, really? Besides shock. Secret excitement rose in my heart.

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Every one of Sebastian Thorne’s lovers looks like me. But the day I returned to the country, he smirked and said, “I’ve seen too many knockoffs; even the original is nothing special.” A month later, he got rid of all his flings, keeping only one pure college student by his side—someone who looked nothing like me. Sebastian thought I rushed back because I was afraid he had fallen for someone for real this time. But I didn’t come back to beg for his love. Five years had passed. While he was scouring the world for my doubles, I was already pregnant with my second child. 1 The day I returned, Grandfather Thorne threw a welcome banquet for me. Sebastian was conspicuously absent. His cousin looked at me with disdain. “Didn’t you say you’d never return to the Thorne family? Why can’t you sit still the moment you hear Sebastian found true love?” I paused. “Then congratulations to him.” “Stop pretending,” his cousin sneered, pointing at the door. “Sebastian’s here. Save your acting for him.” Sebastian wore a grey shirt, collar slightly open. After five years, he looked much more composed than I remembered. He sat down very close to me. I turned my head and saw a lipstick mark on his collar. Grandfather Thorne, oblivious, sighed from the head of the table. “You two have been fighting for five years. That’s enough. When are you going to remarry?” I stayed silent. Sebastian laughed. “Grandpa, my little girlfriend already dislikes that I’m a divorcee. If she hears this, she’ll tear the roof off.” Grandfather Thorne’s face darkened. “Can those women outside compare to Chloe?” “This time is different,” Sebastian glanced at me. “This time, I’m serious.” 2 “Nonsense!” Grandfather Thorne was too angry to speak. Everyone else looked at me—some with pity, others waiting for a joke. I lowered my eyes and said softly, “Grandpa, I appreciate your kindness, but I will never remarry Sebastian.” No one expected me to be so definitive. After all, they had all seen how I used to value Sebastian over my own life. Crash—a crystal goblet shattered. Sebastian slowly wiped the blood from his hand. “Slipped.” 3 A long time later, I realized the group chat had exploded. “Chloe, why did you hide such big news from us? Congrats!” “Sebastian really went all out this time.” “Boohoo, I knew you guys would get back together!!!” Confused, I scrolled through hundreds of messages until I saw Sebastian saying he was getting married and posting a picture of the ring. A flawless pear-shaped pink diamond that any woman would swoon over. I thought about it and clarified. “Sebastian isn’t getting back together with me.” The screen paused, then scrolled frantically again. “Right, what getting back together? The lovebirds never broke up.” “Just a little long-distance kink.” “Hehe, Chloe, we get it.” Until Sebastian suddenly appeared and added his little girlfriend to the group: “Let me introduce my wife, Lola. She’s young and has a temper, so go easy on her…” Before he could finish, the girl coquettishly grabbed the phone. “Don’t listen to his nonsense. I’m very easy to get along with.” On the voice message, Sebastian laughed dotingly. Some smart aleck started a new group and asked Sebastian directly: “Seb, if you marry someone else, what about Chloe?” Sebastian replied quickly: “If you don’t find it disgusting, go be the rebound.” “Seb, if you say that, I might really chase Chloe?” Sebastian ignored him, and the group started mocking the guy for overestimating himself. The guy persisted: “Who wouldn’t want a bite of swan meat?” The group went silent. Then Sebastian said lightly: “Even swan meat gets boring if you play with it too much.” 4 The group called Sebastian stubborn and asked me out for dinner the next day. But when I arrived, I found Sebastian and his little girlfriend were there too. The person who invited me looked awkward and whispered, “Seb insisted on coming, but he didn’t say he’d bring her.” I nodded, indifferent. The girl named Lola wasn’t shy. She quickly mingled with everyone, especially sticking to me. “Chloe, Sebastian told me everything about you two. I don’t mind.” “To see you, I pestered him all night.” “I didn’t expect you to be prettier than the photos. You don’t look seven years older than me at all.” “How do you maintain yourself? Must be hard work. Do you only use expensive brands?” A friend couldn’t stand it and signaled Sebastian: “Not going to control your girl?” “I dare not,” he laughed, pinching Lola’s cheek. “She’s a little ancestor, hard to coax.” “Hmph, as long as you know!” Sebastian used to love coaxing people when he was young. But as he grew up and was pampered everywhere, he developed a reckless temper. I hadn’t seen him coax anyone like this in a long time. Lola stuck her tongue out at me. “Sorry, Chloe, I didn’t mean anything bad.” She picked up two glasses of wine and handed me one. “I apologize to you, sister.” She downed hers in one gulp. I didn’t bother pretending. “Sorry, can’t drink.” Lola’s eyes reddened instantly. “Chloe, do you look down on me?” Sebastian’s tone turned cold. “Chloe Vance, have I given you too much face?” “Today, you drink this wine whether you want to or not.” Friends quickly tried to smooth things over. “Chloe, it’s just one glass. Who doesn’t know your tolerance?” I shrugged helplessly. “I’m pregnant. I really can’t drink.” Dead silence. “Pfft!” Lola laughed out loud. “Hahahaha, Chloe, I’ve seen this kind of nonsense excuse online. You can’t fool me.” Others laughed too. “Saying you took antibiotics would be more credible.” “Chloe, don’t scare people like that. My heart stopped.” Sebastian impatiently snatched my glass. “Fine, fine, you won’t drink. You’re amazing.”

