Category: English

1 It’s been three years since my parents died. My aunt Lynn brought me to New York City to find my fiancé. His name is Jason Kang, the younger son of the Kang family, owners of the tech giant, Sterling Innovations. He’s one of the city’s most eligible bachelors. To win his affection, I studied ballet, ikebana, and oil painting. I was told I was a clumsy imitation, a poor copy of a more refined woman. One afternoon, Aunt Lynn and I were out shopping for the holidays when I ran into Jessica Thorne. We exchanged heated words, which quickly escalated into a full-blown brawl. Just as we were pulling each other’s hair, Jason appeared. Without a word, he slapped me across the face. When my aunt saw the red mark on my cheek, she was furious. She went straight to the old patriarch of the Kang family, Jason’s grandfather. The old man sighed. “I have another grandson. He is a good man, handsome and kind, but he is burdened by a chronic illness. However, he is the one who will inherit Sterling Innovations.” “I wonder, Miss Hayes, if you would consider him instead?” I rushed home, my face burning. Aunt Lynn was in the kitchen, brewing a pear and ginger tea for her cough. Mr. Kang had sent over a crate of expensive imported fruits after hearing she was unwell. “Did you get everything you needed, dear?” she asked. I held back my tears and tried to slip past her into my room. “You should see that Jessica Thorne,” Aunt Lynn said, not noticing my distress. “She’s always knitting sweaters and making little good luck charms for her fiancé. So devoted.” I didn’t want to hear it, but she continued. “You need to learn from her. Learn how to capture a man’s heart.” My own heart felt like a lead weight in my chest, but I just nodded. “I will, Aunt Lynn.” “You’re too reserved, Chloe. A woman needs to have a little charm, a little spark, to keep a man interested. I don’t want you to end up alone…” My heart felt like it was pickling in vinegar. The tears were about to overflow. I fled to my room and locked the door before I finally let myself cry. Out on the street, Jessica and I had only exchanged a few words before she lunged at me. As we scuffled on the cold pavement, she’d sneered, “You’re just some charity case from the countryside. You think because your parents did the Kangs a favor, you can do whatever you want?” “You’ve spent all these years trying to become a lady, but has Jason ever looked at you twice? You’re just a cheap copy. You will never marry into the Kang family.” She had a fistful of my hair, and I had a grip on her coat. That’s when Jason had shown up, on his way back from a business meeting. “Who do you think you are, bullying people like this?” he’d snarled, his words a slap before his hand even connected with my face. Jessica had looked at me with pure triumph. The whispers of the crowd, the sting on my cheek—it was all too much. That slap had shattered what little was left of my pride. My feelings for him, carefully nurtured for years, began to wither. “You’re just an orphan nobody wants,” he’d continued, his voice dripping with contempt. “You’ve been living off my family’s charity, acting like you own the place. And now you’re picking fights in public? You’re pathetic.” Before he could finish, I swung my own hand and sent his head snapping to the side. Acting like I own the place? So that’s what he thought of me. All those years of trying to be worthy of him, wasted. A bitter cold settled in my bones. His friends stared, stunned into silence. I walked away, not looking back, and didn’t let the tears fall until I was blocks away. For the past year, Jason had made his disdain for me clear. He was always comparing me to his assistant, a woman named Sarah Jenkins. He said Sarah was beautiful, and though she came from a poor background, she was accomplished and capable. He called her a rose blooming amongst thorns, captivating and fragrant. I was so desperate that I went to Sarah and asked her what Jason liked. She smiled, her eyes appraising me. “Jason has very particular tastes. He likes a woman who is not just beautiful, but also intelligent.” “Intelligent?” I repeated, my voice small. “The kind of woman who is good at everything.” I stared at the floor. All the things I had learned felt like shallow party tricks. In his eyes, I was just a pretender, a clown showing off my half-baked talents. Through the glass wall of his office, I saw Jason laughing, leaning against a table while Sarah arranged a bouquet of flowers. She was exquisite, her movements graceful. The arrangement was stunning. I felt a familiar pang of inadequacy. Together, they looked like a perfect couple. Jason glanced up and caught my eye, a mocking smile on his lips. I looked away, my cheeks burning. Determined to win his approval, I threw myself into my lessons with a new fervor. I took up ballroom dancing. My body was stiff, but I practiced until my feet bled, believing that persistence would pay off. At a family gala, I waited until the very end to perform. When I finally took the stage, I moved with a grace I didn’t know I possessed. I felt like a bird soaring over the ocean. Jason was the first to applaud. After that, things changed. He started responding to my texts immediately. He listened when I spoke. The effort was paying off, but it came at a price. My feet were in constant pain, and the inside of my thighs were raw from hours of practice. Aunt Lynn tended to my injuries, her eyes shining with pride. “You’re finally getting his attention, Chloe. Mr. Kang may be fond of you, but in a family like that, a woman needs her husband’s love to survive.” I knew she was right. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it felt like a hollow victory. One day, I was leaving the dance studio and saw Jason outside his office building, talking to Sarah. I heard him say, “She’s just a clueless little fool, trying to be something she’s not. She’s not worth a single strand of your hair.” 2 I feigned illness and didn’t leave my room for days. Mr. Kang, hearing I was unwell, sent over a host of expensive supplements and remedies. Aunt Lynn hovered over me, convinced I was seriously ill. But no medicine could cure a broken heart. I felt like a beggar who’d had her last ragged coat stripped from her, leaving her naked and exposed. My mother used to say that when you’re sad, you should do something meaningful to distract yourself. I picked up the embroidery I had been working on and lost myself in the rhythm of the needle. After a few days, the handprint on my cheek finally faded. I knew I had to face the world again. The next morning, I woke to a world covered in snow. Through the window, I saw Sarah Jenkins standing outside, a vision in a green wool coat. She smiled when she saw me, her eyes curving into bright crescents. I let her in. After a few pleasantries, she looked down, a guilty expression on her face. “Chloe, I heard about what happened the other day. Please don’t take it to heart.” I managed a weak smile. “It has nothing to do with you, Sarah. You don’t need to apologize for him.” I added, “But thank you for your concern.” “I’ve already told Jason off,” she said, her voice full of indignation. “How could he do that to you, his own fiancée? He’s heartless.” I didn’t want to talk about it. But she continued, oblivious. “He’s been under a lot of stress lately with a big deal at work. You have to try to be more understanding.” “It’s strange, though,” she mused, “he’s always so polite and charming to everyone else. It’s only with you that he…” She trailed off, finally noticing the pained look on my face. “Oh, listen to me, making you sad all over again.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small jar of face cream. Her smile was back, dimples appearing in her cheeks. “This is from Jason.” I took it, a flicker of hope in my heart. “Well, Jason gave it to me, and I’m giving a little to you, so it’s like it’s from him,” she clarified. Something felt wrong. Why was she so insistent on emphasizing her closeness with him? My hand, holding the cream, froze. “What’s wrong? Don’t worry, it’s amazing. It gets rid of any scar. Jason is always telling me that a woman’s skin should be flawless.” I shook my head and gently pushed the cream back into her hand. “I’m fine. The mark will be gone in a few days. You should keep it.” She looked disappointed but didn’t press the issue. After chatting for a while longer, she finally left. I watched her go, her words a heavy weight on my chest. As I was about to close the door, Aunt Lynn appeared beside me. She gently touched my face. “What’s wrong, my dear?” 3 After leaving my house, Sarah didn’t go straight back to the office. She wandered for a bit, then finally headed to Sterling Innovations. Jason was in a heated negotiation, fighting for the best terms for his company. When he saw Sarah return, his eyes lit up with anticipation. The moment the meeting ended, he rushed over to her. “What did she say?” Sarah hesitated, a flicker of resentment in her eyes. “She said… she doesn’t need your fake concern, or your charity.” Jason looked like he’d been struck by lightning. He slumped against the wall, his shoulders sagging. “Did she really say that?” Sarah pressed the face cream into his hand. “Why are you doing this to yourself? She doesn’t care about you. You deserve better.” He wasn’t listening. “Was she hurt badly?” Sarah’s heart ached with jealousy. “No. She’ll be fine in a few days.” “Good,” he whispered, relieved. “That’s good.” “I told her you didn’t mean it,” Sarah said, her voice rising in frustration. “I told her this cream was for her, but she refused to take it. She’s not a good person, Jason. She’s just petty and vindictive…” Her voice faded into the background. Jason clenched his fist, his mind replaying the scene on the street. How could he have hit her? How could he have said those things? It had all started at a dinner party a few weeks ago. Someone had brought up my family, the once-great Hayes family, now fallen on hard times. They started talking about me, about my looks. Jason had felt a surge of pride but said nothing. The conversation had quickly turned inappropriate. “Beauty is just skin deep,” Sarah had interjected. “A woman who only cares about landing a rich husband, who uses a man’s affection to get what she wants, can never be truly respectable.” The men at the table had laughed and agreed, praising Sarah for her beauty and her brains. “But the Hayes girl is more than just a pretty face,” another man had said. “She’s an accomplished artist. And her embroidery is exquisite. My sister commissioned a piece from her, and it was a masterpiece.” Jason’s heart had swelled with pride again. But then, someone else had chimed in. “But her character is questionable. I’ve heard she’s arrogant and looks down on everyone.” Jason’s pride had turned to doubt. He had started to wonder. Is Chloe really like that? When he saw me fighting with Jessica, he had assumed the worst. He thought a slap would be a wake-up call, that I would understand he was just trying to help me be a better person. Now, knowing the truth—that Jessica had provoked me—he was drowning in regret. The snow was falling heavily outside. I was lying in bed when I saw a figure approaching through the blizzard. It was Jason, holding an umbrella and carrying a pile of gifts. I turned away, not wanting to see him. The doorbell rang. I ignored it. A few minutes later, it rang again. I finally got up and opened the door. He was gone, but the gifts were piled on the doorstep. On top was a small card with three words written on it: “I was wrong.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. If apologies could fix everything, there wouldn’t be so many broken hearts in the world. Jason walked aimlessly through the snow-covered streets. He ran into Sarah, who immediately took his arm. “Are you still thinking about her? Jason, she’s not worth it. You’ve been so good to her, and she treats you like dirt.” Her words only made him feel worse. But then she said, “Don’t worry. I’ll help you. I’ll help you win her back.” His eyes lit up. “Sarah, you’re the best.” He felt a glimmer of hope. But the image that haunted him was my face after he’d slapped me, my eyes filled with tears and disbelief. He had to make it right. 4 I finally told Aunt Lynn everything. She listened in silence, her expression grave. When I finished, she reached out and stroked my cheek. “My poor Chloe. You’ve suffered so much.” Her eyes filled with tears. For the first time in days, I felt a sense of relief. “Come on,” she said, her voice firm. “We’re telling Mr. Kang.” “No, Aunt Lynn. This is between me and Jason. We shouldn’t bother his grandfather.” “Why not? It’s his grandson. He needs to take responsibility. Are you just going to let this go?” “I have to marry him,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “If I make a big deal out of this, it will only make things worse. Besides,” I added, forcing a smile, “I slapped him back. We’re even.” She looked at me, her eyes full of worry. “If he treats you this badly now, how will he treat you after you’re married?” Her words were a dagger to my heart. We were at a stalemate when there was a knock at the door. It was one of Mr. Kang’s assistants. “Miss Hayes, Mr. Jason is leaving on a business trip. Mr. Kang would like you to see him off.” Aunt Lynn’s face was a mask of disapproval. We went to the Kang mansion. The old man was giving Jason some last-minute instructions. When he saw me, his face broke into a warm smile. “You two young people have a chat.” Jason looked at me nervously. “Chloe, I’ll be gone for a few months. But you’ll wait for me, right?” He was afraid I’d find someone else. I met his gaze, my own eyes cold. “Why would I wait for you?” He looked down, ashamed. “I know I messed up. It was just… the rumors. I got confused. It was my fault.” Just then, my aunt’s voice, clear and strong, came from the hallway. “We would like to call off the engagement. My niece is too good for your family.” I was stunned. Aunt Lynn, who had been so invested in this marriage, was the one ending it. She had always been my staunchest supporter, my mother’s sister who had raised me as her own. She wanted me to have a good life, a happy marriage. But she had seen that this was not it. When we stepped out of the room, Mr. Kang was furious. He kicked Jason hard in the shin. “You worthless fool!” He then turned to me, his eyes full of sympathy. “My dear child, I am so sorry. This is all Jason’s fault.” Jason was kneeling on the floor. “Father, I was wrong.” Mr. Kang ignored him and turned to my aunt. “Lynn, must you do this? Can we not talk it over?” “My Chloe is not a piece of property,” my aunt said, her voice shaking with emotion. “She is a human being. And your grandson has treated her with nothing but disrespect. That is not how you treat someone you love.” 5 Her words were a revelation. Sarah’s comment about Jason treating me differently than anyone else suddenly made sense. He was always so charming to others, but so cruel to me. It was because he saw me as his possession. When I failed to meet his expectations, he punished me. In that moment, any lingering affection I had for him vanished. I looked at him as if he were a stranger. Mr. Kang was still trying to salvage the situation. “Chloe,” he said, his voice gentle. “Do you still have feelings for Jason?” “I did,” I answered honestly. “But his actions have worn away any affection I had for him. I feel nothing for him now. You can’t force love, Mr. Kang.” Jason looked devastated. He tugged on his grandfather’s sleeve, but the old man ignored him. “If you don’t love him, then I can’t force you.” He sighed, a tired, old man. “But I have another grandson. He is a good man, handsome and kind, but he is burdened by a chronic illness. However, he is the one who will inherit Sterling Innovations.” “I wonder, Chloe, if you would consider him instead?” The engagement to Jason was not officially broken. Mr. Kang’s plea, and my own wavering resolve, left things in limbo. Without the protection of the Kang family, my own family’s business, which was just starting to recover, would be vulnerable. And then there was the matter of a certain wealthy heir who had taken an unwelcome interest in me. He was married, but that didn’t stop him from harassing me. He would follow me, his smile predatory. “You think the Kangs can protect you forever?” One day, I finally snapped and told him to leave me alone. He grabbed me. Just as I was starting to despair, two of the Kang family’s bodyguards appeared and beat him senseless. “How did you know I was here?” I asked them, shaken. “Mr. Kang asked us to keep an eye on you,” one of them replied. I owed the old man. The Kang family had been nothing but kind to me. To refuse his offer now would seem ungrateful. But I knew there was still a chance to break free. “I don’t know,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “Would your other grandson even want to marry me?” Mr. Kang’s eyes twinkled. “You’ll have to ask him that yourself.”

