Category: English

I lost Leo for seven years before we finally got it right. But we only had three years together before stomach cancer took him from me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the year he hated me most. A much younger Leo was spitting venom, breaking my heart all over again. So I grabbed him by the collar of his t-shirt and kissed him. Leo: ? I was defiant. “We broke up. Doesn’t mean I can’t kiss you. Any questions?” 1 “…Let’s just break up, Leah. I’ve had enough.” The icy words pierced through the fog in my head. I snapped my eyes open. The dim yellow streetlight outside his walk-up apartment cast long shadows. Before me was Leo’s face—handsome, sharp, but now covered in a layer of frost. Except, he was a full decade younger. I felt a wave of dizziness. A second ago, I was in a hospital ICU. The Leo in that bed was a skeleton, his body ravaged by disease. He held my hand, using the last of his strength to whisper, “If we could do it all over again… I wouldn’t want to waste those seven years without you.” A tear rolled down my cheek. He took his last breath in my arms. And now— I was back. Back ten years, to the moment he hated me more than anyone in the world. “…From now on, we go our separate ways. I don’t want to see—” I didn’t let him finish. I grabbed the collar of his worn band t-shirt, stood on my toes, and crushed my lips against his. This soft, warm feeling… it had been so long. So different from the chapped, frail, medicine-tinged kisses I remembered. Right now, he was young, alive. Pulsing with a vibrant energy that I ached for. A greedy hunger rose in me, and I bit down, hard. “Hiss—” I broke the skin on his lip. The coppery taste of blood bloomed between us. He flinched, as if jolted from a trance, his pupils constricting in shock. “Are you insane?” He stumbled back a step, the tips of his ears burning red, his voice unsteady. “I said we’re breaking up! Can’t you understand English?” The me from ten years ago would have had her pride shattered. She would have turned and walked away without a word. But I wasn’t her. Because of this stupid, prideful breakup, Leo and I wasted seven years. Seven years he spent burying himself in work and self-destruction, numbing the pain until his body finally gave out, earning him a stage-four stomach cancer diagnosis. It meant that after we finally found our way back to each other, we only had three short years before we were separated by death. This time, I wasn’t letting him go. I licked my lips, savoring the taste of him. I looked up at him and smiled. “We broke up. Doesn’t mean I can’t kiss you. Any questions?” “You—” “You what?” I stepped forward, poking a finger into his tense chest. Suddenly, I felt a little pissed off. The Leo from seven years later would have treated me like a fragile piece of glass, like I was the most precious thing in the world. He wouldn’t be acting like this, all angry and mean, not even letting me kiss him. “Stop pretending,” I said, my finger tracing a path up his chest to his heart. “It hurts right here, doesn’t it? Like you can barely breathe. Admit it, Leo. You don’t want to break up with me any more than I do.” He froze for a second, then his face hardened again. “Who said that? Leah, don’t be so full of yourself.” “You did,” I said, my gaze locked on his. “See, the thing is, I’m from ten years in the future. And in that future, you regret this exact moment so much you come crawling back, begging me to take you back.” “That’s impossible!” he shot back, his voice a low, urgent whisper. “Leah, we’re at the end of the line. Is there any point in making up ridiculous stories like that just to lie to yourself?” Ugh. He was so stubborn. Not like the future him, who would curl up in my arms like a big, contented dog if I so much as crooked my finger. But still. After everything we went through, I knew exactly what was going on in that head of his. No matter how harsh his words were, I wasn’t scared. “Leo, I’m going to ask you one more time. Why are you breaking up with me?” He looked away, his tone clipped. “I told you. I’m tired of it. I’m bored. It’s just not working anymore.” “Liar.” I smiled, my thumb gently dabbing the corner of his lip where I’d bitten him. His face flushed, and he grabbed my wrist. “Just talk. Stop touching me!” “We’re breaking up. Shouldn’t I get in a few last touches while I can?” “…” He went silent, but he didn’t fight me anymore. The grip on my wrist loosened just a little. I took my chance, tracing a line on the inside of his warm palm. I felt his whole body tense up again, and I continued, satisfied. “You think you’re so good at hiding things, Leo? You’re doing this because you saw my father a couple of days ago, aren’t you?” Leo’s head snapped up. His eyes were wide with disbelief. “You… you knew?” I nodded, meeting his gaze calmly. “I don’t just know that. I also know you plan on destroying my father’s company to get revenge for your dad.” His pupils shrank. It was the raw, naked shock of someone whose deepest secret has just been ripped open for the world to see. I raised my hand, ignoring his rigid posture. My fingertips greedily traced his tense jawline, feeling the strong, youthful pulse beneath his skin. “It’s okay, Leo. Ruin it. “I’ll help you.” 2 Last time, when Leo forced this breakup on me, I had no idea why. I just assumed he’d fallen out of love with me. I had my pride. He said it was over, so I walked away. But I could never figure it out. The boy who once treated me like I was the center of his universe… How did he turn into this cold stranger overnight? After two weeks of agony, I couldn’t take it anymore and went to find him. That’s when I discovered he’d already left the country. Without so much as a goodbye. It wasn’t until we got back together seven years later that Leo finally told me the truth. That year, his father was betrayed by a business partner, left with crushing debt, and jumped from the roof of his office building. His mother couldn’t handle the grief and followed him soon after. Overnight, his family was destroyed, and he was an orphan. And that business partner who ruined his father… Was my father. Leo didn’t know at first. It wasn’t until our college graduation day, when he saw my dad show up to celebrate with me, that the world came crashing down on him. He hated my father with every fiber of his being. And by extension, he started to hate me, too. Pushing me away was the only choice he thought he had. … The tide of memories receded. I looked up at the shocked, lost boy in front of me. “Since you know everything…” his voice was hoarse, like he was forcing the words out. “You should understand what’s between us. It’s a blood feud, Leah. We… we can’t.” Every word was a struggle. He was sentencing both of us to death. “Logically, you’re right,” I nodded. But in the next second, I stepped closer, tilting my head up, my gaze stubbornly fixed on his. “But Leo… “Can you really, truly stop yourself from loving me?” His breath hitched. He didn’t speak. His eyes just darted back and forth, like I’d exposed his most private, shameful secret, and he looked away, flustered. “I’ve said what I needed to say. We shouldn’t see each other again.” He dropped those words and turned to leave. I didn’t try to stop him. I just followed him, strolling casually behind. Leo’s back stiffened. He turned around, frowning. “Why are you still following me?” “I still have stuff at your place,” I said with a breezy smile. “No matter what, you have to let me come up and get my things, right?” We had just graduated. This was a new apartment he’d just rented. Truthfully, I lived at home, so I didn’t really have anything here. It was just an excuse. Leo obviously knew it. His jaw tightened, his posture defensive, almost wary. “What stuff? Tell me, I’ll get it for you.” “You?” I raised an eyebrow, dragging out the word. “You’re so clumsy. What if you break something? I need to get it myself.” He glared at me, his chest rising and falling. In the end, he lost the battle, silently letting me follow him up the stairs. However. The moment the door opened, I didn’t say a word. I just took a running leap. And landed, spread-eagled, on his big bed. “Weren’t you going to pack your things?” Leo’s voice was tight with suppressed anger. I rolled over, grinning at him. “I am. “I’m planning on packing up all my stuff and moving in with you.” The color drained from Leo’s face. 3 “Leah!” His face was beet red. “We’ve already broken up! Is it appropriate for you to live here?” “Why not?” I arched an eyebrow. “If I don’t keep an eye on you, you’ll be on a plane out of the country within a month.” His eyes widened. “How… how did you know that?” “I told you, I’m from the future. You don’t believe me?” He turned his head, stubborn. “It’s not hard to figure out. The company I just started at is taking applications for overseas posts. Anyone could find that out if they asked around.” “Oh?” I smiled, slowly sitting up and inching towards him. “Well, I also know that you have a tiny red mole right where your V-line ends, in a very… private spot. “Can you find that out by asking around?” Leo was stunned. His face went from red to crimson, all the way to his ears. For the four years we were in college, our relationship was the definition of innocent. We’d never crossed that line. We’d planned to get a place after graduation, maybe unlock some new, more exciting… positions. But we broke up before we got the chance. In the future, though, after we got back together, we explored every inch of each other’s bodies. I knew him better than he knew himself. I teased him. “Oh? Is there no mole?” As I spoke, my fingers hooked onto the waistband of his jeans, just under his t-shirt. And gave them a little tug. Leo’s breathing immediately grew heavier. His body went rigid with a mixture of defensiveness and resistance, but he didn’t push me away. That conflict—wanting to say no but being physically unable to—made his whole body tense. “When… when did you see that?” he asked, his voice raspy. “You’re my man. Can’t I look?” My fingertips grazed his skin. “I didn’t just look. I also know where you’re sensitive.” My hand moved with expert precision to that ticklish spot on his side, and I gave a gentle pinch. “Ngh…” A shudder ran through him, a low, suppressed groan escaping his throat. The twenty-two-year-old Leo was so much more innocent than the thirty-year-old version. He stood no chance against this kind of teasing. The memories of those three years of intimacy made me an expert on his reactions. In a few practiced moves, I had his shirt off. I missed him so much. I missed this healthy, vibrant body, full of life. The memories of our passion, of our tangled limbs and shared heat, felt so far away. “Don’t, we can’t…” He seemed to regain a sliver of rationality, trying to resist. I pinned his struggling hands, my breath hot against his ear. “Leo, you want me too, don’t you? “Otherwise, why didn’t you stop me just now? “With your strength, you could push me away in a heartbeat. “You… you were enjoying it too much to stop, weren’t you?” That last question was the final straw. Leo’s defenses, torn between love and hate, came crashing down. He covered his face. Tears started streaming from his eyes without warning. His voice was filled with helpless despair. “Leah, why are you doing this to me? I can’t get over what happened. I can’t love you… “It took… it took everything I had to say those words to you… that was all the strength I had left. “If you do this… what am I supposed to do?” Seeing his breakdown, my own frantic desire cooled instantly. Right. I couldn’t demand that this version of Leo—the one being torn apart by love and hate—be the same as the one whose wounds had been softened by seven years of time. Pushing him like this would only cause him more pain. “Okay, you’re right. I was lying.” I let him go, my thumb gently wiping away his tears, my voice softening. “The truth is, in the future, you didn’t come back because you loved me. You came back because you hated me.” “You hated me so much… you locked me up. Made me your plaything.” “You’d hit me with your belt, lock my hands in cuffs, torture me in every way you could think of until I was begging for death.” “You didn’t choose to love me. You chose to get revenge. To unleash all your hate on me.” I sighed, trying to give him an excuse, a way to lessen his guilt. “Does that make it easier for you to stop torturing yourself?” Leo’s crying stopped. He stared at me with red-rimmed eyes, as if trying to process what I’d just said. I sighed again, not wanting to force him anymore. I was about to get up. But he suddenly grabbed my wrist. The world spun, and he had me pinned beneath him again. Our breaths mingled, hot and heavy. His eyes were a storm of hate and desire, threatening to swallow me whole. “Leah, Leah…” he gritted out my name, his voice raw. “I fucking… hate you so much.” He pulled his belt from his jeans. Gently, with a slight tremor, he slapped it against the side of my thigh. That familiar, thrilling sensation sent shivers of pleasure straight to my scalp. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my gaze locking with his. “You can… go harder.” But Leo looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. He pressed my face into the pillow. “Don’t look at me like that!” His voice was low and savage. “This is punishment!” My heart felt like it was about to beat out of my chest. The thirty-year-old Leo loved this position. The younger version had no technique, all clumsy and awkward. But he had a reckless, untamed energy. He was like a wild animal that had lost control, crashing into me again and again. There were no kisses, only bites. No words of love, only ragged breaths. It was as if he was trying to pour all his suppressed love and hate into my body. Until finally, everything fell silent. Leaving only the sound of our pounding hearts and damp, heavy breathing. He was still on top of me, refusing to move away. Refusing to even look at me. As if that would be enough to maintain his last shred of self-deception. 4 The room was a mess. I lay there, completely satisfied, savoring the feeling of having him back. Beside me, however, Leo was tossing and turning like a pancake on a griddle, unable to sleep. After a long while, he asked me, his voice muffled from behind. “Why are you… so good at this? “Where did you learn all these tricks?” I smiled. In our past life, Leo and I had gotten pretty creative. It was easy to give this inexperienced version of him a little shock. I turned over and stole a quick kiss. “The future you was a very good teacher. “If you want to learn, I can teach you. Slowly.” “No,” he said, his face cold as he turned away. “I’m just using you. Humiliating you. This isn’t about pleasure.” I wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince me or himself. It was so ridiculous I almost laughed out loud. I suppressed a smile and wrapped my arms around his warm, firm waist from behind. “Mmm, you’re right. Next time… please, feel free to use me even more.” His body tensed. He grabbed my arms to stop me from hugging him tighter. “Don’t hold me. We’re not in that kind of relationship anymore.” I decided to play along. “But in the future, as part of my punishment, you made me sleep like this every night.” “You said my body would press against my hands and I wouldn’t be able to sleep well, that it was a good way to torture me with insomnia.” His resisting hands slowly went limp. I smiled and hugged him tighter. This time, he didn’t fight back. And for the first time in a long time, I could finally get a good night’s sleep. During the final days of his cancer, I lived in constant fear of losing him. I hadn’t had a peaceful night’s sleep in what felt like an eternity. But now, holding his hot, powerful body, I finally felt safe. For the first time in ages, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. …Well, not entirely dreamless. I saw the Leo from my past life again. He had just been diagnosed. He held the report, tried to smile at me, but his eyes were already red. “If I’d known, I never would have come back to find you. I wouldn’t have dragged you into this suffering with me…” He stroked my face. “If I go… I can’t leave you alone. I’m worried…” “Then don’t go!” I clung to his hand, my tears falling onto his skin. “Leo, we’ll fight this. We’ll be okay, I know we will…” But it was too late. In the seven years we were apart, he had destroyed his body with work and alcohol. The damage was done. By the time we found it, there was nothing to do. In just six months, he was gone. So this time, I won’t make the same mistake. He couldn’t bear to leave me, so I won’t listen to his proud, stubborn words. Even if it’s through “hate.” I will stay by his side. Watch over him, protect him. Make sure he has three warm meals a day. Make sure he lives a long, long life.