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1 On our wedding day, my lawyer wife, Victoria, got into the wrong limousine and spent our wedding night with my assistant, Alex. The next morning, she knelt before me, covered in marks, begging for forgiveness. She swore she’d fire him. A year later, I found her in a hospital maternity ward during a supposed business trip. She held a newborn, and beside her stood Alex, back after a year away. Blinded by rage, I threw them out. But that night, the baby disappeared. Victoria was convinced I did it. To force my hand, she suspended my parents over an active volcano. I denied it, my voice desperate. “I sacrificed so much for you, Noah!” she screamed. “Return my child, or I drop them.” She lowered them—their shoe soles melted instantly. When I couldn’t produce the baby, she prepared to release the cable—until a call came: the child was found. Without looking back, she walked away. My parents fell into the molten rock. While she and Alex celebrated their son’s first month, I sifted through cooled ash for my parents’ charred bones. In that moment, I regretted ever loving her. … I knelt in the volcanic dust, cradling the blackened, incomplete remains of my parents, my heart a shard of glass in my chest. They had always treated Victoria like their own daughter. They had sponsored her through high school; without them, she never would have even made it to college. But just because I had thrown her out of the hospital, she assumed I had stolen her and Alex’s child. And for that, she had murdered my parents. One more week. In one more week, I could leave her forever, taking my parents’ ashes with me. I secured the small pouch containing their remains inside my shirt and went home. As I walked through the villa’s front gate, I saw Victoria, holding the baby, happily mingling with friends and family. She saw my swollen, red-rimmed eyes and shot me a single, cold glance. “Noah, you still have the nerve to show your face? You watched your own parents hang over a volcano, all for a petty act of revenge, and you still wouldn’t tell the truth. You almost made my son miss his own celebration. You’re truly toxic.” Her child was celebrating his new life, while my parents didn’t even have a complete skeleton left. My mouth opened, but my throat felt as if it were filled with hot ash. No sound came out. “Whatever,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “Thankfully, the baby was found. I forgive you. Mom and Dad must have been uncomfortable hanging over that crater for so long. I’ll arrange for them to have a check-up at the hospital later.” She handed the baby to a nanny and walked towards me, reaching for my hand as she always did. I yanked it away. “Don’t bother,” I said, my head bowed. Victoria’s brow furrowed, and she was about to question me when Alex rushed over and began to beat me with his fists and feet. “I’m not competing with you for Victoria anymore! Why do you still have to go after our child? Are you even human?” A grunt of pain escaped my lips. The image of my parents’ final moments flashed before my eyes, and I summoned all my strength to fight back. But at a sharp command from Victoria, two bodyguards seized me, pinning me to the floor. I couldn’t move, forced to endure Alex’s punches raining down on my stomach. After the ninety-ninth blow, when I was coughing up blood and barely conscious, Victoria finally gestured for them to release me. She looked at me, her expression complicated. “The baby developed a high fever right after we found him. You went too far. It’s only right that you let Alex blow off some steam.” I forced my lips into a smile, but a tear hit the floor before I could manage it. Victoria froze, and for a second, she looked like she might help me up. But then Alex clutched his chest and collapsed, groaning theatrically. Her face changed instantly. “Quick! Get him to the hospital!” She half-dragged, half-pulled me into the car. With every bump in the road, the searing pain in my abdomen felt like I was being flayed alive. At the hospital, Alex whispered weakly, “Victoria, I have severe anemia. The stress Noah put me under… I might need a transfusion.” Victoria’s eyes immediately fell on me. “Doctor, draw his blood,” she commanded, not even looking in my direction. The doctor tried to intervene. “The patient has just been assaulted and may have internal injuries. We can’t draw his blood!” But Victoria’s attention was fixed on the whimpering Alex. She turned back to me, her face set with grim determination. “Noah, this was your fault. Alex only acted out because he was sick with worry over the baby. You need to compensate him. We’ll do the transfusion, and when it’s over, I’ll make you soup myself. I’ll make sure you get your strength back.” Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. “I’m telling you again,” I said, my voice faint, “I didn’t take your child. Let me go.” She just frowned, her eyes full of disappointment. “You still won’t admit your mistake?” She had her men hold me down as the nurse drew tube after tube of my blood. As I was about to pass out, I saw a flash of pity in her eyes. But then Alex moaned from his bed, and she was instantly by his side, cooing and comforting him. Alex shot me a triumphant look and mouthed two words: “Pathetic loser.” Suddenly, the door to the room burst open and Victoria’s parents stormed in, making a beeline for Alex. “Oh, my sweet boy! Why are you so pale? Did that good-for-nothing piece of trash upset you?” her mother cried, stroking Alex’s forehead. Then she saw me on the floor, and her face turned to stone. She marched over and spat directly in my face. “My daughter must have been blind to marry a worthless animal like you! Can’t have your own children, so you steal someone else’s!” I used to consistently outperform Victoria in school, but I willingly stepped back to manage our lives so she could focus on her law career. Her parents saw this as me being lazy and unambitious. They had always disliked me, always using Alex to humiliate me. Before I could respond, her father was standing over me, his face a dark mask. He lifted his polished leather shoe and brought it down with all his force onto my already bruised abdomen. There was a sickening thud. The feeling of bone and organ shattering sent a final, blinding wave of pain through me, and I blacked out. I woke to the tearing agony in my midsection. Alex’s whining voice drifted over from the next bed. “Victoria, if Noah knew one of his kidneys was removed and transplanted into me, do you think he’d go crazy?” Victoria’s soothing reply came immediately. “Dad’s kick ruptured one of them anyway, and he was bleeding internally. They couldn’t save it. It was useless to him, so it was only right to give it to you as compensation for the scare he gave you.” She added, “He’s still unstable. Let’s not tell him for now.” I stared blankly at the ceiling. Alex had beaten me half to death, but he was the one who had gotten a scare. A scare that was compensated with my kidney. Victoria, I thought, did you ever love me at all? Just then, the curtain between our beds was pulled back. Alex’s triumphant face appeared. “You’re tough, Noah. I’m surprised you’re not dead. You know, I was never sick. The blood you gave me? I poured it out for the stray dogs. And your kidney? Fed it to them, too.” He pulled out his phone, played a video, and held it in front of my face. On the screen, my kidney lay on the pavement outside the hospital while a pack of wild dogs tore it to pieces. “Your parts are only good enough for the dogs,” he sneered, then burst out laughing. With my last ounce of strength, I slapped him across the face. The next second, I vomited a mouthful of blood, spraying it all over his expensive shirt. He didn’t care. His grin was victorious. At that exact moment, the door opened. “Noah—!” Victoria rushed to my bedside and slapped me twice, hard. Alex put on a show. “Victoria, don’t hit him. It’s okay. If he’s willing to steal our child, what’s a little slap? I was just trying to check on him. I guess he doesn’t want to see me.” He started to fake-sob. “Noah! Are you even human?!” Victoria’s voice was laced with fury and disappointment. “You’ve put Alex through so much, and he still defends you! I told you to reflect on what you’ve done, and this is the result? I truly regret ever marrying you!” Her words washed over me, and my heart turned to ash. I simply stared at her, then slowly lifted the bedsheet, revealing the fresh, angry scar on my abdomen. Victoria flinched and looked away, helping Alex to his feet. As they left, he turned back and mouthed silently: Loser. You were with her for five years. So what? She still prefers her assistant! I managed a bitter smile and closed my eyes. When your heart is dead, you can’t feel pain anymore. But Victoria, as for marrying you? I regret it more than you ever will. I left the hospital alone. When I got home, Victoria was on the sofa, her arms around Alex, the baby in her lap. They were watching TV, a picture of domestic bliss that burned my eyes. She saw me and quickly pulled away from him. I said nothing, just walked calmly to our room to pack my things. She followed me in, trying to hug me from behind. “Noah, let me explain,” she said, her voice artificially soft. “Alex