Category: English

Three months postpartum, and I broke my leg. My husband, Mark, felt terrible for me. He spared no expense, hiring the most sought-after maternity nurse in the city. The deposit alone was five thousand dollars. My mom was looking over the nurse’s resume, gushing with praise and just about to call to have her start the next day. I pressed the end-call button on her phone. “Don’t bother. Aunt Brenda is about to swoop in and try to steal her.” For as long as I can remember, my mother has played the role of a living saint. The second my aunt’s family started crying poor, every good thing we had was offered up to them first. My mom proudly called it “helping others,” oblivious to the fact that behind her back, Aunt Brenda called her a “gullible fool.” But my mother insisted I was the cynical one, that her sister-in-law wasn’t that kind of person. She picked up the phone to dial again. Just then, the door swung open. It was Aunt Brenda, grabbing my mother’s hand and immediately starting to dab at her eyes. She wailed that her daughter-in-law’s milk hadn’t come in and begged my mom to let them have the maternity nurse. My mom stood there, phone in hand, looking utterly mortified. I crossed my arms, a cold smirk on my face. “Well, Mom? What’s it going to be this time? Yes or no?” 1. Aunt Brenda wiped at tears that weren’t there, her eyes darting to my mother’s face. “Sharon, you know my grandson was born premature. He’s so fragile, and his mother can’t produce any milk. If we don’t have a professional looking after him, I’m afraid the baby might not…” She let the sentence hang, swallowing the word “die” but leaving the terror of it to poison the air. My mother, predictably, took the bait. She glanced at my leg, hoisted high in its plaster cast, then at my daughter sleeping peacefully in her bassinet. My mom bit her lip and turned to me. “Anna, you heard her. This is a life-or-death situation for your aunt’s family.” “Your leg is already broken. It just needs time to heal. But if that baby dies, it would be a terrible sin.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I pointed to my leg, then to the bassinet. “Mom, I am your daughter. Your daughter. I just gave birth, I have a broken leg, and I can’t even take care of myself.” “Mark paid a five-thousand-dollar deposit for this nurse specifically because she has a background in physical therapy and rehabilitation.” “And you want me to just give her away? What about me? What about your granddaughter?” My mother’s brow furrowed, as if I were being completely unreasonable. “Why do you have to be so selfish?” “You have money. You can just hire another one. Your aunt’s family is struggling; they can’t afford someone like this.” “Saving a life is the greatest good you can do. Don’t you understand something so simple?” Sensing my mother’s resolve wavering, Aunt Brenda immediately pressed her advantage. “That’s right, Anna. We all know you’re doing well for yourself, not like us, poor as church mice.” “About the nurse’s salary… we could chip in a few hundred bucks, you know, as a token of our appreciation. For the rest, maybe you could…” Unbelievable. Not only did she want the nurse, but she also wanted me to foot the bill. She wanted me to pay for someone to take care of her grandson. And my mother was actually nodding along. “A few hundred is a nice gesture. Anna’s not short on cash.” A fire ignited in my chest. This wasn’t my mother; she was an unofficial member of Aunt Brenda’s household. I grabbed the mug from my bedside table and hurled it to the floor. CRACK! The sharp sound echoed through the room. Water splashed everywhere, and a shard of ceramic skittered to a stop near Aunt Brenda’s foot. She shrieked and jumped back. “My God! Are you trying to kill me?” My mom, startled at first, shot me a thunderous look. “Anna! What is wrong with you? Have you lost all your manners?” “You want manners? Fine.” “This nurse is under an exclusive contract. The cancellation fee is ten thousand dollars.” “Whoever wants to take her can put that ten grand on the table right now.” “Furthermore, her services were approved as a special benefit through my husband’s company. Transferring her privately could be considered fraud. We can call the police right now and see what a judge thinks about that.” The mention of “ten thousand” and “police” made Aunt Brenda’s face go pale. People like her were terrified of spending money and even more terrified of jail time. Her eyes shifted nervously. She resorted to whining. “Oh, Sharon, look at your Anna. The richer she gets, the stingier she becomes. Who is she trying to scare…” “Fine, don’t lend her to us! Why go crazy over it? It’s true what they say: the rich forget all about their poor relatives!” Muttering under her breath, Aunt Brenda stormed out, spitting on the floor for good measure on her way through the door. I thought my mom might ask if I had hurt myself in my anger. Instead, her face was a stony mask as she pointed a finger at me and began her tirade. “You chased your aunt away over such a trivial matter. How am I supposed to face our relatives now?” “Everyone praises me, calls me a saint, and you! You’re determined to ruin my reputation!” 