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1 The wedding rehearsal was in full swing when my fiancée, Ava, suddenly gagged and covered her mouth. Her adopted brother, Alan, his face a mask of panic, swept her into his arms and rushed her to the hospital. Half an hour later, my phone rang. “I’m pregnant.” Joy surged through me, but her next words were delivered with a terrifying calm. “It’s Alan’s… He’d just been dumped that night, shivering from the cold rain. I was just trying to keep him warm, I swear, I never thought…” “We have to keep this from Mom and Dad. He’ll move in to take care of me, and we’ll figure it out after the baby is born.” “Postpone the wedding for a year. You handle the guests, make the apologies.” My throat tightened, a knot of concrete lodging itself there. I couldn’t force out a single word. She continued, her voice devoid of emotion, “And you need to quit your job. Right now. I can’t risk any stress these next few months, and Alan’s career is taking off. He can’t be distracted.” A laugh, sharp and bitter, escaped my lips. “Alright then.” She hung up, seemingly satisfied. But what she didn’t know was the bet I’d made with someone else. If I wasn’t married by thirty, I’d marry her. And today, of all days, was my thirtieth birthday. … Perhaps my calm was too unnatural. Three seconds after she hung up, Ava called back. “Richard, I’m sorry. I know this is my fault. But you have to believe me, I only see him as a brother. The baby was a complete accident.” I let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “Right. Such deep brotherly love. Keeping each other warm right into bed. How touching.” The line went silent for a beat, then she sighed, a sound heavy with manufactured weariness. “I understand if you’re angry. Yell at me, hit me, I don’t care. But Alan’s an orphan. Even though Mom and Dad adopted him and treat him like their own son, the family would never accept this. They’d throw him out on the street.” “So, I need you to claim the baby as yours. It’s perfect, actually. You’ll be home from your job, so no one will ever suspect it isn’t yours.” I tilted my head back, forcing the heat from my eyes. My voice was a dry rasp. “Ava… let’s just not get married.” “Not get married?” A few seconds of stunned silence, then her voice exploded in my ear. “Richard, are you kidding me?! You’re the one who’s been begging me to set a date for months, going on about how we’ve been together for five years!” “Everyone in our circle knows you’re my fiancé! Do you think marriage is some kind of game? When did you become so childish, Richard?” I could picture her perfectly, brows furrowed in that familiar, condescending way. Her next words were a threat, just as I expected. “Listen to me, Mr. Reid, I’m only going to ask you this once. Are you really calling off this wedding?!” My fingers clenched around my phone, the plastic groaning in protest. A bitter smile touched my lips. “Yeah. I’m done with you, Ava.” She scoffed. “I don’t have time for your little tantrums. Do whatever you want.” The line went dead. I stood alone in the center of the grand ballroom, under the weight of a hundred shocked stares. With a single, sharp tug, I ripped the boutonnière from my lapel and ran. Ava’s parents moved to block my path, her father striking first. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Richard? Just because her brother took her to the hospital, you’re going to ruin this wedding? Make the Sterlings a laughingstock in front of hundreds of guests?” Ava’s mother added with a disdainful sniff, “I always said you weren’t right for her. The Sterlings have a legacy, a name that means something. The Reids? You’re just new money. It was never a match.” “But my daughter insisted, so what could I do? And now look at the mess you’ve made!” Her father sneered. “Fine! Call it off! Better now than later, before that temper of yours tarnishes the Sterling name for good.” The fault was entirely Ava’s, yet here they were, painting me as the villain. I clutched the crushed flower in my fist, my fingertips trembling. “It was your daughter who canceled the wedding. As for the reason… you should ask her. It’s too humiliating for me to say.” Hearing it was Ava’s decision only made them bolder. “Even if she did, you’re the groom! You don’t just run off without a word! You should be on that stage, apologizing to our guests!” “What did your parents teach you? You have no grasp of basic decency. How could you ever be a son-in-law to this family?” I took a deep, steadying breath. “I’m not marrying Ava. Now, if you’ll excuse me, please get out of my way.” “You!” Their faces contorted with shock, clearly unprepared for such defiance from the normally placid man they knew. I didn’t spare them another glance, striding past them toward the dressing room. “You ill-mannered brat!” Ava’s mother shrieked at my back. Someone was already waiting for me inside. The couture gown she wore hugged her flawless figure perfectly. As she turned, the light caught the soft curve of her cheek, but the dark circles under her eyes told a story of sleepless nights. She saw me and glided forward, that familiar, sweet smile playing on her lips. I looked away. “I thought a certain someone swore they’d never set foot at my wedding.” She leaned in close, her warm breath ghosting over my ear. In that instant, our eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, I saw the stubborn girl from ten years ago. “Richard Reid, a bet’s a bet.” I pressed my lips together, silent. Panic flashed in her eyes. “You didn’t forget, did you?!” “I don’t care! We’re getting married in three days. If you don’t show up…” She paused, taking a breath as if steeling herself. “I’ll show up at your house and drag you to the courthouse myself!” Before I could refuse, she spun around and darted out of the room. A real laugh, genuine this time, bubbled up from my chest. That idiot. Of course, I remembered the bet. Our families had been friends forever. We grew up together, too close to ever be lovers. Ten years ago, she confessed her feelings, and I told her we were better off as friends. The look of hurt on her face had prompted her to make a wild bet. I never thought I’d lose. I had just changed out of my tuxedo when a picture from Ava landed on my phone. A mountain of my belongings was piled up on the curb in front of our villa, dumped like trash. But it was the wedding quilt my mother had handmade that stabbed me in the heart. My mom, who had never touched a needle in her life, had spent three months hunched over it, her fingers dotted with pinpricks of blood. The intricate patterns of intertwined swans, embroidered in vibrant silk, were now sullied, screaming at me from inside a cheap, clear plastic bag. 「Come get your junk. Now.」 「If you don’t, I’m having the housekeeper trash it.」 I stared at the screen, a chill seeping into my fingertips. She knew exactly how to twist the knife. I could leave everything else, but not that quilt. 「Fine. I’m on my way.」 The night before the wedding, Mom had pressed it into my hands, her eyes shining. “Be happy for a lifetime, my son.” But when I arrived, the curb was empty. It had only been half an hour. I told her I was coming. Was she that desperate to be rid of me? Rage ignited in my gut. I shoved the front door open and stormed inside. The scene before me plunged me into an icy abyss. Ava was perched on the edge of the dining table while Alan knelt before her. His hands were on her waist, his cheek pressed against her swollen belly, a look of tender adoration on his face that was like a physical blow. “Ava,” Alan murmured, his voice soft. “The baby just kicked me.” A smile I’d never seen before graced Ava’s lips, a look so soft it could turn to water. “So feisty. Just like you were as a boy. I hope he gets your eyes.” Alan’s lips curved in a gentle smile. Ava leaned down and brushed a kiss across his mouth, her tone suddenly laced with guilt. “Are you sure you want to leave after the baby is born? You could… you could stay. To help me with him. A child needs his real father.” Alan pressed a finger to her lips, shaking his head. “Ava, if I stay, what about Richard?” At the mention of my name, Ava flinched, her expression darkening. “Him? This ‘breakup’ is just a tantrum. Once the baby’s here, he’ll come crawling back, begging to help. He comes from a family of sharks. All they see is the bottom line. Where’s the dignity in that?” “Have you forgotten how he chased after me? The way he groveled? It makes me sick just thinking about it.” Silent tears tracked down my cheeks. My brave confession, the one that had taken all my courage, had disgusted her for all these years. The Sterlings were the most prestigious family in the city’s art scene, and Ava was its youngest star, a master of modern art. Five years ago, she came to my father with a portfolio, seeking investors for the new Sterling Arts Foundation. Dad was utterly charmed and introduced us. It was love at first sight for me. I shamelessly begged her to teach me how to paint. She’d pointed a brush at me, exasperated. “You’re hopeless! Zero talent!” I just grinned. “Then be my girlfriend. We’ll complement each other.” Her eyes flickered to Alan, who was sketching quietly nearby. She suddenly grabbed my hand, a self-mocking smile on her face. “Fine.” Overjoyed, I’d pulled her into a hug, completely missing Alan storming out of the room or the way her body went rigid in my arms. Only now did I understand. Her heart had always belonged to Alan. No wonder she never taught me to paint again, never even let me into her studio. A bitter taste filled my mouth. I was about to turn and leave, but I couldn’t forget my mother’s quilt. “Richard!” Ava’s head snapped up, a mocking smirk playing on her lips. “What are you doing, lurking in the doorway like a creep? I threw your things out. Having second thoughts already?” I dug my nails into my palm. “The quilt. Give it back.” She blinked, her expression turning colder. “Some old blanket? What would I want with that?” “My mother made it,” I said, my voice starting to shake. “Give it back, and I’ll leave.” Seeing the tears welling in my eyes, she frowned. “You’re crying? Are you insane? Over a stupid blanket?” “YES!” I roared, the tears finally breaking free. Ava ran a hand through her hair, frustrated. She opened her mouth to say something, but Alan spoke first, a sudden realization dawning on his face. “Richard, please don’t yell at Ava. I had the maid put your things in the guest room.” As he spoke, he gently caressed her stomach, his own eyes reddening. “Richard, can’t you stay? If it’s because of the baby… I can… I can ask Ava to get rid of it. His existence was a mistake. Neither of you wants him…” His voice broke, and he dissolved into racking sobs. “DON’T YOU DARE!” Ava’s voice was a raw, uncontrolled shriek. She collapsed into Alan’s arms, glaring at me with pure venom. “He can leave, but he is not touching my child! You and this baby are all I have now!” “Richard, if that’s why you came, then get the hell out of my house!” I let out a cold laugh and stalked toward the guest room. The quilt was tossed on the floor, stained with grime and dotted with cigarette burns. The beautiful embroidered swans were now a filthy, unrecognizable mess. My finger trembled as I pointed at it. “Alan. Explain.” He shrank back timidly. “I-I didn’t mean to. I thought it was just… trash.” He bent to pick it up. “Don’t be angry, Richard. I’ll wash it for you.” But before he could touch it, Ava lunged, shoving me with all her might. I stumbled backward, my head cracking against the sharp corner of the bedframe. A starburst of pain exploded behind my eyes, followed by the warm trickle of blood down my temple. “Don’t touch it, Alan! Don’t dirty your hands!” I didn’t make a sound, just looked at Ava, a ghost of a smile on my face. I needed to see, once and for all, if she had a heart. She stood with her arm around Alan, her eyes filled with an all-consuming loathing. “How much? I’ll pay you for it! I’m begging you, just stop. Stop torturing me and my brother with this insignificant piece of cloth. Does it make you feel powerful?” A gaping hole opened in my chest. She’d always been distant, but she had never looked at me with such hate. She must despise me now. Suddenly, none of it mattered anymore. Why was I still here, just to be an object of her disgust? I gave up. The quilt was ruined. I didn’t want it anymore. And this ruined woman… I didn’t want her either. I pushed myself to my feet. “Ava, I don’t need your money.” As I turned to leave, she grabbed my arm, a flicker of something like regret in her eyes. “You’re upset today. Go back to your parents’ place for a few days to cool off. I’ll come get you in three days.” I shook her hand off and walked out of the house that was never truly my home. … Back at my parents’ house, I explained the whole sordid affair. My mother let out a long sigh of relief. “Son, I’m thanking my lucky stars! What if you’d only found this out after you were married? What would you have done?” “And the Sterlings have the nerve to look down on us for being business people, for having the ‘stench of money.’ Look at the shameless filth their ‘cultured’ family produced!” My father sighed. “Let’s not talk about it. It’s hard enough on Richard as it is. I’ve already told my assistant to pull all our funding from the Sterling Arts Foundation. The Reids are done with the Sterlings.” I was about to bring up Chloe when my mother suddenly said, “Oh, that’s right. Chloe stopped by today. She even brought her dowry.” She pulled a velvet box from a drawer. “That girl certainly doesn’t waste any time.” Inside was a pair of antique jade pendants, a family heirloom. It was then that it truly hit me. Chloe was serious about the wedding in three days. Later that night, a message from Alan popped up on my phone. 「Richard, please come back.」 「I’ll move out. I’ll convince Ava to end the pregnancy.」 「You two have been together for five years. You can’t let me ruin that. I’d feel guilty for the rest of my life.」 I stared at the screen and scoffed. If he wanted to play games, he could play them with his sister. I typed back two words: 「Do you.」 Then, I blocked his number. With that done, I leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window, a hollow feeling echoing in my chest. My phone buzzed again. A video call from Chloe. “Richard,” she said, her eyes sparkling on the screen. “Make a heart with your hands for me.” I blinked. “Why all of a sudden…” A heart? How corny. “I don’t care,” she pouted, leaning closer to the camera. “Do it now.” Her childish expression made me smile. I quickly flashed a heart sign, feeling goosebumps rise on my own skin. She immediately clutched her chest and closed her eyes in an exaggerated swoon. When she opened them again, she winked. My heart skipped a beat. “Look outside. A gift in return.” She smiled, and the call ended. Suddenly, the night sky outside my window erupted in light. Hundreds of drones formed a twinkling heart, which then morphed into a line of text: 「HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RICHARD」 Tears blurred my vision. With all the drama today, I’d completely forgotten my own birthday. But she remembered. It was a little cheesy, but her sincerity was real, and I loved it. Ava, on the other hand… every year for my birthday, she’d simply write “Happy Birthday” in her elegant script. She never even signed my name. “My art has collectible value,” she would always explain. “If I put your name on it, its value decreases.” This year, she’d just said, “I’m too busy with the wedding. No time.” But this “busy” wedding planning? I was the one who visited twenty different bridal shops to find her dress. I was the one who compared over thirty quotes from different venues. I was the one who stayed up all night handwriting three hundred invitations. The only thing she participated in was a five-minute fitting for her main gown, and she spent the entire time checking her watch. The signs were all there. She never loved me. A sharp pain seized my heart, and I blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears. I’d cried enough today. On my birthday, at least, I could afford myself a little dignity. The buzz of my phone woke me from a deep sleep. I groggily answered it. Ava’s voice, raw with panic, screamed through the speaker. “Richard, get to the hospital right now! Something’s happened to Alan!” I shot up in bed, instantly awake. Were his texts for real? Without even changing, I bolted out the door in my pajamas and slippers. When I burst into the hospital room, I found Alan propped up comfortably against the pillows while Ava tenderly peeled an apple for him. They looked like a picture of domestic bliss, while I stood there, one slipper half-off, looking like a complete fool. The moment she saw me, Ava flew into a rage, grabbing my arm and dragging me to the bedside. “Kneel for my brother!” I stared at her, utterly bewildered. Before I could process her words, a brutal kick landed on the back of my knee. My kneecap slammed into the hard linoleum floor, a searing pain shooting up my leg, paralyzing me. “Ava! Are you crazy?” I glared up at her. Her eyes were burning with a terrifying fury. “He slit his wrist! He almost died! Don’t you dare call me crazy, right now I want to kill you!” Right on cue, Alan began to sob. “Ava, I sent Richard a message to apologize, and he blocked me. He must hate me so much… He never wants to see me again. What’s the point of me even living…” As much as I despised him, I didn’t want a death on my conscience. I quickly scanned him. On his wrist was a thin, half-centimeter scratch, already scabbed over with antiseptic. This was his suicide attempt? A wave of bleak despair washed over me. I twisted my lips into a grimace. “Ava, if I’d come tomorrow, would the wound have healed completely?” She exploded. “Richard! How can you be so cruel? If I hadn’t found him in time… Do you have any idea what happens when someone loses that much blood?” Love really is blind. A tiny scratch had sent her into a panic, yet she was completely oblivious to the blood matting the hair on my own forehead. She must love him to death. My heart felt like it was sinking, weighed down by a stone. I gritted my teeth and said nothing. My silence seemed to enrage her further. She shoved the fruit knife at me, her voice dripping with venom. “Since you think it’s no big deal, then give yourself the same cut. See how it feels. You owe my brother that!” I stared at her in disbelief. This was the woman I had loved unconditionally for five years. In that single moment, my heart turned to ice. Fine. One cut. Then my debt to her would be paid. Lowering my eyes to hide the tears, I picked up the knife and drew it lightly across my wrist. Alan let out a theatrical gasp. I struggled to my feet and held my arm out for Ava to see. “Is this enough?” Blood dripped steadily onto the floor. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she shot my arm a look of disgust before turning to comfort the “traumatized” Alan, muttering under her breath. “Who told you to cut so deep? You’re hopelessly stupid.” I laughed without a sound and stumbled toward the door. Her voice followed me, cold and commanding. “Richard, you stay at your parents’ house and think about what you’ve done! I’ll come get you in three days.” I laughed so hard the tears finally fell. Ava, we are never, ever seeing each other again.