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My sister had a habit of taking everything that was mine. So when I brought my boyfriend home, a knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before I caught them together at our engagement party, tangled in a passionate embrace. A double betrayal, from my lover and my own blood. Everyone waited for me to shatter. But standing outside that door, I couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. No one knew that this was all part of my meticulous plan. From this moment on, her fiancé, Kyle Hayward, was mine for the taking. 1 My parents struggled to conceive, so they adopted Cici from an orphanage. Six months after she came to live with us, my mother became pregnant with me. Everyone said Cici was our family’s lucky star, that her arrival brought the good fortune that led to my birth. And so, I was taught I had to thank my sister. Cici, who should have been the sole focus of their affection, suddenly had to share their love with me, and she couldn’t accept it. My parents, driven by a mixture of gratitude and guilt, taught me from a young age that I had to give in to my sister in everything. From childhood to now. From the smallest snacks to the warmth of our parents’ attention. Whatever she wanted, I had to surrender it without question. Today was Cici’s twenty-fifth birthday. My mother woke at dawn, heading to the market with our housekeeper to buy all of Cici’s favorite foods, determined to cook her a feast. When I got home, Mom was buzzing with excitement in the kitchen while Dad meticulously arranged a birthday surprise in the dining room. The scene made my chest ache. It was a familiar sight, one that played out every year, but never for me. It was because on my sixth birthday, Cici, in a fit of rage, had smashed my cake to the floor, screaming that because of me, Mom and Dad didn’t love her anymore. She threw a tantrum that shook the house, declaring that if I was here, she wouldn’t be. To appease her, from that day on, my birthday was never celebrated again. Because, as my mother told me, a peaceful home was everything. I had to be the sensible one. I had to let my sister have her way. Half an hour later, Cici swept in, laden with shopping bags. Mom immediately rushed to her, covering her eyes and leading her to the dining table. Dad smoothly pushed the cake in front of her. “Happy birthday, sweetheart! Make a wish and blow out the candles! Your father and I have a huge gift for you!” Cici dutifully blew out the candles, then wrapped her arms around Mom. “Mom, what did you and Dad get me? I’m dying to know!” “You’re just as impatient as you were when you were little,” Mom said, tapping her forehead affectionately. She then produced a stack of documents from behind her back. “This is a share transfer agreement. Your father and I have decided to give you ten percent of Sterling Corp.” “Mom!” Cici gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “You’re a grown woman now,” Dad added. “It’s time you came into the company and learned the ropes. Sterling Corp will be yours one day, after all.” My hand, holding a fork, began to tremble. Cici and I had walked two completely different paths. Her grades were always mediocre; her passions were fashion, parties, and travel. My parents paid a fortune to send her abroad to study art, where she barely scraped by with a degree. I, on the other hand, knew from a young age they didn’t value me. To secure my place in this family, I knew I had to gain control of the company. So I studied relentlessly, earning a place at a top-tier university for business management. I was then accepted into Yale for my master’s. I thought… I thought that after all my hard work, they would entrust the company to me. A clatter broke the silence as my fork slipped from my fingers and hit the floor. 2 Three pairs of eyes snapped towards me. I composed myself, stood up, and met my father’s gaze. “Mom, Dad… what about me?” They seemed stunned that their quiet, obedient daughter would choose this moment to speak up. An awkward silence hung in the air before my mother finally walked over to me. “Claire, you’re still young. Just focus on your studies. Your sister and father will handle the company. You just worry about school.” Her meaning was crystal clear. Years of tireless effort had just become a punchline. A bitter smile touched my lips. I pushed past her and went upstairs to my room. The unfairness of it all washed over me, and I buried my face in my pillow and sobbed. Twenty-two years, and I still felt like an outsider in my own home. Why did I always have to be the one to back down for Cici’s sake? Why did no one ever care about my feelings? Did the quiet child in the family just deserve to be treated unfairly? I cried myself to sleep. When I woke, it was the middle of the night. Thirsty, I took my glass to the kitchen for water. As I passed my parents’ room, I heard my mother’s voice. “The Hayward heir is back in the country. He’s supposed to be at the gala tomorrow. Mrs. Hayward told me to bring the girls.” My heart skipped a beat. The Hayward heir? Kyle Hayward? He was a senior when I was in high school, a legend everyone knew. Handsome, brilliant, with a legion of admirers, yet completely untouched by scandal. Last year, outside the university gates, my bag was open and a thief snatched my wallet. He happened to be walking by and, without a second thought, chased the thief down and got it back for me. That’s when I learned we were both at Yale. And that was the day a heart I’d long kept guarded began to beat again. The next morning, I woke unusually early and took great care with my appearance. I had decided that after a lifetime of giving in, this time, I was going to fight for what I wanted. When I came downstairs, Mom was already at the breakfast table. Surprise flickered in her eyes when she saw me. “Claire, come eat,” she said, gesturing to a chair. I nodded and sat down. We ate in a mutually agreed-upon silence, the previous day’s events left unspoken. Halfway through the meal, I gathered my courage. “Mom, are you going to the Hayward’s gala today?” She paused, looking at me with a hint of confusion. “Yes, I am.” I clenched my fists under the table. “Could I possibly…” “Mom, I’m ready. Let’s go.” Cici descended the stairs, dressed in an exquisite evening gown. I froze. My mother stood, grabbing her purse. “I’m taking Cici to the gala today. The driver is waiting, so we’ll be off.” Without another glance at me, she took Cici’s arm and walked out the door. I remained rooted to the spot, feeling as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. My stomach churned. I looked down at my own carefully chosen dress. Claire Sterling, you’re a fool. My phone buzzed. A reminder for a dental appointment I’d scheduled. My wisdom tooth was acting up, and a friend had recommended her dentist. He was supposedly impossible to book, but somehow, I’d gotten an appointment on my first try. 3 By the time I returned from the dentist, my mother and Cici were already home. The moment I walked in, Mom grabbed my arm excitedly, pointing at a necklace around Cici’s neck. “Claire, look! Isn’t your sister’s necklace beautiful?” It was a stunning piece. Even I, with no knowledge of jewelry, could tell it was incredibly expensive. “It’s beautiful,” I said, nodding numbly. Cici shot me a smug look. “Of course it is! It’s a gift from Mrs. Hayward!” she gloated. “Mom took me to the gala, and the Haywards just loved me. You know their son, Kyle Hayward? I heard he goes to the same school as you. Do you know him? What’s he like?” At the mention of his name, a jolt of anxiety shot through me. “I don’t know him,” I replied quickly. She smirked. “I figured. I hear he’s very aloof. Not just anyone can get close to him.” She preened. “But Mrs. Hayward adored me, so he agreed to go on a date.” “Cici is so charming, I’m sure Kyle will fall for you,” Mom added enthusiastically. “You have to dress up for your date… I’ll take you shopping tomorrow…” She led Cici to the sofa, and the two of them began planning excitedly, completely forgetting I was there. I stood frozen, my feet feeling as if they were encased in lead. Back in my room, a message popped up on my phone. “Miss Sterling, remember to apply the ice pack as directed.” It was from Leo Vance, the dentist. After meeting him, I understood why he was so popular. Young, single, and devastatingly handsome—it was no wonder people were clamoring for an appointment. “Okay.” “The swelling should be down in three days. You can come in then to have the tooth removed.” “Okay.” “Rest well. See you in three days.” I thought he was supposed to be aloof, I mused. Why is he messaging me so much? I put my phone down and ignored it. Three days later, I went back to the clinic. My appointment was the last of the day, and by the time I was done, it was getting dark. Leo, now in his street clothes, handed me a fresh ice pack. “How are you getting home?” “I’ll get a rideshare,” I said, glancing outside. “My car’s restricted today.” He smiled. “Let me give you a ride.” I was about to refuse when his phone rang. He stepped outside to take the call, returning a minute later with his bag. “Ready?” It felt rude to refuse again, so I followed him to the parking garage. During the drive, he was incredibly thoughtful, giving me aftercare instructions and effortlessly making conversation. In that half-hour drive, he told me about his family and his life. After he pulled up to my house, he turned to me. “Claire,” he asked suddenly, “what do you think of me?” My mind went blank. I was trying to figure out a polite way to turn him down when two familiar figures appeared at the end of my driveway. It was Cici and Kyle. They were standing face-to-face. Cici was talking animatedly, but Kyle seemed unresponsive. Then, Cici stood on her toes and kissed him. It happened so fast. On pure instinct, I threw open the car door and shouted across the lawn, “Cici!” They both turned.