hasn’t recovered yet, and there’s no one to take care of him, so I let them stay here temporarily. I promise, as soon as he’s better, they’ll leave.” I sidestepped her touch, continuing to pack. “You don’t need to explain anything to me. Let’s get a divorce.” She stared at me, shocked. “Divorce? Impossible! Noah, you know I love you!” Before she could finish, Alex was leaning against the doorframe, looking pale. “Victoria, don’t fight with Noah because of me and the baby. If he really can’t stand having us here, we can leave right now.” I ignored him and folded my last shirt. Victoria looked at my unresponsive back, her frown deepening. “Noah! I already apologized to you! Have you no compassion? Don’t forget, this villa is in my name! If anyone’s getting out, it’s you, with your cold heart! Alex and the baby deserve to stay!” She crossed her arms, expecting me to back down and beg as I always did. But this time, I slowly raised my head and looked at her with eyes like stagnant water. “Victoria, I’m serious about the divorce. Think it over. Let me know when you’re ready to finalize it. As for you and Alex, I wish you a long and happy life together.” Her eyes filled with disbelief, then she snapped, “Fine! Let’s do it! Whoever backs out is a coward! You don’t even have a kidney left! You’ll be on dialysis for the rest of your life! Let’s see how you survive without me!” I silently zipped up my suitcase, walked past her, and went to the living room to grab the jacket I had been wearing the day I was hospitalized. Tucked inside was the small pouch with my parents’ remains. As I reached for it, a maid brought out a bowl of soup. “Sir, Mr. Alex had us make this especially for you. He said it would warm you up.” I glanced suspiciously at Alex, who was standing in the bedroom doorway. He gave me a sadistic grin and gestured towards my jacket. I sprinted to the kitchen. In the soup pot were the fragmented remains of my parents. A pain so sharp it felt like a thousand needles pierced my heart. Numbly, I grabbed a kitchen knife and lunged at Alex. “Noah! Are you insane—!” Victoria’s shriek cut through the air. She had rushed between us, and with all her strength, she twisted the knife from my hand and plunged it into my abdomen. The surgical wound tore open again. I collapsed, laughing through tears of blood. “Am I insane? My parents are…” “Your parents are fine, Noah!” she cut me off, a flicker of pain in her eyes as she looked at me. “But you keep trying to hurt Alex and the baby! I can’t… I can’t just stand by and watch you make these mistakes…” She was rambling, her eyes darting everywhere but at me, everywhere but at the blood pouring from my stomach. “Don’t move. I’ll have the maids take you to the hospital. I’ll come see you as soon as I’ve calmed Alex down.” She left me bleeding on the floor and carefully escorted Alex back to the bedroom. I pushed myself up against a wall and retrieved my parents’ remains from the pot. With a cold smile, I tossed a file onto the floor. Then, as everyone stared in shock, I staggered out of the villa. Inside that file was the prenuptial agreement my parents had insisted Victoria sign. If the wife was found to be at major fault during the marriage, she had to agree to an unconditional divorce, and the agreement would automatically take effect. The effective date was tomorrow. Tomorrow, I would be free. At the hospital, the doctor silently stitched up the new wound on my abdomen. After the anesthetic wore off, I didn’t stay. I took the last of my parents’ ashes and boarded the first train back to my hometown. Meanwhile, back at the villa, Victoria’s unease grew. My dead eyes as I left haunted her. She was struck by the realization that she had been far too cruel to me. She grabbed her car keys and raced to the hospital. The nurse at the emergency desk checked the records. “Noah? He came in this evening. We treated his wound, and he left.” “Left? Where did he go?” Victoria’s heart leaped into her throat. “How would we know where patients go after they’re discharged?” the nurse replied impatiently. Victoria sped back home and tore through every room, the garage, the garden. He was gone. It was as if he had evaporated. She collapsed, clutching her head and sobbing, a terrible feeling washing over her that she had lost me forever. The old maid timidly approached and handed her the file I had left on the floor. “Ma’am, I think your husband left this for you.” With trembling hands, Victoria took the file and pulled out the papers. Tucked inside the prenuptial agreement was another document. A single sheet of paper fluttered to the floor. It was a death certificate.

