Category: English

1 I was heading home for the New Year when my wife, Phoebe, gently supported her one true love—a man with a conveniently broken leg—and brazenly shoved a standing-room-only ticket in my face. “Here, this is Mark’s ticket. You two should switch.” When I didn’t move, she nudged me again. “Alan, I’m talking to you. Didn’t you hear me? Mark’s leg is injured; he can’t stand for the whole trip. Give him your first-class seat.” I finally looked up, my gaze cold as I met theirs. My refusal was blunt. “This is my ticket. Why the hell would I give it to Mark Foster?” The phantom pain of being torn apart by a train still radiated through my body. My fists clenched. This time, I would not yield. … Phoebe was stunned by my public refusal, her face flushing with embarrassment. She immediately launched into a tirade, loud enough for everyone around us to hear. “Alan, Mark is a patient! His leg is at a critical stage of recovery. You’re a grown man. Don’t you have an ounce of compassion? You’re perfectly healthy. Can’t you help someone who’s clearly struggling?” Mark, leaning heavily on Phoebe’s arm, hopped pitifully on his good foot and looked at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Alan, man, I’m not trying to steal your seat. It’s just… look at my leg. I really can’t manage on my own. I wouldn’t be asking if I had any other choice.” He finished with a sad little smile, a perfect portrait of a victim. Their perfectly synchronized performance painted me as a heartless monster. The other passengers, of course, started to chime in. “Come on, the man’s injured. Just give him the seat. It’s not going to kill you.” “If he were my friend, I’d give up my seat in a heartbeat.” “Look at him, he’s practically begging you. How can you be so cruel?” I stared coldly at the chorus of self-righteous strangers. It’s always easy to be generous with someone else’s property, to solve someone else’s problems at another’s expense. In my last life, I caved under their judgment. Bullied by their words, I swapped my ticket with Mark’s. He spent the trip comfortably lounging in the first-class seat I had paid for, scrolling through videos on his phone, while I was relegated to standing in a cramped corridor. I tried to ask him to switch back for just a little while, but Phoebe shut me down immediately. “Don’t bother him,” she’d snapped. “He needs to rest.” I stood for forty agonizing hours in that crowded train car. By the time we arrived, I was exhausted, my legs trembling from fatigue. As I stumbled off the train, I lost my balance and bumped into Mark, who was walking ahead of me. He cried out, clutching his leg. “Alan, what the hell? Just because I sat in your precious seat, you’re going to cripple me for life?” Before I could even explain, Phoebe shoved me violently. “You psycho! Get away from him!” I lost my footing on the slick platform, tumbling onto the tracks below. The last thing I saw was the blinding light of an oncoming train. The last thing I felt was my body being crushed beyond recognition. My death was ruled an accident. It had no impact on Phoebe and Mark’s lives whatsoever. In fact, with me gone, Phoebe legally inherited my house and all my savings. She and Mark moved in together and lived happily ever after. The memory faded, but the ghost of that unimaginable pain still lingered in my bones. I looked at Phoebe, whose entire world seemed to revolve around Mark, and the disappointment was a chasm inside me. Three years of marriage. I thought my devotion, my endless sacrifices, would one day win her heart. But all it earned me was escalating demands and entitled orders. The face I once found beautiful now only filled me with disgust. I crossed my arms and let out a cold laugh. “I bought the ticket. I say no, and the answer is no.” My refusal sent Phoebe into a rage. “Alan, can you stop being so childish? Mark is a patient!” “Oh,” I said, my voice flat. “He’s a patient. So why did he buy a standing-room ticket?” Mark’s face turned beet red. But I wasn’t done. “Buying a standing-room ticket when you know you can’t stand, then trying to guilt-trip someone in first class… If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this was some kind of scam. He clearly doesn’t care about his own well-being, so why should I?” I paused, letting my eyes sweep over the crowd. “You’d think I was his father, the way you all expect me to take care of him. But even if he called me ‘Dad,’ I wouldn’t claim him.” Mark, flustered, quickly tried to defend himself. “Alan, how can you say that? You’re the one who bought this ticket for me! How can you turn this around and blame me?” He raised his voice, playing to the audience. “I told you I was injured when I asked you to book it, but you bought me a standing ticket anyway! What were you thinking? How is a patient supposed to stand for that long? Were you trying to make my injury worse?” He swayed dramatically, looking like he was about to collapse. I had to admit, he was quick on his feet, effortlessly shifting the blame back to me. Phoebe, ever the doting nurse, immediately rushed to his side, letting him lean his full weight on her. “Don’t move, you’ll aggravate the wound.” Then she shot me a look of pure loathing. “This is my fault. I asked Alan to help you, but I never imagined he could be so malicious.” The crowd, which had started to quiet down, was instantly riled up again. “Hey, buddy, take it easy. Don’t hurt yourself.” “Don’t worry, we’re here. We won’t let him bully you.” Then, they turned on me. “What is wrong with you? Buying a standing ticket for an injured man? Do you have a heart?” “You look like a decent guy, probably went to college and everything. How could you do something so despicable?” I faced their accusations without flinching. Watching Phoebe and Mark clinging to each other, a small smile played on my lips. “Oh? So you’re saying I’m the one in the wrong here.” My sudden change in tone caught everyone off guard. “Well, if you know you’re wrong, then give the man your seat!” a passenger insisted. “Exactly! Just do the right thing!” I kept my eyes locked on Phoebe and Mark, not missing the fleeting look of triumph they exchanged. They thought they had won. They thought they could take my seat. Not a chance in hell. Just as everyone seemed to relax, my voice, lazy and drawling, cut through the air again. “It’s true. Mark asked me to buy him a ticket.” The crowd looked at me, confused. “He just forgot one little detail. He sent me a hundred dollars and asked me to buy a five-hundred-dollar first-class ticket. I guess he thinks my credit card is his personal ATM.” I spread my hands, my voice dripping with weary sarcasm. “So, tell me, folks. Should I just swallow the loss and be his personal charity, or should I be the sucker who pays for his ride?” The once-furious passengers now stared at me, then shot glances at Mark. He immediately turned his head, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. I sighed dramatically. “Look, I see you’re all very compassionate people, and I’m not a monster. If one of you kind souls would like to offer this patient your seat, I will gladly transfer this one hundred dollars to you right now.” I smiled sweetly. “He is a patient, after all. I’m sure someone here would be happy to help?” The car went silent. The moment their own comfort was on the line, their righteous indignation vanished. No one wanted to get involved in a losing deal. Only Phoebe remained steadfastly by Mark’s side. “Alan, stop trying to guilt-trip other people. This is your fault. Why should they have to fix your mistake?” I smiled at her. So, you do know what guilt-tripping is. It was fine to do it to me, but not to anyone else. The double standard was breathtaking. Our argument finally attracted the attention of a train attendant. “The train is about to depart. Everyone, please return to your seats,” she said sternly. Suddenly, Mark collapsed to the floor, his face contorted in agony. “Ow, ow, my leg! It’s gone numb! I can’t get up!” The attendant rushed to his side. “Sir, what’s wrong?” Mark looked up at her, his brow furrowed. “I… I’m injured. I’m still recovering. And I’ve… I’ve been standing for so long…” He squeezed out a few beads of sweat, his breathing shallow and panicked. Phoebe seized the opportunity, pulling me away from my seat. Without a moment’s hesitation, the attendant helped Mark into my first-class chair. But then, as if pricked by a needle, Mark shot back up, looking at me with a pained expression. “No, I can’t. He… he won’t let me sit here.” His face showed fear, but his tone was pure tattletale. It worked perfectly. The attendant, now fully on his side, physically blocked Mark from getting up and turned to me with a frown. “Is this your seat?” I nodded calmly. Her frown deepened. “Sir, helping those in need is a basic human decency. We’re taught from a young age to give our seats to the elderly, the sick, and the infirm. How can you be so selfish? This gentleman is a patient. We should be offering him our help, not standing by coldly. It won’t kill you to let him sit here. If everyone were as heartless as you, what would be left of our society?” The crowd nodded in agreement. “This guy is unbelievably stubborn. He just refuses to help.” “Yeah, we’ve been trying to talk some sense into him, but he won’t budge.” “Thank goodness you’re here, ma’am. People with no morals need to be taught a lesson.” Phoebe added her own fuel to the fire. “And to think, they’re supposed to be friends. He won’t even give up his seat.” The attendant looked at me with renewed shock. “You know each other? That makes it even worse! How can you be so cold-blooded? To watch your own friend suffer and do nothing? What kind of friend are you?” “I bought the ticket,” I stated simply. Mark jumped in, playing the noble victim. “Ma’am, I know you mean well, but if Alan won’t let me, there’s nothing I can do. I’ll just go to the standing-room car.” That was all it took. The attendant’s protective instincts flared. She firmly pushed the theatrically protesting Mark back into the seat. “That’s enough. You just sit here and rest. No one is going to make you move.” A triumphant glint flashed in Mark’s eyes as he looked at me. “Well, thanks, Alan. I appreciate it.” He held out the standing-room ticket. The attendant gave my shoulder a sharp pat. “Go on, back to your car. We’re about to leave.” Then she bustled off down the aisle. Phoebe immediately sat down next to Mark and began peeling an orange for him, not forgetting to toss a final command over her shoulder. “Alan, if you need anything over there, you can always come back and find us.” Her words were met with murmurs of approval from the nearby passengers, praising what a wonderful woman she was. I stood in the aisle, the useless ticket clenched in my fist. Mark’s pained expression had vanished, replaced by a brilliant smile. “See? Would’ve been easier if you’d just given it to me from the start. You made me stand for so long my leg went numb.” Phoebe cooed at him. “He’s sick in the head. Don’t waste your energy on a psycho.” Mark shot me a smug look as he ate a slice of orange directly from Phoebe’s hand. Anyone watching would have thought they were the married couple. Thinking back, my marriage to Phoebe had been nothing but a joke. She married me for my money, but gave her love to Mark. What a wife. I watched their sickeningly sweet display for a moment longer, then turned and left the first-class cabin. I made my way to the dining car and borrowed a small megaphone. I switched it on and recorded a short message.

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My wife, who had been dead for seven years, suddenly came back to life. Not only did she bring another man with her, She wanted me to voluntarily give up my position as her husband. “Gavin nearly lost his sight saving me. I’ve already promised to marry him. If you sign the divorce papers without a fuss, I’ll let you continue living here.” I was silent for a moment, then spoke softly. “Actually, I’m already married to someone else.” My wife rolled her eyes. “Don’t play tough, Sean. Everyone knows you’re head over heels in love with me.” 1 But I was no longer the Sean from seven years ago. I was no longer the doormat who followed her every command, who worshipped her until I had no dignity left. “I have no reason to lie to you. I am married to someone else.” Rosa shot me a look of pure contempt and sneered, “Stop the act, Sean. I’m not here to ask for your permission. I’m here to inform you that whether you like it or not, I’m marrying Gavin.” Gavin stepped forward, his fingers intertwining with hers. His voice was a lazy, innocent drawl. “Rosa, darling, don’t fight with Sean. It’s just my bad luck. Maybe you should just send me back.” He feigned leaving, but his hand clutched the hem of her dress, and his eyes, when they met mine, were full of triumphant possession. Rosa’s expression softened instantly. “Gavin, you promised you’d stay with me forever.” She looked back at me. “Don’t worry. Sean is crazy about me. He always does what I say. We’ll definitely get married.” Seven years had done nothing to diminish Rosa’s baffling self-confidence. Before I could speak again, she was glaring at me, her voice sharp with warning. “You’ve enjoyed the title of the Crestwood family’s golden son-in-law for seven years. It’s time to let Gavin have his turn. He’s suffered too much, and I won’t let you bully him.” A sarcastic smile touched my lips. “I haven’t done a thing. Don’t try to pin this on me.” Rosa’s eyes narrowed. She looked me up and down, her face a blank mask. “Do you think you’re important? If it weren’t for the fact that you waited seven years for me, I would have thrown you out of the Crestwood estate long ago. I wouldn’t be wasting my breath on you.” Throw me out? She wouldn’t get the chance. And what on earth made her think I’d waited seven years for her? The day she abandoned me was the day I stopped waiting. Seven years ago, I was in a tuxedo, sitting in the lead car of a wedding procession, driving through the mountains to pick up my bride. But she ran away. On the way, there was a landslide. While I was out of the car checking the road, Rosa supposedly slipped and fell from a cliff. For seven years, everyone thought she was dead. I even picked out her gravesite myself. Marrying into the Crestwood family was an opportunity my father had fought tooth and nail to secure for me. Rosa could afford to be careless with my family’s reputation, but I couldn’t. Besides, she wasn’t the only woman in her family. For the past seven years, I had been a husband and a father. If she hadn’t suddenly reappeared, I would have completely forgotten she ever existed. So, seeing her again after all this time, I felt nothing. “Rosa, let me repeat myself. You and I are no longer husband and wife,” I stated calmly. “Legally speaking, you are a deceased person. Who you marry has nothing to do with me.” 2 Rosa let out a dismissive scoff. “At least you know your place. If you hadn’t been so obsessed with marrying me back then, I wouldn’t have had to flee the country and hide for seven years.” So that was it. I always wondered how, with so many people there, she was the only one who died. It was a vanishing act. She hadn’t changed at all—still willing to do anything to get her way. When the news of her “death” arrived, her mother fainted on the spot and was sick for months, nearly following her daughter to the grave. The family butler, who had just arrived, overheard her words. “Miss Rosa, please don’t say such things.” He bowed his head slightly. “Mr. Sean is now the Vice President of Crestwood Industries.” “Vice President?” Gavin’s eyes darkened beside her. He asked, seemingly casually, “Rosa, didn’t you say your grandfather would only pass the position of President to you?” Rosa froze for a second, looking at me with confusion. “My father only has one daughter. Who else is qualified to inherit the presidency besides me?” I stared back at her, my expression unreadable. Did she leave her brain overseas? Did she have any idea how foolish