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Summer break. We went whitewater rafting in Georgia. The raft flipped. Me and Jason—the class pretty boy—both went under. Chloe, my childhood friend, swam straight for him, letting the current take me. The safety patrol guy who fished me out, an older dude named Bud, clapped my shoulder. “Kid, I saw the whole thing. That kind of girl ain’t worth it. Don’t you worry, I’ll go snag you a pretty one.” With that, he snagged the campus ice queen, Maya, and plopped her right into my lap. I… what? I looked at her cold, perfect face and panicked, trying to shove her off. The next second, I heard a weird voice. 【Why is he pushing me away? Does he like them stacked? He probably can’t tell under this life jacket.】 Before I could react, Maya started unzipping her windbreaker. I instinctively grabbed her hand. “What are you doing?” She blinked, her expression blank. “Hot.” Hot my ass. You’re lucky if you’re not hypothermic. I almost said it out loud, but one look at her stunning face and I swallowed the words. I still couldn’t believe it. I’d just verified I was hearing her thoughts, but this was Maya. She was famously cold. She didn’t talk to anyone. I heard some guy chased her for months and she never said a single word to him. Another dude bought her breakfast every day for a week, and she just stared him down until he walked away, totally humiliated. Thinking of that, I looked at my hand, still clamped on her wrist. Oh god. Is she going to kick me back into the river? I yanked my hand back like I’d been burned. “Uh, you should keep that on,” I coughed. “It gets cold on the water.” Maya slowly zipped the jacket back up and gave a single, curt nod. “Hm.” 【Is he worried about me?】 【He’s so cute. He didn’t even notice his shoe fell off.】 A second later, a pale, slender hand was holding a white Croc out to me. “You dropped this.” I looked down. My right foot was bare. After a beat of silence, I gave her an awkward laugh, took the shoe, and mumbled my thanks. She just nodded. Another thought popped into my head. 【So happy! He smiled at me! And said thank you!】 Okay. It’s official. I can read her mind. Just then, Bud paddled over, grinning. “So, kid, what’d I tell you? Pretty good eye, right? I scoped out this whole batch of rafters. She’s the prettiest one on the river. You like her?” I instinctively glanced at her—pale skin, sharp features that looked almost exotic, and a figure that was… well, yeah. Who wouldn’t like that? I swallowed, but when I met her cold, indifferent gaze, I immediately looked away. “Aw, don’t be shy,” Bud laughed, slapping my back. “I’ll help you out.” He turned to Maya. “Hey, little lady, you got a boyfriend?” Maya blinked, glanced at me, and then slowly shook her head. Bud lit up. He pointed at me. “How ’bout this fella? I think you two would make a real cute couple.” I shot up, ready to tell this crazy matchmaker to back off. But a clear, cold voice cut me off. “Okay.” I… what? Did she eat paint chips as a kid? I stared at her, my eyes wide. She looked back at me, that same icy expression… but with a tiny flicker of confusion. 【Why isn’t he saying yes? Am I not pretty enough to be his girlfriend?】 I almost choked. Lady, do you hear yourself? You’re the campus queen of our university. If YOU’RE not pretty enough… Ugh, it’s me. I’m not worthy, okay? “I lost my baby! Can anyone help me find my baby?” We had drifted into a calm patch, and other rafts were catching up. A woman in one of them was yelling frantically. Someone on another raft called back, “Ma’am, it’s just a shoe! You can buy a new one!” The woman, who I now recognized as Maya’s mom, Sharon, waved her hands. “No, not my shoe, my baby! My daughter! The rapids separated us…” Everyone went quiet. “Have any of you,” she yelled, “seen a tall, gorgeous girl in a black windbreaker?” I looked at Maya, sitting right in front of me. Tall, gorgeous, black windbreaker. “…Uh,” I ventured, “is she… looking for you?” Chapter 2 Maya glanced at her mom’s raft, then turned back to me. “Yes.” Well, are you going to say something? Your mom is having a panic attack! When she just sat there, I waved. “Ma’am! Over here! She’s here!” Sharon’s raft paddled over, and she almost cried with relief. “Maya, baby, I was so worried! I’ve been looking everywhere!” Maya just frowned. “I can swim.” “I don’t care, I was terrified! Why didn’t you answer your phone?” “Waterproof bag leaked. It’s dead.” She blankly held up the waterlogged phone. After another minute of fussing, Sharon told Maya to come back to her raft. Bud, our captain, looked between me and Maya, shaking his head in disappointment. But then, Maya spoke, loud and clear. “No. I’m not coming back. Your raft flips too easily.” I… what? Our raft also flipped. Like, ten minutes ago. We all went in. Bud just fished us out. All three of us—me, Bud, and Sharon—were completely baffled. Then, I heard it. 【No way am I going back! I swam so hard to get here. Besides, Bud’s not done matchmaking. He hasn’t even answered if he wants to be my boyfriend yet!】 My jaw dropped. Holy crap. I thought Bud just randomly snagged her. She swam to us. And hearing that “boyfriend” part… my face started to feel hot. Sharon’s eyes darted from Maya to me, and then back. Suddenly, her face lit up with understanding. “Oh! Well! You kids have fun!” she chirped, and ordered her guide to paddle away, not looking back once. Just as her mom left, Chloe’s raft drifted over. She was still holding onto Jason, who looked soaked and miserable. When Chloe saw me, she immediately let go of Jason. “Leo! Why are you on their boat? Come back, I saved you a spot!” She even shuffled over to make room. Maya, who had been scooping water out of our raft with a ladle, froze. I shot Chloe a glare. “No thanks. Wouldn’t want to break up your romantic moment.” Chloe’s face turned red. “What is that supposed to mean? You’re just mad I saved him instead of you, aren’t you?” “Yep,” I said, without hesitation. She looked at me, completely disappointed. “I can’t believe you’re being so petty, Leo. You know I’m the class president! It’s my responsibility to help a classmate who’s in trouble. I was coming to find you right after, I just… couldn’t see where you went.” I was so angry I grabbed my water gun and shot her in the face. “Easy for you to say! You weren’t the one left to drown!” If I could swim, I would have jumped onto her raft and pushed her in. Jason, seeing the drama, started his victim act. “Chloe… it’s all my fault. Don’t fight. I’ll just… I’ll just go.” Chapter 3 Chloe immediately grabbed him. “No, Jason, don’t go!” She turned back to me. “Leo, don’t you dare regret this! I…” I cut her off by blasting her with the water gun again. “Get lost!” The stream hit her right in the head. Before she could yell, I took off my other Croc, snatched the ladle from Maya’s hand, and threw them both at her. Jason, naturally, got hit by the spray. He looked like he was about to cry. But Chloe was too busy shrieking as I pelted her to comfort him. I was still furious, looking for more ammo. Bud, seeing the look in my eye, quickly hid his own super-soaker behind his back. “Not this one, son. It’s for my granddaughter.” I turned, disappointed, only to see Maya holding out… another water gun and a pair of pink women’s Crocs. I broke into a huge grin, grabbed my new weapons, and let them have it. Finally, they paddled away as fast as they could, defeated. After the battle, we drifted on. I looked down and saw Maya’s bare feet, already pale from the cold water. The guilt hit me. “Hey, I’m sorry I threw your shoes. I’ll buy you a new pair.” She looked up, and the corner of her mouth twitched. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Wait. Was that… a smile? I rubbed my eyes. I must have been angrier at Chloe than I thought. I was hallucinating. Bud just roared with laughter. “Hah! Pay her back? Kid, you just wait ’til we get to the end. There’s a mountain of lost shoes.” Just then, his expression turned serious. “Hold on! Rapids ahead!” A huge wave slammed into us. I lost my balance and pitched forward, right into Maya’s lap, instinctively grabbing her waist to steady myself. When the raft settled, I scrambled to get off her, but she just… wrapped her arms around my back and held on, burying her face in my chest. Seeing my confused look, she said, “Waves are big. Just holding on.” A light, fresh scent, like watermelon, hit me. My face went beet-red. I awkwardly put my arms around her, holding her steady. 【Oh my god. I’m hugging Leo. I’m never washing my hands again.】 You’re so weird, I thought. A series of waves hit us, one after another. I stopped thinking and just held her tight, shielding her. Maya had one arm around my waist and the other gripping the raft, but her smile was getting wider and wider. We finally cleared the rapids and floated into the mid-point rest area. I didn’t realize we’d stopped. Maya was still tucked into my chest, holding on tight. Bud docked the raft, looked at us tangled together, and grinned. He gave Maya a subtle thumbs-up, which she saw, and then he quietly hopped off the raft. I looked down. Maya was just… staring up at me, her eyes soft and… warm. She was gently stroking my back. A few more seconds passed before I realized the water was calm. “Uh… I think we’re here.” I looked up and met her gaze. She was staring, unblinking. 【He’s so cute. I really want to kiss him.】 My heart skipped a beat. My face felt like it was on fire. I yelped and scrambled out of her arms. After a second, I looked back. Her face was as cold and impassive as ever. …I must have misheard that. Yeah. No way she was thinking that. We walked up to the snack bar. Remembering her phone was dead, I offered to pay. She didn’t refuse. We were lucky—we got the last two Cup Noodles. But as I paid, the last two people I wanted to see walked in. Chloe and Jason. They were here for noodles, but the shelf was empty. Chloe spotted the two cups in my hand and marched over, holding out her hand. “Give me one. Jason’s cold. He needs something hot.” Chapter 4 “You’re insane.” I just walked around her. Chloe lunged, trying to grab them. I instinctively pulled Maya behind me. Maya… smiled. She put one arm around my waist, holding me, and used her other hand to shove Chloe hard. Chloe went sprawling. Wow. She’s amazing. I gave her a thumbs-up. Her lips twitched again. She shifted slightly, blocking Chloe’s death glare. 【Leo looks impressed. I wonder if I get a reward?】 A reward? How about an extra hot dog? I silently handed her one of the noodle cups and both of the hot dogs I’d bought. 【He gave me two… is this… a hint?】 I immediately snatched one of the hot dogs back. Maya’s face fell as she looked at her empty hand, and she shot me a wounded look. Jason, red-faced, was helping Chloe up. “It’s okay, Chloe. I don’t need anything hot. Cold is fine.” I was so done. I grabbed Maya’s hand and started walking away. Maya’s mind exploded: 【AAAAH! LEO’S HOLDING MY HAND! HE INITIATED IT! I’M NEVER WASHING THIS HAND! EVER!】 I almost choked on my own spit. Lady, you are SO WEIRD. Seeing me tow Maya away, Chloe lost it. She scrambled up, pointing at my back. “Leo! If you walk away right now, you are not getting a ride home in my car!” God, I wanted to smash the Cup Noodles over her head. But… food. I paused, and she took it as a win. “This place is in the middle of nowhere! You’ll never get a signal for an Uber!” I snorted. “Fine! I don’t need your ride! I’ll go live in the woods!” I pulled Maya toward the tables. I’d only just realized how obnoxious Chloe was. Our parents were old friends, so we grew up together. They’d always pushed us toward each other, and since she was usually nice, I’ll admit I kind of had a crush on her. This trip killed that. Dead. As I was fuming, Maya’s cool voice came from behind me. “You can ride with me.” Wow. She really was a lifesaver. I spun around and grabbed her hands. “Thank you! You’re the best!” Maya coughed, pulling her hands free. Her ears were bright red. I guess the legendary ice queen… was actually pretty cute. We’d just finished our noodles when the sky opened up. A torrential downpour. A staffer ran out: “Attention! This storm’s settling in! All rafting is canceled for the day! You can hike back to the entrance or find lodging nearby!” Maya and I agreed: find a room. We dashed to the nearest guesthouse, only to be told they had one room left. We stood at the counter, completely stuck. “Look, today’s a bust. Every place on this mountain is booked,” the clerk said, eyeing us. “You two are a couple, right? Just share. If you don’t take it, someone else will.” Just then, Chloe walked down the stairs. She smirked at me. “Leo. If you apologize, I’ll consider letting you have my extra room.” I couldn’t stand her smug look. I slammed my ID on the counter. “We’ll take it. We’re sharing.”

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The first thing I heard when I opened my eyes was her whisper, choked with perfectly crafted sobs. “I just… I hate that she has my face.” The voice belonged to Seraphina Vance, America’s sweetheart, influencer, and the woman I was created to be a carbon copy of. The man she was whispering to was Ashton Blackwood, my husband, the billionaire CEO who owned half of Silicon Valley and, apparently, me. “I want you to destroy it,” she breathed. I felt the air shift. Ashton’s deep voice, the one that could make markets tremble, was about to utter the two words that would seal my fate: “Bodyguards.” Before he could, my fingers, already anticipating this, tapped the screen of my phone. The slick, upbeat jingle of a Beverly Hills plastic surgeon’s commercial filled the tense silence of the penthouse living room. “Tired of sharing a face? At Elite Aesthetics, your beauty is YOURS alone. Unforgettable. Unique. Unparalleled.” In that moment, the roles of hunter and prey were about to be reversed. 1 Ashton’s brow furrowed, a thundercloud gathering on his handsome face. “Lily, what the hell is this?” I adopted my gentlest, most wounded tone. “Ashton, darling, if Seraphina is so upset about us looking alike, it must be because my face is just… unbearable to look at.” I let a small, fake tear well in my eye. “So, instead of hurting me, why don’t you just book an appointment for her? A little nip, a little tuck, and poof! Her face will be one-of-a-kind again.” To my calculated surprise, Ashton actually nodded, his logic-driven brain latching onto the “solution.” “Seraphina, honey, I think Lily has a point. It’s a great idea. I’ll book you the best surgeon in LA tomorrow.” Seraphina’s crying choked off instantly. She shot me a look that could curdle milk. “She’s a malicious bitch!” she shrieked. Oh, the irony. You wanting to have my face melted off isn’t malicious, but me suggesting a nose job is? The hypocrisy was thick enough to cut with a knife. I took out a silk handkerchief and dabbed at my dry eyes, my voice dripping with manufactured sympathy. “I was only trying to help. I feel so bad for you, Ashton, having to deal with all this drama. I just wanted to ease your burden. How could she misunderstand me so terribly?” Ashton’s masculine ego puffed up like a peacock. He turned to soothe his precious Seraphina. Incensed, Seraphina blurted out, “Then why don’t you make her get the surgery?” Ashton’s mouth, which had been opening to reason with her, froze in place. He looked like a fish, gaping and silent. It was almost comical. Seraphina, seeing her advantage, pressed on, her voice now a saccharine promise. “If she gets surgery, Ashton, I’ll never bring up this whole ‘stand-in’ thing again. We can finally be happy.” The billionaire tycoon, hearing the magic words, actually started to nod again. My internal alarms blared. I had to cut in, fast. “Seraphina, it’s no use if I get the surgery!” I cried out, my voice laced with faux desperation. 2 “And why not?” she demanded, stepping closer. I bit my lip, looking from her to Ashton, as if I were holding a terrible secret. “I… I can’t say.” “You have no reason, you’re just trying to trick me!” she accused, her voice rising. Ashton’s gaze turned suspicious. It was now or never. I took a deep breath and let it all out in a rush of feigned innocence. “Because I’m not his only one!” I exclaimed, loud enough for the entire penthouse to hear. “There’s Tiffany in Tampa, Brittany in Boston, Chloe in Chicago… Ashton has a whole network of girls who look like you, scattered all across the country! There are hundreds of us!” Silence. Dead, deafening silence. I ignored the greenish tint spreading across Seraphina’s face and continued in my most helpful tone, “So you see, even if I change my face, there are still all the others. It would take him a year and a half just to track them all down. The only permanent solution… is for you to change yours.” Ashton started coughing violently, a desperate, hacking sound. He turned to Seraphina, his eyes overflowing with a sudden, desperate love. “Seraphina, baby, I just… I made a mistake any man would make. Please, forgive me.” Her voice was a syrupy sweet whisper. “Oh, Ashton. I’m not angry with you.” I saw my opening and took it. “See? Miss Seraphina is so understanding. She must have agreed to the surgery, then.” She choked. “I…” Ashton, desperate to please, made a grand promise. “I’ll get you the top surgeon in the world, I swear. It’ll be perfect. Flawless.” Trapped, with no other way out, Seraphina had to agree through gritted teeth. “Then you have to promise you’ll only love me from now on.” “I promise.” It was such a touching scene of reconciliation. And here I was, his legal wife, feeling like the third wheel in their twisted love story. Seraphina shot me a triumphant, hateful look. “Ashton, I have one more condition. I want Lily to be my personal caretaker through my recovery.” Ashton, the ultimate simp for his one true love, agreed without a second thought. 3 That night, I tossed and turned in my bed, replaying the original script in my head. In the novel I’d somehow been thrust into, today was the day Ashton was supposed to scar my face with boiling water. Then, Seraphina would have tricked me into a back-alley surgery that would have completely destroyed my face. After that, she’d get a minor injury, and Ashton would break my legs in retaliation before throwing me out. I’d end up sold by one of his enemies into some underground hellhole, contract a disease, and die a beggar on the streets. Meanwhile, Ashton and Seraphina would live happily ever after with their nine kids and a goddamn picket fence. It was the most ridiculously skewed, insane plot I had ever read. The author clearly didn’t give a damn about anyone but the main couple. Well, screw that. The old Lily was gone. This was where the new Lily—the real me—took over. Thinking about Seraphina’s post-op face, a wicked grin spread across my own. Botox disaster or full-on melted Ken doll? I couldn’t wait to find out. 4 As expected, the unexpected happened. Oh, wow. So much for the “top surgeon in the world.” The hack job he did wouldn’t even pass muster at a strip-mall clinic in rural Texas. Her entire face looked like a lump of rising dough that had been left out in the sun. Her chin had the structural integrity of a melted candle. And her lips, the pouty feature Ashton had adored, were now two swollen, fleshy worms that couldn’t quite close. I had to dig my nails into my thigh to keep from bursting out laughing. Seraphina threw herself at Ashton, her sobs wet and muffled. “Ashton, boo-hoo, I can’t let anyone see me like this!” Even Ashton couldn’t stomach the sight. He physically turned his head away. Seraphina stared in disbelief. “You’re disgusted by me too, aren’t you? I can’t live like this!” She then began a dramatic, slow-motion run for the window, looking back over her shoulder every three steps. Ashton followed in an equally theatrical pursuit. “No, honey, I’m not! Seraphina, don’t do anything stupid!” I watched the cringey, slow-motion scene from a soap opera play out before me. Honestly, if Ashton had just walked at a normal pace, he would have caught her in five seconds. “Seraphina, I’ll love you no matter what you look like!” “Oh, Ashton!” “Oh, Seraphina!” Blech. I literally felt my stomach churn. Before, when she cried, it was a delicate, heart-wrenching sight. Now, it was like watching a water-injected ham try to emote. It was an assault on the eyes. I needed to go bleach them. 5 Ashton came downstairs, holding a tray of food with a frustrated look on his face. “You. Go make Seraphina eat.” I pointed at myself, feigning confusion. “Me?” His patience snapped. “If it weren’t for you, none of this would have happened to her!” He turned to the butler. “For every meal she misses, you will slap Lily ten times and deny her food for the day. You stop when Seraphina starts eating.” I saw the butler’s hand twitch as he started towards me. Fine. You want to play hardball? I gritted my teeth. “I have a way.” I was fuming. What did I ever do to these people? Did I burn down their ancestors’ log cabin? They wanted her to eat? Simple enough. I stormed into the kitchen, grabbed a handful of supplies, and marched upstairs, not forgetting to snatch the tray of food from Ashton’s hands on my way past.