2. My mother lectured me for a solid thirty minutes. She only stopped when Mark got home. He came in looking tired from a long day, carrying a strawberry cheesecake, my favorite. The moment he stepped inside, he could feel the tense atmosphere. The broken porcelain was still on the floor. My mother was on the sofa, wiping her eyes, while I lay in bed, my face a cold mask. Mark’s expression changed instantly. He didn’t even bother to take off his shoes before rushing to my bedside. “Honey, what’s wrong? Is your leg hurting?” He anxiously checked my cast, then glanced at our sleeping daughter, breathing a sigh of relief only when he confirmed we were both okay. Seeing Mark, my mom found a new audience for her grievances. “Mark, you be the judge of this.” “Anna is becoming more and more cold-hearted. Her own relatives are in trouble. What’s wrong with lending a hand?” “Her aunt was practically on her knees, and she threatened to call the police on her!” After hearing the whole story, the warmth vanished from Mark’s face. He stood up, positioning himself between me and my mother, his tone firm. “Mom, the nurse was hired to care for Anna and our baby.” “Anna has a broken bone. She needs professional care right now. If we let the nurse go and Anna’s injury doesn’t heal properly, who’s going to be responsible?” “You are Anna’s mother. Is some outsider’s opinion more important than your own daughter’s health?” My mother was speechless. She clearly hadn’t expected her usually polite son-in-law to confront her so directly. She froze for a moment, then, flustered and angry, she resorted to playing the victim. “Oh, wonderful. Now the two of you are ganging up on a poor old woman!” “Do you think it’s been easy for me, helping out relatives all these years? Everyone calls me a good person. Was I wrong?” “Who do you think I’m doing it for? It’s to build up good karma for Anna!” “Good karma?” I couldn’t take it anymore. I told Mark to go to the study and get the old notebook. It was a record of all the injustices I’d endured since I was a child. I had him open it and read the entries aloud to my mother. “Sophomore year of college. You took the eight hundred dollars I earned from my part-time job and work-study scholarship to buy my cousin a new gaming console. You said it was a ‘loan.’ It was never paid back.” “First year of my career. That gourmet gift basket my company sent, you gave it to Aunt Brenda before I even had a chance to open it. I never saw a single shrimp.” “The small condo my parents gave me as a wedding gift. You forced me to let Aunt Brenda’s family use it as my cousin’s marital home. You said it was temporary. They’ve been living there for three years, rent-free. I’m still the one paying the utility bills!” Mark’s face grew darker with every word he read. “Mom, your precious reputation was built by carving pieces out of me.” “I am your daughter, not your personal blood bank!” Exposed, my mother couldn’t stand the humiliation. She shot up from her seat, snatched the notebook from Mark, and threw it on the floor. “I raised you! What’s wrong with using your things? You’re just like your good-for-nothing father, completely heartless!” With that, she stormed into the guest room, slamming the door so hard the walls shook. Mark wrapped his arms around me, his touch gentle as he stroked my back. “Don’t be angry. It’s bad for you. I’m here now. I won’t let them drain you dry ever again.” His embrace was warm, but it couldn’t dispel the deep chill that had settled in my heart. Late that night, my phone buzzed. It was a voice message from Aunt Brenda. All traces of the day’s conflict were gone, replaced by a tone of entitled greed. “Anna, dear, I’ll drop the subject of the nurse. But my daughter-in-law is so weak after the delivery, you know. I heard you have some kind of imported therapy machine? Could we borrow it for a bit?” “Your leg is what it is, anyway. A couple of days without it won’t make a difference.” This family was a swarm of leeches. Once they latched on, they never let go. 3. The next morning, as soon as Mark left for work, Aunt Brenda showed up with my cousin, Kevin, in tow. They were smarter this time, bringing a basket of bruised, mealy-looking apples as a peace offering. “Oh, Anna, I was just so worried yesterday. I spoke too harshly. Please don’t take it to heart.” Aunt Brenda set the apples on the table, her eyes already scanning the room. Finally, her gaze landed on the physical therapy machine humming quietly beside my leg. Mark had a friend ship it over from Germany. It was worth over eight thousand dollars and was specifically designed to prevent muscle atrophy after surgery like mine. My doctor had been adamant: I needed to use it for at least four hours every single day. “So this is that therapy machine, huh? Looks pretty high-tech.” Aunt Brenda walked over and reached for the plug. “Perfect. My husband’s back has been acting up, and my daughter-in-law is sore all over. We’ll just take it back and let the whole family have a go.” I slammed my hand down on the machine. “No.” “This is medical equipment, not a flashlight. You could hurt someone by misusing it. Besides, I’m in the middle of my rehab. I can’t