she sounded? The butler was sweating, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. “Miss Rosa, what are you saying? Mr. Sean is married to Miss Victoria. She is the President of the company now. Don’t you remember? Your aunt.” The day Rosa ran out on our wedding, I was left standing on the road, surrounded by the pitying and mocking stares of onlookers. That was when Victoria stepped forward. She said she would marry me. At that moment, I was lost and powerless. Everyone knew it was my wedding day, but my bride had died on the way to the ceremony. “Wife-killer,” “bad luck,” “jinx”—those words nailed me to a pillar of shame. Then suddenly, someone offered to marry me, to prove to the world that I wasn’t what they said I was. She would save my family’s honor and pull me out of the abyss. Why wouldn’t I say yes? Victoria hadn’t planned on attending her niece’s wedding; she only came back to the country because her father, the family patriarch, had insisted. Yet, she ended up becoming my wife. Rosa looked at me with a mocking laugh. “Everyone knows my Aunt Victoria is a powerhouse, that she only cares about her career. She wouldn’t even glance at a doormat like Sean.” Victoria was a legendary figure in the city’s business world. Half of the Crestwood family’s assets were her personal property. Within the family, she was treated like an empress. To this day, I still didn’t fully understand why she married me. There were so many men more handsome and wealthier than me. The butler was still trying to reason with Rosa. “It’s true, Miss Rosa. You can check the news online, or ask anyone in the family.” Rosa just curled her lip in disdain. She randomly pointed to a gardener, then a maid. Both gave her the same answer. Her composure finally cracked. Her face went cold as she stared at me. “Well done, Sean. What a master manipulator. I’ve only been gone a few years, and you’ve already turned everyone in this house against me, making them all lie for you.” I remained calm, unwilling to argue. I was married to Victoria. That was a fact. Whether Rosa believed it or not was irrelevant to me. She had been spoiled her entire life. Fearing she would continue to cause a scene, the butler quickly sent someone to call Victoria. “Quick, call the President’s secretary. Ask her to come home immediately.” Victoria was in a meeting for a major aerospace project today and had left for the office early. My father-in-law and Rosa’s mother were also out. Otherwise, Rosa would never have had the chance to torment me like this. During the standoff, my daughter, Zoe, suddenly ran into the room. “Daddy, why didn’t you come back to play with me?” 3 When Rosa saw Zoe, her face twisted in rage. The reason was simple: Zoe was a miniature, female version of me. Rosa’s eyes darted back and forth between me and the child. Finally, she raised a trembling hand and pointed at me. “How dare you betray me. You even have a bastard child.” “Who is this little bastard with?” Zoe inherited Victoria’s personality. While she didn’t fully understand the word, she knew it wasn’t a compliment. She put a hand on her chin like a little adult and said, “Who are you calling a bastard? My mommy says people with dirty mouths need them washed out with soap.” Zoe was six and knew almost everyone in the family, but she had never met Rosa. Rosa immediately snapped at her, “You little bastard, how dare you talk back.” That was it. I was furious. This was my precious daughter, the child I had waited for and cherished. Who was she to call her that? “Rosa, watch your mouth. Or don’t blame me for what happens next.” Gavin glanced at me, then added with feigned innocence, “This child looks like she’s old enough for school, right? Don’t tell me you cheated on Rosa before you even got married?” His words were poison. Rosa’s eyes shot to me, filled with a look that wanted to claw my face off. The one thing a woman can’t stand is her husband cheating, especially when that man used to be her devoted follower. A man who had sworn to love her until death. “She’s six,” I said calmly. “Sean, you disgust me! I’m gone for seven years, and you go and have a child with someone else? Have you no shame?” Only seven years? We had only known each other for a few years, and she was gone for seven of them. And she was the one who abandoned me. The butler quickly tried to explain. “Miss Rosa, this is your aunt’s child.” Rosa exploded. “You shut up, you traitorous old fool! Where are my parents? Who let him get away with this? Cheating and acting so self-righteous!” “Everyone in the Crestwood family knows about this.” Back then, after Rosa ran away, her parents felt guilty and didn’t object to Victoria marrying me. Hearing this, Rosa’s rage boiled over completely. Her eyes scanned the room like daggers. “Who is the slut? Who dared to humiliate the Crestwood family like this? Does she have a death wish?” No matter how she looked, she couldn’t find a single suspect among the staff. I let out a sarcastic laugh. Gavin adopted a tone of false concern. “Sean, you should just confess. If you push Rosa too far, even I won’t be able to help you.” I rolled my eyes at him. “We’re both men. I suggest you drop the act.” Before I could react, Rosa’s hand cracked across my face. “Shut up.” “You cheated first, having a child behind my back, and you have the nerve to lecture Gavin.” I hadn’t expected her to strike. My cheek instantly swelled and throbbed. Seeing me get hit, Zoe charged at Rosa like a little bull. “You hit my daddy! I’ll hit you!” “Zoe!” 4 Rosa grabbed Zoe by the collar of her dress and lifted her off the ground. My heart hammered against my ribs. “Rosa, let the child go.” The maids rushed forward to intervene. “Miss, please, put her down.” “If you don’t, the President won’t let this go.” Everyone in the household knew that Zoe was the light of Victoria’s life, a treasure she protected at all costs. But Rosa just sneered. “Get lost if you don’t want to lose your jobs. I’m going to teach both of them a lesson today.” A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. “Rosa, what are you doing?” Her face was a mask of venom, her aura turning ice-cold. “According to the law, you committed adultery during our marriage and even had a child. I can demand you leave with nothing and compensate me for my losses.” The problem was, we were never married. My hands clenched, veins popping on the back. “Rosa, you and I are not married! There was no adultery! Now put the child down!” If she weren’t a woman, I would have charged at her. I, Sean, have never hit a woman. Zoe’s little legs dangled in the air, kicking wildly, but she wasn’t afraid. The surrounding staff, intimidated by Rosa’s threats, didn’t dare to step in, only offering weak pleas. But Rosa ignored them. She shot me a meaningful look. “After I’m done with this bastard, I’ll deal with you personally.” With that, she started walking toward the door, still holding Zoe. The staff exchanged helpless glances, but no one dared to block her path. Finally, the butler stood in her way. Her face darkened instantly. “What? You dare to stop me?” The butler wiped sweat from his brow but maintained a respectful tone. “Miss, please, let’s talk this over calmly. Don’t be rash. Please put the little princess down.” I saw my chance and lunged to grab Zoe, but Gavin blocked me. He smiled, a sinister glint in his eyes. “Sean, what do you think you’re doing? Don’t do anything foolish.” I swung a fist into his face. “If anything happens to my daughter, I will make you both regret ever being born.” Gavin theatrically stumbled back into a nearby vase, hitting his head and drawing blood. Rosa’s eyes turned red with fury, and she unleashed her rage on Zoe. “You dare touch Gavin? I’ll beat this bastard to death!” She lifted Zoe high, about to slam her onto the ground. For a moment, my heart stopped. I instinctively dove forward. “Zoe!” Seeing Rosa’s madness, Zoe, being a child after all, finally burst into tears. Rosa screamed at me, “Get away! I’ll deal with you later!” I wrapped my arms around my daughter, holding on for dear life, refusing to let go no matter how hard Rosa pulled. Finally losing her patience, Rosa grabbed a nearby flowerpot and brought it crashing down on my head. I felt a searing pain, and something warm and wet streamed down my face. The butler and maids rushed to pull her back, but she screamed at them to stop. “Miss, stop! That’s your uncle!” the butler cried, grabbing her arm to stop her from striking again. Just then, a calm, elegant voice drifted in from the doorway. “What, exactly, is going on here?” “You had all better have a very good explanation.”

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After we got back together, I stopped being all over Julian. I no longer asked when he’d be home from his work dinners, and I stopped offering to pick him up. I didn’t get angry when he was friendly with his female colleagues, and I stopped checking his phone. Julian finally couldn’t take it. “I feel like you’ve changed. Why aren’t you… all over me anymore?” I looked up at him and said quietly, “You used to say I was suffocating you. You told me to be more independent. Isn’t this what you wanted?” He just stared. 1 I was already in my pajamas when Julian’s call came in. He was clearly drunk. It was loud on his end, and I could hear someone else shouting. “Dude, I’ve dropped like six figures on my girl this year, and she won’t even come get me! Fuck! Jules, your turn. Call Nina. I bet she won’t come either!” “No way, man, Julian’s girl is obsessed with him. She chased him for years. She’ll be here. She’s always calling to tell him not to drink, she’ll pick him up no matter how late. She’ll come.” It was some stupid, drunken bet. Julian’s voice, slurring with laughter, came closer to the phone. “Guys, shut up… Hey. I’m drunk. Come get me.” I said, flatly, “I’m already in bed. Get an Uber.” The background noise on his end vanished. Someone whispered, “Holy shit. She… she said no. She came in that ice storm last year…” Julian’s silence was heavy. When he spoke again, the laughter was gone. “Nina, you—” I cut him off. “I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.” I hung up before he could say another word. The screen went black, reflecting my blank face. I turned my phone off, rolled over, and slept soundly. … I hadn’t dreamt of the past much since we got back together. But maybe that call triggered it. In the haze of sleep, I could smell the rain again. It was the big nor’easter of 2023. Julian was out with friends. I’d called him, worried. “Hey, the storm’s bad, maybe drink less?” His voice was clipped, impatient. “Got it. Stop calling.” By midnight, he wasn’t home. He wasn’t reading my texts. I called again. Straight to voicemail. I panicked. What if something had happened? I grabbed my coat and called an Uber, not caring about the storm. The rain was so heavy the wipers were useless. The driver almost T-boned a car that ran a red light, and he laid on the horn, screaming, “FUCKING ASSHOLE, LEARN TO DRIVE!” He kept muttering and cursing the whole way. I just clutched my phone, terrified. It took an hour and a half to get from my place in Brooklyn to the restaurant in Midtown. My hands were clammy. When the Uber finally pulled up, I jumped out. Even with an umbrella, the wind and rain soaked me instantly. I saw Julian walking out of the restaurant and sagged in relief. I ran toward him. “Julian—” I stopped. He wasn’t alone. A woman was beside him, wearing his suit jacket. Claire. Under the restaurant awning, she was perfectly dry. High heels, perfect makeup, laughing up at him. The smile on Julian’s face vanished when he saw me. His brow furrowed. “What are you doing here?” I just stared at him. “You weren’t answering your phone.” “I told you I was busy. I told you to stop calling.” He sounded exasperated. “What is so important?” I wanted to ask why Claire was here. He’d said it was a “guys’ night.” Claire was his childhood friend. They’d grown up together, and he’d been crazy about her. She’d only just moved back from London. He’d not only hired her at his company, but he texted her constantly. The man who sent me one-word replies would stay up late, smiling at his phone, talking to her. When I’d confronted him, he’d snapped. “We talk about work, Nina. She’s not like you. She’s brilliant, she’s independent. She’s not just… thinking about relationships all the time. God, you’re so suffocating.” I should have been screaming. I should have asked him why he was lying. But I just wiped the rain from my face. “…I was worried. I came to pick you up.” Claire laughed. “Nina, are you checking up on him? I’ve heard you keep him on a tight leash. Wow.” His friends behind him snickered. “I’m taking Claire home. You go on,” Julian said. He sounded… embarrassed. He started to walk past me, then stopped. He reached out and took the umbrella from my hand. “You’re already soaked, anyway.” I just stood there, stunned, watching him hold my umbrella over Claire. She leaned into his side, glanced back at me, her red lips curved in a smile. I couldn’t tell if it was pity or a warning. “Nina, men are like sand,” she said, her voice sweet. “The tighter you grip…” “Don’t bother, Claire. She wouldn’t get it. Let’s go.” He walked her to his car. The taillights disappeared into the rain. He never asked how I got there. Or how I was getting home. One of his friends, trailing behind, looked at me. “Uh… how’d you get here, Nina? I can give you a ride if it’s on my way.” I just stood there for a second, numb. “Thanks,” I whispered. “I’d appreciate that.” 2 Loving Julian was just… a fact of my life. My friends had called me an idiot a hundred times. I knew all the reasons I should leave. I just couldn’t. I met him when I was working part-time at a 24-hour bodega. A drunk guy came in for cigarettes, got mad I was slow, and then actually swung at me. I flinched, but the punch never landed. A long-fingered hand had caught the man’s wrist. Under the harsh fluorescent lights, I saw a guy my age, handsome, with a sharp jaw and dark eyes. He was wearing a black hoodie. “Pathetic,” he said, his voice cold. “Taking your shitty day out on a girl?” The drunk mumbled something, but the guy just tightened his grip. The man winced and scrambled out. I was shaking. “Th-thank you.” “Whatever,” he said, paid for his Red Bull, and left. It didn’t take long to find out who he was. Julian King. A finance major. A campus legend. His family was old money, but he was completely estranged from them. He’d built his own software company from his dorm room. His resume was as flawless as his face. The more I learned, the more I fell. Who wouldn’t? I was a lost cause. But I knew I was out of his league, so I just watched from a distance. The few minutes he spent in the bodega every night were the highlight of my day. One night, I got brave and paid for his drink before he could. “It’s… for helping me. That night.” He just put a twenty on the counter, his face blank. “It was nothing. I don’t need it.” My face burned. “Oh. Okay.” Tons of girls liked him, but he never dated. I told myself it was because he was focused on work. I started using our “classmate” status to get closer. His stomach was bad; he always skipped breakfast. I started bringing him breakfast. It rained; I brought him an umbrella. He played pickup basketball; I washed his jersey. It took three years of this. I learned why he was estranged. His father’s affair had literally driven his mother to a nervous breakdown, and she’d never recovered. He’d cut his family off. I started spending holidays with him, the ones he would have spent alone. Finally, after a New Year’s Eve we spent just the two of us, he was a little drunk, and he just said, “Nina. Let’s just… be together.” No flowers. No “I love you.” My heart exploded. I just whispered, “Okay.” For two years, I was the perfect girlfriend. He was distant, but I just told myself that was his personality. Until Claire came back. Until I saw him smiling at his phone at 2 AM. I finally admitted the truth. He wasn’t incapable of love. He just didn’t love me.