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The System finally remembered me, but only after my husband and son had left me to rot in a nursing home. By then, I was just an old woman in a wheelchair, my hair a crown of white. The System apologized, its digital voice laced with surprise at my state. [Host, what happened to your points?] I lifted my tired, clouded eyes and began ticking them off on my gnarled fingers. A home for our new marriage, funding my husband’s career, my son’s rare and catastrophic illness… [You didn’t save any for yourself?] “Oh, I did,” I rasped, a dry, bitter laugh catching in my throat. “I saved them for a car accident at 68 that crippled me. For a husband who rekindled an old flame in his twilight years. For a son who couldn’t be bothered. And for this… waiting to die in a nursing home.” The System fell silent. Then, it offered compensation. “In that case,” I said, my voice finding a sliver of its old strength, “I want to go back to the beginning. I want to undo it all. And I want every single one of my points back.” I arrived in this world as a little girl with a smile that could light up a room. That’s how I intend to leave it. 1 The autumn sun was a warm blanket as the nurse wheeled me out into the courtyard. One of the other residents recognized me and turned to whisper to her friends. “This place must be really high-end. They’ve even got Julian Jeffords’s wife here.” “I heard she has the whole top-floor luxury suite. Three or four nurses just for her.” “Imagine that. A life of luxury when she was young, and now the best nursing home when she’s old, while her husband is still out there making blockbuster movies. Some people have all the luck.” A few pairs of eyes drifted over to me—some envious, some indifferent, some cold. No matter how lucky she is, their looks seemed to say, she ended up in here with the rest of us. “She’s not even that pretty. How did an outsider like her ever marry a star?” “Back in the day, her husband was the biggest name in Hollywood. The video store shelves were half-filled with his movies.” “Oh, I still have some of his posters! If he ever visits, I’m going to ask for an autograph. A final fangirl dream come true!” “Shhh… I hear he doesn’t visit much.” 2 Old minds forget, but the stir I caused every time I came downstairs was a daily ritual. Being Mrs. Julian Jeffords, wife of the legendary actor, made me an endless source of afternoon gossip. Sometimes, a bolder resident would approach me, calling me “Mrs. Jeffords” with a kind smile. The conversation always revolved around my husband, praising the tireless artist who was still so dedicated to his work, even at his age. When he wasn’t acting, he was pouring his soul into charity. Julian’s star shone so brightly it cast a benevolent glow on his wife, even from a distance. I always offered polite, brief responses. A nod here, a quiet word there. Eventually, their narrative shifted. They began to speculate that our marriage was a sham, that we’d been living separate lives for years. That Julian was only keeping me here out of a sense of duty, a final act of charity for his wife of several decades. I’d heard countless rumors about us over the years. This time, they’d finally hit the nail on the head. Mostly because I was too tired to pretend anymore. I’m no actor. I couldn’t face a camera like he did, calmly discussing his wife’s health with the practiced ease of a man who knew every detail, yet couldn’t be bothered to pick up the phone or spare an hour for a visit. “I’ve even donated to your husband’s foundation,” one woman told me, her eyes gleaming. “The one that builds libraries for children in rural communities.” “And I heard he’s now working on a project for children with leukemia! You have such a wonderful husband, Mrs. Jeffords. He’s storing up so many blessings for you!” Yes, his foundation. The one he named after me: The Effy Angel Foundation. He’d told the press his wife was a kind and gentle soul, an angel who appeared when he was at his lowest, who helped him through the darkest times. He wanted to share that warmth with the world. “Devoted Husband” was the new role Julian had adopted in his old age. In the glittering, fickle world of Hollywood, a love that lasted a lifetime was something to be celebrated. The foundation had two directors. He was one. The other was not me. The woman who traveled with him to remote towns and comforted the needy was someone else entirely. My son, Aidan, had tried to soothe me. “Mom, you can’t be so petty. Dad is doing all this to build good karma for you. He’s an old man, running himself ragged out there. Isn’t it all for you? “Your monthly expenses here—the nurses, the doctors, the special meals—it’s not cheap. Dad insists on the best. “And Isabelle is just helping him because he’s working so hard. You know how Dad is, he’s a perfectionist. He only trusts people he knows well. “Isabelle is a woman who’s been pampered her whole life, and now she’s wading through mud in the mountains for him, without a single complaint… “I guess you can only blame your own failing health.” 3 I learned about Isabelle Moreau a month ago. My son and his family were visiting. My grandson was watching a video on his phone, pointing at the screen and shouting, “Grandpa! Grandpa!” It was a broadcast from Julian’s latest charity event. After wrapping a film, he always threw himself headfirst into philanthropy. It was, in his words, the only time he felt like he was truly contributing to society—when his feet were on the ground, helping others. In the video, Julian, dapper in a black suit, was graciously introducing the foundation’s new co-director to the press. “Ms. Moreau is a dear friend of many years,” he announced. “She has dedicated herself to charity work, and we found we share a common purpose. This new initiative, providing winter clothes and shoes for children in the mountains, was her brilliant idea.” At his cue, Isabelle stepped forward. She wore a stunning, smoky-blue silk dress, a string of lustrous pearls at her throat that highlighted her timeless elegance. Basking in the flash of the cameras and Julian’s admiring gaze, she glided to the podium to detail the new project. “Look, Grandma! Grandpa’s doing good things again!” my grandson chirped, shoving the phone in my face. But all I could see were the deep smile lines crinkling at the corners of Julian’s eyes as he watched Isabelle speak. He praised her meticulous attention to detail, her kindness, her gentle spirit. The children in the mountains, he said, all called her “Grandma Isabelle.” A sharp-eyed reporter noted that Isabelle seemed to have been part of the foundation for quite some time. Her face had appeared in the background of photos from years ago, a touch of silver hair amidst a sea of younger volunteers. Julian was unruffled. “Yes, Ms. Moreau has been with the team for a long while. She’s always been hands-on, never complaining, never pulling rank. She insists on being on the front lines. Her appointment as co-director was a unanimous decision by the entire team.” I looked up at my son. “How long has she been around?” Aidan’s face became a mask of discomfort. He stammered, saying he’d only met her a few times when picking up his father. “That pearl necklace,” I said, my voice quiet. “I have one exactly like it.” A piece of that quality wasn’t a common coincidence. “The one you gave me three months ago.” Aidan swallowed hard. His wife, seeing his struggle, cut in and laid it all bare. “Two years ago, for Dad’s birthday. He celebrated it with his charity team, and we all went out to dinner. After that, they started meeting more often. She’s an old friend of his, after all. A respected elder. And… Isabelle’s company is a major partner with…” I held up a hand, silencing her. Two years ago. I’d had a bad cold that turned into pneumonia. Julian was away on a charity trip in the mountains and couldn’t get back. It was the first time I’d missed his birthday. While I was in the hospital being cared for by nurses, Julian was formally introducing Isabelle to our son. Isabelle’s family owned one of the country’s top corporations—a corporation that had a deep partnership with Aidan’s company. Seeing my silence, Aidan’s brow furrowed. “Mom, it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you. But what good would it have done? They’re just friends. Telling you would only make it seem like they have something to hide.” “Dad was just connecting me with her. Isabelle has helped my business a lot.” “I’m almost forty, Mom. I have a family to support, a career to build. I’m not asking you to help me, but at least… don’t get in my way.” As he was leaving with his wife and son, he pushed his glasses up his nose and let out a heavy sigh. “Besides…” He paused, his voice dropping. “Mom, in your condition, what can you do for me anyway? Keeping you here, paying for your care… it costs a fortune every year. Dad is pouring money into his charities, and my company is losing money.” “Mom, when you get old, you have to learn to let things go. You had a superstar for a husband. You’ve lived a glamorous life. You can’t have everything…” 4 Julian and Isabelle attended a gala. A star-struck guest mistook her for his wife, calling her Mrs. Jeffords. Isabelle blushed demurely. Julian, after a moment’s pause, laughed it off. “You flatter her,” he joked. “Isabelle looks years younger than my wife.” Isabelle was a delicate flower, raised in a greenhouse, untouched by the hardships of the world. Her petals were, of course, more vibrant than a wildflower weathered by decades of wind and rain. The System watched the clip with me, its synthetic voice full of sympathy. [Host, you’ve endured so much.] I was never supposed to be in this world for so long. I was a task-runner, forgotten when my System got into a cosmic brawl and lost track of me. My original mission was simple: help Julian Jeffords achieve fame and fortune, then gracefully exit his life. Julian was handsome, tall, with strong brows and eyes that held a deep, gentle warmth—a look that didn’t fit the rugged masculine ideal of that era. Fresh out of acting school, his childhood sweetheart had just married and moved abroad, leaving him broke and struggling. One bitter winter evening, he was huddled outside a theater, gnawing on a stale piece of bread. He looked up and saw a girl with a beaming smile. “Hi,” I said. “My name is Effy. I’m your biggest fan.” The beginning was hard. Rejection was a constant companion. I worked three jobs to keep his dream alive. Not because I pitied him, but because his success was my only ticket home. After five years of sharing scraps and washing dishes in restaurant kitchens, my hands covered in a roadmap of tiny scars, he finally landed a supporting role. I stood outside the movie theater in my stained kitchen apron, staring at the poster. Julian’s face was tiny, tucked away in a corner, completely overshadowed by the stunning lead actors. But I didn’t care. I leaned in, tracing the familiar lines of his face with my finger, smiling like an idiot. The storm clouds had finally parted. The rest of our life was supposed to be sunshine. Julian, the unknown supporting actor, stole the show. He became an overnight sensation. But I never received the “mission complete” notification. Instead, at his victory party, Julian proposed. 5 After my fifth request to return home was denied, the System went dark. That’s when I knew. I had been abandoned. Julian, holding a bouquet of roses and wearing a brand-new suit, pulled me into the spotlight for the first time. He dropped to one knee. “Effy,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for everything.” “Will you marry me?” He was a rising star. Announcing a girlfriend was one thing, but proposing was career suicide. His fanbase was made up of young women who adored his looks. An act like this could have buried him, sending him right back to that cold, tiny apartment and stale bread. That night, a fan in the crowd broke down, screaming. She lost her mind, lunging forward, trying to attack me. Reeling from the realization that I was trapped here, I was thrust into chaos. Julian wrapped his arms around me, shielding me. I watched, numb, as the frantic fan smashed a beer bottle over his head. “Effy…” he whispered, blood trickling down his temple. “Don’t be afraid…” Thinking back on it now, the memory of the man who held me so tightly, even when faced with violence and uncertainty, feels hazy, distant. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t called me by my name in years. Or maybe it’s because the only place I ever see him now is on a screen. 6 Pulling some strings, the System did some digging on Julian for me. [I have to tell you this, Host. Your and Julian’s joint assets are almost gone.] [A large portion went to your son’s startup. The rest was poured into the foundation.] [However, it appears the foundation is now primarily funded by public donations. The account that Julian controls, his personal wealth, hasn’t contributed to the foundation in a very long time.] Over the years, Julian’s “devoted husband” persona had made The Effy Angel Foundation incredibly popular. Donations from corporations and the public now more than covered all its expenses. Julian no longer had to spend a dime of his own money. Ever since I got sick, he had taken full control of our finances. [I don’t know what he’s so afraid of you finding out,] the System added. [It’s not like you have much money left to your name anyway.] I managed a weak, bitter smile. I was past the point of wanting to dig any deeper. The bond we shared as husband and wife had been discarded by him long ago, without a second thought. He and Isabelle had been in contact, on and off, for twenty years. When her husband passed away, he personally flew overseas to bring her back. It was only after my health failed that he brought their relationship out into the open. “I want to heal my legs first,” I said. Because my points had been spent in increments over many years, each request to reclaim them would take time. The System agreed. In one week, I would walk again. “But…” As an equal exchange, I had to return the value of what I was reclaiming. It wasn’t a small price. I thought for a moment. “My legs were injured because of him. The price should come from him,” I decided. “Take his lifetime of achievements. His reputation as a screen legend. Is that enough?” After all, his fame was something I’d bought for him with my points in the first place. That reckless proposal should have gotten him blacklisted by the studios. I spent a fortune in points to spin the narrative, turning a career-ending move into a testament to his romantic, daring charm. Two years ago, on a snowy night, Julian was injured on a film set. I rushed out of the house, driving frantically, and skidded on a patch of ice. His injury was minor. I ended up in the ICU for three days and three nights. My son told me that while I was fighting for my life, his father never left the waiting room. Julian, a man obsessed with his appearance, let his hair go gray in those three days. He looked like any other terrified old man in the hospital, hunched over in a plastic chair, his eyes hollow and vacant. But there was a hand on his, a soft voice whispering comfort in his ear. What I didn’t know then was that Isabelle had been there with him for all three of those days. He had trembled, turning his hand to grip hers tightly. “Thank God you’re here,” he’d whispered. “Thank God…” They say hardship strengthens a bond. I just never imagined it would be their bond that was strengthened. All it cost was my accident. A pair of legs that would never walk again. “It’s settled,” I said, my voice firm. “His lifetime of honor for a pair of legs. It’s a fair trade.” After all, I was the one who gave it to him in the first place.