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I am a jinx who can see the countdown to my family’s death. Because both my grandpa and dad died on the day I blurted out their death times. My three older sisters unanimously believed that my curse killed them, and they detested me. My mom also died due to complications during childbirth, leaving behind a younger brother who received all the love and adoration from my sisters. My sisters said my brother was a little lucky star, and since his birth, everything in the family had been smooth sailing. But Mom died giving birth to him. I lived in a cramped attic, gnawing on leftover bread, barely surviving until eighteen. Looking into the mirror, I saw my own countdown. I wasn’t sad; instead, I felt relieved. I’m finally going to die! Before dying, I only prayed to have one last meal with my sisters. But my sister glared at me coldly, warning me not to use such tactics to attract attention. I am a jinx; how could I be worthy of standing in front of my lucky star brother! 1 Since I was little, I could see a countdown hovering over people’s heads. When I first saw the numbers over my grandpa’s head, I told my parents. They just laughed, thinking it was childish nonsense, and didn’t take it seriously. A day later, when I saw Grandpa again, he was lying on the bed covered with a white cloth. Many people were crying sadly, but I didn’t understand what they were doing. Later, I saw a countdown on my dad’s head too. When I told him, Dad’s smile stiffened for a moment before returning to normal. That night, I didn’t see Dad come back from work. I only heard the urgent ringing of the telephone. After answering the call, Mom’s face turned deadly pale. Her belly was already very big. She ran too hurriedly and fell on the steps at the entrance. Right at that moment, I saw the familiar 24-hour countdown appear over her head. That day, my brother was born, and Mom died from massive hemorrhaging despite rescue efforts. I stood outside the hospital room, looking bewildered. My third sister, Chloe, pushed me to the ground, calling me a monster, saying I cursed them. Saying I killed Dad and Mom. My palms scraped hard against the cold floor, oozing tiny beads of blood. It hurt so much I wanted to cry, but looking around, no one came near me. Their eyes were filled with fear and disgust. I didn’t dare make a sound. I could only bite my lip, climb up from the ground myself, pat my little pants, and comfort myself in my heart. I curled up into a ball in the corner, listening to the continuous crying outside the door, hugging my knees and sobbing softly. “Dad, Mom…” I slowly fell asleep like this. When I opened my eyes again, the place was empty. They all left. Why didn’t anyone call me? Did they not want me anymore? I stood up in a panic, but because I had squatted for too long, my legs were numb, and I fell straight to the floor. In the quiet corridor, only the flickering fluorescent lights accompanied me. My body hurt, and I couldn’t hold back anymore, crying out loud. From that day on, everything changed. 2 My three sisters treated my brother extremely well, but avoided me like the plague. Seeing them like this, the servants in the house also started to treat me perfunctorily, judging people based on their status. As a child, I often fell asleep hungry, but I still managed to survive on leftovers until I was eighteen. Chloe always said bad people live longer; otherwise, why was I still alive? Nestled in the small attic, I also wondered if I couldn’t die because I was too bad. Thinking of this, I crawled out of bed, shuffling my slippers to the bathroom to wash up. My hair was withered and yellow, my cheeks gaunt. No one would guess this was the eldest son of the Jiang family. But I didn’t care about these things because I saw the countdown over my own head. Through the mirror, a bright red countdown stood impressively above my head. Finally, this day has come. I wanted to laugh, but only slightly hooked the corners of my mouth, looking at myself in the mirror, lost in thought. I have no friends, and the people I interact with usually are pitifully few. How should I spend this last day? After thinking for a long time, I slowly tidied myself up and came down from the cramped attic I had always lived in. The attic was really too small, so small that fitting a bed for an adult like me was a struggle. I was still using a twin-sized bed meant for dorm students. Fortunately, being thin and weak, I could barely sleep curled up on it. As for my original room, it had long been turned into a toy room for my brother after he was born. More than once, I peered through the small window of the attic, watching my sisters play with the boy on the lawn. He was innocent and cute, laughing carefree. Every time I saw it, I mimicked his smile, as if I could peek into a sliver of the same happiness. But my smile was ugly, I knew. I looked in a broken small mirror, and indeed, as my sisters said, I looked hideous. Since then, I haven’t liked smiling. I walked downstairs cautiously, not expecting anyone to be there at this time. Descending the escalator, my ears were filled with my brother Henry’s clear laughter. He was really happy. My brother excitedly held a hairpin, volunteering, “Second sister, let me put the hairpin on for you.” Second sister, Bella, lowered her head following Henry’s force, looking dotingly at her brother clumsily putting a crooked hairpin on her. Henry stepped back two steps to look, a bit distressed. The crooked bun really didn’t look good. He asked his sister to redo it. The woman looked in the small mirror and didn’t take it down. Instead, she smiled and rubbed his head. “No need, our Henry put a hairpin on for his sister for the first time. You