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In the third year of my hopeless crush on Julian Hayes, he got “truth” in a game of Truth or Dare. Someone asked him his type. “Smart,” he said. My grades were good, so naturally, my name came up. He tightened his grip on his red Solo cup and scoffed. “I’d have to be certifiably insane to like her.” I froze in the doorway, then quietly turned around. I walked home in the pouring rain and spiked a high fever. When I woke up, I was in a place I didn’t recognize. Standing by the bed were two adorable twin boys, their eyes wide and blinking as they stared at me nervously. I sat up, wary. “Who… who are you?” “That’s enough!” A familiar figure strode in from the hallway. “You can pull this crap with me, but now you’re going to pretend you don’t know your own sons?” I stared at Julian Hayes, dressed in a sharp business suit, my mind a complete blank. 1 I just graduated high school. How could I possibly have sons? “A nightmare. This has to be a nightmare,” I muttered. Under the baffled gazes of one adult and two small children, I lay back down and tried to will myself back to my own reality. “Clara, what’s the game now?” Julian’s voice was tight with anger as he hauled me out of bed. I rubbed my wrist where his grip had been too tight. “This jerk,” I mumbled to myself. “Bad enough he’s got a mean streak, but he’s not even a gentleman in my dreams.” The pain felt surprisingly real, though. This didn’t feel like a dream. After a moment of hesitation, I reached out a trembling hand and poked Julian’s stoic face. It was warm. The texture of his skin felt real. My eyes darted around the room again, finally landing on a large, framed wedding photo on the wall. It was him and me. My heart hammering, I fumbled for the phone on the nightstand and checked the date. My brain short-circuited. Overnight, I had somehow jumped eight years into the future. And I was married to Julian Hayes. “What are you doing with the suitcases? Running away again?” The man’s cold voice pulled me back to the present. I followed his gaze. Two large suitcases were packed and standing neatly by the door. This wasn’t just running away; this looked like moving out. My eyes met his, and the sheer pressure in his stare made me flinch. “Why are you looking at me? I didn’t do this,” I said in a small voice. “I…” “Can you just stop for one second?” he cut me off, but his tone had softened, laced with a deep exhaustion. After a few seconds of silence, I tugged on his sleeve. “If I told you I’m from eight years in the past,” I asked tentatively, “would you believe me?” “Clara, that’s enough,” Julian growled. His eyes were burning with anger, a vein throbbing at his temple. I let go of his sleeve and pouted. “Fine, don’t believe me. You don’t have to yell.” The standoff was broken by his phone ringing. He shot me one last glare before stepping into the hall to take the call. When he came back, he grabbed a set of car keys from the dresser. “Something came up at the office. I have to go.” He walked to the door, then paused and looked back, his expression complicated. “Pretend you have amnesia, hate me, do whatever you want. But the boys are innocent. It’ll crush them if you won’t even acknowledge them.” 2 I didn’t know if his sons would be crushed, but I knew I would be if I couldn’t get back. I tried everything I could think of. Nothing worked. Frustrated, I heard a rustling sound from under the dining table. I looked over and caught a glimpse of two chubby little cheeks. Sensing my gaze, they turned. Two pairs of big, grape-like eyes lit up as they looked at me, full of shyness. I forced a weak smile. “Playing hide-and-seek?” I asked. “Don’t mind me, you guys carry on.” I had just turned to leave when one of the little guys scrambled out from under the table and blocked my path. He twisted his little hands together and looked at the floor. “Is Mommy going to leave us again?” he whispered. The word “Mommy” hit me like a ton of bricks. I quickly knelt and covered his mouth. “You can’t call me that, sweetie. Call me… Clara.” A child’s emotions are impossible to hide. He blinked, confused for a second, then his little mouth crumpled, and he burst into tears. “But you *are* Mommy!” he wailed, trying to bury his face in my shirt. No amount of shushing could calm him down. As his cries grew louder, I started patting his back gently. “Okay, okay, fine. You can call me whatever you want.” The crying stopped instantly. His little shoulders hitched as he sniffled, his eyes as red as a rabbit’s. “And Mommy can’t leave,” he mumbled. I figured I’d humor him for now. “Okay,” I agreed. But that wasn’t enough. He pointed to his cheek, his head still bowed. “And… a kiss,” he whispered. He looked so much like a miniature Julian. I wanted to say no, but he started whimpering again. For the sake of peace and quiet, I closed my eyes and quickly pecked his cheek. He touched his face, and his stormy expression immediately cleared. “Mommy’s not leaving!” he cheered. “Mommy kissed me!” As I stood up, I felt a tug on my shirt. “Hmph!” Oh, right. There was another one. I looked down and gently stroked his puffed-out cheek. “Hm? What’s wrong?” His little face was a mask of stoicism. He pointed at his twin, who was now happily running in circles. Then he hooked one of my fingers with his own and gave it a tiny shake. He tilted his head back. “…Kiss!” This one seemed more serious, probably harder to please. I knelt again and gave him a quick kiss too. “Is that better?” He stared at me blankly for a second, then a tiny, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips, and he nodded. He wrapped his arms around my neck and whispered in my ear, “Love… Mommy.” Then he turned bright red and ran off. Honestly, these two little guys were way more likable than their father. I kind of wanted to take them with me and let Julian die alone. 3 After a busy afternoon of trying and failing to get back to my own time, I decided to go outside and see if I could find any clues. I changed my clothes and came out of the bedroom, only to stop short. The two little boys were dressed in pajamas, sitting side-by-side on the sofa, each holding a storybook, looking like they were waiting for something. I wanted to ask, but I realized I didn’t know their names. “The one on the left is Caleb, and on the right is Cody,” the nanny whispered to me as she passed by. “Caleb has autism, and Cody… well, he’s not as carefree as other kids his age.” “Daddy always comes home to read us a story, no matter how busy he is,” Cody explained, carefully placing his book in my hands. “Mr. Hayes has it tough,” the nanny started to say. “After putting the boys to bed, he still has to…” She caught my eye and trailed off. I glanced back at the sofa. Their little heads were drooping with disappointment. Clearly, Julian was late today. I clenched my fists and forced myself to walk to the door. I paused. Took a deep breath. And walked back. I knelt and stroked their faces. “How about I read to you guys tonight?” 4 Two drooping heads shot up, their round eyes shining like stars. They nodded excitedly. They scrambled into bed, pulled the covers up themselves, and obediently closed their eyes. They begged me to read story after story. I was getting sleepy, but they seemed to be getting more and more awake. My eyelids started to feel heavy. The words on the page blurred. My brain started to malfunction. After nonsensically narrating how “the Big Bad Wolf and the three little pigs all went to college together,” I couldn’t fight it anymore and passed out. … In a groggy haze, I felt myself being lifted. Thinking it was just a sleep twitch, I subconsciously rolled over, burying my face into something warm and comfortable. Then I smelled a familiar, clean scent. My mind went blank for a second, then snapped into focus. I opened my eyes and found myself looking up into a pair of dark, smiling ones. Julian. The heat from his hand was seeping through the thin fabric of my shirt, right at the small of my back. I yelped as if electrocuted and scrambled out of his arms. “Who said you could hold me?” I demanded. His suit jacket was gone, leaving him in just a dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, the top two buttons undone, revealing a hint of his collarbone. He looked tired, but his features were sharper, more mature than the boy I remembered from eight years ago. “Then who should?” Julian’s smile vanished. He shoved his hands in his pockets and sneered. “Leo?” That night at the party, after Julian had so cruelly dismissed the idea of liking me, I had run into Leo, our class president, as I was leaving. He’d confessed his feelings for me, his face beet red. Just then, some other friends came out, overheard, and dragged us back inside, teasingly demanding he say it again for everyone. So he wouldn’t be embarrassed, I’d tentatively agreed to go on a date with him. … My failure to deny it back then was, in Julian’s eyes, a confirmation. He grabbed my chin, his gaze dark, his voice turning colder. “You’d better not forget who you are.” I slapped his hand away and laughed coldly. “Who I am? Do I have an identity here? Did I ever have a choice?” I shot back. “Julian, I never did anything to you. If you hate me so much, why did you marry me?” 5 The air went still. Julian frowned. “What are you even talking about? Who said I hate you? I…” “Daddy~” Cody emerged from the bedroom, rubbing his sleepy eyes. He glanced nervously at me, then at Julian. “Are you and Mommy fighting?” Our eyes met. In a flash, Julian’s arm snaked around my waist, pulling me against him. He instantly switched into doting-husband-and-father mode. “Of course not,” he said smoothly. “Mommy and Daddy always get along. Your mom has a big debate at work tomorrow, and we were just practicing.” Cody tilted his head, thinking. Then he shook it. “Liar. If you got along, why does Mommy always try to run away?” “That’s nonsense. She’s not running away.” Julian shot me a wounded look. “Your mommy just likes playing hide-and-seek, just like you guys.” His hand on my waist tightened. “Right, honey?” I looked away, refusing to answer. But my eyes accidentally met Caleb’s. He was staring at us, his brow furrowed, picking at his fingers so hard they were turning red. He was on the verge of an episode. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and forced a smile. “That’s right. Your dad is right.” I watched as Caleb stopped picking at his hands, his brow slowly smoothing out. I let out a sigh of relief. “I don’t believe you,” Cody said, looking up at us skeptically. “Michael’s parents are always kissing. You guys never do. Unless… unless Mommy kisses Daddy. Then I’ll believe you.” I was completely cornered. Kids these days were too smart. There was no way I could fulfill that request. After a long, awkward silence, I elbowed the man beside me who was pretending to be a statue. “Well? Say something helpful.” Julian glanced at me, then grunted reluctantly. To my complete shock, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. He straightened up and looked at his son matter-of-factly. “There. Now get back to bed. Don’t bother your mom, she’s shy.” 6 I was still in a daze long after the boys had gone back to their room. “I helped,” Julian stated calmly. I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself. “I said, ‘Say something helpful,’ not ‘do something helpful’.” He just shrugged. “What’s the difference? Same result.” Furious, I slapped him across the face. “You took advantage of the situation! You’re shameless!” Before the words were even out, he grabbed my hand, his grip like steel. I struggled, but couldn’t break free. “What?” I said, trying to sound brave. “Am I wrong? Let go of me.” Our eyes locked. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Can you… say more?” he asked, his voice strangely quiet. “Yell at me. Hit me again. Anything.” I just blinked at him. “Are you sick?” Catching him off guard, I yanked my hand free and fled back to my room. 7 The next morning at the breakfast table, Julian was sporting dark circles under his eyes and kept glancing at me. As soon as the boys went to get their backpacks, he spoke, his voice full of complaint. “You have to let me back in the bedroom tonight. I can’t sleep well in the guest room.” I nodded. “Okay. Then I’ll move to the guest room.” His face fell. “Clara, what is that supposed to mean? Are you just taking advantage of the fact that I let you get away with everything?” I met his gaze. “If that’s what you want to call it, I can’t stop you.” His face was thunderous. He didn’t even finish his breakfast before storming out of the dining room. He met the boys coming out of their room and took their hands. He shot me one last cold look. “Come on. Dad’s taking you to school.” Caleb and Cody didn’t move. They both looked at me. “We want Mommy to take us,” Cody said in a small voice. “Mommy… take us,” Caleb echoed. Julian looked like he’d been hit by a truck for the second time that morning. His glare in my direction was even more resentful than before.

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The sky wept sheets of rain on the day my husband decided to play God. He was at the port with Sophia, my petulant stepsister, who had thrown another one of her signature tantrums and run away from home. He, of course, had dutifully followed to coax her back. Standing amidst the storm-lashed shipping containers, Sophia pointed a dramatic finger at a stacked row. A wild idea sparked in her eyes. “Ethan, I dare you,” she said, her voice a childish challenge against the wind. “Like in the movies. Bet you can’t make the car fly over them.” A reckless grin spread across Ethan’s face. Instead of talking sense into her, he floored the accelerator, aiming his BMW for a makeshift ramp of wooden pallets. The tires screeched, lost traction on the rain-slicked wood, and the car slammed sideways into a towering stack of containers that was already groaning under the assault of the wind. The metal giant swayed, then fell. Ethan ignored the small car crushed beneath it. His first and only instinct was to cup Sophia’s face in his hands, his voice a low murmur meant only for her. “Are you scared? God, this weather… It’s okay, Soph. You’re safe.” Only when the car was flattened into a tin pancake, dark liquid seeping out to mix with the rain, did Ethan finally pull out his phone. “Yeah, 911? My wife, Olivia… I think she’s been in an accident.” My brother, Noah, and I had just grabbed lattes when we saw the flashing lights drawing a crowd at the port. Through the downpour, we could see firefighters working frantically, prying at the window of a crushed car. “Ma’am! Can you hear me? Ma’am, wake up!” Who was that, flattened in the driver’s seat, blood streaming from her face? 1 I grabbed my brother’s wrist and pulled him back, melting into the chaos of the crowd. The scene was a nightmare of twisted metal and flashing lights. The rain washed the blood away almost as soon as it pooled, turning the mud at our feet a sickening shade of pink. Huddled behind a few dockworkers, I listened to their hushed, angry conversation. “Damn shame. If that guy had called for help sooner, she might’ve had a chance.” “You’re telling me. When the container first fell, the car wasn’t totally crushed. But he just stood there, holding that other girl, comforting her. Wasted a good fifteen minutes.” “And her! What a piece of work. Crying about how scared she was. Does she think the Port of Baltimore is her personal playground? Driving around like a maniac.” An arctic chill shot up my spine. Ethan. My husband. He had treated a human life as a prop in his little drama of comforting another woman. Just then, Ethan emerged from behind the police tape, his arm wrapped protectively around a still-trembling Sophia. He spotted my mother in the crowd, and his face went pale. He quickly pulled her aside. “Diane! What are you doing here? It’s not safe!” My mom had just gotten his call. She was crying so hard she could barely stand, her fingers digging into his arm. “Ethan! Where is Liv? What happened to my Olivia?!” A flicker of panic crossed Ethan’s eyes, instantly masked by a practiced, somber expression. “Diane, you need to stay calm. It all happened so fast. The containers… I couldn’t get to her in time.” He then added, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world, “And Sophia was in shock. I had to take care of her first. You understand, right?” The sheer audacity of his twisted logic made my mother tremble with rage. “Understand? Your wife is under that wreckage, and you thought comforting your stepsister was the priority? Ethan, have you lost your soul?” His jaw tightened, a flash of indignation in his eyes as if he were the one being wronged. “It was Olivia who was being unstable! She’s the one who drove out to the middle of nowhere and parked in a hazardous zone. Sophia was just worried about her! That’s the only reason I followed them out here!” My nails dug into my palms. Lies. All of it. He was here to entertain Sophia. Sophia lifted her tear-stained face from Ethan’s shoulder, her voice a fragile whisper. “Diane, it’s all my fault… I shouldn’t have run away. Then Liv wouldn’t have gotten so jealous and done something so reckless…” She paused, letting the poison sink in. “I’m leaving for my program in Paris soon. Please… don’t blame Ethan anymore, okay?” Her words, cloaked in guilt, were daggers, each one painting me as a jealous, unhinged wife who had brought this on herself. Ethan seized the narrative she’d spun for him, his expression shifting to one of profound sorrow. “Diane, what’s done is done. Making a scene won’t do anyone’s reputation any good.” His voice dropped. “I’ll handle Liv’s arrangements. It will be beautiful. It’s the last thing I can do for her.” Nausea churned in my stomach. To protect Sophia, he had already convicted me, sentenced me, and was now planning my funeral. This man wasn’t just flawed; he was rotten to the core, lost in a pathetic fantasy of his own noble suffering and his bottomless devotion to her. My mother raised her hand and slapped him. The sound was a sharp crack that cut through the drone of the rain. Ethan clutched his cheek, stunned. Sophia shrieked, jumping in front of him like a loyal guard dog. “Diane! How could you hit him? He’s a victim in this, too!” Ignoring her, my mother pointed a trembling finger at Ethan’s face. “That,” she said, her voice dangerously low, “was for my daughter. For your rotten, ungrateful heart.” A police officer, drawn by the commotion, walked over. “What’s going on here? Ma’am, please, you need to remain calm. Let us do our work.” My mother turned to him, her voice raw but steady. “Officer, I’m the… victim’s mother. My daughter would never have parked her car in a dangerous area for no reason. I want to see all the security footage from this port.” I needed to know exactly what they had “done” to me. “Ma’am, I’ve already given the police my statement,” Ethan interjected, his face a mask of fury. “Are you trying to make this even harder for Olivia? Don’t you think she deserves to rest in peace?!”