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My name is Kevin Williams. Net worth in the billions. A shark who clawed his way up from nothing. I have everything a man could want, except a son I can be proud of. My son, Harry, is a world-class disappointment. At twenty, his only real skill is incinerating money. His social media feed is a highlight reel of round-the-world trips and luxury shopping sprees. His friends are a curated collection of trust-fund kids, his girlfriends a rotating cast of Instagram models and wannabe socialites. I’ve warned him, but he believes my empire is invincible. Fine. If he won’t learn to appreciate the view from the top, I’ll personally blast his gilded cage out from under him. I orchestrated a flawless, fictitious “bankruptcy,” moving us from our mansion overlooking the city to a tiny, rundown apartment for fifteen hundred a month. I cut off his black cards and disbanded his entourage. I told him, “From now on, if you want to eat, you earn it.” I wanted to see what would be left of his friendships, his so-called love life, when the money was gone. More than that, I wanted to see who my son really was once I stripped away the designer labels. This is a rite of passage. A gift from a father to his precious son. 1 Beep. The cold, electronic sound of rejection. Harry pulled the black card from the reader and slid it back in. Beep. The same denial. He scowled, slapping the card down on the Patek Philippe display case. The marble countertop chimed with a sharp crack. “Is your machine broken?” His voice was low, but laced with his usual, effortless entitlement. The sales associate’s perfect smile twitched for half a second before she dipped her head even lower. “Mr. Williams, perhaps… you’d like to try a different card?” Impatiently, Harry yanked another card from his wallet. Beep. Identical. That’s when my call came through. “Don’t bother,” I said, leaning back against the leather seats of the town car, watching the city blur past my window. “I’ve frozen every card to your name.” Silence on the other end. I could picture his expression perfectly: that incredulous, offended “Are you kidding me?” look he got whenever his universe was questioned. “Kevin, what the hell is this?” He only ever used my first name when he was incandescent with rage. “It’s exactly what it sounds like,” I said. “We’re bankrupt.” “Ha.” He laughed as if it were the funniest joke he’d heard all year. “You acquired Stellar Entertainment last month, and now you’re telling me you’re broke? Is this another one of your goddamn ‘stress tests’? Because I don’t have time for these stupid games!” “You have two options,” I cut him off. “One, walk out of that store right now and meet me in the company’s underground garage. Two, stay there and wait for security to escort you out. Oh, and by the way, I canceled the order for your new Aston Martin.” He slammed the phone down. I smiled faintly. “To the office, Frank.” Half an hour later, Harry stormed into my office, his face a thundercloud. The custom Hermès blazer he was wearing was wrinkled, no doubt from a crowded subway ride. His first time, I imagined. “Happy now?” He threw the jacket onto my desk, its contents spilling across the polished wood. Cigarettes, a lighter, and a clattering set of keys, still adorned with a tacky Louis Vuitton keychain his latest girlfriend had given him. I ignored his tantrum and pointed to the chair opposite me. “Sit.” “I’m not sitting! You owe me an explanation, right now! Why cut off my cards? What do you mean, bankrupt? Do you have any idea how humiliated I was in front of my friends?” “Humiliation?” I looked up from a stack of files, my gaze level. “Starting today, that’s the cheapest thing you’ll own.” I slid a document across the desk toward him. The title read: Asset Liquidation and Debt Restructuring Proposal. The numbers inside were staggering, each one followed by a long tail of zeros. All of them were a stark, unforgiving red. “Don’t understand?” I summarized for him. “It means the mansion is gone. The cars are gone. The contents of your walk-in closet—the shoes, the watches, the cufflinks—will be seized by the court tomorrow. The place we’re living in, legally speaking, isn’t even ours anymore.” The color drained from Harry’s face, inch by inch. His lips trembled, but no words came out. He was finally realizing this wasn’t a game. “So… what happens now? Where are we going to live?” His voice was a strained whisper. “I’ve rented a place for us.” “A villa? What about my stuff? My shoes…” “A one-bedroom, five-hundred-square-foot walk-up,” I said flatly. He looked like he’d been struck by lightning. “You’re insane! Kevin, you’ve lost your mind! I’m not living there! I’d rather die!” he roared. “That’s an option,” I nodded. “The door is right there. You can leave now. Go find your ‘friends.’ Go find that girlfriend who swore she loved you to death. See which one of them will take you in.” My words stopped him cold. His eyes welled up, red-rimmed and furious. “How could you do this to me? I’m your son!” “It’s because I’m your father that I’m doing this. Anyone else would just sit back and watch you burn.” I stood, picking up a pre-packed suitcase from beside my desk. “Let’s go, son. Time for a little lesson in what the real world tastes like.” I knew this was just the beginning. The start of a long, brutal war. I was the one who put him on that pedestal. Now, it had to be me who kicked it out from under him. Because until he had a bone-shattering fall, he would never learn how to stand on his own two feet. 2 The building was ironically named “The Elysian Fields Apartments.” The hallways were cluttered with junk, the paint was peeling off the walls in cancerous patches, and the air hung thick with the stench of damp rot and the greasy ghosts of a dozen different dinners. Harry stood at the entrance, refusing to take another step inside. “I’m not staying here! Do people actually live like this? It’s disgusting!” he choked out, pressing a hand over his nose. I dragged our two oversized suitcases behind me, glancing back at him without an ounce of sympathy. “It’s either this or a cardboard box under the freeway. Your choice.” “I can get a hotel! I have money!” he insisted, his pride still flickering. “What money?” I asked. “I… I’ll just sell a pair of my shoes!” “Go ahead,” I said, pushing one of the suitcases toward him. “Grab a cab. Sell your shoes, book a suite. Just do me a favor and text me when you’re settled.” Without another word, I turned and started hauling my own luggage up the stairs. There was no elevator. I grunted my way up five flights. When I finally unlocked the door, a wave of stale, dusty air hit me in the face. The apartment was tiny. You could see the whole layout from the doorway. A small living area opened onto a grimy balcony, and one closed door presumably led to the bedroom. The furniture was ancient, the kind you see in thrift stores, with a faded, floral sofa that had been washed into oblivion. I dropped my suitcase in the living room and collapsed onto the lumpy couch, exhausted. About ten minutes later, I heard a noise at the door. Harry stood there, dragging his suitcase, his eyes red and his shoulders slumped in defeat. He’d figured it out. His so-called brothers, when he’d called, were suddenly all “out of the country” or had “family staying over.” As for his girlfriend, her phone went straight to voicemail. He had nowhere else to go. “Put your suitcase in there and unpack,” I said, gesturing toward the bedroom. He didn’t move, just stood in the entryway, his eyes scanning the cramped, alien space. “Where’s the bathroom?” he finally asked. “Over there.” He walked over and pushed the door open. A second later, a shriek echoed through the quiet old building. “Agh! What the hell is that? Is that a… a hole in the ground?!” I sighed, rubbing my temples. “It’s called a squat toilet, Your Highness. You’ll get used to it.” He didn’t eat that night. He locked himself in the bedroom, and I didn’t bother him. I unpacked our things. My suitcase held a few changes of clothes and some toiletries. His was a treasure trove of shoes, watches, designer skincare, and colognes. The cheapest bottle of face cream in his bag cost more than a month’s rent here. I piled it all in a corner on a small table I found. In the middle of the night, a sound from the living room woke me. I crept out quietly and saw Harry’s silhouette in the faint glow of the refrigerator light, rummaging through its empty shelves. All he found were the two bottles of water I’d bought that afternoon. “Hungry?” I asked. He jumped, dropping a water bottle with a clatter. “I… I was thirsty,” he mumbled. “If you’re hungry, just say so.” I pulled two hundred-dollar bills from my wallet. “There’s a 24-hour convenience store at the end of the block. Go get yourself something to eat.” He stared at the cash in my hand, hesitating. “What, you only do digital payments?” I waved the bills. He finally shuffled over and took the money. He was gone for a long time. When he returned, he was carrying a small plastic bag. Inside was a cup of instant ramen, a sausage stick, and a hard-boiled egg. He sat at the rickety dining table, fumbling with the ramen lid before pouring hot water from the kettle. He didn’t say a word the entire time. Soon, the cheap, salty aroma of artificial chicken filled the tiny apartment. He slurped the noodles down with a desperate speed. Like a starving man. When he finished, he pushed the empty cup aside and started to head back to his room. “Hold it,” I said. He turned. “Clean your own mess. And take out the trash,” I said, pointing to the overflowing bin by the door. His mouth opened as if to protest, but he clamped it shut. He picked up the ramen cup, carried it to the cramped kitchen, and turned on the faucet. The sound of splashing water felt deafening in the silence. I watched his back. This was the first time in his twenty years of life that he had ever washed a dish. Even if it was just a disposable noodle cup. I knew that changing him would be like trying to straighten a tree that had grown crooked for two decades. It was going to hurt. But it had to be done. 3 Harry stayed quiet for a couple of days. Maybe the hunger had scared him, or maybe the shock of our new reality was still sinking in. He spent most of his time holed up in his room, glued to his phone. I knew what he was doing. He was messaging his “crew.” Their group chat used to blow up with hundreds of messages a day—debating the latest supercars, which golf course had the best greens, or planning their next private island party. Now, the chat was a ghost town. When someone did post, it was about topics he couldn’t even pretend to engage with anymore. Someone’s family firm had just secured a new round of funding. Someone else’s girlfriend had just gifted him a new sports car. No one tagged him. No one asked for his opinion. It was like he had been muted, rendered invisible. That afternoon, he emerged from his room, his eyes bloodshot. “I’m going out,” he announced. “Where?” “Julian invited me for coffee.” Julian Rider. One of his closest friends. His father was a real estate mogul. I nodded. “You have money?” Harry bit his lip and pulled a few crumpled bills from his Hermès wallet. It was the change from his late-night ramen run. “Is that enough?” I asked. “…He’s treating,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. I didn’t say another word. Some lessons can only be learned when they’re slapped across your face. He changed his clothes, picking out the most low-key outfit from his suitcase—still a brand most people couldn’t afford—and tried to fix his hair, looking like a soldier heading into a battle he already knew he would lose. He was gone for about two hours. When he returned, his hair was a mess and his face was dark with a terrifying mixture of rage and despair. He was holding a cake box. The moment he stepped inside, he hurled the box at the floor. Cream and fruit splattered across the grimy linoleum. “They’re all bastards! Liars!” he screamed, sinking to the ground and burying his head in his hands. I handed him a paper towel and waited. When his sobs subsided into ragged breaths, he told me what happened, his voice dripping with venom. He’d arrived at the café to find Julian and a few other guys already there, a spread of expensive pastries on the table. The moment he sat down, he could feel their eyes on him, their gazes a mix of pity and poorly concealed glee. They started probing, casually asking about his family’s situation. Harry, still clinging to a sliver of hope, tried to be vague, saying the company was just facing some “temporary difficulties.” Julian had smirked. “Harry, man, you can drop the act. The whole town is talking about it. Your dad’s company is drowning in debt. They even lost the mansion.” Another guy chimed in. “Yeah, we’re just worried about you. What are you going to do now? You can’t keep living in that dump, can you?” “I heard the place you’re at doesn’t even have a proper closet. What are you doing with all your sneakers?” Their words were framed as concern, but the mockery in their tones was unmistakable. Harry’s face burned with shame. The final blow came from Julian. He pulled out his phone, played a video, and pushed it in front of Harry. “Oh, by the way, check out the new Pagani Isabella got me. Pretty sick, right? She said yes last week.” The video showed Isabella, Harry’s girlfriend who hadn’t answered his calls for days, beaming as Julian knelt before her, a massive diamond ring on her finger. Fireworks exploded in the background. The cheers of their “friends” were deafening. Harry said his mind went blank. All he remembered was lunging across the table, trying to punch Julian in his smug face. But the others held him back. Julian looked at him, his expression one of pure pity. “Harry, grow up. Did you really think Isabella loved you? She loved your money. Now that it’s gone, what do you have left? Don’t make a scene. It’s pathetic.” As a final act of charity, Julian had the waiter box up the most expensive slice of cake on the table and handed it to him. “Here. My treat. You probably won’t be able to afford places like this anymore.” And that was the story of the cake. A slice of pure, unadulterated humiliation. Harry’s face was flushed with fury. “Why… Why would he do that to me? I thought he was my best friend! For his birthday, I got him a limited-edition Rolex! How could he…” “Because you used money to buy your friends,” I said calmly, cleaning the mess off the floor. “So when the money disappeared, so did they.” I tossed the last of the soiled napkins into the trash. “Get a hold of yourself. Rage won’t solve anything. Are you hungry? I’ll make you some noodles.” He just stared at me, his chest still heaving. “Remember this feeling,” I said, my voice low and steady. “Remember what it feels like to be stepped on, to feel so humiliated you can barely breathe. One day, you’re going to use your own two hands to pick up every piece of dignity you lost today.” 4 Harry was like a puppet with its strings cut, lifeless for days. He stopped talking about his friends, stopped checking his social media. He just stared into space. But I knew it wasn’t enough. The final straw, the one that would break him completely, hadn’t fallen yet. That night, there was a knock on the door. Harry answered it, probably thinking it was the landlord chasing the utility bill. Standing in the doorway was Isabella. His “ex-girlfriend.” She was dressed in a Chanel suit, her makeup perfect, holding a ridiculously large bouquet of red roses. She looked completely out of place in our crumbling hallway. When she saw Harry, she froze. The man in front of her was unshaven, wearing a cheap, stained t-shirt, his hair a tangled mess. He was a ghost of the glamorous, golden boy she remembered. “Harry…” She forced a smile. “I… I heard about what happened. I’m so sorry, I was traveling overseas. I just got back.” Harry just stared at her, his face a blank mask. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Why are you in a place like this? Come on, let’s go. I’ve booked you a room at the Four Seasons.” She reached for his hand. Harry pulled away. “Isabella, what are you doing here?” His voice was ice. “I’m here for you, of course! Harry, I love you. It doesn’t matter what happened to your family, I’ll always love you!” she declared, thrusting the bouquet at him. “Let’s start over, okay?” I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching the performance. A masterclass in fake devotion. If I hadn’t already run a full background check on her, I might have almost believed it. Isabella’s father was new money, a small-time contractor who’d hit it big on a government rezoning deal a few years back. But for the past two years, his company had been bleeding money. She’d chased Harry for one reason: to marry into my empire. This little show was just an attempt to play the “loyal girlfriend” card, to salvage her reputation. And maybe, just maybe, to see if we were truly as broke as everyone said. Harry looked at her, and then a slow, cold smile spread across his face. “You love me?” he asked. “Is that why you’re wearing the watch Julian gave you? The Patek Philippe Sky Moon Tourbillon. One of only five in the world. I tried to buy one myself, but they were all spoken for. I guess you two are pretty serious.” The color drained from Isabella’s face. “Harry, let me explain, he and I…” “Don’t bother,” Harry cut her off. “Isabella, I used to think you were alright. You were pretty, you knew how to flatter me, you gave good gifts. But looking at you now… your face just makes me sick.” He pointed a finger toward the stairs. “Get out.” Publicly humiliated, Isabella’s mask of concern shattered. “Harry! Don’t be an ungrateful bastard! Do you still think you’re the prince of this city? You’re a nobody now! A broke joke! I came back for you out of pity, and you dare to talk to me like this?” “Broke is still cleaner than you,” Harry shot back. “Fine! Fine! Have it your way!” she shrieked, throwing the bouquet of roses to the ground with all her might. “I can’t wait to see you crawling back to me on your knees!” She stormed off, her curses echoing in the stairwell. All that was left was a pile of trampled, ruined flowers. Harry closed the door and sagged against it, sliding slowly to the floor. He didn’t cry. He just sat there, hugging his knees, for a very long time. I walked over and sat down on the floor beside him. “Figured it out yet?” I asked quietly. He nodded. “She didn’t love you. She loved what came with you,” I said. “Your family’s name, your spending power, the social circles you gave her access to. It was all on a price list. Now the price list is zero, so she’s gone.” “Dad,” he said, his voice calm for the first time in what felt like forever. “Was I an idiot?” “A pretty big one,” I said, not sugarcoating it. He buried his face in his knees. “I used to think… everything you said was just you being paranoid. I thought money could solve everything. I thought as long as I was rich, everyone would love me, that they’d always be there for me.” “And now?” “Now I know,” his voice was muffled. “The things money can buy are never real.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not too late. At twenty, you can still afford to lose.” That night, for the first time, he asked me a real question. “Dad, how much debt are we in?” I looked at him. The spoiled, clueless look in his eyes was gone. In its place was something I’d never seen before. A tiny, flickering spark. I told him a number. A number so large it would make any man despair. He was silent for a long time. “Can we… can we ever pay it back?” “We can,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. “As long as we do it together.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385749”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