did great.” “Let’s go, Second Sister will take you to school today.” Hearing this, Henry happily took her hand. My heart felt sour, remembering myself as a child. That was the first time I knitted a scarf. I stayed up for days to knit a somewhat crooked scarf. I nervously gave it to Bella, hoping for a word of praise, hoping she would pat my head like before. She didn’t take it, her eyes filled with disgust. “Who knows if I’ll be cursed taking your stuff.” Used to rejection, I gave the scarf to the family dog, hoping to make its bed more comfortable and warm. But the next day, I saw my scarf in the trash can, cut into pieces, unable to be put back together. Ignoring the filth on the trash can, I reached out to pick it up piece by piece, washed it clean, put it in a box, and never took it out again. Thinking of this, I pursed my lips. As they were about to leave, I still wanted to try one more time. Even just once would be fine. “Second Sister, Brother.” Seeing me, their expressions were different. Henry’s eyes lit up for a moment when he saw me, happily calling me brother. Beside him, Second Sister had a cold face, seemingly wanting to say something but perhaps holding back because of Henry. “Can we have dinner together tonight? Just once is enough.” I said it with difficulty, nervously waiting for their response. “Sure!” “No.” Two completely opposite voices sounded at the same time. Henry turned to look at Bella and asked in confusion, “Why not?” Yeah, why not? I silently dug my nails into my palm. “Did you forget? We agreed before that you’d accompany Big Sister to the auction tonight.” Under Bella’s affirming gaze, Henry seemed suddenly enlightened, then looked at me apologetically. “Sorry, brother, I don’t have time to have dinner with you today.” The boy thought for a moment and smiled again. “How about tomorrow? Let’s have dinner together as a family tomorrow.” A family? I forced a smile uglier than crying, the bitterness in my heart almost drowning me. I have no tomorrow. But I still agreed to him, watching him leave. Before leaving, Bella glanced at me, her cold gaze like a sharp blade, seeming to slice me inch by inch. “Ethan, don’t let me find out you’re plotting anything.” “If you let Henry get hurt even a little bit, don’t blame us for being merciless.” “Stay away from him.” 3 I watched them drift further away, my previous nervous joy instantly cooling to the extreme, as if falling into an ice cave. Slowly opening my palm, it was already bleeding from my pinching, leaving deep nail marks. Is this my image in her eyes? Like a villain, a murderer. Clearly used to it, my heart still throbbed with pain, and my stomach stung too. I walked to the kitchen to find something to eat. The tidy and clean kitchen had nothing. The refrigerator and cabinets were locked with passwords. Everyone was out, and the servants did this to guard against only me. I looked at half a piece of dry bread left on the island, hesitated, and picked it up. I found two shriveled walnuts in the living room. I kept chewing, but it was tasteless, and these things didn’t make me feel full. My stomach still hurt badly. I drank two cups of water fiercely to satisfy my hunger, but felt stomach acid surging up. A servant passed by rolling her eyes. Seeing the bread in my hand, she exclaimed exaggeratedly. “Oh my! Young Master, you aren’t eating that, are you? That’s leftover from this morning; even Lucky wouldn’t eat it.” Lucky is the family dog. “It’s a pity the Misses and Young Master Henry are busy with serious matters, and we cooked a bit early.” “Young Master, if you want to eat something, I can make it now, although it’s a bit troublesome.” The servant’s troubled look made me frown. I refused her with a wooden face, endured the slight stinging in my stomach, and returned to my room. This home couldn’t tolerate me, so much so that even the servants treated me sarcastically. The burning pain in my stomach made me almost unable to control my emotions. With trembling hands, I opened the painkiller packet, stuffed pills into my mouth, picked up the cold water beside me, and gulped it down. The physical discomfort seemed to ease a bit. Changing clothes, I washed my face, trying to look spirited. I went to the funeral supply store first. With only one day left, a custom urn was impossible, but fortunately, there were many other styles to choose from. I chose a pattern I liked as my future “home.” Holding the urn happily all the way, I felt many puzzled or surprised gazes. I ignored them and went straight to the next destination. Stopping and going, I passed by Third Sister Chloe’s school. It was break time, and laughter came from the school from time to time. I looked at them enviously, vibrant teenagers. But I haven’t been to school since I was ten. Just as I was thinking of leaving, I looked up and saw Third Sister getting out of a car preparing to enter the school. Thinking it was only the last day, I summoned up courage and jogged towards Chloe. But as I got closer, I saw her frowning and speaking seriously to someone on the phone. Don’t know if it was because she saw me, a trace of wariness flashed in her eyes. She said into the phone, “I know.” Then she hung up and walked towards me. I wanted to ask her to come home for dinner tonight but was intimidated by her gaze. “Ethan, if you want to stay in this house, hide your little schemes well.” “If I find out you did anything to Henry, I will definitely make you wish you were dead.” 4 My body stiffened instantly. It was Henry again. I already guessed who called just now, Second Sister Bella. Right, I’ve been a jinx since I was little; otherwise, how could I curse my family to death. Thinking of Chloe’s methods, I couldn’t help shivering. When Mom just