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The boy I had a crush on in high school became one of the biggest movie stars on the planet. Before I finally gave in to my mom’s demands and went on a blind date, I bought a ticket to see his concert. One last goodbye to a foolish dream. During the fan interaction segment, the camera panned across the massive arena, and of all the tens of thousands of people, it landed on me. My face was suddenly on the jumbotron, right next to his. The host asked, “What’s the one thing you want to say right now?” When the microphone reached my hands, my throat closed up. I was completely overwhelmed. So I did the only thing I could think of. I used sign language. The crowd was confused, a low murmur rippling through the stadium. But then, on the giant screen, he signed back. “I’m great. Especially today. I saw the person I like. And you?” 1 “You’re twenty-seven, Clara. All you do is follow that celebrity around online. You never go out. Your cousin Sarah just got engaged, and you’re not even trying.” My mom pointed an accusing finger at the poster of Leo Vance on my bedroom wall. “Can you marry a poster? Is that your plan? It would make me so happy if you just brought a nice boy home for once.” At twenty-seven, my social media feed was an endless stream of engagement rings and baby announcements. The pressure from my family was relentless, but I was an immovable object. Every time I went home for Sunday dinner, I left with my ears ringing. My mom had set me up on at least four blind dates in the last two years. I’d dodged them all with the “crazy busy at work” excuse. No one knew that my heart had been occupied for a very, very long time. The problem was, the boy who held it was now a globally famous superstar, and the distance between us felt more like a galaxy. I was staring at a small photo card of him, lost in thought, when my mom snatched it out of my hand and tossed it in the trash can. “What’s the point of looking at this all day? He doesn’t even know you exist.” She was right. Leo Vance wouldn’t remember me. He’d been famous since he was seventeen, starting as a singer before transitioning to acting. At twenty-two, he won an Oscar. In the three years since, his movies had grossed over a billion dollars. He was in a league of his own, a celestial body in the Hollywood sky. And I was just… me. “Listen to me,” she said, her tone final. “Next month, you are going on this date. Mrs. Gable from next door set it up. She says he’s handsome and has a good job.” To get her off my back, I finally agreed. The second she left my room, I fished the little photo card out of the trash. I wiped it clean with a tissue and carefully tucked it back into its sleeve in my desk drawer. My mom had no idea. These little things she saw as trash were the artifacts of my entire youth. A silent, one-sided love story. Maybe that’s why I was here, sitting in this arena. It felt like I was attending a funeral for my own heart. The house lights went down. A roar went through the crowd as the countdown appeared on the giant screens. My own heart hammered against my ribs in time with the bass. When the lights exploded back on, Leo was rising from the center of the stage. The sound was deafening. “Hello, Los Angeles!” he yelled into the mic. “My name is Leo Vance, and welcome to my very first solo tour!” That voice. It instantly transported me back to the accident, to the memory of a teenage boy repeating my name over and over. “Don’t be scared, Clara! I’ve got you!” The memories came flooding back, a painful reminder of how different our lives had become. From my seat, hidden in the anonymity of the crowd, I watched the boy I knew become the superstar on stage. Leo, I thought. It’s been a long time. 2 During a break between songs, the fan-cam started sweeping the audience. The girls next to me were screaming, waving their arms, praying to be the chosen one. I was just happy to be here, to see him in person one last time. It was worth the thousand bucks I’d paid a scalper for this VIP seat. I was lost in the moment when the camera suddenly stopped. On me. A cheer went up from the sections around me. On stage, Leo’s gaze shifted from the roaring crowd to the screen, and then down into the audience, trying to find me. My face was plastered on the jumbotron, ten feet high. I was in a split screen with Leo Vance. I never, ever imagined our reunion would be like this. I was frozen. A staff member handed me a microphone as the host’s voice boomed through the speakers. “Let’s give it up for our lucky fan! You get a chance to chat with Leo!” He continued, “So, tell us, what’s the one thing you want to say to Leo right now?” My voice was gone. So I lifted my hands and signed the question that had been sitting in my heart for years. “How have you been?” The audience fell into a confused silence. But then, to my utter shock, Leo lifted his own hands. And on the screen for the whole world to see, he signed back. “I’m great. Especially today. I saw the person I like. And you?” 3 After he signed it, a slow, genuine smile spread across his face. The fans around me were frantically taking pictures of the screen. My own face was burning, my heart doing a frantic tap dance in my chest. I wished time could just stop right there. Then the meaning of his words hit the rest of the arena, and the place exploded. The girl next to me, a fellow fan, grabbed my arm, her voice ecstatic. “Oh my god! He just confessed to us! He said he saw the person he likes! He meant us, his fans! He loves us!” In that instant, my little bubble of hope burst. Of course. He had someone he liked. I forced a smile onto my own face and signed a simple gesture of blessing toward the stage. As the camera moved on to the next fan, I gave a small wave. Goodbye, Leo. The boy who had owned my heart for a whole decade. 4 After the concert ended and the crowd began to file out, a man in a staff jacket hurried over to me. “Excuse me, miss? Clara?” he asked. “Leo prepared a signed gift package for the lucky fans tonight. Could I get your contact info and an address so we can mail it to you?” I looked at him. It was David, his manager. I’d seen him in a hundred paparazzi photos. I was more nervous talking to him than I had been seeing Leo. This unrequited love story had reached its final page. I wrote down my information, bowed my head slightly in thanks, and left. Back at my apartment, I felt hollowed out. I opened Twitter, hoping to find a clip of the interaction. I didn’t have to look far. The number one trending topic in the country was #LeoVanceSmiled. The top tweet, with over a million likes, was a video of the moment. The replies were a torrent of shock and awe. I’ve literally never seen him smile like that before. Not a press smile. A real one. He looks so… soft? I didn’t know he could do that. OMG AND HE KNOWS SIGN LANGUAGE?? To be inclusive of deaf fans? I’m dead. Officially deceased. That girl is going to remember that moment for the rest of her life. Okay but can we talk about how pretty the girl on the screen is?! She looks like a celebrity herself. They look so good together in the split screen! The chemistry is insane! I quietly saved the video and kept scrolling. Did you guys see?? He was professing his love for us, The Pride! It was a message to his real fans! This is the ultimate fan service! Best idol-fan relationship in the industry! We got the message, Leo! We love you too! More concerts please! I’m so jealous of everyone who got to be there for that confession!!! Then, the narrative shifted. Someone posted a grainy photo of the actress Isabelle Sterling at the concert. Fans who were there confirmed it, posting their own pictures of her. And then someone pointed out the most damning detail of all. Isabelle Sterling had been sitting in the row directly behind me. Even in a baseball cap and a mask, you could tell it was her. My heart plummeted. It felt like the floor had just dropped out from under me. He wasn’t smiling at me. He was looking past me, at her. A fan who understood ASL had translated his message: I saw the person I like. The internet detectives put two and two together. The person he liked had to be Isabelle Sterling. That night, #LeoAndIsabelle and #HollywoodsNewPowerCouple started trending. People dug for clues. They found Isabelle’s “finsta”—her private, friends-only Instagram account. And on it, she’d posted a picture from the concert. I clicked the link. It was a selfie she’d taken from her seat, with Leo visible on the stage in the background. The caption read: My superstar. Heard that little message loud and clear 😉 Her expression was one of pure adoration, the look of a girl completely in love. The comments from her friends were all knowing. Girl, you actually went! We need more content! SO CUTE. I’m crying, this is the sweetest thing ever. Isabelle had replied with a single blushing emoji, essentially confirming everything. That was it. The last bit of air left my lungs. 5 The rumors about them had been around for years. Isabelle Sterling was supposedly his childhood sweetheart. The story was that after Leo got famous, Isabelle, who came from a powerful Hollywood family, used her connections to get her first leading role just to be closer to him. They’d been photographed having dinner with each other’s parents. The tabloids had been speculating for years that they were secretly engaged. Isabelle’s finsta post seemed to be the final piece of the puzzle. At that moment, my stupid, hopeful heart finally gave up. I went to his official subreddit, a place I visited daily, and clicked “unfollow.” I used to read every post, every update. Sometimes, late at night, he’d even pop in and reply to a few fan comments. But with this firestorm online, Leo himself remained silent. Which felt like a confirmation. He was too bright, too far away. The only way to stop getting burned was to step out of his light completely. I closed my eyes, held my breath, and deleted Twitter and Instagram from my phone. I lay down on my bed, the silence in my apartment suddenly feeling heavy. Just as I was drifting off, my phone screen lit up with a notification. I picked it up, my eyes still blurry. I stared at the screen, unable to process what I was seeing. It was a friend request on a messaging app I barely used. From an unsaved number. Hey. It’s Leo Vance. You left something at the show.

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On my wedding day, I received an anonymous note claiming my fiancé, Julian Vance, was already married with a child back in his hometown. When I showed it to him, he just laughed it off. “Ancient history, Viv. A stupid high school promise. Someone’s clearly bored and trying to stir up trouble. Probably just jealous I’m marrying the daughter of a billionaire.” But on the day I gave birth, the sweet, limping caregiver I’d hired out of pity made sure both my baby and I never left that room alive. It was only after I died that I learned the truth. That caregiver was his small-town sweetheart, the mother of his son. After my death, they burned my memorial, orchestrated the downfall of my family, and seized every last cent of my inheritance. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on my wedding day. 01 As consciousness returned, my first instinct was to shut my eyes tight. The phantom agony in my abdomen, the feeling of cold, metal forceps violating my body—it was all still there, a ghost haunting my senses. The sighs of the young intern echoed in my ears. “If they’d just gotten here five minutes sooner… It’s like they wanted to let her bleed out.” “Not just her. The baby suffocated.” “God, what a monster…” The voices faded, and the impossible truth settled in. I was alive. I had been reborn. “Vivian, there’s a letter for you!” The same envelope, the same handwriting. My head snapped toward the window. In a discreet corner of the garden, a woman with a noticeable limp was staring in, a lost look on her face. I snatched the envelope, grabbed my phone, and ran outside. With her limp, she couldn’t outrun me. She must have known it, because she simply stopped and waited, her expression a mixture of defiance and vulnerability. “You’re Vivian Lancaster, right?” Her face was delicate, a palm-sized portrait of fragility and strength. I held up the letter. “You wrote this, didn’t you?” She paused, then her voice became soft, pleading. “I just wanted to warn you. Julian has a wife and a son. You shouldn’t be the kind of person who destroys a family.” A cold laugh escaped my lips. “Oh, please. Save the performance for someone who’ll buy it, Hannah.” The name made her flinch. “You dared to come here and deliver this note, so why are you still playing the innocent victim?” In my past life, I fell for her act completely. She told me she was a single mother, forced to drop out of school, working as a caregiver to survive. She said her limp made it hard to find work. My heart broke for her, and I hired her on the spot, at double the standard rate. “Miss Lancaster, thank you, thank you so much for this chance,” she’d gushed, her gratitude seemingly endless. But when my labor began, Hannah showed me a video on her phone. It was her and Julian, my husband, tangled together. They had been carrying on an affair while I was suffering from morning sickness, sometimes in my own bedroom. The shock sent me into premature labor. Hannah kicked my phone out of my reach, her smile twisting into something demonic. “I told you, didn’t I? Julian has a wife and a son. You’re the one who ruined our happiness. You deserve to die!” she’d sneered. “What’s so great about being rich, Vivian? Once you’re dead, Julian inherits everything. We’ll finally have the money to be a real family.” 02 Staring at the Hannah in front of me now, I didn’t hide my disgust. I ripped the letter to shreds. “The wife you’re talking about is you. And the son? He’s the reason you dropped out of college three years ago, right?” Three years ago, Julian and I had already announced our engagement to the world. My voice was ice. “You stand there acting so self-righteous, but you’re the other woman.” She froze, then her voice rose, sharp and defensive. “No! I’m not! Julian and I have known each other since we were kids. First come, first served. Don’t you get it?” She glanced behind her at the sparkling, man-made lake, a sly smile spreading across her face. “Vivian, want to make a bet? If I were to jump into that lake right now, do you think Julian would still go through with marrying you?” I knew exactly what she was planning. She wanted to frame me. In my past life, when I was still blindly in love with Julian, I might have hesitated. But now? I couldn’t wait to be rid of him. I smiled, pocketing my phone. “Sure.” My voice was sweet. “I’d be happy to help.” Before Hannah could react, I grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the water’s edge. I knew this estate better than she did. Realization dawned on her face, and she began to struggle wildly. “No, wait! Stop!” But I’d been taking self-defense and boxing classes since I was a teenager. Hannah was no match for me. I shoved her toward the lake. As she scrambled to get her footing, I gave her one final, hard push. “Vivian, you’ll pay for this! Mmph… gurgle… gurgle…” Her delicate face was now smeared with mud, some of which had splattered onto my white wedding gown. I didn’t care. I wanted to hold her head under the water until the bubbles stopped, to repay her for everything. But I couldn’t. I had my parents to think about. I had this precious second chance. In the distance, a procession of cars approached. The lead car, a vintage Rolls-Royce decorated with my favorite lilies of the valley, screeched to a halt. Julian jumped out, his face a mask of panic. “Stop!” 03 I released my grip on Hannah. “Julian!” she cried out, triumphant. But before she could finish, her foot slipped on the muddy bank, and she tumbled back into the shallow water. Julian didn’t even glance at her. He rushed to my side, his hands gently wiping the specks of mud from my cheek. “Viv, your skin is so sensitive. This will make you break out.” His touch was soft, his eyes filled with a deep, unreadable emotion that I now knew was a lie. In my last life, I believed that look meant he loved me. I was a fool. The memory of my death surged back. As I lay on the floor, contractions wracking my body, a primal survival instinct took over. I had lunged, my fingers closing around Hannah’s throat. She wanted me dead, but I wouldn’t go down without a fight. She had clawed at my pregnant belly, her face turning purple. Then Julian had returned. Without a moment’s hesitation, he had pried my hands off her and thrown me aside. “I’m sorry, Viv. She’s the mother of my child.” He had locked me in the small bathroom while he took Hannah into my bedroom. The sounds that followed were the final nails in my coffin. The greatest sorrow is a dead heart. I looked at the man now fussing over my dress. “This is ruined, we can’t use it,” he murmured. “Good thing we bought backups. Why don’t you wear the mermaid gown? It’ll look stunning with the necklace you’re wearing.” I lifted my hand and slapped him across the face. Hard. The force of it made my own palm sting. “You bastard!” Hannah shrieked, trying to lunge at me, but Julian shoved her away without a second glance. He bent his head and gently kissed my stinging palm, then began to massage it with a technique he’d learned specifically for me. “Hit me all you want, honey, it’s okay,” he soothed. “But we still have a wedding to get to. Don’t make your husband look like a mess for the photos.” I pulled my hand back, switched to the other, and slapped his other cheek just as hard. Then I smoothed my dress and stood tall. “Julian, I want a divorce.” 04 The gentle, pleading smile vanished from Julian’s face. He glanced at Hannah, who was shivering from the cold, and took off his tuxedo jacket, draping it over her shoulders. Then he turned back to me. “Is this because of Hannah?” I clutched my phone, my voice steady. “You have a child with her, don’t you?” A small crowd of wedding guests had gathered, keeping a respectful distance. Julian nodded, completely unfazed. “I do.” “But he’s my son, Viv. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you never have to see him. I’ll send Hannah and the boy back home. They’ll be out of your hair.” He took a step closer. “I promise you, we can have our own children. We can move past this. Okay?” I let out a bitter laugh. “You think this is about you doing me a favor?” My scorn finally cracked his composure. “Vivian, I’m trying to be reasonable here. The Lancaster Group isn’t what it used to be. Since your father’s illness, your family’s hold on the top spot has been shaky. Meanwhile, my company, Vance Innovations, is booming. Our marriage is more than just us.” He lowered his voice. “Besides, what man in our circle doesn’t have someone on the side? I’m even promising you she’ll be the only one. Think carefully, Vivian. Do you want to be Mrs. Vance, or do you want to have nothing?” Hannah, emboldened by his words, added her own pathetic plea. “Vivian, I’m just a woman with a limp. I’m not trying to compete with you. I just want a better life for my son. You don’t have children yet, so you probably can’t understand a mother’s heart.” Julian pulled her into a protective embrace, whispering reassurances. After a moment, he looked at me again. “It’s not just the child. Hannah’s leg… she was injured trying to help me years ago. I owe her.” He laid out his disgusting proposal. “Vivian, you can be Mrs. Vance in public, the face of our dynasty. Hannah can be in the background, taking care of the child. I know you two can get along.” Unbelievable. One minute he’s promising to get rid of them, the next he’s asking me to play happy families. I laughed, looking straight into his deceptively sincere eyes. “If she’s so precious to you, Julian, you should marry her. Make an honest woman of her. That way your son won’t be a bastard, and the whole world can applaud your tragic love story.” My voice dripped with sarcasm. “Or what is it? You want her to have your children, but you’re ashamed she’s a cripple? You really want to have your cake and eat it too, don’t you?” “And you,” I said, turning to Hannah. “Did you not get the memo that we’re in the 21st century? Or are you just banking on your illegitimate son having a claim to the Lancaster fortune?” 05 My words hit their mark. Hannah’s face flushed with shame. Julian shielded her. “Vivian, we are legally married. If you continue to make a scene and disrespect our family like this, then divorce is the only option.” I nodded. “Good. I can’t wait.” Julian smiled, a cold, predatory gleam in his eyes. “According to the prenup we signed, if you file for divorce, I get fifteen percent of Lancaster Holdings.” I smiled back. “In your dreams.” “That clause only applies if you’re not the party at fault.” “You cheated on me and fathered a child. What grounds do you possibly have to take a single share of my family’s company?” Julian glanced at the distant crowd, then at the shredded letter in my hand. “But do you have any proof? As far as anyone can see, you were bullying a disabled woman, and I stepped in to defend her. You’re the one throwing a tantrum and demanding a divorce on our wedding day. Who do you think they’ll believe?” He looked down at me, smug and confident, as if that fifteen percent was already in his bank account. Hannah, full of self-satisfaction, chimed in. “Julian, once we get the shares, can we bring Andy back from overseas? He hates it there. He misses his daddy so much.” “Of course, baby,” Julian cooed. In my past life, Hannah had fed me a sob story about her son. “I was a single mom, I raised him all by myself,” she’d said. “I had to leave him with family back home so I could come here and work.” She’d even shown me photos of a sweet little boy whose face held a faint, familiar resemblance I couldn’t place. My heart, already soft with my own pregnancy, had ached for her. I gave her bonuses, extra time off to “visit her son,” never knowing she was flying to a private villa in Europe to meet Julian for their perfect family getaways. Now, here they were, already planning their bright future on the ashes of mine. But I was about to burn their little dream to the ground. I raised the phone I’d been holding, a smile playing on my lips. “Julian, did you forget?” “I told you I wanted the entire wedding live-streamed.” 06 His face went white. He lunged for my phone, but it was too late. The live chat was already a waterfall of outrage. OMG, the AUDACITY. The mistress showed up at the wedding! I feel so bad for Vivian. I really thought they were the real deal, a true power couple. Correction: SHE’S the power. He’s just a lucky gold-digger. He’d be nothing without Lancaster Holdings backing him. Julian’s face was a thundercloud. The comments were all true. If he hadn’t been my boyfriend, my father would never have given him the time of day, let alone the seed money for his startup. His peers from business school were still grinding away in middle management. Only Julian had become a self-made success story in three short years, all by leveraging our “fairytale romance” for capital and PR. He knew better than anyone how crucial his public image was. Just as furious was my mother. When the wedding was officially called off, she tore into Julian with a ferocity I’d rarely seen. My father was still recovering from a major surgery, and she didn’t dare tell him the news. “Your father was planning to retire this year,” she lamented, holding my hand. “We thought we could trust Julian to take over the company. How could he have been so deceitful!” She sighed, her face etched with worry. “With your father still weak, and me having never run the business… we need someone at the helm. Actually,” she brightened slightly, “I got a call from Mrs. Davenport yesterday. How about you meet her son? He’s a very capable young man.” I shook my head. “No.” “Mom, don’t worry,” I said, my voice firm. “I’ll take care of the company. I won’t let it fail.” She looked at me, her expression doubtful. “Absolutely not. The boardroom is full of sharks, Vivian. It’s a man’s world. You’re a young woman; they’ll eat you alive.” I didn’t get angry. I knew she loved me; her love was just shaped by a different generation’s fears. I squeezed her hand. “Mom, I can do this. Julian’s reputation is in ruins. This is the perfect time to crush Vance Innovations. And besides,” I added, a grim smile touching my lips, “no one on this earth knows his weaknesses better than I do.”