There’s a certain kind of sidewalk theater you only get in a city like this. I was watching the matinee performance: the hero, the heroine, and the villainess, all tangled up in a screaming match on a street corner. Then a semi-truck barreled through a red light, and I went from being a nameless extra to nearly becoming a casualty. “If I die… raise my son. My bank PIN is—” The villainess, Seraphina, had shoved me out of the way. She was left broken on the asphalt, and those were her last words before she was gone. After a long search, I finally found him in a group home on the other side of the state. The moment I walked out of the building with him, a strange text began to scroll across my vision, like subtitles for a movie I was trapped in. [What the hell? Who is this random woman? Why did she adopt the little villain?] [This kid is a carbon copy of his mother—dark, paranoid, the whole package.] [Even his own father disowned him, threw him in the system while adopting another kid. This woman must have a death wish.] I looked down at the small boy beside me, swallowed by a threadbare coat. I decided the subtitles were full of crap. A little dark and paranoid? That’s not a terminal illness. 1 “Come on,” I said, opening the car door for him. He didn’t move. His gaze was locked on a car parked across the street. I followed his eyes. A sleek, black Maserati. [The little villain must be furious. His own father, choosing to adopt some other kid instead of him.] [That’s not just ‘some other kid.’ That’s Ethan, the story’s hero. Born with a halo over his head, top of his class in brains and charm.] [And this poor kid, the villain, is doomed to spend his life trying to compete with a guy he can never beat.] The subtitles, my constant companions, were chattering again. It meant the author was updating the story. That truck crash had killed Seraphina, but it had also taken the original heroine. A whole new cycle of tragedy was just getting started. I glanced back at the luxury car, then gently turned the boy’s head and guided him into my own. “Let’s go. If you like that car so much, we can buy one.” He scowled, his small face tight with defiance. “I don’t want you to buy it for me. When I’m older, I’ll buy my own.” Well, well. My son has ambition. The drive home was silent. When we got to my apartment, he stood in the middle of the living room, his small fists clenched, glaring at me like a cornered animal. “Just so we’re clear. You’re not my mom. I already have one.” “Call me whatever you want,” I said, shrugging. “By the way, what’s your name?” It occurred to me that I’d gone through this whole process without actually catching it. The director of the home had mentioned it, but I was too busy reading the subtitles in my head. He remained silent. “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to have to pick one for you. Let’s see… how about Brayden? All the cool kids in kindergarten are named Brayden.” I grinned. “Leo,” he bit out, stomping his foot in frustration. “What was that?” “My name is Leo!” I chuckled. “Leo. Strong name. I like it. I’ll call you Leo, my boy.” “Don’t! That sounds stupid. My name is Leo.” “Alright, Leo, my boy, it’s late. Time for bed. We’ve got to get you registered for school tomorrow.” I scooped him up, dropped him into the small bed I’d prepared, tucked him in, and walked out. 2 The next morning, after registering Leo for school, I realized the hero of this story, Ethan Sterling, was not only in the same class but was also Leo’s new deskmate. [And so it begins. Get ready to watch the hero put the villain in his place.] [In this kind of old-school rivalry plot, the villain is destined to be crushed.] [The sad part is, he doesn’t know it. He thinks if he just works hard enough, he can win.] [Get real. Ethan’s the main character. The whole world revolves around him. A minor villain will never see the spotlight.] The damned subtitles were back, and their commentary was particularly nasty today. Never see the spotlight? The kid I’m raising can be whatever he wants. Even if he chooses to be a couch potato, he’ll be the best damn couch potato there is. That evening, after Leo finished his homework, he found me watching cartoons in the living room. “I need to sign up for tutoring,” he announced. “For Math, English, and Science. All of them.” “You’re in second grade. What do you need tutors for?” I patted the cushion next to me. “Come on, watch Bob’s Burgers with me. It’s a classic.” He gave the television a look that could curdle milk. “I need it! I have to get first place on the final exams! If you don’t sign me up, I’ll report you for neglect.” Threats? Seriously? Did he have any idea who he was dealing with? “Fine, fine, you win. I’ll find a tutoring center for you tomorrow.” Seeing that I’d agreed, he turned and marched back to his room to study. The next day after school, I picked him up and drove him straight to the city’s athletic club. The look on his face was a mix of confusion and fury. “I said Math, English, and Science. What is this? Swimming and tennis lessons?” “Well, I noticed you’re a little skinny. Gotta build up that physique,” I said brightly. “It’s all about a well-rounded education, you know? Mind, body, and spirit.” I tried to give him a reassuring hug, but he dodged me. “And the cooking class?” he asked, pointing to a third registration form. “Is that for my physique, too?” “That… that was a freebie! It’s a tough economy out there, you know. They had a buy-two-get-one-free deal. It would’ve been a waste not to take it.” My own cooking is so bad, my dog won’t eat it. I’d stumbled upon a kid with a stubborn, obsessive drive to be the best. I had to channel that talent toward the kitchen. For my own survival. “I don’t want this. Change them. I’m not learning any of this.” He was so angry he ripped the forms to shreds. I reached into my bag and pulled out three more copies. “Those were just printouts. I’ve got plenty more.” I leaned in conspiratorially. “You’re not… scared, are you? Scared you won’t be good at it?” “Who says I won’t be good at it?” he shot back, his pride wounded. “I can be the best at anything.” Leo snatched the forms from my hand, swung his little backpack over his shoulder, and stormed into the building. [Some mothers just don’t get it. Ethan’s parents have him in advanced math programs, and this woman has the villain signed up for swimming, tennis, and a cooking class.] [He’s already falling behind. The hero is in the math olympiad, and the villain can’t even get a real tutor. He’s never going to catch up in this lifetime.] I waved a dismissive hand at the subtitles in my vision and found a comfortable bench to play games on my phone. 3 Throughout elementary school, it was a constant battle of wills between Leo and me. He’d try to stay up all night studying, and I’d flip the circuit breaker at ten o’clock sharp. He’d read dense, historical biographies, and I’d swap them out for books on weird animal facts. On weekends, he’d try to grind through practice exams, and I’d drag him on a six-mile hike back from a park on the other side of town. During school breaks, he’d descend into a frenzy of test prep, and I’d counter with my own frenzy of blasting 80s power ballads and learning TikTok dances. “Rosemary, can you please be quiet for one second? The middle school entrance exam is next week!” He’d finally reached his breaking point. He stormed into the living room and yanked the plug on my speaker. “It’s just a middle school exam, not the bar. What are you so nervous about?” I said. “Besides, your Aunt Carol and Aunt June are coming over for poker later. We need a fourth.” He could be a dark, paranoid villain-in-training all he wanted. But when faced with three unreasonable women who needed another player for their card game, even the most determined villain is powerless. Leo played poker with us all afternoon. He lost fifty bucks. [A villain is a villain. Can’t do anything right.] [The hero gets straight A’s and can probably beat a grandmaster at chess. This kid studies himself to death and is still stuck in second place.] [And with a mother like that, his dream of ever beating the hero is just that. A dream.] The subtitles were getting snarky. But they weren’t entirely wrong. Leo worked incredibly hard, even if his motivation was to one-up Ethan. He was a dedicated kid. No TV, no video games, just studying the moment he finished dinner. The only time he acted out was when his grades weren’t better than the hero’s, which usually resulted in a few broken pencils. A parent obsessed with academic achievement would have been thrilled to have a kid like him. Unfortunately for him, he got me, a professional slacker. I didn’t want him to become the bitter, obsessive person the subtitles described. I wanted him to be a happy, well-adjusted kid who knew how to enjoy life. The week before the exam, one of my poker buddies got her hands on a box of wild mushrooms someone had brought back from a trip to Oregon. We turned them into a soup. It was delicious. Leo even had a bowl. “You’re four grown adults, and you don’t know not to eat strange mushrooms?” the doctor said, looking at the five of us—four adults and one child—all being treated for food poisoning. He was exasperated. But no one was more furious than Leo. We were stuck in the hospital for days. The middle school entrance exam came and went. 4 “I’m so sorry, Leo. I really am. I had no idea your Aunt Carol’s mother-in-law foraged those herself on a hiking trip.” I didn’t care about his academics, but I hated seeing him this heartbroken. Ethan, the hero, had aced the exam, scoring the highest in the city. He was headed to Northwood Preparatory, the best of the best. After we got home from the hospital, Leo locked himself in his room and refused to eat. To cheer him up, I gritted my teeth and made a decision. “Leo, my boy, look what I’ve got.” I slid an envelope under his door. The door flew open a second later. “What is this?” he demanded, holding up the acceptance letter from Northwood Preparatory. “I didn’t even take the test!” “Heh,” I said, grinning. “I made a fifty-thousand-dollar donation to their new gymnasium fund. They were happy to make an exception.” “Son, we’re rich. Even if you do nothing for the rest of your life, even if you just want to be a couch potato, I can make sure you’re comfortable.” It was time he learned the power of money. “That’s cheating!” “No one has to know.” “But I’ll know!” His face was beet red. I put a finger to my lips. “And if you know, you just don’t say anything. Simple.” He was still just a kid. For all his protests, when the first day of school arrived, he was there with his backpack on, ready to go. That evening, as I was getting ready for bed, he started packing a duffel bag with clothes and bedding. “I’m going to live in the dorms,” he announced. I couldn’t bear the thought. If he left, who would be my poker fourth? Who would cook for me? “Leo, my boy, the dorms are gross. It’s much more comfortable at home. Come on, stay here.” He didn’t stop packing. “I’m in junior high now. High school is in three years. This time, I am going to beat Ethan Sterling. I have to live at school. You can’t stop me.” [Heh. Beat the hero? In his dreams. The harder he tries, the crazier he’ll get. He’s heading for a complete breakdown.] [Isn’t this the period where his paranoia gets worse? Living in the dorms is what pushes him over the edge, right? He starts having mental health issues.] [He brings it on himself. Always trying to one-up the hero, trying to prove himself to his biological father. It just makes him more pathetic.] [It’s useless. His mother was the villainess who got his father’s true love killed. No amount of effort will ever change that.] “Enough!” I shouted at the words scrolling in my vision. Leo turned, his eyes wide with surprise. I forced a smile. “I mean, enough of those old clothes. You don’t need to pack so much. I’ll buy you new ones.” The subtitles had terrified me. I couldn’t let Leo have a breakdown. In the end, he went to the dorms. But he only lasted two weeks. 5 “Leo, my boy! Mom’s here to see you! Are you kicking your blankets off at night?” “Honey, you’ve only been here a week, and you look like you’ve lost five pounds!” “Your Aunt Carol and the girls miss you! She made you her famous chicken soup. You have to drink it while it’s hot.” I made the trip to his school every single day, a thermos of food in one hand and a bag of clean laundry in the other. “I can’t believe Leo is such a mama’s boy.” “I know, right? He’s in junior high, and he’s still so clingy.” “And when his mom called him ‘Leo, my boy’? I literally got goosebumps.” I overheard a few girls whispering in the hallway. Leo’s face was a mask of cold fury. After another week of my daily deliveries, he couldn’t take it anymore. He moved back home. At the end of his eighth-grade year, he placed second in his entire grade. He locked himself in his room again, refusing to come out for the entire day. “You got the second-highest score in the whole school. What more do you want?” I said, using the spare key to let myself in. “What good is second place?” he said, his face devoid of emotion. “He was still first.” I knew who ‘he’ was. “So, according to you, only the person in first place deserves to live? Everyone else should just give up?” “That’s not what I meant.” “That’s exactly what you meant!” I never argued with him, but this time, I had to. “So what if you beat Ethan Sterling? There will always be someone better than him out there. Are you going to spend your whole life trying to beat every single person on the planet?” “I… I just can’t stand it! Why? Why did my mother have to be the ‘villain’?” His voice cracked. “Why did my father disown me for some other woman? What did I do wrong?” “I just want to show him. I want to be the best. I want him to regret it. I want revenge for my mother.” Tears started streaming down his face as he spoke, and my heart ached for him. “Oh, you foolish kid,” I said softly. “If your mom were still alive, the only thing she would want is for you to be happy.” “And whether she was a villain or not isn’t for other people to decide. As long as you don’t believe it, then she’ll never be one in your heart.” “As for your father… he made his choice. Everyone makes their own choices. You don’t have to do anything because of a choice someone else made.” When I finished, Leo said nothing. He just curled up on his bed, lost in thought. I sighed and pulled a blanket over him. “You know, no matter what you score, you’ll always be number one to me. The absolute best.” Leo could be obsessive, but only about his own goals. He could be withdrawn, but he had never tried to hurt anyone. He might be the story’s “dark, paranoid villain,” but at the end of the day, he was just a child starved for love. I couldn’t understand why the subtitles had to be so cruel. Was this what gave keyboard warriors their sense of accomplishment? In the days that followed, Leo studied even harder. I knew my words wouldn’t change him overnight, but things were getting better. He no longer locked himself away, no matter how poorly he thought he’d done on a test. I thought the high school entrance exam would be a turning point. But disaster struck again. 6 “Is my entire life destined to be a failure?” “No matter how hard I try, it’s useless. Fate just loves to mess with me!” On the first day of the high school entrance exam, Leo was in a car accident. He was unconscious for two days. Just like with middle school, he missed the test. And Ethan Sterling was, once again, the top scorer in the city. A news report featuring an interview with him was playing on the hospital room TV. Leo sat on his bed, his knuckles white as he gripped the sheets. [The villain’s paranoid personality is about to be fully awakened. I bet he’s going to try and get revenge on the hero.] [What’s the point of revenge? He’s the hero. He can’t be killed.] [Honestly, I kind of feel bad for the villain. All that hard work for nothing.] I was terrified Leo would do something reckless. That he would snap. That he would go after Ethan. So, that night, I drove him out of the city. We drove for eight hours, crossed three mountain ranges, and took one ferry. Finally, we arrived at my grandmother’s house in the middle of nowhere. “Grandma, the kid bombed his exams and he’s throwing a fit. I’m leaving him with you for the summer,” I explained. “Watch him closely. Don’t let him wander off, especially not near the river.” I left her a thousand dollars and was gone before dawn. The next day, Leo somehow got his hands on a phone and called me. “Rosemary, you come get me right now. I need to repeat the year and study for the retake!” “What’s that? You want to jump in the lake? Sorry, can’t hear you, bad connection.” I hung up. He called back immediately. “If you don’t come get me, I’ll walk back myself.” Ha. No one had ever escaped from my grandma’s watch. Not even the livestock. [This is hilarious. The villain was ready for his comeback, and she just shipped him off to the countryside.] [Is this some kind of reality show? Look at him, his hair is all messed up.] [This woman is unbelievable. Does whatever she wants. A GPS would get lost trying to find that place.] The subtitles were having a field day. I chuckled as I shuffled my poker cards, reading their commentary. My grandma… she was one of a kind. A paranoid villain? She once made a wild monkey from the mountain do chores for two days before letting it go. Leo stood no chance. He stayed in the countryside for two months. His days were filled with feeding chickens, herding cattle, and cutting grass for the pigs. He was so exhausted by the end of the day that he’d fall asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, with no time to dwell on his misfortunes. His appetite grew, too. Grandma called to tell me he was eating three large bowls of rice at every meal and that I needed to send more money. September first rolled around. The autumn breeze signaled the start of a new school year. It was time to go get my son. 7 Standing at the entrance of the state’s top-ranked public high school, Leo hesitated. “You didn’t… do the same thing you did for middle school, did you?” he finally asked. I pulled his luggage from the trunk and grinned. “Of course not. This is a state-level magnet school. This one cost a hundred thousand.” “The principal couldn’t stop smiling. I think I paid for his new boat.” Perhaps because he’d grown accustomed to my methods over the years, he didn’t protest this time. As I was leaving the school, he suddenly called out to me. “I’m going to work hard these next three years. I won’t let you down. I won’t let your money go to waste.” Seeing his earnest expression, I patted his shoulder. “You’ve got it all wrong. I spent the money to make you happy, not to make you work yourself to death.” “As long as you’re happy for these three years, I don’t care if you’re a straight-F student.” “And after three years, if you still want to go to college, I’ll buy you a spot in one of those, too. Any fancy university you want. I’ve got the money.” The most important thing in life is to be happy. Everything else is just noise. “It’s not that I like school,” he started, “I just…” “I know. You have your own plans.” I cut him off gently. “But my plan is this: no matter what your plans are, or how they turn out, I will always be your safety net.” [Damn it, why am I getting emotional over this random woman?] [Me too. The villain’s life has been tragic, but finding a mother like her feels like winning the lottery.] [It won’t matter. A villain is a villain. The heroine is about to make her appearance. The real rivalry starts now.] What? I stopped in my tracks, focusing on every word of the subtitles. It took me a minute to piece it all together. The main heroine, a girl named Ava Chen, was about to enter the picture. And my son, the villain, was going to fall obsessively in love with her. For ten years, his obsession would drive him mad, leading to an intense rivalry with the hero. In the end, she would marry the hero, and Leo, in his despair, would kill himself. Absolutely not.