stop.” Aunt Brenda’s face fell instantly. “Anna, why are you so selfish? It’s not going to break if we just borrow it!” Kevin, who had been silent until now, suddenly lunged forward and shoved my hand away. “Mom, why are you wasting your breath on her? Aunt Sharon already said we could take it!” With that, he started to lift the machine. Panicked, I ignored the cast on my leg and struggled to stop him. “That’s mine! I’m not lending it to you! This is robbery!” Just then, my mother came out of the kitchen, a spatula still in her hand. She didn’t even look at me, her words aimed directly at my head. “Anna! Let go!” “It’s just a stupid machine! What’s the big deal if your cousin uses it for a couple of days?” “His wife could end up with lifelong health problems from childbirth. A couple of days without it won’t kill you!” I stared at my mother in disbelief. “Mom, this is my lifeline! The doctor said even one missed day could lead to muscle atrophy!” “Stop listening to doctors trying to scare you! You’re just being dramatic!” my mother snapped, walking towards me. To help Kevin get the machine, she reached out and shoved me. Hard. “Let go! Why are you being so difficult!” I was sitting in a wheelchair. Her push landed squarely on my shoulder, causing the chair to tip over. My entire body slammed onto the hard marble floor. The leg that had just been surgically repaired, the bones carefully set, struck the ground with brutal force. CRACK! An excruciating pain, sharp as an electric current, shot through my entire body. A piercing scream tore from my throat as cold sweat instantly drenched my clothes. Aunt Brenda and Kevin froze, nearly dropping the machine. But they didn’t stop. They seized the opportunity, hoisting the therapy unit and bolting for the door. “She fell on her own! It has nothing to do with us!” Kevin shouted as he ran. Aunt Brenda was even faster. “That’s right, Sharon, you saw it! We didn’t touch her!” They vanished out the door, clutching the machine that was supposed to save my leg. And my own mother just stood there. She looked down at me on the floor, a flicker of panic in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by annoyance. “What are you screaming for? You’re fine.” “You just had to fight with your own family. You fell? You deserved it!” 4. The blinding pain made my vision swim in and out of focus. I felt a warm, sticky liquid seeping from my cast, quickly staining my pajama pants red. The bone had shifted, probably tearing a blood vessel. In her bassinet, my daughter, startled by my scream, began to wail. With a monumental effort, I lifted my head and looked at my mother. “Mom… help me…” “There’s so much blood… take me to the hospital…” When she saw the blood pooling on the floor, her expression finally changed. She took an instinctive step towards me, as if to help me up. Just then, Aunt Brenda’s anxious voice called from outside. “Sharon! Get down here and give us a hand! This thing is too heavy to fit in the trunk!” My mother’s movement halted. She looked at me, drenched in a cold sweat and on the verge of passing out. Then she looked towards the door. Aunt Brenda called again, more impatiently this time. “Sharon! Hurry up! Don’t let that brat Anna change her mind and come after us!” My mother hesitated for a single, eternal second. Then she turned back to me, pointed a finger, and spat, “Stop faking it! A little blood won’t kill you!” “I’m going to help your aunt get this thing downstairs. I’ll deal with you when I get back.” With that, she turned and walked out. I watched in despair as the door clicked shut. This was my mother. At the moment my life hung in the balance, she chose to help the robbers carry away their loot. My consciousness began to fade, consumed by the agony. But I couldn’t die. My daughter was still crying. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, using my elbows to drag my body across the floor, inch by painful inch, towards the coffee table. A thick, horrifying trail of red marked my path. Finally, my fingers brushed against my phone. I managed to unlock it, my bloody fingertips smudging the screen before the sensor finally registered. I dialed Mark’s number. “Hello? Honey?” The moment he answered, I used my very last breath to force out a single word: “Help…” The phone slipped from my grasp. Darkness swallowed me whole. I don’t know how much time passed. I heard the sound of the front door being forced open with a violent crash. “ANNA!!!” It was Mark’s voice, a raw, gut-wrenching roar. It was followed by frantic footsteps and the panicked shouts of the building’s security guard. And then, another sound from the doorway. Someone humming a cheerful little tune. It was my mother. She had finished her task and was returning at her leisure. “What’s all the racket? You’re going to break the door!” “She just took a little fall. Is all this drama really necessary…” Her voice died in her throat as she took in the scene: the room full of people and the dark, spreading pool of blood on the floor. Mark, cradling my blood-soaked body, lifted his head. His eyes were blazing red as he stared at her with pure, unadulterated hatred. I wasn’t “faking it.” I was, in fact, dying.