passed away, no one cared about me. I was finally sent home by a kind doctor lady. Back home, there was no warmth as imagined. I was locked in the small storeroom at home by Chloe for three whole days without anyone asking, no food or drink. This incident remains my childhood shadow until now. On the third day, when I thought I was about to die, Eldest Sister Sophia descended in front of me like a god. She let me out. Although indifferent, over the years, she treated me the best, at least treating me as transparent. I believe what I said this morning has already reached her ears. Seeing me silent for a long time, perhaps thinking I was scared, Chloe leaned close to my ear, her tone airy. “You know, with my means, making a person disappear is still very easy.” My pupils shook, and I watched her enter the school stiffly. I walked step by step towards my original destination, my brain almost unable to think anymore. I walked into the photo studio. After knowing I came to take a funeral photo, the receptionist girl’s eyes were full of sympathy. She comforted me gently with a few words. The grievance in my heart burst at this moment. It’s easy for people to lose control under a caring greeting from a stranger, just like me now. My tears wet her shoulder. She didn’t speak, just silently patted my back. Clearly just a stranger, yet giving me infinite warmth. After coming out of the photo studio, I squatted by the roadside, holding the urn and funeral photo prepared for myself, staring into the distance in a daze. I decided to go to the company to find Eldest Sister Sophia. Because I hadn’t been to the company, I searched for a long time before finding it, but was stopped by the receptionist. They told me I couldn’t enter without an appointment, and the boss was in a meeting and couldn’t answer the phone. Unwilling to give up, I dialed that number memorized by heart from my contacts, but no one answered after several calls. I found her social media account through the number. Only the last day left, I wanted Eldest Sister to accompany me, even just for a short meeting. Sending the edited message, I waited anxiously. Two hours passed, still no news. Time was running out. I didn’t want to die outside, so I returned home. The servants were out shopping. The whole villa was silent and empty. I started preparing the meal early, hoping for their return. No messages came on the phone, nor any successful friend request notifications. I sat on the chair, quietly staring at the countdown over my head reflected in the mirror in my hand. Only the last three hours left… I wanted them to accompany me through the last day, wanted to know their reactions when I died. Maybe surprise, I thought. No one in this world cares about my life or death. My closest people hate me, detest me. I made a table of dishes. Got splashed by oil on my hand, it hurt, but couldn’t cover the excitement in my heart. I realized I wasn’t right, excited to the extreme, even my body couldn’t stop trembling. Two hours left, I sat on the chair staring dead at the door. Trembling, I picked up the phone and called Sophia. “Big Sister.” She answered, but didn’t speak. My voice started to tighten, “Can you guys, come accompany me for a meal?” “I’m going to die.”

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I was burying myself in work when a friend request popped up on my phone. [Hi. Guess who.] [Don’t be so cold.] [Fine, I won’t disturb your class. It’s Lucas Asher.] My finger froze. I frowned and typed back: [Stop playing jokes. My husband is already dead.] [W-what?! You’re calling me husband already?!] The person on the other end only seemed to register the word “husband,” sending a string of shy emojis. Impatient and angry at someone impersonating the dead, I hit the video call button. I wanted to scream at them. The call connected. A flushed, panicked teenage boy appeared on the screen, wearing a Saint Jude’s Prep blazer. I froze. “Husband?!” The person on the other end… was Lucas Asher from ten years ago!!! 1 I slammed the “End Call” button. I pressed my hand against my chest, feeling my heart hammering against my ribs. The boy on the screen—his face was red as a ripe tomato. His eyes dodged the camera, but they were full of hope. He looked like he was living a dream he never thought would come true. How is this possible? My fingers trembled as I typed a message. [Are you… really Lucas?] [Of course!] He replied instantly, his excitement piercing through the screen. A second later, another text popped up. [Why aren’t you in your uniform? The Headmaster is doing dorm inspections tonight. You’ll get written up.] “Dorm inspections”… for me, that was ten years ago. I took a deep breath and typed slowly. [Because where I am, it is October 24th, 2025.] The typing bubble paused. A moment later, Lucas sent a giant question mark. [???] I stared at the screen, hesitated for a second, then typed the truth. [I am your wife. I am Elena Vance from the year 2025.] The other side fell into a weird silence. 2 I didn’t wait. I video-called him back immediately. Lucas’s face appeared on the screen again. The tips of his ears were bleeding red, his voice shaking. “You… you’re actually my wife?” Sure enough, compared to “2025,” the word “wife” was what panicked him the most. I rested my chin in my hand, smiling at him. “Don’t believe me?” He gulped and looked away. “You’re making it up…” “You have a mole on your inner thigh. Every night, when things get intense, you force me to look at it.” “?!” “And when that happens, the low groan you make is actually quite sexy.” Lucas practically boiled over. He looked like a cat that had been splashed with hot water. Even his neck turned pink. “You—” He wanted to call me shameless. But then he realized something… technically, he was the one doing those things! He choked on his words, looking like he wanted to cry. “I… I am so shameless!” 