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After the Sinclair family finally acknowledged me, they forced me onto a reality show to be the villain in my perfect, counterfeit sister’s fairytale. They wanted me to be the train wreck, the backwoods cautionary tale that would make their “perfectly harmonious” family look even better. The first time around, I endured it. The result? A nationwide hate campaign that ended with me taking a long step off a short rooftop. This time, on the first day of filming, things would be different. Audrey, the girl who had stolen my life, cooed at me in that syrupy-sweet voice of hers. “Sloane, darling, you just got here from… wherever, so you might not know how things work. Daddy prefers a fresh pour-over in the morning. Why don’t you go get that started?” In front of the live-streaming cameras, I slapped her across the face. “You’re a cuckoo in the nest, an imposter. Who the hell do you think you are, giving me orders?” I looked down at her, my voice dropping to ice. “And don’t you dare call me sister. My mother only had one daughter.” The entire crew went silent. The internet, however, exploded. 1 The crack of the slap was sharp and clean, echoing through the cavernous living room. Audrey cupped her cheek, tears instantly welling in her wide, innocent eyes. She stared at me, a perfect portrait of disbelief. “Sloane… why did you hit me?” Her voice trembled, as if she’d just been dealt the cruelest blow imaginable. I gave a cold laugh and shook the sting from my hand. “Consider that a lesson in knowing your place.” “In the Sinclair family, I’m the root, and you’re the weed. And no matter how lush a weed grows, it always gets pulled for the root.” The camera was pointed right at us, capturing every raw, unfiltered second. The live-stream comments went into a frenzy. [HOLY S**T! The show just started and we’re already here? Is the real daughter always this intense?] [GOOD. I can’t stand that two-faced type. ‘Sister’ to your face, knife in your back.] [Um, what? Audrey was just trying to be helpful. That girl from the sticks is seriously unhinged.] [Get out of here with your high-and-mighty act. Did you not see the way she was ordering her around? Like she was the damn queen.] A dead silence had fallen over the living room. Behind the monitors, I could see the director rubbing his hands together, his eyes gleaming with delight. My dear mother, Catherine, was the first to snap out of it. She lunged forward, pulling Audrey behind her as she glared at me. “Sloane! What is wrong with you!” “You apologize to Audrey this instant!” I looked at her perfectly preserved, Botox-smooth face. It was the exact same expression she’d worn in my last life when she’d forced me to my knees to beg for forgiveness. Back then, I was terrified of her—terrified this mother who had abandoned me and then summoned me back would cast me out all over again. So I knelt. I apologized. All I got for it was more humiliation, more abuse, and an endless torrent of online vitriol. Now, all I felt was a hollow, bitter amusement. “Apologize?” I met her gaze, speaking each word with deliberate calm. “Could she even handle it?” “Catherine, you dumped me in the middle of nowhere and didn’t give me a second thought for eighteen years. You really think you have the right to teach me anything now?” “Go on, ask her. Ask the imposter who built her life on my mother’s pity why I, the actual daughter, should apologize to her.” The color drained from Catherine’s face. She never imagined I would air our dirty laundry on a live broadcast. “You… What are you talking about!” she stammered, her voice shrill with panic. “When did I ever abandon you! It was…” “It was what?” I stepped toward her, refusing to back down. “Was it the nanny who conveniently ‘lost’ me? Or did you spend eighteen agonizing years searching for me? Spare me the soap opera script. You don’t even believe your own lies.” My father, Richard Sinclair, shot to his feet, his face a thundercloud. “That’s enough, Sloane!” he boomed, his voice layered with the authority he was so used to wielding. “Don’t air our dirty laundry in public! Do you have to make a scene for the whole world to see?” “Go to your room! Now! And think about what you’ve done!” I laughed as if he’d just told the funniest joke in the world. “Dirty laundry?” “Forcing me onto this pathetic show to be a prop for your fake daughter—that’s not dirty laundry?” “But the moment I fight back, it’s a family disgrace?” “Richard, is your hypocrisy really that shameless?” Richard was trembling with rage, pointing a finger at me, speechless. My brother, Ethan, who had been silent until now, walked over, his brow furrowed in disapproval. He grabbed my arm. “Sloane, stop it.” His tone was laced with reprimand. “Audrey is part of this family now. You just got here. You can’t be so hostile.” I ripped my arm from his grasp, staring at the brother I had once trusted more than anyone. This was the same brother who, while I was being torn apart by the entire internet, had posted a single, devastating tweet. “I only have one sister. Audrey.” That tweet was the final straw that broke me. “Hostile?” I smiled at him, a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Ethan, let’s get something straight. I am your sister. Your actual, biological sister.” “You wag your tail for a stranger while you bare your teeth at your own blood. What the hell does that make you?” “You’re not just blind, you’re a goddamn traitor.” Ethan’s face went from red to a blotchy purple. My entire family, silenced by one person. In the live stream, the comments were a waterfall. [My god, she’s the internet’s patron saint of clapbacks! She says EVERYTHING!] [YES! This is what I’m talking about! I live for watching these fake, sweet girls get what they deserve!] [This family is disgusting. They’re the ones who wronged her, but they act like she owes them something.] [I’m officially a fan. Sloane, destroy them all!] Audrey, hiding behind Catherine, was a sobbing, trembling mess. She peered at me with a look of pure venom, as if I were her mortal enemy. I knew this was just the beginning. The trial, broadcast live to the nation, had only just begun. 2 At dinner, the long table was laden with an immaculate spread. The Sinclairs all wore thunderous expressions, the silence so thick you could drown in it. I was the only one with an appetite. I methodically cracked open a lobster claw, completely ignoring the murderous glares being shot my way. In my past life, I wouldn’t have even dared to sit at this table. They told me I chewed with my mouth open, that I had no manners, that I should go back to my room and eat instant noodles. And I actually believed them, hiding in my room, crying with an empty stomach. Looking back, my own stupidity was pitiful. Audrey, her eyes red and puffy, picked at her rice, the very image of a heartbroken waif. Catherine placed a piece of abalone on her plate with a pained expression. “Audrey, darling, eat up. Don’t let… irrelevant people… ruin your appetite. It’s not worth making yourself sick.” The jab was obvious, her eyes flicking pointedly in my direction. I picked up a piece of sea bass, not even bothering to look up. “She’s right. It’s never worth getting angry over irrelevant people.” “Take me, for example. I never waste my energy on imposters who steal other people’s lives. Or on family members who are both blind and heartless.” “After all, you can’t reason with animals.” “Pfft—” Ethan choked, spraying a mouthful of soup. “Sloane! Can you not be so vile!” I set down my chopsticks and dabbed my lips with a napkin. “No.” “I was raised in the sticks, remember? No manners. Not like you high-society types who have to bury every sentence under three layers of subtext. Isn’t that exhausting?” “Speaking your mind. That’s what good kids do.” Richard slammed his hand on the table. “Insolent!” he roared. “Have you no respect for the rules of this house!” I picked up the crystal fruit bowl from the center of the table. It was filled with freshly washed cherries, glistening like dark jewels. I walked over to Catherine and tipped the entire bowl over her perfectly coiffed hair. “Rules?” “You want to talk to me about rules?” “What rules were you following when you threw me away?” Cold juice and sticky cherries trickled down Catherine’s hair and neck, staining her silk blouse. Red fruit rolled across the marble floor. She froze, a statue of desecrated dignity. Audrey shrieked. “Mom!” Ethan and Richard shot to their feet, their faces masks of stunned horror. “Sloane, you’re insane!” Ethan lunged for me. I sidestepped him easily, a cold satisfaction spreading through my chest as I took in Catherine’s wretched state. “If you want fruit, wash it yourself. Are your hands broken?” “Oh, right. Those hands were busy abandoning your own daughter, and now they’re busy waiting on a fake one. I guess you are pretty busy.” The shock finally wore off. Catherine began to tremble violently, pointing a shaking finger at me, her lips quivering. “You… You monster!” “I don’t have a daughter like you!” “Good,” I said with a brilliant smile. “In that case, let’s quit this ridiculous show and go cut ties officially.” “You can pay me the eighteen years of child support you owe, plus damages for pain and suffering, and of course, the shares of the Sinclair company that are rightfully mine. Settle it all in one lump sum.” “Then we can go our separate ways and never see each other again.” “Do you dare?” Catherine was trapped, speechless. Richard, apoplectic, pointed at the door. “Get out! Get out of this house right now!” “This show is over! We’re not filming anymore!” I crossed my arms, watching him with detached amusement. “Fine by me.” “The contract is crystal clear. Unilateral termination comes with a penalty of one hundred million dollars.” “So, Richard… are you writing the check?” One hundred million. It wouldn’t bankrupt them, but it would cripple them. More importantly, pulling out now would be a public admission of guilt. Richard’s face cycled through an impressive spectrum of red, purple, and finally, a mottled gray. He looked like he wanted to swallow me whole. All I did was offer him an innocent smile. You want me to leave? It’s not going to be that easy. I haven’t seen nearly enough of this show yet. 3 In the end, the Sinclairs didn’t dare to break the contract. Faced with a one-hundred-million-dollar penalty or becoming a national laughingstock, they chose the latter. Perhaps they thought that with the right PR spin, they could salvage their reputation. Unfortunately for them, I wasn’t going to give them the chance. The producers, smelling blood in the water, arranged a “Heartwarming Family Moment” segment. Each family was to present an item of profound personal significance. The Sinclairs brought out a diamond necklace, so brilliant it seemed to radiate its own light. Audrey wore it as she sat beside Catherine, her smile a perfect blend of sweetness and shy pride. The host began, his voice dripping with emotion. “This is the ‘Angel’s Tear,’ a necklace Mrs. Sinclair acquired at auction for Audrey’s eighteenth birthday. It represents a mother’s purest love for her daughter.” Catherine lovingly stroked Audrey’s hair. “Audrey is my little angel. This necklace was simply destined for her.” The performance of mother-daughter devotion was truly touching. In the live comments, Audrey’s fans went wild. [I’m crying, this is so beautiful. The love between Audrey and her mom is so real.] [This is what a real high-society family looks like. Some people could learn a thing or two.] [The Angel’s Tear for an angel like Audrey. Perfect!] I stared at the necklace on the screen, a familiar ache tightening in my chest. What a coincidence. I had one too. As all eyes were on me, I slowly reached into my shirt and pulled out another necklace. It was an exact replica of Audrey’s, except the brilliant diamond was replaced with a cheap rhinestone, and the chain was a tarnished alloy that had long since lost its shine. Under the bright studio lights, it looked pathetic and laughable. The host paused, clearly thrown by this unexpected turn. “Sloane, that necklace…?” I rubbed the fake diamond between my fingers, my voice quiet but captured perfectly by the microphone. “Oh, this?” “It was the only thing I had on me when my mother left me behind.” “I was only three. I don’t remember anything else, but I remember clutching this necklace so tightly, thinking that it was my mother.” “It wasn’t until I was much older that I realized it was worthless. You can buy them at a street stall for five dollars.” I lifted my head, my gaze falling on the ashen faces of Catherine and Audrey. “I never imagined my mother would turn around and buy an identical one for my ‘sister.’ A real one, this time.” “I guess there are different kinds of motherly love.” “One worth five dollars, one worth millions.” I smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Truly a mother’s love is a powerful thing.” The entire studio was silent. The camera operator, a true professional, zoomed in on the blood draining from Catherine’s and Audrey’s faces. Beneath the table, Richard’s hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists. The live chat, after three seconds of stunned silence, absolutely erupted. [OH. MY. GOD. What is this plot twist?!] [I’m going to be sick. That whole mother-daughter act was so touching a second ago, now it just feels disgusting and fake.] [My heart breaks for Sloane. She held onto that cheap necklace for eighteen years thinking it was a symbol of her mother’s love, and it was all just a joke.] [Catherine is not human! And Audrey is no better! How could she wear that, knowing its history? Doesn’t it feel like a noose?] Audrey began to tremble, her hand instinctively going to the necklace at her throat. Catherine grabbed her wrist, forcing a serene, composed expression onto her face as she addressed the camera. “No, no, everyone has misunderstood!” “I… I just missed Sloane so much, so I… I had a replica made. To remember her by…” She didn’t even sound like she believed her own lie. I let out a short, sharp laugh. “To remember me by?” “Then when you saw the real thing—me—standing right in front of you, why wasn’t there a flicker of affection? Is it more satisfying to cry over a fake?” “Catherine, you might be able to fool them, but you can’t fool me.” “Eighteen years. Was there a single phone call? A single letter?” “No.” “You were just contentedly living your life with your ‘daughter,’ while I was left to fend for myself in a place you’d rather forget.” Richard finally snapped. He shot to his feet, pointing at me. “Sloane! Shut your mouth!” “Don’t disrupt the show with these lies!” I met his furious gaze without flinching. “Lies?” “Then why don’t you explain this, Richard? Why is it that on the official records for your ‘lost’ biological daughter, the legal designation isn’t ‘missing,’ but ‘abandoned’?” “That word, ‘abandoned.’ You signed the papers yourself, didn’t you?” Richard’s pupils contracted. He never thought I’d know about that. That’s right. The first thing I did after being brought back to the Sinclair fold was get a copy of my own records. There it was, in black and white. I, Sloane Sinclair, was officially abandoned. Not the poor, unfortunate soul who was “accidentally lost.” That truth hit the live broadcast like a bomb. The entire internet was in an uproar.