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Slacking off during work hours—a boss’s prerogative—I was scrolling through a popular jobs forum when a headline caught my eye. [Gen Z Intern Calls Bullshit on the ‘Most Humane’ Company in the City.] The description sounded uncomfortably familiar. I frowned. Just that morning, I’d called a meeting to ask if anyone had issues with our company benefits. Ashley, our newest intern, had stood up. “I don’t think our benefits are comprehensive enough,” she’d announced. “If we’re really aiming to be a ‘humane’ company, we should have fully catered meals, corporate housing, and a daily car service for everyone’s commute.” I already provided a combined monthly stipend of twenty-five hundred dollars for housing and transportation. It was more than enough for anyone to find a decent apartment and cover their commute. So, I shot down her request but offered a compromise: employees could choose between the stipend and a company-leased apartment. I told them to discuss it, come to a consensus, and let me know. I never imagined that later that night, the original poster would update their thread. [UPDATE: The CEO is having a meltdown. She’s threatening to cancel our housing stipends. AVOID FIREFLY INC. AT ALL COSTS.] 1 Seeing those words, I knew for sure. The author was Ashley. Because “Firefly” was the name of my company. The comment section below the post was a wildfire. [WTF! Firefly Inc.? My friend and I were just talking about applying there! I heard the benefits are insane, like a four-day work week!] Ashley’s reply was swift: [You’re so naive. It’s a four-day week, but you’re working until midnight every single one of those days. You’d learn quick.] [No way! Firefly is famous for its perks. My company gives us a two-hundred-dollar transit pass. I bet Firefly’s is closer to two thousand.] Ashley shot back: [And what if you live far from the office? Two grand sounds like a lot, but you can’t buy back the time you waste commuting!] The commenter was instantly swayed, agreeing that she had a point. Then another comment appeared: [I heard a rumor that the CEO of Firefly is some trust-fund baby, just playing at starting a business for fun.] I had no idea where they’d heard that rumor, but they weren’t wrong. My family was rich. Absurdly, ridiculously rich. I could do nothing for the rest of my life and still have enough money to last ten lifetimes. I started this company purely out of boredom. In the beginning, I had no grand ambitions of building an empire. I just wanted to create a truly humane workplace. So I designed the best benefits package I could imagine. A four-day work week—two on, one off, two on, two off. That generous stipend for housing and transit. If an employee was ever in a tight spot, they could get an advance on it. Whenever I felt like having afternoon tea, I ordered it for the entire office. Birthdays and holidays were always celebrated with gifts and surprises. Honestly, I enjoyed planning those things more than the actual work. I could have paid everyone to do nothing and the company would have been fine. But the incredible benefits had an unexpected side effect: my employees felt a deep sense of gratitude. To show their appreciation, they worked harder than I ever could have asked. After three years, not only had I not lost money, but Firefly had become surprisingly profitable. It even shocked my family. That was why I’d kept it going for so long. But the anonymous commenters on the thread didn’t see it that way. [A trust-fund baby? Of course she doesn’t know how to run a company. She’s just LARPing as a CEO!] [The only reason that place hasn’t gone bankrupt is because her daddy’s footing the bill.] [That explains why their benefits are so good, but you never see employees bragging online. Who knows if they’re even real.] [The poster above gets it. Working for a place like that is terrifying. Piss off the wrong rich girl and you’ll be blacklisted from the industry.] A humorless smile touched my lips. Had it ever occurred to them that my employees kept quiet because they didn’t want more competition? Staff turnover at Firefly was practically nonexistent. In three years, I could count the number of people who had voluntarily resigned on one hand. I didn’t reply to the