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Chapter 1 I’m in the Blackwood Creek Secure Hospital, watching my brother’s wedding on a live stream. Suddenly, a man—naked, covered in blood—bursts into the reception hall and throws himself at my brother’s feet, groveling. “Ethan, my face is already ruined, you cut up all my clothes! I can’t threaten you anymore! Please, just don’t send me back to that place. I’ll stay away from Eliza, I swear…” My brother’s new bride, Eliza, explodes. She spins and slaps Ethan, hard. “Liam was always so terrified of the world, so gentle! How could you be so cruel to him?! You’re a monster!” “I’ve been too soft on you. Today, you’re going to learn that the Lu family will not tolerate your vicious, evil streak!” The wedding is over. My brother, Ethan, is dragged into a car, sent to a remote “abbey” to reflect and repent. The next time I see him, he’s on a steel table. His face is a mask of bruises, his chest is caved in, and his fingers are twisted into unnatural shapes. I look down at my own hands, identical to his, and I clench them until my knuckles turn white. My mother is sobbing behind me. “He must have been in so much pain…” My name is Caleb. Ethan was my twin. He was the bright, clever, shining one. I was the quiet, cold, hollow one. The one whose eyes made people nervous. They called me a freak, a psycho. Only Ethan ever treated me like I was human. He’d push his only piece of candy into my mouth, his eyes sparkling. “Is it sweet, Caleb?” I gently touch his cold face. His eyes are closed forever. He’ll never see me again. When we were kids, the Dean’s son cornered him in the parking lot. A few of his frat-boy friends were with him, laughing. Ethan ran. I followed them. When Ethan finally made it home, he was breathless, relieved they hadn’t caught him. He never saw me come home later, covered in blood. The moon was full that night. The police found the Dean’s entire family slaughtered. They found me in the middle of the living room, sitting in a pool of blood, calmly counting Ethan’s candy wrappers. They said I was sick. They locked me up here at Blackwood. Ethan always visited. He’d press his face to the security glass, his breath fogging it up. “Caleb, the cherry blossoms are out! They’re everywhere!” Even though I never spoke, he’d talk for hours, sharing his joy. The last time I saw him, he was ecstatic. “Bro, I’m getting married!” “I’ll have Mom stream it for you. You can see me in my tux! Think I’ll look sharp?” The wedding didn’t even finish. I wrap the leather restraint strap from my bed around the hospital director’s throat. I press until his face turns purple, forcing him to sign my release papers. Whoever touched my brother is going to die. Chapter 2 When I get home, I find Mom on the cot in the living room. Her legs are… wrong. Bent. She tells me what happened. She went to find Eliza after Ethan… died. Eliza and Liam were there. When Mom accused them, Liam just laughed. He pulled out his phone. “Dead? How? That’s weird. In this video I just got, he looks like he’s sleeping pretty soundly.” On the screen, Ethan was lying still, peaceful. Mom lunged at him. “You killed him! My son is in the morgue, broken and battered, and you killed him!” Eliza stood up, disgusted. “That’s enough! Ethan is dragging his own mother into his sick games now?” “You’re both pathetic. You’re exactly alike. Nothing but lies.” Liam, lounging on the sofa, just smirked. “Ma’am, you’re really embarrassing Ethan right now.” Eliza just motioned to the door. “Throw her out.” The bodyguards threw her out. And broke her legs. I look away from Mom and lift the white sheet from my brother’s face. The bruises. The caved-in chest. The twisted limbs. A crushed butterfly. The door buzzer rings. Then, it’s kicked open. Liam and Eliza stroll in. Liam smirks at the small altar we made. “Well, well. If it isn’t the dearly departed.” Eliza’s eyes land on the urn in my hands. Her face flickers. But when she sees my face—identical to Ethan’s—her expression hardens. “Ethan. You’re taking this ‘playing dead’ thing too far. You’d even use a prop urn to get sympathy?” Liam saunters over, arm in arm with Eliza. “Eliza just sent you to that abbey for a few days to cool off. And what do you do? You assault the staff, run away, and show up with a prop box pretending to be dead.” “What’s next? Are you going to invite us to a fake funeral?” His hand darts out to grab the urn. “Let me see what trash you dug this out of.” I pivot. He stumbles, catching himself before he falls. “Ethan!” Eliza shrieks. “You’re still not done? You dare to push Liam?” Liam’s eyes instantly fill with tears as he clutches Eliza. “Eliza, don’t blame him… He’s just mad at me for crashing his wedding. It’s all my fault…” Eliza’s face is granite. “Ethan. Apologize to Liam. Now.” I just stand there, holding my brother’s ashes. Mom, from her cot, screams at them. “Get out! Get out of our house!” Eliza grabs my wrist, her nails digging in. “Is this the trashy way your family raised you?” “Since you refuse to learn, you’re coming with me. Back to the abbey. We’ll beat some manners into you!” I let my wrist go limp. “Fine.” I am, after all, looking for the men who killed my brother. This saves me the trip. I gently place Ethan’s urn on the altar. I trace the smiling face in his photo. Sweet as candy. As I turn to leave, Mom grabs my hand. “Caleb!” she whispers, her eyes filled with terror and a terrible understanding. I pat her hand. She lets go. “Go.” I nod and follow Eliza to the car. Liam sits in the passenger seat. As soon as I’m in the back, he leans over to Eliza. “Eliza, baby, I think I have an eyelash. Can you get it?” She leans in, blowing softly into his eye. Their noses are almost touching. They completely forget I’m there. Liam glances back at me, a smug, triumphant smirk on his face. I just stare out the window. The car winds up the mountain road, getting closer to the abbey. The killer instinct in my blood is singing. It was them. They killed him. The radio crackles. “—Emergency broadcast. A patient considered extremely dangerous has escaped from Blackwood Creek Secure Hospital. Citizens are advised to—” I look at the two in the front seat. They haven’t heard a thing. I smile. Chapter 3 Eliza drops me at the abbey, and the iron gate slams shut behind me. The “Prior” of this place just stares at me, his eyes wide with fear. The heavy door clangs shut. A group of men in shoddy robes, cigarettes dangling from their lips, surround me. Their laughter is sickening. “Well, look who’s back, boys.” “Miss us, little bitch?” “You didn’t seem to have much fun last time. We’ll make sure you enjoy it this time.” “What are you waiting for? Get him. Same as before.” I keep my head down. Their heavy breathing gets closer. My muscles pull tight. When I don’t move, the leader unfurls a thick leather whip. “Stubborn piece of shit! Need a taste to remember the rules?” The whip cuts through the air. I catch it. He freezes. Then, his face twists in rage. “You dare?! I’m going to end you!” Before he can finish, I yank the whip. He stumbles forward. I hit him. A dozen times, open-handed. SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP. The sharp sounds echo in the courtyard. His friends are still laughing. “What’s wrong, Three? Can’t handle one skinny twink?” Until “Three” turns his head. A spray of blood and broken teeth hits the stones. The laughter dies. The courtyard is dead silent. The Prior screams. “Ethan’s dead! They said he was dead!” The thugs all freeze. They all look at my feet. In the sunlight, a shadow stretches out, long and clear. “Shit! He’s alive!” The leader spits blood. His eyes are murderous. “Who cares? One little punk won’t—” They lunge. I let my head fall back. A smile I can’t control spreads across my face. They don’t know. I was born with a gift. Ten years of rage. How else could I have taken out the Dean’s entire family? My blood sings with violence. I’ve only held it back for Ethan. Now, I don’t have to hold back ever again. The screaming lasted for three days. The beauty of a remote mountain abbey is that no matter how loud you scream, the sound just vanishes into the trees. When Eliza comes back, the abbey is a smoldering ruin. I’m curled up by the broken gate, clothes torn, face smeared with ash, blood caked under my fingernails. “Disgusting.” She tosses a coat at me. As I pass Liam in the car, he leans in and whispers, “Too bad you didn’t burn, you bastard.” I get in the back seat, shivering. My sleeve is dark with dried blood. Their blood. It was funny how they begged. Especially when I took the wooden mallet and, inch by inch, crushed the rotten meat between their legs. They were holy men, after all. They needed to be purified. It’s good. Now, every one of their bones is as beautifully broken as Ethan’s. I remember their agony in the fire, and I smile. Chapter 4 We get back to the mansion. As I step toward the door, Liam blocks it with his foot. “Ugh, Ethan, you’re filthy. Why don’t you wash up in the yard first?” “The hose is still working. I’ll even have the guys help you.” He sounds so thoughtful. His eyes are pure venom. It’s the middle of winter. The ground is frozen solid. Eliza doesn’t even look back. “Get clean before you come in.” The door slams shut. I squat by the rusty spigot. Three bodyguards surround me. The same three who beat Ethan at his wedding. They pull out the heavy-duty fire hose. “Sorry, Mr. Jiang.” The leader licks his lips. The freezing water hits me, and they aim it straight down my shirt. “Miss Lu’s orders. Gotta get every… crack… nice and clean.” From the second-floor window, I see the curtain twitch. Liam. When Eliza’s shadow joins his, he quickly drops the curtain. I wipe the icy water from my face and give the guards a slow, cold smile. The high-pressure nozzle fits perfectly in their mouths. When I walk inside, dripping but clean, the backyard has three new “ice sculptures.” They’re swollen and grey, like water-logged pigs. Eliza is waiting. She wraps a towel around my hair, her touch surprisingly gentle. “What took you so long? I just said rinse your feet.” She pushes a steaming bowl of chicken soup toward me. “The kitchen made it fresh. Get changed and drink this while it’s hot.” “…Okay.” I manage a raspy word. I change and come back down. Liam, his eyes burning with jealousy, brings the soup to me. Before I can take it, he “stumbles.” The entire bowl of boiling soup goes down my front. “Ah!” Liam screams. “Ethan! I was just trying to bring you the soup, and you knocked it over! You burned me!” “I know you hate me… Eliza, I’ll just go! I’ll leave! I’m just in the way!” Eliza lunges, grabbing Liam’s perfectly fine hand, her face a mask of panic. She doesn’t even glance at the massive red blisters already forming on my chest and hand. She turns on me, her voice like a whip. “Ethan! Apologize to Liam! Now!” A sharp pain lances through my chest. This. This is how they treated him. His absolute devotion, given to this. I bolt for the front door. CLICK. The high-security deadbolt engages. Eliza roars. “Ethan, what the hell are you doing? Have you lost your mind?” “Apologize to Liam!” I turn, my eyes red, my face streaked with grime and blood from the bat. I walk slowly toward them. Liam, nestled in Eliza’s arms, suddenly goes pale. His hand shoots out, trembling, pointing at the TV on the wall. He’s stammering. “You… You’re…” I raise a finger to my lips. “Shhh. The game is just starting.”