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The shove was what woke me. Greg was shaking my shoulder in the dark. “Leah,” he whispered, his voice urgent. “Aiden got into some trouble. We need sixty thousand dollars.” I blinked, the fog of sleep slowly clearing. “Who’s Aiden?” His face was a mask of shamelessness in the moonlight. “I didn’t want you to go through another pregnancy, so… I had Tiffany carry him for me. He’s not yours by birth, but he’s still your son. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of in the future.” *Crack.* The sound of my palm connecting with his cheek echoed in the silent bedroom. “Greg,” I seethed, “what the hell did you just say?” He grabbed my wrist, his grip like iron. “Don’t be hysterical! He’s my son, and you’re my wife. It’s your duty to help raise him.” He stormed out, slamming the door behind him, leaving me shaking in the darkness. Twenty years of marriage, all culminating in this casual, entitled betrayal. In the end, I made him lose everything. And he begged me, on his knees, to take him back. 1 The next morning, I was at the local police precinct, slapping our marriage certificate on the counter. “I need to see any records of dependents listed under my husband, Greg Miller.” The officer looked up. “Ma’am, I can’t release that information without his consent.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. He didn’t ask for my consent when he demanded the money last night. “Officer,” I said, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands, “I’m his wife. A child he had with another woman is in trouble and needs a payout. Don’t I have a right to know the truth?” The officer conferred with his partner, then typed something into his computer. He printed a document and slid it across the counter. My fingers trembled as I picked it up. Greg’s name. Another woman’s name—Tiffany Bell. And a birth certificate for their son. The world went fuzzy. The officer steadied me. “Ma’am, are you alright?” “I’m fine,” I lied, pushing down the rage. “I want to report my husband for dissipation of marital assets. And I need to file an emergency motion to freeze our joint accounts.” The officer nodded. “You should calm down first, ma’am. You still have a shared legal responsibility in this case with the boy, Aiden. And for the financial claims, you’ll need evidence of him spending marital funds on her.” Evidence? Wasn’t a secret child enough evidence of everything? I walked out of the precinct in a daze. A moment later, my phone buzzed. It was Greg. “Where’s the money? Get it to me now! Sixty grand! Don’t make me ask again!” “I want to see her,” I said. “Who?” “The cheap homewrecker. You want the money? Bring her to the Starbucks on Main Street. I want to see the face of the woman shameless enough to sleep with another woman’s husband.” “Leah, I swear to God, don’t push me…” I hung up. Just hearing his voice made me want to commit a felony. I looked down at my phone’s lock screen—a picture of my daughter, Maya. Her smile blurred through my tears. Maya, who was always so considerate it broke my heart. Never asking for anything, wearing her school uniforms until they were faded and worn. Every dollar we saved, every sacrifice we made… that bastard had been funneling it to his other family. I turned and marched into the nearest jewelry store and cashed out the emergency fund I’d kept in a separate account. “I’ll take these three gold bracelets, please.” Holding the heavy, solid weight in my hand, a small measure of control returned. What kind of life had I been living? Pinching pennies so that animal could live it up with someone else? 2 I spotted them the second I walked into Starbucks. Greg and Tiffany. She was young, of course. Perfect skin, blonde hair, the kind of beauty that makes you feel invisible. In the reflection of the window, my own tired face looked like a different species. Greg saw me and dropped her hand like it was hot. “Leah… you’re here.” I sat down, my eyes fixed on her. “Let’s cut the crap. What exactly did your bastard child do?” Her smile froze and shattered. Greg cleared his throat nervously. “Leah, keep your voice down. Let’s not make a scene.” “A scene?” I laughed, loud and sharp. “You’re here with your mistress to demand money for your love child, and you’re worried about *my* image?” I turned back to Tiffany. “Honey, I almost feel sorry for you. You throw away your youth and your reputation for this? And now you’re begging his wife for sixty grand? You’re really driving down the market rate for girls in your line of work.” “Enough!” Greg slammed his hand on the table. “Stop with the sarcasm! Aiden is our collective problem now, and we need to solve it!” Tiffany immediately started dabbing at her eyes. “I know you hate me, Leah… but the child is innocent. He’s been at the station for a whole day. He’s always been so sensitive, he can’t handle this…” Greg grabbed my arm. “Just transfer the money, goddammit!” I calmly pulled my arm free. “I know you’re in a hurry. But first, you should slow down. Tiffany here is young enough to be your daughter. Are you sure Aiden is even yours? It’d be a shame to get played for a fool at your age.” “You—!” Greg’s face turned crimson. He looked around the crowded cafe and forced himself to swallow his anger. Perfect. That little hesitation told me everything. They hadn’t done a paternity test. He took a deep breath. “Leah, I know you’re just saying things to hurt me. But we can’t wait on this. Their lawyer said if we don’t pay by tomorrow, they’re pressing charges.” I stirred my latte, taking my time. “If you’re so sure he’s yours… let’s get a paternity test. I know the head of forensics at County General. We could have the results by tomorrow if we rush it.” “No!” Tiffany blurted out, knocking over her coffee. 3 “Greg, we can’t use a hospital she knows!” Tiffany said, frantically mopping up the spill. “What if she tampers with the results? We’ll go to an independent lab. A professional one.” Greg stared at her for a long moment, then slowly pulled away. “Leah’s right. We need a test. I’ll be damned if I’m raising another man’s kid.” I picked up my purse. “Let me know how it goes. In the meantime, I’ll need to liquidate some investments. Sixty thousand isn’t exactly pocket change. I need to be sure.” As I walked away, I heard Tiffany’s tearful voice. “Greggy… you don’t actually doubt me, do you? After all these years…?” The glass door swung shut, and my phone rang. It was Greg. “Leah, I’m not coming home for a few days. Tiffany’s a wreck. Can you pack a bag for me? I’ll swing by and get it later.” I clenched the phone, said nothing, and hung up. At home, I went straight to his closet. I stuffed his old, pilled t-shirts, faded boxers, and holey socks into a duffel bag. After dropping it with the doorman, I sent a text: `Bag’s at the front desk. Maya’s coming home tomorrow. Stay away.` His reply was instant: `Okay. We’ll talk when this is over. I miss Maya.` I laughed out loud. You miss her? No. You don’t deserve to. I spent the rest of the evening taking pictures of his prized possessions—his vintage vinyl collection, his signed baseball memorabilia, his expensive bourbon, his camera gear. I listed everything on eBay and Facebook Marketplace. Prices were slashed in half. Within an hour, buyers were swarming. I moved on to his designer jackets, his belts, his ski gear. Even his ratty old hoodies and sweatpants. Fine. He wanted me to take responsibility for his son. I would. Using his own assets. 4 It took three days, but I sold enough of his personal junk to raise the money, with a little extra. Using the information from the police report, I found out what Aiden had done. The six-year-old was playing with fireworks and set fire to a neighbor’s restored classic Mercedes. No one was hurt, but the sixty-thousand-dollar figure was accurate. Six years old. The number hit me like a physical blow. Greg’s affair had been going on for seven years. It started right after Maya started middle school. “If he gets into trouble again, am I still on the hook?” I asked my friend, a lawyer, sitting in her office. She adjusted her glasses. “During a marriage, debts incurred by one spouse are generally considered a joint responsibility. It’s hard to avoid.” “So what about my daughter? If something happens to her, is Tiffany responsible?” “Unfortunately, no. She’s not bound by marital law. In a legal sense, the affair gives her a twisted kind of ‘freedom.’” The irony was staggering. The loyal person is shackled by responsibility, while the one who caused all the pain walks free. All this marriage had given me was a piece of paper that could indebt me for the rest of my life. How was I supposed to protect Maya’s future? 5 Three days later, my phone rang before dawn. It was Greg, his voice electric with excitement. “Leah! The report’s back! Aiden’s my son! The Miller name will continue! You don’t have to worry anymore!” I bit my lip until I tasted blood. “Is that so? Then let’s meet.” “The money… you have it, right?” he asked, a hint of caution in his voice. “Don’t worry. I have it.” After hanging up, a wave of nausea washed over me. For twenty years, every cent in our accounts was a result of my careful planning. Ever since Greg started his ‘business venture’ a few years ago, he’d barely contributed. Maya took the bus to school to save on gas money. And now this parasite was demanding the savings we’d scraped together, to bail out another woman’s child. How could a person be so utterly without shame? We met at the same Starbucks. The first thing Greg did was demand I transfer the money. I stirred my coffee, looking at them both calmly. “The money isn’t the issue. But first, we need to discuss custody.” “What custody?” Greg frowned. Tiffany sat bolt upright. “Aiden is six and causing sixty thousand dollars in damages. Clearly, Tiffany isn’t equipped for the job. As the primary wife, I’m willing to legally adopt the boy and raise him properly.” Tiffany shrieked. “What? Are you insane? Adopt him? Who the hell do you think you are?” I ignored her, my gaze fixed on Greg. “You came to me when your secret son got into trouble. It’s time for you to show some good faith.” Tiffany panicked, grabbing Greg’s arm. “Honey! Aiden is my life! You promised you’d protect us! I swear I’ll be a better mother!” Greg wrung his hands. “Leah… can we discuss this after he’s out?” “No,” I said, my voice like steel. “If you insist on maintaining two households, that’s financial fraud against your primary family. I’m willing to overlook that, for Maya’s sake. But Aiden’s upbringing is not negotiable. What if next time it’s not a car he sets on fire, but a gas station?” I smiled faintly. “Greg, you’re forty-eight years old. What will you pay with then? Your life?” Tiffany’s face went white. “No! It won’t happen again! It was just… an accident…” “It was an accident because you were playing poker with your friends instead of watching your son, right?” She looked at me in horror. “You’ve been following me?” “Please,” I waved a dismissive hand. “You’re not worth my time. The police report mentioned it. It proves you’re not a capable parent. So…” I looked at Greg with mock affection. “Honey, thank you for being so considerate of my age and finding a young, simple-minded surrogate. I’ll forget the past. Your choice is simple: I press charges, or I adopt the boy.” 6 “Screw you!” Tiffany kicked her chair back. “Greg, are you mute? What about the divorce? You were supposed to divorce her!” I raised my eyebrows in fake surprise. “Divorce? Why would we divorce? Is my six-figure salary not enough to support this family? Or have I not been patient enough with you?” The entire cafe went silent. Greg’s eyes narrowed. “Leah… are you serious?” I swirled my coffee. “Of course. Tell me, do I qualify as a mother for your son?” My salary wasn’t quite that high, but I knew Greg. On the scale of money versus feelings, he would always, always choose money. Tiffany might be young, but seven years of her spending habits and a problem child had worn him down. The seven-year itch was a powerful thing. *Smack!* Greg hit the table. “If you’re so rich, then sixty grand is nothing to you! I’m asking you one last time, are you paying or not?” “I am,” I smiled, opening my banking app. “As soon as you both sign the adoption papers, the money is transferred.” Before Tiffany could explode, I delivered the final blow. “With me, the boy gets a legal home, a spot in the best school district, and I’ll send him to a private international academy. When he turns eighteen, he inherits one of our properties.” I looked straight at Tiffany. “And you? You not only shed the ‘mistress’ label, but your son becomes a legitimate heir. After all, you wouldn’t want his future to be tainted by a background check showing his birth mother was a homewrecker, would you?” Tiffany’s face was ashen. It’s funny. When the masks come off, it’s never the betrayed who panic the most. With the upper hand secured, I pulled a business card from my purse. “This is a client of mine who does private loans. If you need a bridge loan, give her a call. I can even co-sign.” I walked out. I knew Greg was too paranoid to use someone I recommended. But my trap was already set. I’d already sent his contact information to every high-risk lender in the state. Soon, a friend who worked in finance called me. “Leah, it’s not looking good. Greg has already leveraged every asset in his name. Getting a three-million-dollar loan is going to be tough.” *Three million?* The number stunned me. But then it clicked. He wouldn’t have come to me unless he was truly desperate. “Here’s the plan,” I said. “Convince him to sign our shared properties over to Maya. As her legal guardian, he’ll then be able to use her assets as collateral.” “Tell him our main house can secure a five-million-dollar loan. Inflate the value of the other two as well.” My friend paused. “I understand.” For years, Greg had been trying to mortgage our three properties. But my name was on every deed. Without my signature, he was powerless. Now, I was giving him a new path. The board was set. Let’s see if he’d make the big gamble. 7 Late that night, a text from Greg popped up: `Honey, I’ll be home later to talk about the adoption. I have to put on a show for her during the day, otherwise she makes a scene.` I replied without emotion: `Okay. I’ll wait.` Then I turned on the security cameras. He rushed in less than thirty minutes later, pulling me into a tight hug. “Leah, I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through this. I wouldn’t have spent any time with her if it wasn’t for Aiden… It was a moment of weakness. My heart is only with you and Maya, you have to believe me!” I watched his performance, feeling his shallow, anxious breaths against my cheek. “I’ve thought about it,” he continued. “Aiden’s problems shouldn’t be your burden. Tiffany and I will handle the sixty grand. But Maya is my daughter, too. I want to sign the houses over to her, as my way of making it up to her. What do you think?” I feigned a wave of emotional relief. “As long as your heart is with this family, that’s all that matters. Maya and I will always be here for you.” He looked like a man who’d just been granted a pardon. As he reached for the closet, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and immediately grabbed his jacket. “Uh… emergency at work. Don’t forget to pick up Maya tomorrow. I’ll see you at the title office!” I smiled as he left. He couldn’t wait another minute. Neither could I. The next day, we were the first ones at the county clerk’s office. The transfers were done in under an hour. The second the ink was dry on the third deed, his phone rang. He glanced at it, then scooped up the new deeds. “Something came up at the office, I have to run! Thanks for everything!” He was gone before the words finished echoing. I watched him go, a cold smile on my lips. The final act was about to begin.