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I was mucking out stalls for cash when I accidentally splattered horse manure on the bumper of his G-Wagon. He was already in a foul mood, sulking over his adopted sister’s latest romance, but he’d never yell at her. So, he threw his anger—and his keys—at my head. “If you don’t break up with that townie loser, you can get the hell out of our house!” The girl, Chloe, burst into tears. “Then who do you want as your sister? Her?” She jabbed a finger at me, still rubbing the spot on my forehead where the keys hit. The crown prince, Julian, didn’t even look at me. He just sneered. “Yeah, fine by me.” I was about to speak when bright, ethereal text scrolled past my eyes: 【LOL, does Stall Girl actually think he’s serious? He’s just lashing out.】 【He already regrets it. If she hesitates for one second, he’ll take it back.】 【Although… if she did become a Thorne family ward, she’d be set for life. Money, private schools, the works…】 I snapped to attention. “Hi, big brother!” The moment the words left my mouth, the air went dead. Everyone’s expression soured. Julian Thorne looked me up and down, his eyes finally landing on the muck caked on my boots. His face was a mask of confusion. “You… seriously want to be my sister?” I nodded, looking up at him through my eyelashes. “Are you going to take it back?” His expression froze. He just stood there, his jaw tight. “Julian!” Chloe shrieked, stomping her foot. “You promised I was your only sister!” The silence stretched for a few more seconds. Julian sighed, his voice going flat and cold. “Sorry. I was just kidding.” My stomach dropped. The floating text reappeared: 【Wow. I’ve seen desperate, but this is a new low. Begging a stranger to adopt you.】 【She should take a look in the mirror. A literal farm girl covered in horse shit. Does she really think she can compare to our perfect, sweet Chloe?】 【Besides, the ‘sister’ role is a special status reserved for the female lead. He’s never letting some random girl take that title.】 I rubbed the growing bruise on my forehead. I looked down, my voice small. “In that case… can you just pay me more?” Julian gave me three hundred-dollar bills. By the time I left, the siblings were back to normal. Chloe was giggling, hanging on his arm, though she shot me a smug look over her shoulder. “That’s probably not even enough for me to buy a new backpack. Should we give her more, Julian?” A chorus of 【Chloe is the sweetest! A true angel!】 filled my vision. I carefully rolled the bills and shoved them deep into my pocket, shaking my head. “No… that’s fine.” This was compensation, not a shakedown. I grabbed a rag from my bucket and meticulously started wiping the manure off his bumper. Good. It was coming off clean. The whole time, Chloe watched with a hand over her mouth. “Ew, Julian, it stinks! Is that what manure smells like?” Julian shot her a look, but for once, didn’t reply. He just watched me until I had cleaned his entire car. He didn’t say another word. But just as he was about to get in, he frowned, pulled out his wallet, and stuffed another wad of cash into my hand. That money from Julian was a lifesaver. I split it three ways. One part for my high school tuition. One part for living expenses. And one part for the hospital bills. When the money ran out, I started collecting cans. Right after school until late at night. The next time I saw Julian, he was drinking alone on a park bench. Under the streetlight, his silhouette looked thin, his handsome features shadowed with a kind of deep, lonely frustration. The floating text, which had been silent for weeks, flickered back to life. 【Aww, he just saw Chloe kissing the supporting-character guy. My poor baby’s heart is broken.】 【She’s just being a rebellious teenager! It doesn’t mean she doesn’t love Julian!】 【If only Chloe could see how much he cares! She’s only acting out because she knows Julian will always spoil and forgive her!】 【He knows what the problem is, he just can’t bring himself to be hard on her, can he?】 … I quietly walked over and set a carton of milk on the bench next to him. My eyes flickered over his watch. It was worth more than my tuition. I took a deep breath. “Big brother.” He looked up, his dark eyes heavy and unfocused. “What did you call me?” I was so nervous, my voice trembled. “If you take me in… I can help you. With your sister.” He just stared at me. “You? How?” This was it. This was the moment. I widened my eyes, trying to look as sincere as possible. “I’m a really good cook. I can clean… I’m a really hard worker. I can do all the chores…” His expression shifted to something like amusement. I dropped my gaze, my voice trailing off. “…I can just be a servant. I’m cheap. You should consider it…” My voice got quieter and quieter, fading into the night air. After a long moment, I heard a sound. A quiet huff of laughter. Julian was actually smiling. It lit up his face. “My family doesn’t have a history of employing child labor.” My shoulders slumped. “Oh.” I turned to leave. “But,” he called out, “I am currently in the market for a sister who’s a little more… obedient.” I whipped around, not daring to believe it. “What’s your name?” he asked. “Mia.” The air seemed to freeze for a second. A tiny, almost invisible frown crossed Julian’s face. 【Mia??? Isn’t that the same name as the scheming, evil side-character?】 【I thought she was just a random extra… no wonder she’s throwing herself at him.】 【She’s the one who keeps trying to seduce the male lead, which makes the female lead (Chloe) jealous. All her little plots fail and just end up pushing the main couple together.】 【I heard that in the end, Julian personally marries her off to some 70-year-old creep… who has a psycho son.】 … I just stood there. My hands were in my pockets, rubbing my last two dollars together. Compared to another day of not knowing if I’d eat… …my future husband’s age didn’t seem all that important. Finally, Julian ruffled my hair. “Let’s call you Mia Holland. It’s easier to remember.” Julian’s parents were good people. They didn’t freak out when he brought home a random girl. They just gave me the guest room. They didn’t agree to formally adopt me, though. They wanted an “observation period.” Chloe, however, threw a fit. She screamed. She cried. She went on a hunger strike. It took Julian four hours to calm her down. When he walked out of her room, he looked exhausted. I felt a wave of despair. I was so sure I was about to be kicked out, I packed my small bag and sat on the front steps all night. I woke up to someone nudging me with their foot. “What, are you running away?” Julian asked, sounding annoyed. His eyes landed on my face, and he paused. “Huh. You clean up nice. You’ve even put on some weight. Looks better than the scrawny look.” He casually pinched my cheek. “Relax. You can stay. My parents really like you.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I slept soundly that night for the first time in a week. No more collecting cans. No more worrying about tuition or food. I poured all my energy into my studies. I was in the top ten of my class by the end of the month. With me as a new “comparison,” Chloe finally felt the pressure. She stopped skipping class. She ignored the letters from the “supporting-character” guy. She actually started studying. The day she broke up with him, Julian did something he’d never done: he came to pick me up from school himself. “Nice work, sis,” he said. He was leaning against his car, a rare, genuine smile on his face. He was holding an unlit cigarette, and the look in his eyes was… proud. It was the first time he’d ever called me ‘sister.’ I couldn’t help but smile back. My smile seemed to make him pause, just for a second. I smoothed my skirt, playing the part. “I know what I have to do next, brother.” I started, very deliberately, “bothering” Julian whenever Chloe was around. Julian was a picky eater. I learned all his favorite dishes and made a huge show of bringing him lunch at his office, rain or shine. It got his employees talking. “The new sister is so much more mature than the other one.” “She’s smart, she’s polite, and she actually takes care of her brother.” Julian would just smile mysteriously and ruffle my hair. Those rumors got back to Chloe, just as I’d planned. After a predictable tantrum, she started… trying. She’d ask Julian about his day, offer to get him things. One night, Julian was washing fruit for Chloe. I snuck up behind him and covered his eyes. “Guess who, brother…” I whispered. I felt his long eyelashes flutter against my palms. He turned, grabbing my hands. His expression was… strange. “Mia. Personal space. You know that, right?” Just then, Chloe walked into the kitchen. Her eyes turned red. She stormed out. From then on, Chloe not only became super-clingy with Julian, she started treating me as her mortal enemy. After my SATs, she convinced her parents to send me abroad for college. “Julian is my brother, not yours. You can’t steal him. Stay away,” she warned me, her voice cold. I didn’t say anything. I just thanked her profusely. My scores were high. I could get into a better school overseas. For four years, I didn’t forget my “promise” to Julian. I couldn’t be there in person, so I’d send him things for his car—like a little bobblehead that looked like me. Sometimes, his passengers would tease him. “Girlfriend put that there?” Julian would just smirk. “Something like that. She’s a handful. Can’t live without me.” When I’d come home for breaks, I’d ignore Chloe’s death glares and pretend to have nightmares so he’d have to sit with me. My junior year, some frat boy wouldn’t leave me alone. I called Julian. He flew out and handled it. He was a great acting partner. He always knew exactly what to do to make Chloe jealous. He played the part of the perfect, doting brother so well. Sometimes… sometimes, I thought he played it too well. He’d buy out every flower shop in the city and have them deliver camellias to my dorm, just because I’d idly mentioned I liked them. He’d call late at night and ask, “Do you miss me?” And when I’d say yes, he’d be on a plane the next morning. Slowly, everyone in Julian’s circle learned he had this new sister he was completely obsessed with. His friends would look me over, their smiles a little too slick. “Damn, Julian. Your sister’s hot.” “How old are you, sweetheart? You dating anyone?” From the corner of my eye, I saw Julian, who had been lounging, sit up straight. He was frowning. I answered honestly. “I dated someone.” “Oh yeah? Who? Does ‘big brother’ know?” I smiled sweetly. “Just a stupid college thing. I kept it from him. I guess I’m confessing now.” “A college thing?” one of them laughed. “So, what, you held hands? That doesn’t count, sweetheart. Boring.” “Shut up, you assholes. All you think about is sex,” Julian cut in, his good mood suddenly restored. He slung an arm around my shoulder. “My sister is the best. She’s only ever cared about me. She wouldn’t have time to date anyone behind my back.” Is that so? A very different, very specific, very dark memory flashed in my mind. I just smiled and nodded. “That’s right, brother.” But I couldn’t stop the heat from rushing to my face.