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1 My name is Willa Thorne. I’m twenty-two, a graduate of a top-tier university. I also suffer from a severe allergy to stupidity. I have zero desire to interact with people. For this reason, I have proudly embraced the life of a professional moocher, living off my parents. My mother, Vivian Shaw, a permanent fixture on the Forbes Rich List, has finally reached her breaking point with me. She kicked me onto the set of a corporate reality TV show, claiming it would give me some real-world experience and cure me of my “attitude problem.” So there I stood, in flip-flops, in front of the office building designated by the show. A girl in a white bubble dress was blocking the entrance turnstile, having the time of her life. Behind her, a sea of employees on the verge of being late fumed in silence. I tried to politely inform her that she was in the way. Her response was to scream at me. “So what if I’m in the way?” She planted her hands on her hips. “My dad owns this entire company, Aura Corp! I can play wherever I want!” Wait. What? My dad has an illegitimate daughter? I immediately fired off a text to the Queen of my household. “Your Majesty, I think Dad has an illegitimate daughter. Prepare for battle.” … She would tap her ID badge. The turnstile would beep and swing open. She wouldn’t go through. She’d wait for it to close, then tap her badge again. Beep. Open. Still not go through. She repeated this cycle, endlessly, lost in her own little world. Behind her, a dark crowd of employees watched their window for clocking in on time shrink to nothing. Every face was painted with the silent, soul-crushing despair of the almost-late. My allergy-to-stupidity radar began to scream, and my blood pressure skyrocketed. I took a deep breath, silently chanted world peace three times, and walked over to tap her on the shoulder. “Excuse me, miss? Could you please go through? Everyone’s going to be late.” The girl spun around and gave me a disdainful once-over. “Who do you think you are, telling me what to do? Do you have any idea who I am?” Her shrill voice grated against my eardrums. I clenched my fists, resisting the primal urge to shove her designer handbag into her mouth. “Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re blocking the way.” “So what if I’m in the way?” she shot back, hands on her hips. “My dad owns this entire company, Aura Corp! I can play wherever I want!” I froze. My dad’s company? How was I unaware that my completely whipped father had secretly produced another daughter? A daughter who appeared to have been born with an underdeveloped cerebellum and a completely smooth brain? Was my mother, the Queen, about to be usurped? Was my own title as Crown Princess in jeopardy? As my mind reeled, a girl with glasses, who looked like another intern, gently tugged on my sleeve. “Just leave it,” she whispered. “Don’t mess with her. That’s Mimi Monroe. Her dad is Mr. Thorne, the show’s biggest sponsor. He literally funded this entire season just to make her famous.” Mr. Thorne’s only daughter? Then what was I? A freebie that came with a phone plan? Just then, a sharp, impeccably dressed woman in a business suit hurried over, her face plastered with a sycophantic smile. “Miss Monroe, what are you doing out here? Mr. Thorne is waiting for you in his office.” Seeing her ally arrive, Mimi’s arrogance swelled. She pointed a finger at me and whined to the woman, “Ms. Hayes, this person was bullying me! She told me to stop playing!” The woman, Ms. Hayes, immediately turned on me, her expression hardening. Her eyes scanned me critically. “Which department are you with? What’s your name? Harassing Miss Monroe on your first day of work? Are you trying to get fired before you even start?” I glanced at the ID badge on her chest: Ms. Hayes, Executive Secretary to the Chairman. My dad’s secretary. A woman who had worked for my family for five years, who had watched me grow up, was now looking at me as if I were a complete stranger. Interesting. Very interesting. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. I made it as pleasant as I could. “My name is Willa Thorne. I’m an intern with the show. I wasn’t harassing her. I was simply suggesting she follow basic public etiquette.” Ms. Hayes’s face soured, clearly not expecting me to talk back. Mimi, however, puffed up with self-importance. “Etiquette? I am the etiquette! Ms. Hayes, get her out of here! Fire her!” “Well…” Ms. Hayes hesitated, glancing nervously at the surrounding cameras. “Miss Monroe, this is being broadcast live. It wouldn’t look very good. Why don’t we head inside first?” As clueless as Mimi was, she seemed to understand the implications of a live feed. She shot me a venomous glare and finally, flanked by Ms. Hayes, sailed haughtily through the turnstile. The human dam broke, and the crowd of employees surged forward. The girl with the glasses gave me a sympathetic look. “You’re in for it now. You just made an enemy of the princess and her top courtier, Ms. Hayes.” I shrugged, unconcerned. In for it? The show was just getting started. I pulled out my phone and sent a message to my mother, Vivian Shaw. “Mom, I think I’ve stumbled upon some major family drama. Your marital status and my inheritance are at stake.” Vivian replied instantly. “Explain, or your allowance is halved this month.” I gave her the short version of the Mimi Monroe situation. The other end was silent for a full minute. Then, a single line of text appeared: “Hold your position. Continue observation. Report any new developments. And remember, you are the legitimate heir. Act like it.” Reading the words “legitimate heir,” I smiled. Alright then. Let’s see what kind of demon dares to challenge my mother’s reign. 2 Once inside, the show’s director gave us interns a quick briefing and assigned our roles. I was sent to the marketing department. Mimi, of course, was sent nowhere. She was to remain in the chairman’s office with her “daddy.” My mentor was a kind woman who showed me around. As we passed the chairman’s office, I saw Mimi with her legs crossed, ordering Ms. Hayes to peel an apple for her. And Ms. Hayes, my father’s most competent and trusted secretary, was acting like a doting nanny, peeling the fruit with painstaking care, not a hint of impatience on her face. I scoffed internally. Just then, a handsome guy in a crisp white shirt, tall and well-built, walked by with a stack of files. Mimi’s eyes lit up like a wolf spotting a lamb. “Hey! You, handsome! Stop right there!” The man stopped and politely adjusted his glasses. “Miss Monroe. Can I help you with something?” “What’s your name? Which department? Do you have a girlfriend?” Mimi fired off the questions, practically drooling. A muscle in the man’s jaw twitched, but he maintained a professional smile. “My name is Leo. I’m in the tech department. I’m sorry, but I’d rather not discuss my personal life.” Leo? I almost burst out laughing. That was my cousin, my mother’s nephew, the “undercover agent” Vivian had planted in my dad’s company specifically to make sure he wasn’t fooling around. I never thought this little mouse would run right into my trap. Mimi was clearly not satisfied. She stood up, sashayed over to Leo, and reached out a hand with long, bright white nails, aiming for his chest. “Not discuss it? What’s there not to discuss with me? My father is Marcus Thorne. The fact that I’m interested in you is the best thing that’s ever happened to you!” Leo’s expression soured. He took a quick step back, dodging her wandering hand, his brow furrowed in annoyance. Everyone in the open-plan office was now staring. The looks on their faces ranged from amusement to contempt, but no one dared to say a word. I couldn’t watch anymore. Harassing my family was a line you didn’t cross. I walked over, grabbed Leo’s arm, and pulled him behind me, facing Mimi with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Miss Monroe, workplace sexual harassment is illegal.” Seeing me meddling again, Mimi’s face twisted in rage. “Willa! Are you doing this on purpose? Do you have a death wish? I’ll have my dad fire you right now, you see if I don’t!” “I’m sure you will,” I said with an earnest nod. “After all, your dad owns the whole company. But before you have me fired, I’d suggest you look up the relevant laws. Because if you don’t, it won’t be about me getting fired. It’ll be about the police coming to have a little chat with you.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear enough for everyone to hear. Ms. Hayes’s face turned a shade of gray. She rushed over and grabbed the sputtering Mimi. “Miss Monroe, don’t lower yourself to her level. Let’s go back to the office. This is creating a scene.” As she spoke, she shot me a look that was pure poison. Mimi let herself be dragged back into the office. The drama was over. Leo let out a breath of relief and gave me a grateful smile. “Thanks, Wills.” “No problem,” I said, patting his shoulder. “Do me a favor and send me the security footage of you being harassed just now.” “Huh? What for?” he asked, confused. “Evidence,” I said with a mysterious wink. “It’ll be very useful later.” Leo caught on immediately and gave me an “OK” sign. I returned to my desk. The girl with the glasses sidled over, her eyes shining with admiration. “Willa, you’re so brave! You’re the first person I’ve ever seen stand up to Mimi Monroe!” I just smiled. That wasn’t standing up to her. That was just the appetizer. I opened the company intranet and started searching for any information on “Mimi Monroe” and her mother. Strangely, there was nothing. It was as if they had materialized out of thin air. So I switched tactics and started researching my father, Marcus Thorne, and his activities over the past three years. Three years ago, after a bad investment led to a huge fight with my mother, he staged a mid-life rebellion and stormed out, vowing to prove himself on his own. My mother, furious, froze all his credit cards and cut off his connections, leaving him with nothing but this one half-dead company, Aura Corp, to play with. To his credit, he had actually managed to turn the company around in those three years. But I never imagined that as his business grew, so would his audacity. I couldn’t believe he’d actually been keeping a mistress stashed away, and had a daughter this old with her. 3 The next day, an unexpected person showed up at the office. Chloe, my childhood best friend, strode into the marketing department in four-inch heels. Her new title: Sales Director. My jaw almost hit the floor. In the conference room, she was methodically leading a department meeting, her logic impeccable, her presence commanding. She was a completely different person from the girl I knew, the one who would get drunk and cry on my shoulder. After the meeting, I dragged her into the breakroom. “What are you doing here? Did Aunt Vivian send you?” Chloe shot me an exasperated look as she pulled a lipstick from her purse to touch up her makeup. “What do you mean, ‘did Aunt Vivian send me?’ You think I’m like you, a professional moocher? I got this job on my own merit, thank you very much. Aura Corp pays well, so of course I applied.” I looked at the lipstick in her hand. It was a new limited-edition shade from a luxury brand, a bold, fierce color that perfectly matched her queenly vibe. “Nice lipstick,” I said sincerely. “Of course it is. I had to fight tooth and nail to get my hands on it,” Chloe said with a proud flick of her wrist. As we were chatting, a discordant voice cut in. “Hey. That lipstick. I want it.” I turned around. It was Mimi again. She had snuck up behind us, her eyes glued to the lipstick in Chloe’s hand, her expression pure greed. Chloe frowned and put the lipstick back in her bag. “Sorry, this is my personal property. It’s not for sale.” “I don’t care if it’s for sale! I saw it, so it’s mine!” Mimi said, and then she actually tried to snatch Chloe’s purse. That was the last straw. Bully me? I can tolerate it. Bully my best friend? Not a chance in hell. I grabbed Mimi’s wrist, my grip so tight she cried out in pain. “Mimi, I’m warning you. Show some respect.” My voice was ice. “Willa! You’re protecting someone else again! What is wrong with you?!” Mimi shrieked, losing it. “I think you’re the one with a problem,” I said, shoving her hand away and pulling Chloe behind me. “If you like something, buy it yourself. What kind of person steals from others? Oh, right, I forgot. You probably don’t even recognize the brand.” My words hit their mark. The one thing she couldn’t stand was having her cheap origins exposed. Her face flushed red and white, and she just stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence. A crowd of curious colleagues had started to gather, whispering and pointing at her. Humiliated, Mimi suddenly lunged forward like a feral animal. Her target wasn’t me, but Chloe’s bag. Chloe, caught off guard, stumbled back. The bag fell to the floor, and the lipstick rolled out. Mimi’s eyes lit up. She snatched the lipstick, then looked at us with a triumphant smirk. In front of everyone, with a loud click, she twisted the lipstick tube until the entire bullet of color was exposed. Then she viciously smeared a thick red line across the back of her hand before tossing the ruined lipstick on the floor like a piece of trash. “If I can’t have it, no one can!” she snarled. The breakroom fell silent. Chloe’s eyes immediately filled with tears. It wasn’t just a lipstick. It was a gift she had bought for herself, a reward for her hard work. The fire in my chest exploded, roaring up to the top of my skull. I walked toward Mimi, step by step. As she watched me, her eyes widening in fear, I raised my hand and, without hesitation, slapped her across the face. The crack was clean and loud. For a moment, the entire world went quiet. “That,” I said, my voice dangerously low as I looked at her reddening cheek, “was to teach you some manners. Apologize.” Mimi was stunned. She clutched her face, staring at me in disbelief. “You… you hit me?” “So what if I did?” I took another step forward, my presence overwhelming. “Apologize! Apologize to my friend!” Our colleagues were speechless. The cameras faithfully recorded every second. Mimi, recovering from the shock, collapsed to the floor and started wailing. “Aaaah! She hit me! Willa hit me! I’m going to have my dad fire her! I’m going to have her thrown in jail!” Just then, Ms. Hayes and several security guards rushed in. “What’s going on?” Ms. Hayes’s face paled when she saw the red handprint on Mimi’s cheek. She pointed a trembling finger at me. “Willa! How dare you! You assaulted someone on company property! Security, seize her!” The guards exchanged hesitant looks. Chloe immediately stepped in front of me and spoke to Ms. Hayes, her voice calm and steady. “Ms. Hayes, this incident began when Miss Monroe attempted to steal and then destroyed my personal property. Willa was acting to protect me. There are security cameras here, as well as numerous witnesses.” Ms. Hayes’s expression flickered. She hadn’t expected this new director to be so formidable. Mimi continued her performance, clinging to Ms. Hayes’s arm and sobbing. “Auntie Hayes, she hit me! Look at my face! Call my mom! Tell her to come here and stand up for me!” Auntie Hayes? I watched the whole scene with cold detachment. Fine. The little one can’t win, so she calls in the big one. Let’s see what kind of show this mother-daughter duo can put on. 4 Less than ten minutes later, a woman in a Chanel suit, flanked by an entourage, stormed into the office. It was the woman from the photos, Melanie Monroe. She rushed straight to Mimi, her face twisting in pain as she saw the red mark on her daughter’s cheek. “My precious baby! Who did this to you? Who would dare!” Mimi pointed a tear-stained finger at me. “Mom, it was her! This witch, Willa! She’s jealous of me, so she hit me!” Melanie’s head snapped towards me, her sharp eyes like poisoned daggers. “You’re the one who hit my daughter?” she hissed, striding over to look down her nose at me. I had to admit, the woman had a certain presence. It was a shame she was using it for this. I met her gaze without flinching. “I am,” I said calmly. “Because she tried to steal my friend’s property, destroyed it, and has absolutely no manners.” “What a sharp-tongued little brat!” Melanie laughed, a cold, humorless sound. “Manners? Who do you think you are to talk to my daughter about manners? Let me tell you, this isn’t over! I’m going to make you kneel and apologize to my daughter, and then you’re going to get the hell out of Aura Corp!” I almost laughed out loud. “Make me kneel and apologize? On what authority?” “On what authority?” Melanie sneered. She pulled a small red booklet from her Hermès bag and slammed it on the table. “On the authority of this! I am Marcus Thorne’s legal wife, the chairman’s wife of Aura Corp! And I am telling an employee of my company to get lost. You tell me on what authority!” The sight of the glaringly red marriage certificate made everyone in the room gasp. So the rumors were true! Mr. Thorne really had gotten remarried! The looks from my colleagues instantly shifted from sympathy to schadenfreude. This intern had offended the future chairman’s wife and his precious daughter. She was finished. Ms. Hayes stepped forward at the perfect moment, her face a mask of disappointment. “Willa, how could you be so thoughtless? Apologize to Mrs. Thorne and Miss Monroe at once.” I watched their little performance and nearly laughed myself sick. Legal wife? My mother and Marcus Thorne had never finalized their divorce. How could he possibly have another legal wife? Bigamy was a criminal offense. I took out my phone, aimed the camera at the marriage certificate, and hit record. “Mrs. Monroe, is it? Since you claim this is a marriage certificate, would you dare let me film it? I can post it online, let the public be the judge, and see exactly how a married man ‘legally’ married you.” The color drained from Melanie’s face. She clearly hadn’t expected me to be so bold, or to know that Marcus was still married. Her eyes darted around nervously, but she tried to maintain her composure. “What nonsense are you talking about! Marcus and that washed-up old wife of his have been over for years! A divorce is just a matter of time! We’re the ones who are truly in love!” “Truly in love?” I scoffed. “So in love that you need a fake marriage certificate to prove it? Mrs. Monroe, forging official government documents is a crime just as serious as bigamy.” “You… you’re slandering me! Who says it’s fake?” Melanie blustered, her bravado failing her. “We can find out if it’s fake easily enough. A quick check with the county records office will clear it up,” I said, pressing my advantage. “Or, we could just call Marcus Thorne over here right now and ask him ourselves.” “Fine! Call him! Who’s afraid!” Just then, a deep, magnetic, but slightly panicked male voice sounded from the doorway. “What is all this shouting! What is the meaning of this!” My deadbeat dad, Marcus Thorne, who had been gone for three years, had finally made his grand entrance.