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Ten years. That’s how long I’d been living her life when my sister suddenly came back. The whole family stared at her in stunned silence. She let out a yawn, running a hand through her perfectly messy hair. “Thirteen countries,” she said, her voice dripping with casual exhaustion. “God, I’m beat.” Her eyes scanned the room, a flicker of impatience in them. “Where’s Jake? He must be in elementary school by now, right? Why isn’t he here to see his real mother?” Jake. Her son. The son she gave birth to, only to fake her own death on her wedding day, leaving him and her fiancé behind. The fiancé was from the Stone family—old money, one of New York’s unshakeable dynasties. My parents, terrified of the fallout, decided to solve the problem by packing me, a fresh college graduate, into a wedding dress and sending me down the aisle in her place. For ten years, I had been the perfect wife, the devoted mother. Now, watching my sister stand there, radiating an unshakeable sense of entitlement, I felt my parents’ anxious gaze shift to me. I offered a faint, placid smile. “Jake and his father are in Miami for the weekend.” … At my words, my sister Vera’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you I was coming home? Why didn’t you tell Ethan I was back?” I took a calm, measured sip of my tea. The years had forged me into something new; I was no longer the invisible girl living in her sister’s shadow. My silence seemed to infuriate her. She shot to her feet, her voice sharp and piercing. “Nora Collins! What is that supposed to mean? Don’t you forget, the engagement was with me. Now that I’m back, do you really think you get to keep your place as Mrs. Stone?” I glanced up at her, a small smile playing on my lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Vera. My husband and I are very happy.” It was true, in a way. Over the last decade, I had stood by Ethan Stone’s side at countless charity galas and corporate dinners. Our reputation as a loving, devoted couple was cemented in our circle. Ethan himself had leveraged his image as a dedicated family man to win over numerous business partners. There might not have been passionate love between us, but we were bound by something far more resilient: mutual interest. And that was the source of my confidence. Vera’s face twisted in disbelief. She pointed a trembling finger at me. “Nora! Have you no shame? He’s your brother-in-law!” I set my teacup down with a quiet click. “No,” I said, my voice even and calm. “He’s my legally wedded husband.” My gaze was steady. I rose from my chair, unwilling to continue this charade. My parents stood by, wringing their hands, utterly lost. Vera whirled on our mother, clutching her sleeve. “Mom, she’s lost her mind! Ethan and I were college sweethearts! If it weren’t for me, if it weren’t for the Stones, how do you think our family’s company would have ever gotten this big?” My parents had always favored Vera. But now, my mother risked a nervous glance in my direction before speaking, her voice barely a whisper. “But… you ran out on the wedding, Vera. You faked your death. We didn’t hear a single word from you for ten years.” “There was no bride,” she continued, gaining a sliver of courage. “If it wasn’t for Nora stepping in, the Stones would have become a laughingstock. They would have ruined us! Our company would have been finished!” Vera’s face froze. “I… I just wasn’t ready to get married,” she stammered. “But I’m back now, aren’t I?” She tried a different tactic. “And you know how arrogant the Stones are. They already looked down on our family, and I was pregnant before we were married. If I’d gone through with it then, they would have tormented me!” My own voice was cold as ice. “Why did you come back?” Vera looked at me as if the answer was obvious. “They’ve accepted you now, so they’ll have to accept me. It’s perfect! If I marry Ethan now, his parents won’t dare treat me poorly. And Jake can finally be with his real mother. It’s better for everyone.” She closed the distance between us in two quick steps, grabbing my hands. Her eyes, the same almond shape as mine, were filled with a guileless sincerity—a naivete born from a lifetime of being spoiled and adored. A cruelly innocent naivete. “You’re free, Nora!” she declared, squeezing my hands. “You can finally go find your own happiness.” I stared into her eyes, my face a mask of stone. She truly believed it. She believed that I, the overlooked younger sister, existed only to sacrifice for her. A bitter laugh escaped my lips as I wrenched my hands from her grasp. “I’m perfectly happy with my life, Vera,” I said, my voice low and sharp. “You’re the one who needs to face reality.” With that, I turned and walked out of the house that had never felt like a home. I didn’t know what Vera was feeling, but I could guess it wasn’t pleasant. And I knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t give up this easily. I drove back to the Stone residence, a bone-deep exhaustion settling over me. The last few weeks had been a blur of late nights at the office, pushing a new project over the finish line. When my parents’ message—Vera’s back—had arrived an hour ago, my body had gone rigid. I always knew this day might come, but the reality of it still left me breathless. I stepped inside, shrugging off my coat and hanging my bag. My eyes fell on a pair of men’s dress shoes by the door. I froze for a second before schooling my features into a practiced, welcoming smile. “You’re back?” a warm voice called out. I turned to see Ethan. He was dressed in simple black silk pajamas that did little to hide his broad shoulders and trim waist. He was a handsome man—tall, with refined features and kind eyes framed by gold-rimmed glasses. He was frowning slightly, a look of concern on his face. “You look exhausted. Haven’t you been sleeping?” I managed a smile. “Just a lot going on at work. Did you and Jake have a good time?” Ethan closed the distance between us, pulling me gently into his arms. He rested his chin on my shoulder, his warm breath ghosting across my neck. His long fingers traced patterns on my back. “Jake had a blast,” he murmured. “He’s already crashed. The only thing missing was you. We’ll have to go again, all three of us.” His voice dropped lower, a current of intimacy running through it. “I missed you.” I leaned against the warmth of his chest, but inside, I felt a chilling cold spread through me. As his lips brushed the nape of my neck, my body tensed. All I could hear were Vera’s words, echoing in my head. Before, I would have responded to his affection. Tonight, I couldn’t. I pushed back gently, creating a small space between us. “I…” I trailed off, because I felt it—the subtle, instantaneous stiffening of his body. I sensed his displeasure immediately. After a moment’s silence, Ethan smoothly finished my sentence for me. “You’ve been working too hard,” he said with a smile. “Go take a hot shower. You need a good night’s sleep.” He had given me an out. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. I nodded and turned, heading for the stairs. Behind me, the man standing in the shadows watched my retreating form, his expression unreadable, the air around him turning heavy and cold. The next morning, I left for work as usual. Just as I was pulling out of our gated community, I saw a familiar figure. My hands tightened on the steering wheel, my brow creasing. Vera saw my car and darted right in front of it. I slammed on the brakes as a chorus of angry horns erupted from the cars behind me. It was the peak of rush hour. A security guard hurried over, trying to pull Vera away. But she clung to her spot, her voice rising to a frantic shriek. “Nora Collins! Stop ignoring me! How can you live with yourself, sleeping with your own sister’s husband?!” Her shrill accusations drew stares from every direction. I pulled the car over to the side, out of the flow of traffic, and got out. My face was a cold mask. Vera, seeing she had won, flashed a triumphant smile and casually tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “What’s the matter?” she taunted. “Embarrassed? Or are you just scared Ethan will kick you out when he finds out I’m back?” “Vera,” I said, my voice like ice. “You are seriously disrupting my life. This is your final warning. Stay away from me.” She laughed, completely unfazed. “Oh, stop pretending. You’re terrified. You’ve spent your entire life in my shadow, jealous of everything I had. It’s only natural you’d want to take my place.” She took a step closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “But here’s the thing about imposters, little sister. They always get found out. I’ll wait right here for Ethan. Once I explain everything, he’ll forgive me. I know he will.” Her eyes gleamed. “And Jake… he’s my son. I carried him. We have a bond of blood that you can never, ever break. You will never replace me.” I said nothing. I just got back in my car. This time, she didn’t stop me. In the rearview mirror, I saw her standing there, a confident smirk on her face. A shiver ran down my spine. Vera had always been a spoiled brat, a giant toddler who threw world-ending tantrums whenever she didn’t get her way. I took a deep breath, trying to force her from my mind. I had spent ten years carefully building this life, this marriage, this career. A divorce wouldn’t just hurt me; it would damage Ethan, too. We were a brand, and our interests were intertwined. But Ethan had the Stone empire to fall back on. I had only myself. Sitting in my office, my mind drifted back. When we were kids, Vera would spend every school break running wild outside. On the first day of a new term, her homework would be untouched. Terrified of being scolded, she would simply take mine. My parents enabled it. Nora’s grades are so good, they’d say. The teachers won’t mind if she doesn’t turn in her homework. But Vera’s different. To protect Vera’s fragile ego, my efforts were hers to claim. After that, I learned to do two sets of homework every holiday. In high school, she dove headfirst into teenage rebellion—dramatically chasing the captain of the football team, getting into fights, and charming her way into every teacher’s good graces. Her grades were terrible, but her personality was magnetic. She had a legion of friends and a safety net for every mistake. I, on the other hand, had to be careful. Every step I took was calculated. In college, she met Ethan at an off-campus music festival. They formed a pop-up band, playing gigs in dimly lit bars. While I was juggling three part-time jobs to pay my tuition, they were on stage, drenched in sweat and spotlight, living out some wild, youthful fantasy. I thought graduation would be my escape. I would save up some money and finally break free from my family. Then came the night Vera stumbled home late, her face caked in heavy makeup, wearing a crop top and shorts that left nothing to the imagination. She was drunk, and she was sick. My parents rushed her to the hospital in a panic. The test results came back. Vera was pregnant. A heavy silence fell over our house in the weeks that followed. While my parents scrambled to handle the crisis, I was busy working every shift I could get to save for my last year of tuition. The only calm person in the house was Vera herself, utterly oblivious to the new life growing inside her. My parents confined her to the house, plying her with nutritional supplements and fresh fruit. A deal was struck with the Stones: once the baby was born and a paternity test confirmed it was Ethan’s, there would be a wedding. The Stones, backed into a corner to avoid a scandal that could tank their company’s stock, reluctantly agreed. The night before the wedding, I took a four-hour train home. The next morning, the limousines arrived. But Vera was gone. All that was left was a swaddled, sleeping Jake and a room full of furious, humiliated Stones. Ethan’s face was like thunder. My parents stood frozen, their eyes darting around frantically until they landed on me like a drowning woman spotting a lifeline. “We have another daughter!” my mother blurted out. “She’s a good girl! She’s never even dated!” “That’s right! Nora!” my father chimed in, his voice desperate. “Your sister’s gone! You have to take her place. There’s no other choice!” I stood there, stunned, my mind unable to process their words. They were already grabbing my arms, trying to drag me into the dressing room to force me into Vera’s wedding gown. I fought back, a cold fury rising in me. The first twenty years of my life had been lived in her shadow, and now they wanted the rest of it, too? Tears of rage and betrayal stung my eyes. For the first time in my life, I broke. I screamed, wrenching myself free. “Why me?! Why do I always have to be the one to pay for her mistakes? It’s always been this way!” My father slapped me, hard. “She is your sister!” I stumbled back, my cheek burning. My mother was sobbing. “What your sister did was terrible, Nora, we know that. But you can’t just stand by and watch our family be destroyed! The guests are all waiting for a bride!” I felt hollowed out, dead inside. “I won’t do it,” I bit out from between clenched teeth. “I will not get married.” No matter how much they begged or threatened, I refused. Finally, in a last, desperate act, I grabbed a fruit knife from a platter and pressed the cool blade to my throat. “If anyone tries to force me,” I whispered, my eyes wild, “I’ll die right here.” Everyone froze. I didn’t know if they were afraid of me dying, or just afraid of the scandal a death would cause. I didn’t care. I was about to graduate. I was so close to being free. The standoff was broken by Ethan. He asked to speak with me alone. They cleared the room. It was just the two of us. Half an hour later, the door opened. I emerged, dressed in the white gown, my face blank. I placed my hand in his. I walked down the aisle with a smile more painful than any tears, and completed the ceremony. Snapping back to the present, I stood at the floor-to-ceiling window of my office, gazing down at the city below. It had taken me ten years of clawing my way up to earn this view. A sudden chill ran through me, followed by a pair of arms wrapping around me from behind. I jumped, but the familiar, warm scent of sandalwood relaxed me. “What are you thinking about?” Ethan’s deep voice murmured beside my ear. “I came in and you didn’t even notice.” I smiled. “Just thinking about the investor conference tomorrow.” He turned me to face him, his hands gentle on my shoulders. “I have complete faith in you. Everyone knows how capable you are.” I tilted my head. “What brings you to my office? Isn’t the head office busy?” “Things are quiet. I came to pick you up. And to tell you Jake wants to see that new animated movie tomorrow.” I nodded, my mind elsewhere. Ethan leaned down and brushed his lips against mine. I returned the kiss with a sweet smile. When we got home that night, there was no sign of Vera. Her silence was unsettling. I figured my parents, desperate to protect the family company, had finally decided to lock her down. The past few days had left me mentally and physically drained. I fell into bed and was asleep almost instantly. Sometime in the dead of night, a strong arm pulled me close. I murmured a complaint, my eyelids too heavy to open. The next day, the conference hall was a glittering sea of champagne flutes and influential figures. I moved through the crowd, networking, shaking hands, before finally slipping away to the private lounge in the back for a moment of peace. Jake was sitting patiently on the sofa. His face lit up when he saw me. “Mommy! Are we going to the movies right after this?” I smiled, tweaking his nose playfully. “Of course. When have Mommy and Daddy ever broken a promise to you?” His giggle was a balm to my frayed nerves. Seeing him eased the sense of dread that had been clinging to me all morning. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open to head back out. My eyes landed on a familiar figure across the ballroom, and I froze. Vera was clinging to Ethan’s arm, talking animatedly. His back was to me, so I couldn’t see his expression. Then Vera saw me. She pointed a dramatic finger in my direction, her voice a raw, desperate cry that sliced through the ambient chatter. “I’m his wife! She’s a shameless imposter who stole you and our child from me!” In an instant, every eye in the room was on me. The entire ballroom fell silent, as if someone had hit a mute button. The clinking of glasses, the hum of conversation—it all vanished. Dozens of gazes hit me like spotlights. I saw the flicker of shock in the eyes of business partners, the confused whispers among my own employees. Worse, the event photographers had already swiveled their cameras in our direction, ready to capture every micro-expression for public dissection. Blood rushed to my head, then drained away, leaving my limbs cold and heavy. Vera stood beside Ethan, her face a mask of tragic victimhood, tears welling in her eyes. She clutched his arm, her voice choked with sobs but loud enough for everyone to hear. “Ethan, tell them! Tell everyone we were the ones in love! I was just foolish back then, I wasn’t ready… but that doesn’t give Nora the right to steal my life!” A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd. “Who is that woman? I thought Mr. and Mrs. Stone were the perfect couple.” “Did you hear that? She said their son is hers…” “Get this, get this! This is tonight’s headline!” Ethan remained silent. My hand, holding a champagne flute, tightened until my knuckles were white. Vera’s venomous gaze found me. “Nora! You knew about Ethan and me! You knew Jake was my baby! How could you be so opportunistic? Are you that desperate for a man? You’d even steal your own sister’s fiancé just to marry into money!” Her words ignited the room. The whispers grew louder, full of speculation and judgment. I felt their gazes bore into me, dissecting me. It took me a moment to find my voice. “Vera, this is not the place for your theatrics,” I said, my tone dangerously low. “What you’re doing is slander. I can sue you.” She smirked. “Really?” Just then, two figures emerged from the crowd. My nails dug into my palms, but I felt no pain. My parents. They walked forward, and my mother began pleading with me. “Nora, honey, just get a divorce. This marriage was a mistake from the start! Don’t let it ruin your entire life!” My father added, his voice thick with disappointment, “Have you no heart? Your sister has never known hardship. How can you bear to make her watch the man she loves spend his life with her own sister? You’ll… you’ll drive her into a depression!” A sarcastic smile twisted my lips. Who was it that begged me to be the substitute bride? Vera never knew hardship, so I deserved it? My entire life had been ruined by them. At that moment, Ethan stepped forward. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, his voice deep and resonant, cutting through the chaos. “My wife, from the beginning to the end, has only been one person: Nora Collins.” Vera’s face contorted with rage. “Ethan! You… have you forgotten everything we had?” My expression was glacial. “Had?” I repeated, each word deliberate. “What did you have, Vera? Let me say this one more time. This is not a stage for your drama, nor is it a ladder for you to climb.” Vera looked at me as if I’d said something utterly hilarious. “Climb?” she scoffed. “Yes. Or did you not come here because you saw how successful your ‘brother-in-law’ has become and decided you wanted a piece of it?” My words shifted the entire dynamic of the room. A wave of understanding passed over the faces in the crowd. “So the sister is just jealous of the younger one’s success.” “No wonder we’ve never heard that Mrs. Stone even had a sister.” “And those parents… clearly they have a favorite. They’re playing favorites so hard it’s pathetic.” “Making a scene like this today… they were trying to publicly humiliate Mrs. Stone.” Vera was speechless. My parents’ faces grew paler by the second. She gritted her teeth, pointing a trembling finger at me. “Nora! Don’t you dare slander me!” Then she turned her gaze back to Ethan, her eyes filled with a desperate, pleading love. “Ethan, do you really feel nothing for me? Not even a little bit of what we used to have?” The air around Ethan grew dangerously cold. His eyes, sharp and unforgiving, locked onto Vera’s tear-filled ones. He said nothing. Within moments, several security guards were rushing toward us. The head of security, sweating profusely, addressed Ethan. “Mr. Stone, my apologies. This woman claimed she was a relative of Mrs. Stone. That’s the only reason we let her in.” Vera’s eyes darted around warily. “What do you think you’re doing?! I’m Jake’s biological mother! I have a blood tie to this family!” I cut in sharply. “Do you have an invitation to this conference?” My sudden question left Vera momentarily stunned. I pressed my advantage, my voice ringing with authority. “You don’t even have an invitation, yet you come here and cause a scene. Security, please escort her out.” There were too many reporters here. Above all else, the Stone family’s reputation had to be protected. The financial stakes were immense. I watched, stone-faced, as the guards dragged a hysterical, screaming Vera from the ballroom. I let out a slow, shaky breath. Ethan gently squeezed my hand, a silent gesture of comfort. I managed a weak smile in return. The guests, all seasoned professionals, quickly moved on, the drama of a few moments ago already fading into the background hum of business. Ethan led me toward the lounge. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice calm as ever. “The tabloids won’t touch this. Tomorrow’s headlines will only be about what a strong, united couple we are.” He was always so composed. I met his deep, steady gaze and saw not a flicker of lost control. It was the cool, calculating calm of the Stone heir, the man who had long since shed his youthful recklessness. It was terrifyingly rational. A bitter smile touched my lips. Wasn’t that the very reason I’d agreed to this partnership in the first place? Composing myself, I reached the door to the lounge. Ethan paused, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “Rest for a bit. We’ll go home together after the conference ends.” I smiled and pushed the door open. The scene inside made my blood run cold. My voice came out as a strangled cry. “Ethan! Jake’s gone!”