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My period chose the absolute worst week to crash the party: Freshman Orientation Boot Camp. The cramps felt like someone was wringing out my insides with rusty pliers. I raised a shaky hand, my voice barely a whisper, asking the Drill Instructor for a break. A heartbeat later, Sophie’s hand shot up too. Sophie. My boyfriend Liam’s childhood best friend. The girl he grew up next door to. I glanced over at her. Her face was fresh, her ponytail bouncing, not a single drop of sweat on her perfectly tanned skin. Instructor Davis scowled, his patience already worn thin by a hundred clueless freshmen. “This isn’t a spa day. I’ve got one spot on the bench. One. The second person who thinks they need a break can think again.” From the guys’ platoon across the field, Liam’s voice cut through the morning air. “Harper, come on, you’re tough as nails! Sophie… she’s always been kind of delicate.” He wasn’t finished. “It’s just cramps, babe. Can’t you just let her have this one?” 1 A wave of obnoxious laughter rippled through the guys’ formation. “Damn, Liam, already got her cycle tracked on your Google Calendar?” “He said she’s ‘tough as nails,’ man. Guess he’s done his own… durability comparison with his ‘delicate’ little friend.” Sophie blushed and swatted the air in their direction. “Oh, stop it, you guys! A guy can’t worry about his little sister from another mister?” “Ooooh, ‘little sister’!” they hooted back, nudging each other. Someone yelled a crude joke, “If you’re so worried she’s tired, Liam, maybe you should do all the heavy lifting for her tonight!” Sophie feigned anger and tossed an empty water bottle at them. The guys’ instructor barked at them to get their heads out of their asses and run laps. That just left us. Our instructor, Davis, looked at me. My face must have been ghost-white because a cold sweat was prickling my hairline. He pointed a thick finger at me. “You. Go to the medical tent.” Then he jerked his chin at Sophie. “You. Get back in formation. Now.” Her perfectly shaped lips immediately formed a pout. She shot me a look of pure venom. “I guess I just can’t compete with some people’s acting skills,” she muttered, just loud for me to hear. “Truly method.” 2 These weren’t just cramps. This was a five-alarm fire. I ended up having to get a shot of high-strength painkiller from the camp nurse just to uncurl from the fetal position. During the lunch break, Liam showed up at the medical tent. He handed me a bottle of lukewarm water, his words laced with something sharp. “Sophie’s on her period too, you know. Never seen her need a shot for it. Harper, if you’ve rested enough, you should probably get back out there. It doesn’t look good, you taking the only pass. Everyone’s thinking you’re just trying to get out of drills.” A cold dread pooled in my stomach, worse than the cramps. “What do you mean, you’ve ‘never seen her need a shot’? Just because she’s not in pain, I have to be? Liam, are you saying I’m faking this?” He pressed his lips into a thin, annoyed line. I stared at him. “So you didn’t come here to check on me. You came to see when I’d be done playing sick so your precious Sophie could have a turn at slacking off, is that it?” He set the water down with a sigh heavy with martyrdom. “That’s not what I mean. Sophie’s just… she’s sensitive. I’m just trying to look out for her, there’s nothing else to it. Harper, can you please not be so jealous?” My vision went sharp and clear. All the pain seemed to focus into a single point of icy calm. “Childhood sweethearts, inseparable, I get it. If you’re in love with her, Liam, you didn’t have to start dating me.” Panic flared in his eyes. “What? That’s crazy! I don’t feel that way about her at all!” I turned my face away. “Just go. I don’t need you here.” 3 That afternoon, I dragged myself back to the training field. Instructor Davis gave me a curt nod and pointed me back into line. “Wow, a miracle recovery,” Sophie whispered as I stood beside her. Every step was agony. I white-knuckled it until dismissal. The second we broke formation, Liam was there, holding out an ice-cold bottle of Gatorade. “Look, maybe I was a little harsh at lunch…” he started. “I just feel like…” I ignored him, unscrewing my own thermos and taking a long sip of the warm water inside. His hand hung in the air. “Still hurts?” I kept sipping my water, my eyes fixed on Sophie across the field. She was laughing with a group of friends, her cheeks flushed with a healthy, vibrant pink. “I don’t care what you ‘feel like,’ Liam. If you want to play detective, why don’t you go ask her how she’s so full of energy after she was supposedly dying this morning?” He froze. Sophie happened to look over at that exact moment. Her laughing face instantly crumpled into a mask of hurt. “I only bought her that drink because I was worried you were in trouble,” she said, her voice trembling as she walked over. “If she won’t drink it… does she really hate me that much?” 4 Liam immediately went into damage control mode. Sophie’s eyes were already glistening. He hesitated, looking completely torn, then pushed the icy bottle toward me again. “Harper, come on, just take one sip. It’s a peace offering from Sophie…” The seconds ticked by. I didn’t move. Liam’s patience snapped. He roughly shoved the bottle into my hands. “Just get over it! It’s a period, not a terminal illness! Do you have to be so damn dramatic about everything?” The freezing plastic slipped from my grasp and thudded onto the dusty ground. “FALL IN!” Davis yelled. Liam was already by Sophie’s side, walking her back to her platoon. I could hear their voices drifting back. “Liam, why would you date someone like that the second you get to college?” I saw him gently ruffle her hair. “It’s okay, Soph. It’s my fault.” I walked back to my spot. As I passed Sophie, she turned her head just enough for me to see her mouth the word. Loser. A white-hot rage shot through me. I raised my voice, making it loud and sharp enough to cut through the noise of the assembling platoons. “WHO ARE YOU CALLING A LOSER?!” Everyone froze. All eyes were on us. Sophie looked stunned for a second, then her eyes instantly filled with tears. Instructor Davis marched over, his face like a thundercloud. “What’s going on here?!” She wrung her hands, looking helpless. “Sir, I… I don’t know why she’s always coming after me…” The guys’ platoon started murmuring. When Instructor Davis turned his glare on me, I took a deep breath. “Sir, permission to speak, Sir! As I was walking past, I heard someone say your training methods were ‘lame as hell’.”

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On the fifth anniversary of my marriage to my stepbrother, he killed himself. He left me only a torn piece of paper. On it were three words: I hate you. He had every right to hate me. He’d raised me for ten years, and I’d repaid his kindness by drugging him and climbing into his bed. I made him lose the love of his life. I faked a pregnancy to trap him into marrying me. I knew he didn’t love me, but I was too selfish to let him go. In the end, I drove him to his death. And I died on the way to his funeral. I thought that would be the end of it, a final, clean break. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I drugged him. Caleb was dead. I was in a coffee shop with my lawyer, finalizing the divorce papers, when the call came. “Give him the money, the house, everything,” I said, my voice flat. The lawyer looked at me, surprised. “Ms. Ross, you intend to walk away with nothing?” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his expression baffled. “My understanding is that Mr. Hayes initiated the separation. Legally, he’s the party at fault…” I held up a hand to stop him. “Just write it that way.” The money, the house—it was all his. I’d already poisoned so many years of his life; I had no right to his possessions now that it was over. “Well, in all my years handling divorce cases, you’re certainly the most generous client I’ve ever had,” the lawyer said with genuine admiration. A bitter smile touched my lips. If he knew what I’d done to Caleb, he wouldn’t be saying that. For years, everyone in Caleb’s life had a name for me: the psycho. The monster who’d coveted her own stepbrother. The ungrateful viper he’d raised. “If you’ll review this one last time, you can sign right here. I’ll have the agreement couriered to Mr. Hayes.” My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise as I took the pen. I’d just started the first letter of my name when my phone rang, shattering the quiet of the café. “Am I speaking with Ms. Stella Ross? This is St. Jude’s Medical Center. We’re calling about your husband, Caleb Hayes. He was admitted following a suicide attempt…” The pen slipped from my fingers and clattered to the floor. A high-pitched ringing filled my ears, and the world blurred. I never imagined he hated me that much. That he would rather die than spend another day tied to me. But he was just one signature away. I was so close to finally setting him free. Part 2 By the time I reached the funeral home, Caleb was already in an urn. The moment she saw me, his grandmother, her eyes red and swollen, slapped me hard across the face. “You monster. How dare you show your face here?” I didn’t flinch. I just stared at the black-and-white photo of Caleb, my mind numb. It had been six months since I’d last seen him. That was the day he’d asked for a divorce. “Jessica’s back in town,” he’d said, his voice devoid of emotion. “After all these years, I’ve never forgotten her.” He looked away, unable to meet my eyes. “Name your price, Stella. Whatever you want. Just sign the papers.” I’d flown into a rage. I smashed everything in the living room, screaming at him like a banshee. “A divorce, Caleb? Don’t you even think about it!” I’d shrieked. “The only way I’m leaving this marriage is in a casket. There’s no divorce for me, only widowhood.” He didn’t say a word. Just like every other time we fought, he silently started cleaning up the wreckage I’d made. I thought I’d won. I thought the subject was closed. But when I woke up the next morning, he was gone. His clothes, his pictures, every trace of him had vanished from the house, as if he’d never been there at all. And now, my own words had become a twisted prophecy. I was a widow. Right at the moment I’d finally decided to give him his freedom. A metallic taste filled my throat, and a wave of pain so intense it buckled my knees brought me to the floor. A storm of regret washed over me, but all it produced was a useless, silent, I’m sorry. Grandma Hayes refused to let me attend the funeral. She ignored my pleading and physically pushed me out of the building. When I tried to force my way back in, she shoved a crumpled piece of paper into my hand, her eyes burning with hatred. “You want to see what he left behind? This is it! This is the only thing he left!” I froze. My fingers automatically smoothed out the paper. The familiar handwriting sent a chill straight through my soul. “Still want to come in?” she asked, her voice dripping with venom. I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. The three words on the paper burned in my mind, a repeating, searing mantra. I hate you. Caleb never made enemies. It was painfully obvious who those words were for. Part 3 I clutched that piece of paper and stood outside the funeral home all night. I couldn’t go in, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave. As dawn broke, I saw his family emerge, carrying the urn. They got into a car. I scrambled to mine and followed at a distance. The road leading up to the cemetery was a winding mountain pass, slick and treacherous from last night’s rain. The higher we climbed, the more difficult the driving became. I prayed silently, a desperate bargain with a universe that had never listened. Just let me see him off. Just let me finish this one last journey with him, and I’ll do anything. As the thought crossed my mind, a shadow fell over my car. A massive boulder, dislodged from the cliffside by the rain, crashed down onto the roof. The piece of paper I’d been holding fluttered onto my lap. I looked at the words—I hate you—and laughed through my tears. Of course. I was so arrogant I’d forgotten. Caleb didn’t want me here. He didn’t want me to see him off. As my vision faded to black, I closed my eyes and made a vow. “Caleb, if there’s a next time, I swear I’ll leave you alone.” Part 4 “Stella, are you insane?!” “I’m your brother! You drugged me!” The familiar voice echoed in my ears. I apologized instinctively. “I’m sorry.” The words had barely left my lips when a pair of strong hands wrapped around my waist, pulling me close. “A little late for sorry, don’t you think?” His warm breath tickled my ear. I snapped my eyes open in disbelief. Standing in front of me, very much alive, was Caleb. “Caleb?” His eyes were flushed with a mixture of desire and anger. I immediately shoved him away and, acting on pure instinct, slapped myself hard across the face. The stinging pain was real. Tears of pure, unadulterated joy streamed down my cheeks. It wasn’t a dream. I was really back. “I’m not the one who’s mad, why are you hitting yourself?” Caleb frowned, grabbing my hand. His eyes were filled with… concern. A fresh wave of guilt washed over me. It was just like the first time. I was the one who had drugged him, who had planned this whole disgusting thing. But instead of being furious, he blamed himself for not being a better guardian, a better brother. Afterward, he’d taken all the blame. His fiancée, Jessica, broke up with him. His grandmother was so enraged she’d cut him off completely for a year. Through it all, he never once told them what I had done. If I hadn’t become more and more possessive, more unhinged over the years, he never would have come to hate me so much. He never would have sought death as an escape. Remembering how I never even got to see him one last time, I pulled my hand from his grasp, my eyes red. “Caleb, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it… I just wanted to see if this stuff worked. I’ll call 911 right now…” I fumbled for my phone, but he suddenly grabbed my wrist, his grip tight. His voice dropped, and his eyes darkened. “You were… testing it on me, Stella?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “If it worked, who were you planning to use it on?” I hadn’t expected him to believe my frantic, ad-libbed excuse. But then I realized, this was the perfect out. If he thought I was in love with someone else, it would be a relief for him. A good thing. I forced a shy, embarrassed smile. “The quarterback at my school. I’ve had a crush on him for ages. When I confessed to you before, I was just… practicing.” The hand on my wrist tightened, his knuckles turning white. “Stella, you used me as a guinea pig for some other guy?” “Is he really that special?” Part 5 “Is it really worth it, Stella? To do something like this for a guy?” Caleb’s expression was a complicated mix of disbelief and… something else. It was like he was scolding a naive little sister, but also like he was interrogating the ghost of my past self. For a moment, the present blurred with the past. The first time this happened, right before I pushed things past the point of no return, he had held my hand just like this and asked me the same question. “Stella, do you have any idea what you’re doing? What people will say? Is this really worth it to you?” Back then, I was young and fearless, blinded by my obsession. I knew the world would condemn us, but I didn’t care. I just tilted my head up and kissed him. “It’s worth it,” I’d whispered. The scene shifted back to the present. I said the same two words, but this time, I pulled my hand away from his. “Caleb, he’s the love of my life. Anything is worth it for him.” I immediately dropped my gaze to the floor, terrified he would see the blazing love for him in my eyes. And because of that, I missed the flicker of disappointment that crossed his face. “Fine, Stella. You’d better not regret this.” Before I could answer, he’d shoved me out of the hotel room and slammed the door. Remembering the intensity of the drug, I hesitated for a moment and knocked. “Caleb, are you sure you don’t need me to call 911?” Silence. My anxiety spiked. I was about to call security to break down the door when a familiar voice came from behind me. “Stella? What are you doing here?” I turned around stiffly. A pang of pain shot through my chest when I saw who it was. “Jessica. What are you doing here?” Jessica held up a small paper bag from a pharmacy and smiled, a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “What do you think, sweetie? We’re all adults here. I’m not here to play Monopoly with your brother in the middle of the night.” Before I could respond, the hotel room door opened. Caleb stood there in a bathrobe, his hair damp. He frowned when he saw I was still there. “Why haven’t you left yet?” A bitter coldness spread through my chest. I kept telling myself this was for the best. Caleb and Jessica were supposed to be together. It was only natural that he would call her. This was the right thing. “Never mind, the medicine…” he started to say. “You guys are busy! I’ll head home now!” I practically fled. The moment I was back in my own apartment, the tears started falling. I guess people are just greedy creatures. I was the one who chose this path, to put things right, to go back to being a normal sister so he could live a long, happy life. But the second I saw him standing with another woman, the pain was unbearable. Every cell in my body was screaming at me to go back and drag him away. I didn’t sleep all night. When I opened my eyes, the very first thing I wanted to do was check his Instagram to see if they’d made it official. I slapped myself. Then I jumped out of bed and started packing. “Stella, what are you doing now?” “Caleb? Why are you home so soon?” I stared at him, my mind reeling. From my past life, I knew how strong that drug was. Last time, he had kept me in that hotel room for three days straight. How was he home after just one night? He saw the look on my face and his expression darkened. “What, you’re disappointed to see me? Were you hoping I’d be gone longer so you could pack up and move in with your precious quarterback?” I never thought he’d jump to that conclusion. It was almost funny, but also deeply sad. I would probably never get the chance to live with the person I loved. “No, that’s not it,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m moving into the dorms. It’ll save you the long drive to pick me up from campus every day.” My university was on the other side of the city. I should have moved into the dorms freshman year, but because of my obsession with him, I’d stayed at home, forcing him to drive me back and forth every day. I paused, then added, “Besides, we’re not real siblings. And now that we both have people we’re interested in, it’s… probably not a good idea for us to live together anymore.”