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1 A year after the divorce, my ex-husband Rick called. His voice was cold. “You better get over here and scrape your daughter off the pavement. She got hit at the crosswalk by the school.” He didn’t even pause. “It’s her own damn fault, though. She just ran out. The driver is a friend of mine. I already talked to them. They’ll give you some cash, and we’ll call it even.” The world went silent. My vision blurred, and tears started rolling down my face. I was about to scream, to shatter the phone. And then, from the bedroom, my daughter’s sweet voice called out. “Mom, is the mac and cheese ready? I’m hungry.” My heart stopped. I’d forgotten. I called her in sick today. She’d been asleep all morning. If that was Maya… then who got hit? The tears evaporated. I put the wooden spoon down and walked to her room, pulling her into a hug so tight she grunted. “Baby, just a few more minutes,” I said, my voice shaky but suddenly lighter. “You’re not feeling well, so I’m making you soup, too. We’ll eat in a minute, okay?” “Okay, Mom.” Feeling her, real and warm, was like coming up for air. I thought about all the times I’d snapped at her over homework. It all felt so stupid now. All that matters is that she’s healthy. I was checking the soup when Rick called again, and this time, he was angry. “Where are you? We don’t have all day to sit here. You don’t show up in the next ten minutes, we’re dumping her on the side of the road. You can come find her yourself when you feel like it.” The cruelty of it… even if he thought it was Maya. His own daughter. How could anyone be so cold? I was going to explain he’d made a mistake, that Maya was safe. But hearing his voice, I changed my mind. My own voice went flat. “Fine. Leave her. Someone will see and call 911.” He exploded. “What the hell is wrong with you? I told you they’d pay you! What more do you want? You want me to roll out the red carpet?” I wouldn’t take the bait. “That won’t be necessary. I’m just not coming.” He was furious, but now he also sounded… confused. “Are you even human? Your kid is dead, and you won’t come get the body?” He asked one last time. “You’re really not coming?” “That’s right.” Before he hung up, he spat, “Fine. You asked for it.” 2 “Mommy? Did you and Dad fight again?” Maya had come out of her room, her eyes wide. She hugged my leg. “Don’t be sad, Mommy. I’ll be good.” I picked her up, kissing her forehead. “I’m not sad, sweetie. I’m just not letting a man like that upset me.” “You said you were hungry, right? Let’s get you fed.” Maya is a good kid. Quiet, tough. She’s had to be. Since the divorce, I’ve been working a food cart. It means long hours. I have to drop her off at the school’s before-care program at dawn and go buy supplies. She’s learned to be independent because I just haven’t been around enough. It breaks my heart, but we do what we have to do. I got her settled with her food. I was about to sit down myself when someone started pounding on the front door. BANG. BANG. BANG. I opened it, but there was no one there. Just a large, plastic storage tub sitting on my doormat. Something was inside, and a dark, reddish-brown liquid was seeping from the lid. Next to it was a heavy-duty black trash bag. My heart hammered. This wasn’t good. I took a deep breath, telling myself it was nothing, and slowly lifted the lid. I almost fainted. It was a child. The body was small, the face… God, the face was unrecognizable. As a mother, you can’t see that. You just can’t. “Aaaah!” I screamed, a raw, terrified sound as I fell back onto the floor. Maya ran out. “Mommy? What’s wrong?” “Don’t look!” I scrambled to my feet and shielded her eyes. “Go back to your room, Maya. Lock the door. Do not come out until I say so.” I pushed her back into her room and, my hands shaking so bad I could barely dial, I called 911. “Yes, police. Someone… someone just left a body on my front porch. A child’s body.” The dispatcher was calm, but I could hear the shock. “Ma’am, stay inside. We’re on our way.” The half-hour wait was agony. I wasn’t shaking from fear anymore. I was shaking from rage. I knew exactly who did this. 3 When the police arrived, I was still trembling. “Ma’am, are you and your family safe?” the officer asked gently. “We’re fine,” I said, my voice cracking. “It’s just… so awful. That poor kid.” “Do you know the child?” he asked, taking notes. “No.” “But,” I added, “I think I know how she died.” I told him everything. The phone call from my ex-husband, the offer of money, the threat. The officer’s eyes widened. “So, you’re saying this isn’t your daughter?” “No. My daughter is inside, safe.” “Okay,” he said, his face grim. “Ma’am, would you mind coming with us to the station to give a full statement?” I nodded. “Let me just check on my daughter.” I ran inside. “Maya, sweetie, Mommy has to go with the police officers for a little while. I need you to be a big girl. Lock the door behind me. Don’t open it for anyone. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She was scared, but she nodded. “Okay, Mommy. Be safe.” I went back out, got in the cruiser, and left the coroner’s van and the forensics team at my house. At the station, I told them the whole story. The lead detective looked sick. “What a monster,” he muttered. “To kill a kid and then be this arrogant… I want you to bring in her ex-husband, Rick Miller.” While we waited, I just sat there, picking at my cuticles, my leg bouncing. The detective got me a cup of water. A little while later, the officers returned. Rick was with them. And so was his new wife, Brenda. Of course. The interrogation started, and it all became clear. Brenda was the driver. Rick’s “friend” was his new wife. He was covering for her. My blood boiled. Brenda was the one who broke up our marriage. I didn’t fight for him—a man who cheats isn’t worth fighting for. But seeing her here… “Alright,” the detective said. “Who hit the girl? And who is she?” Rick was still trying to control the narrative. “Officer, we thought it was our daughter, Maya.” “My daughter,” I snapped. “We called Anna immediately,” he continued, ignoring me. “We wanted to handle this. We’re willing to pay, whatever it takes. We’ll take responsibility. Ask her, we called her.” The detective looked at me, then back at Rick. “That’s great. But it doesn’t matter. Because that wasn’t her daughter. Her daughter is alive and well.” 4 Rick and Brenda just stared. Then Rick shook his head. “That’s impossible. I saw her. She was wearing that same yellow dress. The one with the flowers. I see Maya in it all the time. It was her.” He was right. I did buy Maya a dress like that. It was a cheap knock-off of some designer thing, but it looked identical. No wonder he made the mistake. “Mr. Miller,” the detective said, “We need to see your daughter, ma’am. Can you bring her here?” “I have to go get her,” I said. An officer drove me home. Maya ran into my arms the second I opened the door. “See, baby? Mommy’s fine.” I looked at the officer. “You believe me now?” “We do, ma’am. We’re just glad she’s safe. But… can you please bring her back to the station with us?” So, for the second time that day, I was in a police station, this time with my confused daughter on my lap. When Rick and Brenda saw Maya, alive, their faces went white. “If… if she’s not dead…” Rick stammered, “then who… who did we…?” Brenda started to hyperventilate. “Oh my god, Rick. I’m going to prison, aren’t I? I don’t want to go to prison!” It was too late. Even if they wanted to pay, they had no victim’s family to pay off. Brenda was sentenced to two years for vehicular manslaughter and leaving the scene of an accident. Rick… Rick went insane. He couldn’t get to the victim’s family. He didn’t know who they were. He was furious that his wife was in jail over a “mistake.” So, he came after me. “This is your fault!” he’d scream outside my apartment. “If you had just come, none of this would have happened!” “Are you crazy?” I yelled back through the door. “She wasn’t my daughter! You’re a pathetic coward! You just want someone to blame! You want to find her family? Go to the school! Check the attendance records, you idiot!” He stopped yelling. I heard his footsteps running away. A few days later, the police found the family. The dead girl was in the same school as Maya, just a different class. She’d skipped school, ran out to a convenience store, and ran right in front of Brenda, who had just gotten her license and “panicked.” And Rick, seeing the yellow dress, thought it was an easy problem. He’d just throw some cash at his broke ex-wife, and it would all go away. He never imagined the girl he’d hit was a McCann.

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It was right after freshman orientation health screenings. During military-style drill practice (a classic hazing ritual for college freshmen), a girl from my class, Chloe, ran onto the field and dropped to her knees in front of the entire student body. She was sobbing, clinging to my leg. “My dad has the same rare blood type as you—RH-negative! Please, you have to save him! He has aplastic anemia and needs a transfusion right now!” Then came the kicker. “If you save him… I’ll do anything. We can go to a hotel tonight!” I was horrified and immediately shut down the “hotel” talk. But, being a decent person, I eventually went to the hospital and donated blood for her father. That was my first mistake. After that, I became her dad’s personal blood bank. If I refused, she’d find a crowded spot on campus, pull out a banner, fall to her knees, and scream until I caved. I gave blood again and again until I developed severe anemia and multiple complications. Finally, I put my foot down. She flipped out. “You’re a grown man! What’s a little blood? Women lose blood every month and we’re fine!” “You promised! Backing out now means you’re murdering my father!” When I still refused, she went live on social media. “He said… one night with me for one pint of blood.” She wept into the camera. “I gave him my innocence, over and over… and now he’s abandoning us while my father is dying…” I was socially executed. Canceled. Everyone looked at me like I was a monster. I tried to explain, but no one listened. Desperate to salvage my life, I begged her to stop. I even agreed to donate again. But Chloe wasn’t done. “You donate the blood, AND you pay me $150,000 for emotional damages and ‘loss of purity’!” I came from a working-class family. I didn’t have $150,000. Driven to despair, I dragged her to the bridge and jumped, taking both of us into the dark water below. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the drill field. Chloe was kneeling in front of me, tears streaming down her face, starting her performance. 1 “Liam! Please save my dad!” We had just finished a grueling 5K run. Everyone was sprawled on the grass, exhausted. Suddenly, Chloe Miller burst onto the scene, dropping to her knees in front of me, wailing. “My dad is RH-negative like you! He has aplastic anemia! He needs blood now!” “If you save him… I’ll do anything. We can go to a hotel tonight!” The crowd gasped. Whispers erupted like wildfire. Everyone gathered around to watch the drama. But I just stood there, fists clenched. I was reborn. Back to the start of the nightmare. And this tearful, fragile girl in front of me was a demon who would eventually eat me alive. 2 In my last life, after the mandatory health checkups, word got out that I had “Panda Blood”—RH-negative. People asked, “What’s the difference?” I’d shrug. “If you need blood, you can find it anywhere. If I need blood and can’t find it, I die.” Everyone would laugh awkwardly and apologize. I didn’t mind. But on the second day of drills, Chloe staged her ambush. She claimed her dad would die without me. When I refused to be drained dry, she went on TikTok Live and destroyed me. “One night for one pint.” “I gave him my body… and he tossed me aside…” I was furious. I tried to confront her, to tell her to be a human being. But she hid behind her screen, fueling the fire. I became a pariah. I screamed my innocence until my throat bled, but the internet mob didn’t care. I still had school. I had a future. So I begged her to stop. “Blood isn’t enough,” she sneered. “Pay me $150,000 for my ‘loss’.” “I never touched you!” I screamed. “Have a conscience!” “Pay up, or I dox your parents next.” Seeing her smug face, I snapped. I dragged her to the river. I choked her until she panicked, until she tried to beg. “You pushed me too far,” I hissed. “So we both die.” I took us over the edge. Now, opening my eyes again to her pleading face, I suppressed the urge to kick her. “Sorry,” I said loudly. “I’m anemic. Can’t help.” 3 Chloe looked up, eyes wide, tears stuck on her lashes. “Liam, how can you be anemic? You’re young and strong! My dad is dying! I know you’re a good person, I heard about you…” “Stop gaslighting me,” I cut her off. “I said I’m anemic. Even if your dad is dying, I can’t help.” “I’m sorry, I’m just desperate! I checked every hospital, there’s no blood!” She covered her face and sobbed. “My mom died young… my dad raised me working construction… he hasn’t even had a chance to enjoy life…” Her performance was Oscar-worthy. The crowd started softening. Someone muttered, “Donating while anemic isn’t that bad, right?” I frowned, scanning the crowd. Then another voice chimed in. “Yeah, you just get dizzy for a bit. Eat some steak, you’ll be fine.” “Liam, it’s a life. You should help.” It was a girl from my dorm building. I almost laughed. Before I could snap back, Chloe crawled forward and hugged my legs. “Liam, I’ll pay for your supplements! Blood regenerates! I really have no choice!” “For my dad’s life… I’ll give myself to you! I’ll do anything…” The crowd went wild. Some “white knight” guys stepped up. “Are you a man or not? It’s just a little blood! We’ll buy you iron pills!” “Look at her! She’s desperate! If I had Panda Blood, I’d drain myself dry for her!” I laughed coldly. “Oh really? You’re so generous. How many times have you donated? Show me your card.” “There are millions of people needing regular blood types. How many have you saved?” “Don’t be generous with my blood. Drain yourself dry first, then talk to me.” The guy shut up, shrinking back. I pulled my leg out of Chloe’s grip. “Aplastic anemia requires long-term transfusions. It’s not a one-time fix.” “You need to find a blood bank or a long-term donor contract. Otherwise, he’s dead anyway.” Chloe cried harder. “There aren’t enough RH-negative people!” “So what?” I asked. “You want to use me as a human blood bag? While I’m anemic? That’s not saving a life, that’s trading one. Is your dad’s life worth more than mine?” “I have school. I need my health. I’m not a saint, I’m a college student.” “If it was a one-time emergency, sure. I’d do it even if I passed out. But your dad needs liters, constantly. Do you understand?” I wasn’t talking to Chloe. She was a demon; she didn’t care. I was educating the crowd so they’d stop the moral kidnapping. It worked. Students started Googling the disease. Murmurs of agreement spread. I scoffed internally and turned to leave. Chloe chased after me. “Liam! If I find more donors, will you join them to save my dad?” I stopped. I turned slowly. “More donors? You sure?” Chloe’s eyes darted away. I caught the flicker of guilt. “I… I’ll try my best,” she stammered. “Please don’t say no.” I glared at her and walked away. RH-negative blood is incredibly rare. Finding a group of donors in a few days? Impossible. But less than two weeks later, she somehow found five of them. 4 Chloe took a leave of absence during drills. I thought she gave up. Ten days later, she burst into my lecture hall. She grabbed my arm. “Liam! I traveled across the country! I found five donors! Will you join the team and save my dad?” The class was shocked. Where did she find them? Chloe sobbed that she visited hundreds of hospitals to find their contact info. She dropped to her knees again. “Liam, six people is enough! Please!” She started kowtowing on the classroom floor. “Without you, my dad dies!” The class started pressuring me again. “Just do it, man. It’s good karma.” I gritted my teeth. There was definitely a trap. Someone with aplastic anemia needs matched blood, not just any RH-negative blood. And finding five random donors willing to commit? In ten days? But I couldn’t refuse outright without looking like a monster. “Where are they?” I asked. “Take me to see them.” “Who?” “The donors.” Chloe jumped up, leading me to the athletic field. It was break time; the field was packed. She was using the crowd again. Five middle-aged men walked over. One of them tried to hand me a blood test report before I even said anything. I frowned. “Why show me this? You’re not donating to me. I don’t care about your blood type.” The man turned red and coughed. Chloe jumped in. “Liam, they’re all RH-negative. As long as you agree…” “Stop.” I raised my voice so everyone could hear. “Stop with the ‘give myself to you’ garbage. First, I’m not that kind of guy. Second, I’m not interested in you. Third, have some self-respect. It’s pathetic.” The students stared. Some gave me a thumbs up. Chloe’s face twisted. She stammered, “I just didn’t want you to feel like you were getting nothing…” “If it’s too easy to get, it’s probably a scam,” I said coldly. “And I don’t want it.” I stared into her eyes. She looked away, panicking. “So… can we save my dad now?” “Not so fast. I haven’t seen the blood tests. I need to watch them get tested. I need to verify they really are RH-negative.” Chloe broke down instantly. “We can’t wait! My dad will die!” She threw herself on the ground again, screaming. “Every day is critical! I worked so hard to find five people! We can save him easily! Please!” “Liam, tell me what you want! I’ll do anything!” She was good at this. A crowd gathered. “Last time you said there weren’t enough people. Now she found them, and you’re stalling? Are you human?” “Yeah, hypocrite. Just say you don’t care because it’s not your dad.” I laughed in anger. “Are you guys brain dead?”