3 “You’re not shameless. You had a crush on me for three years before you dared to say hello. You’re very disciplined.” I smiled, enjoying the sight of the mortified boy on the screen. Lucas covered his face with his hands, silent. After a long time, he whispered, “What about you?” “What?” “Do you… look at me every day because…” His voice trembled. He tried to muster up the courage but still didn’t dare look me in the eye. “…because you like me too?” I paused, falling into memory. Ten years ago, Elena Vance wore thick black glasses and ran between classrooms. A typical nerd. Lucas, on the other hand, was the school’s golden boy. We had zero intersection. The only connection? He always stood by the school gate. And every time I walked in, I glared at him. Please. He was the only person in the entire school who scored higher than me in Calculus. He didn’t even study hard, yet he beat me every time, forcing me to be eternally second place. Who wouldn’t be mad? But this silly boy… He mistook my hostility for longing. 4 Looking at the shy boy on the screen, I couldn’t bear to tell him the truth. I deliberately changed the subject. “So, when did you start liking me?” “W-who said I like you?!” Heh. The innocent puppy wants to play tough? I casually selected a few carefully posed “thirst trap” photos from my gallery and hit send. [Stop staring at that stolen ID photo every night. Look at these instead.] The screen on the other side went chaotic. Click. He hung up. The chat remained silent for three full minutes. Lucas was probably steaming, his brain short-circuiting. Finally, clutching a tissue to his nose, he sent a voice message. His voice was so tense it cracked. [I… I don’t look at it every night!] A second later, realizing he just admitted to looking at it some nights, he frantically deleted the message. I was laughing so hard I couldn’t stand up straight. 5 From that day on, I logged on punctually every night. I chatted with Lucas for the thirty minutes after his evening study hall. It was the only window our timelines connected. Every night, the puppy would crumble under my teasing, ears burning, shy but stubborn. But during the day, in his timeline, I was still High School Elena with the heavy backpack. I’d walk past him in the hallway, eyes forward, cold and distant. And Lucas? Every time he saw me, he’d steal glances, twisting his backpack straps. He looked nervous as hell, like a criminal hiding a secret. The contrast was addictive. Finally, one night, he couldn’t hold it in. [Where am I? The Lucas from ten years later?] My heart sank. I had slipped up on the first day… had he figured it out? Sensing my silence, Lucas typed carefully. [Is it… do you and Future Me have a bad relationship? Are you separated?] I let out a breath. Kids are easy to fool. I typed quickly: [He’s just on a business trip.] He pouted, his voice message sounding a bit aggrieved. [So when he comes back, you won’t be able to talk to me anymore?] The boy’s voice was clean and clear, filled with tentative hope. I froze. I didn’t expect that question. He was just a green high school boy; how could he say something that made my heart race like that? Before I could reply, another message popped up. [Then… can you secretly spend more time with me while he’s gone?] Great. The puppy has gone rogue. 6 Lucas’s message was still on the screen, carrying the thrill of last night. I touched the glass. The morning light filtered in, casting a warm glow on my desk. Just like the boy who didn’t dare look me in the eye ten years ago. But time never stops. I pushed open the office door. My gaze landed on the framed photo on the desk. This used to be Lucas’s office. At 27, he was a successful, sharp-edged CEO. But since he died, my name is on the door. In the photo, we are smiling sweetly. The picture-perfect power couple. Now, looking at it makes me sick. The secretary’s desk outside is empty. But from her seat, she would have had a clear view of this photo. I chuckled. When Lucas was cheating, did he ever feel guilty looking at this picture? 7 Three years into our marriage, he cheated with his secretary. A girl fresh out of college. That day, he came home early. He stood in the living room, looking at me with complicated eyes, as if gathering courage. “She… she looks like you.” I put down my book and raised an eyebrow. “Hm?” “She… really looks like you.” He paused, then added, “Like you when you were young.” When I was young? I looked at him and almost laughed. “So, you think I’m old now?” I leaned back on the sofa, amused. “Your excuse for cheating is that she looks like me?” Lucas opened his mouth to explain. But eventually, he just looked at me silently, his eyes dark and unreadable. I smiled, mocking him. “You should go back and look at 17-year-old me. I wasn’t nearly as pretty as her.” He didn’t speak. I was too lazy to ask more. That night, I drafted the divorce agreement. The next day, we went to City Hall. But while we were waiting for the final decree, he died. It was sudden. Clean. No last words. We had no children. I was the primary beneficiary. I inherited his company and everything he left unfinished. As for the young secretary, she vanished like smoke after his death. She never caused me any trouble. Now, standing in his office, looking at his legacy, I felt nothing. Everything was exactly as he left it—files open, coffee cup on the corner of the desk. As if he just went to a meeting and would be back any minute. But he wouldn’t. I looked down at the photo frame face-down in the trash can. My lips curled slightly.

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