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After I took a tumble down the stairs, Eleanor finally agreed to leave work to take care of me. But just as we were pulling up to the hospital, she got a call from a client and had to turn back. Later, as I was dragging my fractured leg downstairs to pay the bill, I saw her childhood best friend, Rupert, post a picture of her tending to his knee. The caption read: Who knew a grown man could be so clumsy? Good thing I have my Ellie to patch me up. That’s when I knew. There was no client. Our mutual friends didn’t dare comment. Only I did. I left a single like, and a reply: An idiot needs a babysitter. You two should just get together. 1 Eleanor was a workaholic. So when she said a client needed her, I understood. I even told her to prioritize her work, to go back and not worry about me. But then, as I hauled my broken leg down to the billing office, I saw it. The picture Rupert had posted. Eleanor, kneeling at his feet, dabbing antiseptic on his scraped knee. And that caption: Who knew a grown man could be so clumsy? Good thing I have my Ellie to patch me up. Something thick and hard lodged itself in my throat. I blew up at her over the phone. Her voice was frayed with impatience. “You get angry over everything,” she said. “If I’d told you the truth, do you really think you could’ve rested and recovered peacefully?” After that, my messages went unanswered. Radio silence. That night, my body rejected the anesthetic. I woke up multiple times during the surgery, drowning in waves of agony. When they wheeled me out of the operating room, there was no one there for me. A kind nurse saw me struggling and helped me downstairs. Still no word from Eleanor. I was left to juggle work emails and calls on my phone while navigating the hospital on crutches, a dead weight chained to my leg, hobbling up and down floors to pay bills and pick up prescriptions. The same sweet nurse took pity on me, running those errands for me when she could. The day I was discharged, a message from Eleanor finally appeared. I’m coming to get you. I knew what that meant. It was her way of turning the page, of wiping the slate clean. It was always like this between us. She hated fighting. Whenever I confronted her about Rupert, she’d give me the silent treatment, letting me stew in my own anger. Then, when she was ready to move on, she’d reach out. By then, my fury would have burned itself out, leaving nothing but embers. She could turn my emotions on and off like a switch. This time, the silence lasted for nearly half a month. In the past, a message like that would have sent a jolt of relief through me. I would have been thrilled that she was finally making time for me. But now? Nothing. A flat, calm sea. The days I’d spent fighting through this alone had cooled my head considerably. I typed back a simple reply: Don’t bother. I’ve already checked out. Her response was immediate. Then I’ll pick you up from home. No need, I’ll get a cab. I’m already on my way. Wait for me. I’ll be there in thirty. 2 Thirty minutes bled into an hour. No sign of Eleanor’s car. The sky had bruised from dusk to a deep, starless black. It was 9:30 PM. Not a single text from her. I didn’t ask. After another ten minutes, I gave up, opened the Uber app, and ordered a ride. It was 10:30 PM by the time I got home. The driver, a kind older man, saw me fumbling with my crutches and insisted on helping me up the five flights of stairs. The hallway light was busted, and there were no security cameras, so I kept a video call going with a buddy as we climbed. The driver didn’t seem to mind my caution. He got me to my door, gave a small nod, and left. Still nothing from Eleanor. I didn’t text her to demand an explanation. I just went inside, sent the driver a generous tip through the app, and collapsed onto the sofa. A new notification lit up my phone. It was Rupert’s Instagram. He’d posted another picture. That familiar silhouette was there, dabbing at another scrape on his arm. The caption was practically giddy: Barely five minutes after Ellie leaves and I take another tumble. Seriously, what’s wrong with me? LOL. The way she scolds me while wrapping my scrapes is just too cute! 3 I’d never been comfortable with the fact that Eleanor had a childhood best friend like Rupert. Every interaction felt like a small jab to the ribs, but I couldn’t stop myself from watching their every move. The weirdest part was when he added me on social media out of the blue. It turned out Eleanor had given him my contact. “I’m busy with work,” she’d explained. “Rupert’s all alone in New York. If he needs anything, maybe you can help keep an eye on him.” I, a person who rarely checked my feed, became a chronic scroller, my blood boiling with every flirty post he made featuring my girlfriend. It always ended in a massive fight. In the past, a post like this would have sent me into a rage. I would have called Eleanor, demanding she explain herself. But this time, I just tapped the ‘like’ button and left a comment. An idiot needs a babysitter. You two should just get together. My phone rang. It was my boss, Ms. Vance. I picked up. “Ethan,” she said, her voice crisp and direct. “I’ve spoken with corporate. We can raise your salary to one-point-three million. What do you say?” Our company was expanding its market presence. The London office was desperately looking for a new director. They had specifically requested me, but I’d turned it down every time, using the distance as an excuse. “And listen,” she continued, “I got approval for fifteen days of leave every five months. You can still fly back and see… your girl. How does that sound?” So, she’d known all along. It was never about the distance. It was about how far I’d be from Eleanor. I let out a short, sharp laugh. “That won’t be necessary, Ms. Vance. I don’t need the vacation days. When do I leave?” There was a stunned silence on the other end, then her voice bloomed with excitement. “End of the month! You got it, Ethan! No backing out now!” “I’ll start the transfer paperwork tomorrow.” 4 I was buried in a mountain of backlogged work on my laptop, so completely absorbed that I didn’t hear the front door open. When I finally looked up, Eleanor was standing there, her brow furrowed in a slight frown. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” I glanced at my mobile. Sure enough, a few missed calls from around midnight. “I went to the hospital to pick you up. You weren’t there,” she said, a clear note of irritation in her voice. “Oh, really?” My tone was light, almost surprised. “My bad. I figured you weren’t coming tonight, so I just grabbed an Uber.” She looked at me as if she’d misheard. In the past, if she was even a minute late, I would have been on the phone, demanding to know where she was. That would have inevitably led to her accusing me of being suspicious, triggering another one of her cold spells. I would never have just carried on with my own plans without a word. She sighed, a long, weary sound. “Look… Rupert fell again. He has a congenital bone condition; even a small fall could mean a fracture. I couldn’t just leave him.” “Mm-hmm.” I didn’t even let her finish, just offered a placid, noncommittal hum. “Ethan?” She seemed taken aback. “Yeah?” I glanced up from my screen, feigning confusion. Her frown deepened. “You’re not mad?” “Mad about what?” I offered a small smile. “You two are childhood friends. I get it. It’s fine.” She took a deep breath and sat down beside me on the sofa. “You’re still angry, aren’t you?” “Nope,” I said, my smile unwavering. “I stopped caring about that stuff a long time ago.” She let out another soft sigh, her fingers finding mine and lacing through them. “I know I was wrong. I’m admitting it first this time. Can we just… let it go?” I chuckled lightly. “Seriously, it’s fine. You don’t have to do this. You’re making it into a bigger deal than it is.” A flash of pure shock crossed her features. This was the first time she had ever conceded first. And I had just refused her olive branch. The truth is, when someone no longer lives in your heart, it’s impossible to get angry at them. I checked the time and closed my laptop. “It’s getting late, Ellie. I’m going to bed.” I pushed myself up, but a searing pain shot through my leg, and I crumpled to the floor. 5 “Ethan!” Eleanor lunged, grabbing my arm. I gently pushed her hand away, my voice devoid of any anger. “I’m okay. Just forgot my crutches.” She frowned. “Why do you need crutches?” I answered with an airy calm. “It’s fractured.” In that instant, she froze. Perhaps she was remembering the excuse she’d just given me—that she was afraid Rupert might have a fracture. Her expression became a tangled mess of emotions. “I’m so sorry…” It was the first time she had ever truly apologized. She bent down to help me up. “Let me help you to bed.” To my own surprise, I shook my head and pushed her away again. “It’s okay. Could you just grab my crutches for me? They’re by the door. I can make it myself.” She didn’t move. “Wouldn’t it be better if I helped you?” In the past, if she’d offered any physical closeness, I would have melted into her arms. But now, the offer held no appeal. I smiled faintly. “No, thanks. I can manage on my own.” Her gaze was sharp, probing. “You’re still angry, aren’t you?” I paused. “No, really.” It was strange. She couldn’t stand it when I was angry, but now that I wasn’t, she seemed just as unhappy. She took a step closer. “If you’re angry, just say it. It’s not like I won’t listen. Why are you being like this?” 6 Eleanor hated conflict. She had a mind like a steel trap, capable of dismantling any argument, yet she’d repeatedly turned down invitations to join the university debate team. In her professional life, she was a woman of few words. When I was angry, her first instinct was to flee. “I’m exhausted from work every day,” she used to say. “I don’t have the energy for your baseless accusations! The reason I listen to Rupert is because he’s fragile. We grew up together; what’s wrong with me being a shoulder for him to lean on? If I actually liked him that way, where would that leave you? Besides, he never criticizes me! Can you just stop comparing yourself to him for once?” Those words used to pierce me like shards of glass. Now, remembering them, I felt nothing. Instead, I was just curious why she suddenly wanted to hear me out. I sighed. “I’m not angry. I’m really not.” Her breathing was uneven. “Then why won’t you let me help you?” “Because…” I kept the gentle smile fixed on my face, as if the memory of waking up in agony was a distant dream. “When I came out of surgery… I was alone then, too.” She stared, unblinking. “You had surgery?” I nodded. “You seemed busy. I didn’t want to bother you.” The corners of Eleanor’s eyes reddened. When she looked at me again, there was something new in her gaze… a flicker of pain. “You should have told me.” I shook my head. “It’s over now. If I could get through it alone then, I can certainly manage now that I’m recovering.” She looked down, her breath deepening. When her eyes met mine again, they were swimming with guilt. “So you’re blaming me for not being there.” I was done explaining. “I’m really not. Can you please just get my crutches? I want to go to sleep.” “If you’re not angry, why won’t you let me take care of you?” she pressed, stepping even closer. I was too tired to argue. I gave up, hopping on one foot, stumbling toward the door where I’d left the crutches. “Just drop it. Let’s go to bed.” Her fists were clenched at her sides. I ignored her, grabbed my crutches, and made my way to the bedroom. As I lay down, I heard her voice, sharp with fury. “Fine. Be that way. I’m going to go take care of Rupert!” The front door slammed shut. I glanced at the bedroom door, flicked off the lamp, and rolled over, closing my eyes. Within minutes, I was sound asleep. 7 I met Eleanor in the student union back in college. I was captivated by her sharp intellect and a profound, quiet confidence I’d never seen in anyone else. It took me ages to work up the nerve to ask her out. We’ve been together for six years—three in college, three after. And for almost all of it, my world has revolved around hers. My classmates from our graduating year are pulling in millions now, while I’m still hovering around six figures. Thinking back to when I was top of my class, I realize just how much I’ve let slip by. I didn’t text Eleanor again. My days were a simple loop: finish my work, then study for my certifications. Ms. Vance had hinted at another salary bump if I passed. Eleanor, for her part, hadn’t contacted me since she stormed out. That wasn’t unusual. She was never one for texting what could be said in person. Our typical dynamic was me sending her a barrage of updates about my day, to which she might reply with a perfunctory “Ok” or “Got it.” It never used to bother me. Not until I saw her chat logs with Rupert, the easy back-and-forth, the inside jokes. That’s when my composure finally cracked. That fight, like all the others, ended with her giving me the silent treatment. Thinking about it used to twist my stomach in knots, prompting me to find some new excuse to start another argument. Now, the memory just floats by, weightless. The prospect of a pay raise was infinitely more compelling. I had been planning to ask Eleanor out for a meal, to finally have the talk about our relationship. But she beat me to it. She sent me a picture of a reservation number for a private dining room. Let’s have dinner. I glanced at the restaurant I was about to order takeout from and realized, with a jolt, that it was the same place. Old habits die hard. This was Eleanor’s favorite spot. I had once secretly learned how to cook all of their signature dishes, hoping to surprise her. But she always said eating at home was a hassle; it was quicker to just go out. My culinary efforts were left to languish. Another habit I needed to break. Okay, I replied. 8 At 7 PM, I pushed open the restaurant door. I was off the crutches by then, but my walk was still a clumsy, uneven limp. A waiter kindly showed me to the private room. As the door opened, the first thing I heard was a peal of laughter. “No way! Your man really said that? If it were me, I wouldn’t be so petty!” Rupert was sitting right next to Eleanor, leaving only the seat directly across from them for me. I froze for a second, not expecting a third person. Eleanor looked up, a small, practiced smile on her face. “Oh, you’re here. We were just talking about old times.” Her eyes darted over my face, searching for a reaction. “Right. Carry on, then.” I returned her smile with one of my own and calmly made my way to the empty seat. Eleanor’s expression flickered. I turned to the waiter. “Could we get a menu, please?” The menu was in my hands for less than a second before it was snatched away. Rupert leaned intimately toward Eleanor, his finger tapping the page. “Ellie, this one’s amazing. And this one, and this…” She laughed softly. “Come on, you’re the one who wants it, aren’t you?” His eyes were full of a playful, adoring light. “No, it’s really that good.” Eleanor took the menu from him, checked off the items he’d pointed to, and handed it to the waiter. The waiter hesitated, looking at me. It was only then that she seemed to remember I was there. “Oh, right,” she said, passing the menu to me. “See if there’s anything you want.” I knew that look. It was the same analytical gaze she used to give me back when we first started dating, whenever I was giving her the silent treatment. The same look she’d have in those rare debate tournaments, searching for the fatal flaw in her opponent’s argument. She was watching me, waiting for me to crack. But I just glanced at the menu and smiled. “Looks good. Rupert has great taste.” Her hand, resting on the table, flinched. She looked at me as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. I passed the menu back to the waiter. “That’ll be all, thank you.” 9 After the menus were gone, a shadow fell over Eleanor’s face. Rupert, oblivious, draped an arm around her shoulder and grinned at me. “Heard you were mad at Ellie. Don’t worry, I gave her a piece of my mind for you!” I was in the middle of replying to a client’s message. I looked up and smiled politely. “Oh, that? It was nothing. Just a small thing.” Rupert clearly didn’t think so. He leaned in closer to Eleanor, pinching her cheek. “Hey, don’t take it personally, man. We’ve been like this since we were kids. I’m not interested in this block of wood, so you can relax!” I smiled again and went back to my phone. “Actually,” Rupert continued, his voice taking on a theatrical tone, “the reason Ellie takes such good care of me is because she kind of owes me her life.” Eleanor playfully swatted his arm. “Oh, stop it.” “No way! I can tell you never told him the story!” Rupert was practically glowing with self-importance. “You see, Ethan, when we were little, Ellie had a huge fight with her parents and ran out into a thunderstorm. I went looking for her and took a really bad fall. My leg never healed right. Turns out I have a congenital low bone density. That one fall almost crippled me for life!” Eleanor laughed, but her eyes were fixed on me. “Ethan’s not the jealous type. You don’t have to explain.” I looked up from my phone and echoed her smile. “She’s right. I stopped caring about that a long time ago.” Eleanor’s face went dark. The dishes began to arrive. I reached for a piece of the crispy-skin pork belly, but before I could get it, her chopsticks intercepted mine, snatching the piece and placing it in Rupert’s bowl. “Here,” she said with a soft smile. “You love this dish, don’t you?” All the while, she was watching me from the corner of her eye. I just smiled, picked up another piece for myself, and continued responding to a client’s voice message with my free hand. Her expression soured instantly. “You,” Eleanor said suddenly, her voice sharp. “Go sit on the other side.”