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After final exams, Hannah, my childhood friend and our class valedictorian, posted a picture on her social media of two hands clasped together, seemingly announcing a new relationship. A minute later, I posted a picture of two plane tickets: [Ready for takeoff, so excited!] Our classmates showered both posts with likes. The class group chat lit up: [Congrats @Leo @Hannah, the happy couple finally makes it official!] [We all knew you two were a thing, why deny it?] [Finals are over, so you’re finally going public. Nice.] Jason, the class hunk, quickly tried to clear the air: [That was from a dare Hannah lost last night. She had to post it. When did it become a relationship announcement?] The chat exploded. [Wait, so it’s not a real thing?] [What’s going on? Even if Hannah’s post was a dare, what about Leo’s?] My childhood friend, not missing a beat, typed a message in the group: [@Leo, what’s this? Done with the silent treatment? Thought you were playing hard to get?!] Then, another message popped up, this one from the school beauty: [Leo’s exhausted and fast asleep right now. Whatever it is, you can talk to him when he wakes up.] 1 After final exams, once Ivy and I had our projected scores, we went ahead with our planned trip to Utah. As we settled into our seats on the plane, I quickly made a post on my socials: [Ready for takeoff, so excited.] I attached a photo of our two plane tickets, but I blurred out my name and Ivy’s. The comments started rolling in almost instantly. [Is this a hard launch?!] [A trip together, so sweet!] [Whoa, relationship reveal out of nowhere.] I was a little confused. Ivy and I had only started dating after exams, and I hadn’t told anyone. I didn’t think we’d been obvious enough in class for anyone to notice. “What’s wrong?” Ivy asked from the seat next to me, noticing my expression. I turned to her. “Did you tell anyone we’re dating?” “Dude, as if,” she said, looking completely baffled. “You think I’d do that?” I knew she wouldn’t lie. Our whole relationship had been an accident, really. Ivy was a transfer student who had joined our class in our final year. She was strikingly beautiful with a bold personality, and she immediately captured the attention of every guy in school. I’d personally seen her tear up a love letter right in front of the guy who gave it to her. It was rude, and I figured we’d never have anything to do with each other. Then, by some twist of fate, she became my deskmate. “So,” Ivy asked, her voice tentative, her eyes full of hope, “are we allowed to go public now?” I’d never planned on deliberately hiding it. But our final year was too important to mess around, so we had agreed to wait until after the big exams to officially be together. Before that, no hints, no letting teachers or classmates know, and absolutely no letting our feelings affect our grades. Ivy had agreed without a second’s hesitation. Just as I was about to nod, I saw a new message pop up in the class group chat: [Congrats @Leo @Hannah, the happy couple finally makes it official!] [We all knew you two were a thing, why deny it?] [Finals are over, so you’re finally going public. Nice.] I froze. So they thought I was with Hannah. Thinking about it, the misunderstanding wasn’t that surprising. We were childhood friends, practically grew up together. I started typing a reply to clear things up. But Jason, the class hunk, beat me to it: [That was from a dare Hannah lost last night. She had to post it. When did it become a relationship announcement?] The chat went wild. [Wait, so it’s not a real thing?] [What’s going on? Even if Hannah’s post was a dare, what about Leo’s?] What about my post? I quickly switched apps and checked Hannah’s feed. There it was: a picture of two hands clasped. And my post with the plane tickets had gone up just a second after hers. No wonder. I had been thinking my classmates were psychic, guessing a relationship from two plane tickets. I went back to the group chat and started typing: [You guys misunderstood…] Before I could finish, Hannah herself sent a message: [@Leo, what’s this? Done with the silent treatment? Thought you were playing hard to get?!] [You knew I wanted to go to Utah, so you secretly bought me tickets? Trying to force me to go on a trip with you? smirks] [How pathetic!] 2 I stared at Hannah’s messages, a heavy silence falling over me. Our parents were close, so Hannah and I had been inseparable since we were kids. Our grades were similar, so we’d been in the same class since kindergarten. We walked to and from school together. We ate lunch together. Hannah’s mom was a great cook, and knowing I loved her food, she always had Hannah bring extra for me. Our classmates would tease her, “Bringing lunch for your hubby again?” Hannah never denied it. Our parents joked about it too, saying we’d get married when we grew up. For a while, I actually believed them. Until the New Year’s Eve party in our junior year. I heard Hannah talking with some of her friends. I had just finished my piano solo and was rushing to find her. As I got closer, I heard her familiar voice talking about me. “Leo? Oh, he’s like a sister to me.” “Leo is so gentle and polite,” one of her friends laughed. “He doesn’t seem like a ‘sister’ at all.” “That’s just what he’s like in front of you guys,” Hannah said dismissively. “You haven’t seen him at home. He’s a total slob. Gross.” Then she laughed. “Honestly, I’m more into guys like Jason.” I followed her gaze and saw Jason on stage, performing a contemporary dance routine. The stage lights made his skin glow, his movements fluid and powerful. It hurt, but after that night, I started to let go of my feelings for Hannah. Then, during our senior year, Jason was accused of cheating on the midterm exams. The teacher hauled him into the office and chewed him out. When he came back to class, his eyes were red and swollen. He walked right up to my desk. “Leo, just because I beat your English score this one time, you didn’t have to report me for cheating!” I was completely blindsided. Before I could even process what was happening, Hannah, who was sitting next to me, exploded. “Leo, why would you report Jason for cheating? Are you that petty? You just can’t stand to see someone do better than you, can you?!” “When did I ever report him?!” I fired back. “If it wasn’t you, who was it?!” she pressed. “You’ve told me yourself that Jason isn’t smart enough, that all he can do is memorize, that he could never beat you! Now that he’s caught up through hard work, you accuse him of cheating?!” I was speechless. I’d never said he wasn’t smart. I’d pointed out that his study methods weren’t efficient, trying to be helpful. I never imagined it would be twisted into this. “Apologize to Jason!” Hannah commanded, giving me no room to explain. “I didn’t do it. Why should I apologize?” “Still playing tough, huh?” she sneered, her face flushed with anger. “I. Did. Not. Do. It,” I said, my voice firm. “If you don’t apologize, I’m moving my seat. Right now,” she threatened. We had been deskmates all through high school. Teachers had suspected we were dating, but since our grades were always at the top of the class, they’d turned a blind eye. “Fine by me,” I said coolly. Good. If we weren’t sitting together, I wouldn’t have to pretend anymore. I wouldn’t have to watch Jason come over to our desk a dozen times a day to ask Hannah for help, their heads getting closer and closer each time. “Are you sure?!” she demanded. I just lowered my head and went back to my work, ignoring her. Without another word, Hannah packed up her books and moved. A classmate tried to play peacemaker. “Hannah, come on. This is going to be so awkward for Leo.” “Awkward? He brought this on himself,” she scoffed. “Besides, who else would even want to be his deskmate?” The words were barely out of her mouth when Ivy stood up, grabbed her backpack, and moved to the empty seat beside me. Everyone stared at her. Including Hannah. “Figured I’d sit next to the top student, maybe some of it will rub off,” Ivy said, then looked at Hannah. “Aren’t you leaving?” 3 The group chat was still buzzing. A classmate tried to reason with Hannah: [@Hannah, come on, that was ages ago. Your childhood sweetheart is making a move, stop playing hard to get.] [Besides, it was cleared up later. It wasn’t Leo who reported him.] Not long after the incident, the teacher had let it slip that someone else had reported Jason. But Hannah never admitted she was wrong. She never thought Jason owed me an apology either. Instead, she’d loudly told her friends, right in front of me, “I can’t stand people who can’t let things go. He wants to hold a grudge? Fine. Let’s see how long he can keep it up.” A friend had warned her, “Aren’t you worried he’ll fall for someone else? Ivy seems pretty interested in him lately.” “Tsk,” Hannah had laughed, full of scorn. “I know him better than anyone. He would never fall for a girl like Ivy.” She probably thought I was only into her type. The truth is, after so many years, we both knew perfectly well whether there were any real feelings between us. She must have known I liked her. I typed out a new message and sent it: [@Hannah, don’t worry, I won’t force you. I already have a travel partner.] I took Ivy’s hand, lacing our fingers together. I snapped a picture and posted that too. Just as I hit send, the flight attendant announced that we were taking off and that all phones needed to be in airplane mode. I quickly complied, not really thinking about the fallout in the group chat. I was just setting the record straight. The flight to Salt Lake City was over three hours long. As soon as we landed, the altitude sickness hit me hard. I felt awful. Ivy took me straight to the hotel to rest. I collapsed onto the bed, completely drained, and didn’t even think about looking at my phone. I had no idea that the class chat had descended into chaos, or that my phone was blowing up. By the time I felt somewhat human again, it was nine in the evening. Ivy was worried about me going out, so she ordered takeout and we ate in the hotel room. As we were eating, she mentioned casually, “Your phone was going crazy while you were sleeping. I put it on silent.” I nodded, not really concerned. She paused, then added with a mischievous grin, “There were a lot of messages. I think Hannah kind of lost it.” “What?” I was surprised. “Finish eating, then you can see for yourself,” she said, her eyes twinkling. After dinner, Ivy cleared away the food containers while I stretched out on the sofa and finally opened my phone. 36 missed calls, all from Hannah. 99+ notifications from the class group chat. I started scrolling from the first unread message. [What does he mean? The plane tickets Leo posted aren’t for a trip with Hannah?] [So, Leo’s girlfriend ISN’T Hannah?!] [@Leo, what is going on?] [@Hannah, you need to explain!] Hannah had replied: [What’s there to explain? Leo’s still playing games. eye roll emoji] [But Leo posted a real picture of the tickets. It looks legit,] a classmate pointed out. Others chimed in: [Yeah, Leo doesn’t seem like the type to pull a prank like this.] Hannah shot back: [Even a cornered dog will bite! He’s just trying to get a reaction because I’ve been ignoring him.] 4 The chat quieted down for a bit after that. Everyone was probably waiting to see how the drama would unfold. A little while later, Jason sent a message: [@Leo, is it really that hard to just apologize to Hannah? Pushing her away like this isn’t going to help.] Hannah immediately quoted his message: [You get it.] She even added a thumbs-up emoji. Jason continued: [I’m just being honest, and maybe it’s harsh, but girls don’t like guys who are too stubborn.] Hannah agreed: [Girls can’t stand guys who are pretentious, full of themselves, and stubborn!] [Don’t be so hard on him, Hannah,] Jason typed, playing the good guy. [He’s got his pride. You’re making it impossible for him to even show his face in the chat.] Hannah was unmoved: [He brought it on himself.] The two of them went back and forth, dominating the conversation. Finally, someone who must have been fed up with it wrote: [You two seem pretty compatible. Maybe it’s not so crazy that Leo is on a trip with someone else.] [What are you talking about?!] Hannah seemed to snap. [Leo is just trying to make me jealous! The picture and the tickets are photoshopped! He would never go on a trip with another girl!] [That’s just your guess. Your side of the story,] the classmate replied. Hannah fired off a series of messages: [First of all, Leo hasn’t said a single word in this chat. What does that tell you? He feels guilty.] [Second, the names on the tickets are blurred out. It’s obviously just some picture he found online and edited. And he only posted the hand-holding picture after he saw mine.] [And finally, don’t you dare question me. I know Leo better than any of you!] After that outburst, everyone went quiet. But then, one classmate seemed to have noticed something: [I just looked closely at the time on Leo’s tickets. If he’s not lying, he should be on a plane right now and can’t reply.] That stirred things up again: [OMG, you’re right. I see it too.] [So he’s not ignoring us, he just can’t reply.] Hannah was sarcastic: [He’s really committed to the act, isn’t he? @Leo, you’re a great actor.] The classmate still wasn’t convinced: [I still don’t think Leo would do something like this on purpose.] [You wanna bet?] Hannah was clearly getting heated. [If Leo is really on a trip with another girl, I’ll call you Mom!] The classmate didn’t reply. Everyone could tell Hannah was genuinely angry. The chat fell silent. Until, three hours later. Hannah sent another message: [@Leo, you should be off the plane by now, right? Still not talking?] By then, I must have turned my phone back on. But I’d only had time for a quick call to my parents to let them know I’d landed safely before I was dealing with the altitude sickness. Replying to the group chat was the last thing on my mind. My silence seemed to fuel Hannah’s confidence. [See, everyone? It has nothing to do with him being on a plane. He just feels guilty!!] 5 None of the other classmates said anything. Only Jason replied to her: [Everyone gets it now. You don’t have to keep going on about it. Think how awkward this is for Leo.] [You’re still defending him? After he tried to sabotage you?] Hannah wrote, acting indignant on Jason’s behalf. Jason replied virtuously: [I can’t stand it when people play dirty. We should all support each other.] [You’re too nice. Some people don’t think that way.] [I can’t speak for anyone else, but that’s just who I am.] Hannah and Jason continued their little performance. Then, Hannah seemed to lose her patience completely: [@Leo, are you done with this charade? How long are you going to keep this up?!] At that point, I saw that Ivy had finally chimed in, probably unable to stand it any longer: [Leo’s exhausted and fast asleep right now. Whatever it is, you can talk to him when he wakes up.] Then, she posted a picture. It was a photo of my back as I slept. The mole on the back of my neck, visible because of my buzz cut, was something many of our classmates would recognize. Ivy added: [@Hannah, just in case you don’t believe me, here’s our location.]

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