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The acceptance list for the grad school fast-track program dropped, and my academic advisor sent out a QR code for a group chat. “For everyone accepted through the National Collegiate Science Innovators Challenge, please scan to join the group for further instructions.” I’d just gotten out of the lab, my phone buzzing back to life. I quickly scanned the code and sent a request to join. A minute later, a rejection notification popped up: Not on the approved list. I stared at my screen, completely bewildered. I fired back a message. “There must be a mistake. My project won the Grand Prize in the competition. How can I not be on the list?” The reply came with a snarky, eye-rolling emoji. “Dream on, buddy. The only person from your dorm on that list is your RA.” Then another message, dripping with condescension. “And please, don’t spread rumors that someone else’s work is yours just because you’re jealous.” I was floored. Utterly shocked. My fingers flew across the keyboard as I drafted an email to the Dean and posted on the university’s official subreddit. Subject: A Humble Suggestion to Exclude MIT and Stanford from Future Competitions. Body: “I propose that in the future, our university no longer competes against schools like MIT or Stanford. It’s clear they can’t keep up. After all, my RA, a business major, just managed to win the Grand Prize in the National Chemistry Competition. It really says a lot about the ‘talent’ at those top-tier schools, doesn’t it?” 1 It didn’t take long after my post went viral on the university subreddit for my advisor, Mr. Davies, to call me, his voice practically shaking with rage. “What do you think you’re doing, posting things like that without talking to me? Do you have any idea how much trouble this could cause the department?” I almost laughed. “The competition’s official website announced my project as the Grand Prize winner. I have meticulous lab records for every single step of my research. Now, suddenly, the author’s name is changed, and I’m not supposed to fight for what’s mine?” Mr. Davies’s tone shifted to one of strained patience. “There might be a misunderstanding, Liam. You need to give the department time to investigate.” Before I could argue, his voice dropped, turning menacing. “You’re a college student. You should understand that the relationship between a student and his advisor is a partnership. If you make my job difficult, don’t be surprised if I make your graduation difficult.” Mr. Davies had a reputation for this. Every year, students who got on his bad side found themselves navigating a minefield. He’d “forget” to forward important emails about deadlines or “misplace” crucial paperwork, only to blame the student later. Pissing him off meant adding a mountain of obstacles to your path to graduation. Backed into a corner, I swallowed my anger and agreed to take down the Reddit post. Only then did he sound pleased. “Don’t you worry, Liam. We’ll get to the bottom of this. We’ll make sure justice is served.” 2 Hanging up, I felt a knot of anxiety in my stomach. I couldn’t just sit around and trust him. I immediately opened my laptop and started organizing my files. My project was on an artificial photosynthesis system. Basically, I’d developed a method to create a synthetic chlorophyll analog that dramatically increases carbon conversion efficiency—it could absorb greenhouse gases faster and in greater quantities. This project was my baby, the result of over a year spent living in the lab. I had documented everything. Even though Davies promised an investigation, I needed a Plan B. If the university wouldn’t give me justice… I’d package all my lab records and send them directly to the competition’s organizing committee. If this were some minor campus award, maybe I could let it go. But this was my ticket to grad school. This Grand Prize was the key to getting into Dr. Alistair Finch’s research group at MIT—the holy grail for any chemistry student. I wasn’t just going to roll over. Just then, my roommate, Alex, walked in. “Dude, I heard someone stole your Grand Prize? What the hell happened?” Alex was also a chem major. He’d seen me slaving away in the lab all year. I nodded grimly. “The official site shows my project, but the winner’s list has our RA’s name on it.” Alex looked concerned. “So what are you gonna do? Ethan’s a decent guy, and he’s been a good RA to us. Is it really worth blowing things up over this?” My eyes widened. “Are you kidding me? This is my future we’re talking about! That prize gets me into Dr. Finch’s lab!” Alex knew how big of a deal that was. He changed his tune. “Right, right. Did you talk to your advisor? What did Davies say?” “He said he’d look into it, but I don’t trust him. I’m compiling all my lab data to send to the competition organizers just in case.” Alex nodded. “Good call. With your evidence, no one can argue with you.” He saw me hunched over my laptop, looking stressed. “Hey, let me help. We can get this done faster.” I was grateful. “Okay, thanks. Can you just do a first pass and filter out anything not directly related to the final project?” “No problem,” he said with a reassuring smile. “I got your back. You can count on me.” 3 With Alex’s help, we had everything organized in a day. But in that time, I heard nothing but radio silence from Mr. Davies. I decided it was time to email the organizers. As I was about to hit send, Alex stopped me. “Whoa, hold on. You’re having Davies investigate and you’re going over his head to the national committee? You know what kind of person he is, man. Do you even want to graduate?” He had a point. It was the exact thing I was worried about. An academic advisor doesn’t have absolute power, but if they want to screw you over, they can make your life a living hell. “So I should call him and ask for an update?” Alex glanced at his phone. “It’s after five. He’s probably already home. You really want to bother him after hours? Maybe just wait and ask him tomorrow morning.” It sounded reasonable, so I agreed and put it off. In the days that followed, I would curse myself for making that decision. That night, Ethan, our RA, didn’t come back to the dorm. Probably feeling guilty and couldn’t face me. I sent him a hundred texts. He read every single one and replied to none. It was like screaming into the void. The next morning, I called Mr. Davies the second I thought he’d be in his office. He told me the department had completed its review and confirmed the project rightfully belonged to Ethan. The list was correct. I was furious. “How is that possible? He’s a business major! What does he know about synthesizing artificial chlorophyll?” Davies sounded completely unbothered. “What’s so strange about that? Some people are gifted. They have interests outside their major and can achieve great things. You shouldn’t question others just because you couldn’t do it yourself.” “I don’t accept this!” I stated flatly. “This competition is a huge deal, and it’s my ticket to grad school. I will not let someone steal my work.” “I told you, it’s his work. You need to stop throwing around baseless accusations of theft.” I was about to retort, but he cut me off, his voice final. “The decision has been made. If you still have a problem with it, you can come to my office to discuss it in person. I have a meeting now, goodbye.” The line went dead. I bolted from the lab and sprinted to his office. When I arrived, I found he wasn’t alone. 4 “So, this is the young man who’s trying to steal Ethan’s award?” The older man sitting across from Mr. Davies’s desk smiled, but his words hit me like a ton of bricks. It was Dean Albright, the head of our college. I took a deep breath. “Sir, with all due respect, you know how prestigious this award is. Does it seem reasonable that a business major could win it? I have all my experimental data to prove this project is mine.” The Dean just chuckled, a dismissive, patronizing sound. “If it were your project, why would Ethan’s name be on it? It seems to me that you saw your roommate achieve something great, got jealous, and decided to claim it for yourself.” Davies chimed in. “You heard him, Liam. The Dean has spoken. Just drop it.” I couldn’t believe it. “As educators, are you really going to make a decision without a proper investigation?” Davies’s face hardened. “What’s wrong with you? You don’t believe me, and you don’t believe the Dean? Do you think a man of his stature would conspire against a single student?” The Dean put on his fake, understanding smile again. “I was your age once, Liam. I know how competitive young people can be. How about this: you can join my research group, and I’ll personally mentor you for next year’s competition. We’ll make sure you get a prize. How does that sound?” “No! Why should I wait until next year when I won the Grand Prize this year?” Seeing that I wouldn’t be placated, the Dean’s expression soured. “Listen to me, young man. Right now, you are slandering your roommate out of jealousy. If I were to follow the university’s code of conduct, I could have you put on academic probation. Do you understand?” Watching the Dean’s righteous act, a thought began to form in my mind. No matter which student won, it was a win for the university. And I was a chemistry major, while Ethan was in the business school. If they were going to play favorites, they should be backing me. Why was he so adamant about protecting Ethan? And Davies was just sitting there, nodding along to everything the Dean said, like his loyal little foot soldier. Was this the Dean’s decision from the start? I decided to test my theory. “Even if you found out now that Ethan plagiarized my work, the award would still go to me, and the university would still get the credit. Why are you so unwilling to find out the truth?” The Dean slammed his hand on the desk, making the coffee mug jump. “I’m not going to repeat myself. The truth is that this project was Ethan’s from start to finish. You are the one spreading lies out of jealousy. I may be the Dean of the College of Sciences, but that doesn’t mean I’ll protect you when you’re in the wrong!” Before I could say another word, Davies, reading the Dean’s mood, started ushering me out. “That’s enough. If you want to get ahead, spend more time in the lab and less time trying to tear down your roommate.” The Dean delivered the final blow. “If you persist with this, I will see to it that you are formally reprimanded. That goes on your permanent record. And you will be banned from every lab in this college. Permanently.” 5 It was clear the Dean and my advisor weren’t going to help. I left their office, their threats ringing in my ears. But I wasn’t giving up. Back in my dorm, I went straight to Reddit and Twitter and laid out the entire story, with screenshots and timelines. I’d deleted the first post to appease Davies, but now the gloves were off. If I didn’t fight back, I was the one who would lose everything. A business major winning a national chemistry competition was the kind of headline that got clicks. Support started pouring in. “What university is this? This is insane.” “As someone who’s competed in these things, I can tell you the level is incredibly high. No way a business major wins without some serious foul play.” “The advisor and the Dean sound shady AF. Smells like someone got paid off.” But there were dissenters, of course. “Let’s wait for all the facts. Maybe he’s a double major or something.” “An advisor, maybe. But I find it hard to believe a Dean would risk his career to target one student. Doesn’t add up.” “This is either a hoax for clout or a total lie. Only an idiot would believe this without proof.” Regardless, the post was gaining traction. The comment count climbed, and so did the upvotes. Soon enough, my phone rang. It was Davies again. “What is the meaning of this? I told you to drop it! You’re making promises to my face and then stabbing me in the back? How am I supposed to explain this to the Dean?” When I posted, I knew I was burning that bridge. I wasn’t surprised by his call. “Mr. Davies, all I want is what’s fair. And I have the email records showing that I was the one who submitted the project proposal and all the preliminary data directly to you. It’s funny how my name suddenly disappeared after that, isn’t it?” He exploded. “Are you accusing me of giving your work to Ethan? That is slander! Libel! I could sue you for that!” “I’ll be waiting for the summons,” I said and hung up. I immediately went back to my post, hoping to find some helpful advice in the comments. But in the few minutes I was on the phone, the entire narrative had flipped. The comments were now a firestorm directed at me. “You’re just jealous of someone else’s success, you pathetic loser.” “And you guys live in the same dorm? Ethan has been so nice to you, and this is how you repay him? By trashing his name online?” “EVERYONE, READ THIS. DON’T BE FOOLED. HIS ROOMMATE JUST POSTED PROOF THAT THE WORK IS HIS.” My hand trembled as I clicked the link. It led to a new post by Ethan. “Hey everyone, I’m the ‘business major’ who supposedly stole a chemistry prize. I’m here to provide some of the evidence from my experimental research. The rest has been sent to the competition organizers to prove my innocence.” Below his text were a series of screenshots. They were my lab notes. My data. Every step, every breakthrough, marked and annotated exactly as I had done it. I felt the blood drain from my face. I read his final sentence: “My roommate Liam is a very hardworking chemistry student. It’s understandable that he’d feel upset seeing an outsider like me win this award. I hope everyone can find it in their hearts to forgive him.” Compared to my angry, accusatory posts, his calm, generous tone made him look like a saint. And it made me look like a monster. “Hardworking but stupid, I guess? The OP is way too nice. If it were me, I’d sue him for defamation.” “The records are crystal clear. There’s no way you’d have this data unless you did the experiments. This guy is obviously innocent. The other one is just a jealous snake.” “This is disgusting. If I had a roommate like that, I’d be scared he’d poison my food.” At the same time, a notification popped up in my class group chat. “Official Notice: Liam Carter (Chemistry Dept.) has been issued a formal reprimand for making false and defamatory statements online against a fellow student, causing significant harm to the community. He will be placed on academic probation and is disqualified from all university honors and awards.” 6 Just then, the dorm room door opened. It was Alex. He wouldn’t look at me, his eyes fixed on the floor. Suddenly, everything clicked into place. After my first attempt to join the winners’ group chat was rejected, the only person I’d told about the conflict with Davies was Alex. He’d never shown the slightest interest in my research, yet he had eagerly offered to help me organize my data. He was bought. Ethan must have paid him off. That’s why he was so desperate to stop me from emailing the organizers—to buy Ethan time to get ahead of the story. And the data, my data… of course, Alex had made a copy and sent it straight to Ethan. Watching him avoid my gaze as he started packing a bag, I knew I was right. But I had to hear it. “Why?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “We’ve known each other for years. How could you do this?” Alex pulled a few shirts from his closet and stuffed them into a backpack. He was quiet for a long moment before finally mumbling, “It’s just a dorm, man. Why’d you have to make such a big deal out of it? Ethan’s our RA, he’s always been cool to us. Why couldn’t you just let it go?” “So this is my fault?” I was in disbelief. This was a level of absurdity I couldn’t comprehend. Alex shifted uncomfortably. “Look, whatever the truth is, the winners were already announced. By making a scene, you’re just trying to ruin Ethan’s life. Did you ever stop to think about how this would make him look?” “Make him look? He didn’t seem to care about his ‘look’ when he was stealing my goddamn research!” I shot back. “Do you have any idea what that prize means? It’s my entire future! If this was your future on the line, would you be spouting this ‘whatever the truth is’ bullshit?” Alex’s brow furrowed in frustration. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and shoved past me. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. I’m staying somewhere else for a while.”

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