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1 My entire family left for a ski trip to the Aspen mountains, leaving me behind. “I didn’t know you couldn’t even ski or rock climb, Nora,” Sherry, the girl I was swapped at birth with, pouted. “If I’d known, I would’ve picked somewhere else.” My parents and brother rushed to console her, saying it wasn’t her fault—I was just too ‘uncultured’ for such things. If only Sherry never came back, I thought, watching their car disappear down the drive. Then the unthinkable happened. An avalanche tore through the resort. My parents and brother returned home, looking like shell-shocked ghosts. “Sherry didn’t make it out,” my mother wailed, pulling me into a crushing hug. “Nora, you’re our only daughter now.” But I felt no relief. No joy. Because a second earlier, a text had buzzed on my phone. It was from Sherry. “Nora! Mom, Dad, and Leo are all dead!” … My mother must have felt me go rigid in her arms, because she slowly pulled back. “What’s wrong, Nora? We’re back now. Don’t be scared.” Her voice was so gentle it was alien to me. She only ever spoke that way to Sherry. With me, her tone was always as cold and sharp as winter ice. I stared at the three figures standing in the doorway. Though their faces were bruised and their clothes were stained with patches of what looked like dried blood, they were unmistakably my mother, my father, and my brother, Leo. So why would Sherry say they were dead? No, wait. If my mother was telling the truth, Sherry was the one who didn’t survive the avalanche. So who sent me that text? “Let’s get you out of those filthy clothes,” Leo said, his voice hoarse. He helped our sobbing mother into the living room. “Nora needs a minute to process everything.” As they passed me, a wave of bone-deep cold washed over me, making me shiver. A comment I’d seen on a news article about the avalanche flashed through my mind. “A tourist caught in a slide that big? They’re gone. If your loved ones come home safe, take a good, hard look. Make sure they’re still human.” The commenter, who claimed to be a mountain guide, had tried to explain that victims of a disaster sometimes don’t realize they’ve died and are driven by a single, obsessive need to return home. He was relentlessly flamed and deleted the comment. Something that bizarre… Could it be happening to me? As if on cue, the last ray of sunlight vanished below the horizon, plunging the living room into a deep, oppressive twilight. Or maybe it was just my imagination, but the temperature in the house seemed to drop several degrees. “Nora, what are you doing just standing there? Close the door,” my father’s voice rasped from the shadows. The way he turned was… wrong. He didn’t just turn his head; his entire torso rotated with it, stiffly, like he was frozen solid. The hair on my arms stood on end. I took an instinctive step back, my hand fumbling behind me for the doorknob. My phone buzzed again, a frantic vibration against my palm. It was Sherry. She’d sent a picture. Three black body bags, lined up neatly in a row. A new text followed. “They just flew the bodies back. Where the hell are you, Nora? I told you to get a car and meet me.” BANG! An arm slammed the door shut behind me. I snapped my head up, my eyes meeting my brother’s. He was looking down at me, his face unreadable. “Nora,” he murmured, his voice a low whisper, “who are you texting?” 2 He took another step forward, his presence filling the cramped entryway. I hadn’t noticed it before, but his skin had a sickly, grayish pallor, like meat that had been left in a freezer for days. My back was pressed hard against the door; there was nowhere left to run. I frantically mashed the power button, the screen going dark, and forced a smile that felt more like a grimace. “It was just Grandma and Grandpa. Asking if I’d heard anything. I was just letting them know you were safe.” Leo paused, then nodded slowly. A flicker of something like sadness crossed his face. “Ah. It’s a shame about Sherry. She was so fragile… she didn’t make it until the rescue team arrived. You should probably break the news to them gently.” He sighed. “Oh, right. I should call the rescue team, let them know we’re okay. I lost my phone on the mountain. Let me borrow yours.” Before I could react, he snatched my phone and held it up to my face to unlock it with facial recognition. Panic flared in my chest and I lunged for it, a purely instinctual reaction. Leo seemed startled by my sudden movement and lost his footing. He crashed to the floor with a heavy thud. The phone flew from his hand, hit the wall, and shattered into a spiderweb of glass and plastic. “Nora, are you okay?” he said, scrambling to his feet. In a complete break from character, he didn’t scold me. Instead, he anxiously checked to see if I was hurt. “I’m so sorry. I’ll buy you the newest iPhone in a few days, I promise.” A lump formed in my throat. A crazy thought sparked in my mind: if they could always be this kind to me, did it really matter if they were human or not? “I’m fine, Leo. It’s just too dark in here. Let me get the lights.” Taking a deep breath, I reached for the light switch. A common saying echoed in my mind: ghosts have no shadows. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying that this was all just my terrified imagination running wild. Click. The chandelier blazed to life, bathing the opulent living room in brilliant white light. And behind all three of them, faint but distinct shadows stretched across the floor. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. My mother warmed a pot of milk for my father and Leo, but poured a glass of juice for me. “For your lactose intolerance,” she said with a soft smile. “You can have this.” I took the glass, stunned. It was cherry juice, my favorite. This was the same woman who used to call my condition a “poor person’s disease” and force me to drink milk until I was sick, insisting I had to “get used to it.” “Nora,” my father said, his voice heavy, a trace of guilt on his stern face. “Sherry’s master bedroom… you should move in there.” Leo looked at me with an apologetic expression and gently ruffled my hair. “And make sure you lock your doors and windows. Especially on the ground floor.” I lowered my head, taking small sips of the juice. The sweetness spread from my mouth to my heart, and for a moment, I didn’t want to think about Sherry’s messages at all. Leo was still talking. “Especially tonight. Don’t open the door for anyone. Especially not for Sherry.” “Who?” I asked, sure I had misheard. At that exact moment, the chandelier flickered violently. And then went out. In the suffocating darkness, I could feel three wooden faces turn toward me. Three voices spoke in unison. “Don’t let Sherry in.” 3 “What happened to the lights? Another power outage in the neighborhood?” my father grumbled, getting up to check the fuse box. The sudden darkness sent a shiver down my spine, but their last words were still ringing in my ears. I forced myself to ask, “Sherry? Why would she be at the door? I thought she was… gone.” The dining table fell silent for a moment. Then, my mother began to sob softly again. “She is. But just before she passed… she kept asking why. Why it wasn’t you in the avalanche. Why it wasn’t you who died.” Her words choked off into a sob. Leo sighed heavily. “We’re afraid her resentment might keep her here… she might try to harm you. It’s always better to be safe than sorry. We’ll be careful for now, and then find a good day to have a cleansing ritual performed for her.” I hugged my arms tight, my thoughts a tangled mess. Their explanation sounded plausible. And even though they had always favored Sherry, the concern they were showing me now was something I had only ever dreamed of. Sherry, on the other hand, had been my tormentor from the day I was welcomed—or rather, tolerated—back into this family. She was terrified of losing her parents’ affection, of going from princess to pauper overnight. The ski trip itself had been her idea; she’d specifically chosen the destination after learning I couldn’t ski or climb. Who was I supposed to believe? My father’s footsteps returned, accompanied by a string of curses. “Yep, the power’s out. We pay such high property management fees for what? Not even a backup generator. All they do is hand out candles.” He pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit four white candles. The wicks caught, casting an eerie, greenish glow. Leo’s face changed in an instant. He blew them all out in a single breath. “These candles are wrong! Dad, did the security guard hand these to you himself?” My father looked confused. “No, they were just sitting on the doorstep. If it wasn’t security, then who—?” He stopped mid-sentence. We’d had power outages before, but management had never distributed candles. Four candles. The exact number of people in this house. A shiver traced its way down my spine. Could it be… was Sherry’s ghost really here to torment us? Wait. If Sherry was right and my family’s bodies had been recovered, their names would be on the official list of victims. My phone was broken, but there was a laptop in Sherry’s bedroom. If I could just confirm who died, I could stop scaring myself. “I—I think I’m going to go to bed,” I said, pretending to be frightened as I stood up. “Lock your doors and windows, and don’t wander around. Call for us if you need anything,” my mother said, patting the back of my hand. Her palm was icy cold, the touch so chilling it jolted me. And it cleared my head. Their kindness… it felt too deliberate. Too forced. I could understand a change of heart after losing one daughter, but could it really be this sudden, this complete? I quickly locked myself in Sherry’s room. The laptop, however, hadn’t been used in ages and the battery was dead. I rubbed my throbbing temples. Just my luck. I’d have to wait for the power to come back on. I got up to close the window. The pale moonlight streamed into the room, casting my reflection on the glass. And behind me, standing in the darkest corner of the room, was Sherry. 4 “Ahhh—!” A scream tore from my throat, my mind blank with terror. My legs turned to jelly, refusing to move. I could only watch as Sherry crossed the room in two long strides and clamped a hand over my mouth. Her hand was devoid of any human warmth. Her clothes were soaking wet, as if she had just clawed her way out of an ice-filled crypt. Her eyes, stark white against black pupils, were wide and staring, practically pressed against my face. “Who are the people outside?” Sherry’s voice was flat and wooden, each word forced out. “Why do I hear Mom, Dad, and Leo?” I struggled frantically until she finally loosened her grip. I didn’t know how to answer. If my family’s story was true, and I admitted it was them outside, would Sherry remember she was dead and drag me down with her out of spite? But if I lied, how could I explain it? “Nora. Speak,” Sherry’s tone grew more menacing, her icy fingers tightening around my neck. But what if my parents’ story was the lie? What if Sherry was the real survivor? I had to take a chance. “Are you sure Mom, Dad, and Leo died in the avalanche?” I asked, turning her question back on her. Sherry’s brow furrowed in annoyance, a familiar habit whenever she had to deal with me. “Obviously. The rescue team dug them out themselves and filed the death certificates. How could it be fake?” she snapped. “I sent you the pictures. It’s hard to get a cab when you’re hauling three bodies, and it’s pouring rain out there. That’s why I asked you to pick me up. Were you just ignoring me on purpose?” The words tumbled out of her in a rush, and some color finally returned to her pale face. My heart rate began to slow, but my doubts weren’t completely gone. “If I didn’t pick you up, how did you get back? And why didn’t you use the front door? Why were you hiding in here?” Sherry stared at me, her eyes hollow. The vacant look sent a fresh wave of goosebumps across my skin. “You have the nerve to ask me that? I had to call a hearse from the crematorium to take them first before any taxi would even consider picking me up,” she said. “I got to the front door and heard Mom, Dad, and Leo talking, saying they couldn’t let me in. What kind of sick game are you playing, Nora? They’re dead!” Sherry shoved her phone in my face. The screen showed a call log to a local crematorium and a digital copy of the official victims’ list, with my parents’ and brother’s names clearly written. A crematorium wouldn’t just take bodies without verifying their identities. My mind went completely blank. Her story was just as plausible. But if she was telling the truth, then who were the three people outside? I stammered as I told her how my family had arrived before her, claiming that she was the one who had died in the avalanche. Sherry’s mouth fell open. Before she could speak, a loud, heavy banging echoed from the bedroom door. Knock-knock-knock-knock. Knock-knock-knock-knock. “Nora, was that you screaming? What’s happening in there?” It was my mother’s voice, laced with panic. Sherry’s face darkened instantly. She pressed a finger to her lips. “Don’t make a sound!” “People knock three times,” she whispered, her voice a ghostly breath. “Ghosts knock four.”

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