thread. Instead, I copied the link and pasted it into our company-wide group chat. Let’s see how Ashley reacts to this. 2 After I shared the link, the group chat fell silent for a full thirty minutes. The first reply was from Ashley herself. [I wrote the post. So what? I was just raising a valid point for discussion!] She had the right to a discussion. She didn’t have the right to spew complete nonsense. I didn’t bother arguing. I just typed out a single message. [Meeting tomorrow morning, 9 AM sharp. We’re settling this.] I thought I had been perfectly clear earlier in the day. I wasn’t against providing housing. I had asked them to come to a unified decision, and I would make the arrangements. Apparently, that wasn’t good enough. And I had a sinking feeling that while the other employees hadn’t spoken up, they had been swayed. I knew my team. We’d worked together for years. They loved the company culture and they respected me as their boss. Normally, any message I sent to the group chat would be met with a flurry of enthusiastic replies. It was clear Ashley hadn’t just been stirring up trouble behind my back. She had succeeded. The next morning, when I walked into the conference room, everyone was already there. The atmosphere was a complete reversal from the day before. It was tense, almost hostile. I walked to the head of the table and placed my hands on its surface, about to speak. A voice cut through the silence. “So, have you figured out how you’re going to fix this, Sienna?” I looked up. It was Ashley, looking at me with her chin tilted in a way that screamed defiance. For a second, I couldn’t tell if she was just young and reckless or if she had been sent here deliberately to cause chaos. I ignored her, my gaze sweeping over the rest of the room. “What are all of your thoughts?” The silence stretched for several long seconds. Finally, one of my veteran employees, Carla, spoke up. “Sienna, I actually think corporate housing would be more convenient. Ashley might be young, but she has a point. We never considered it before, but now that she’s brought it up, I support the idea.” I nodded, my mind racing. I remembered Carla’s interview. She was a brilliant professional who had been forced out of the workforce by family issues and had struggled to find her way back. I’d given her a chance. For three years, she had been my most diligent and grateful employee. This was the first time she had ever voiced a complaint. Then another employee chimed in. “Yeah, my landlord decided to sell my apartment last month. I had to scramble to find a new place. If the company provided housing, that never would have happened.” The dam had broken. One by one, they all started talking. “I agree! It would take away a lot of stress so we can focus on our work.” As they spoke, I could feel Ashley’s smug, challenging gaze on me. When most of them had finished, two young women who had been sitting quietly in the corner stood up. Rachel and Wendy. They had joined last year. Both were introverted and had struggled to find jobs where they felt comfortable. They weren’t vocal, but their private messages to me were always full of gratitude. “Sienna, we have no objections,” Rachel said softly. “We’re happy with whatever the company decides.” To say I wasn’t disappointed by the others would be a lie. But the simple loyalty from those two calmed the storm brewing inside me. Before I could respond, Ashley scoffed loudly. “Are you two idiots? We’re fighting for our rights here! Unbelievable.” I shot Ashley a withering glare. She was a fresh college graduate. During her interview just a week ago, my impression of her had been “sweet and polite.” It hadn’t taken long for the mask to slip. A dry, humorless smile touched my lips. “Fine,” I said, my voice cool. “Since you’ve all reached a consensus, the new policy will take effect next month. We will provide corporate housing and a car service for everyone. The housing and transit stipends will be canceled.” I had given them exactly what they asked for. But as my words sank in, the triumphant looks on their faces curdled into shock and disbelief. 3 I paid their reactions no mind. “If there’s nothing else,” I said, “this meeting is adjourned.” I waited a moment. When no one spoke, I turned to leave. I had barely reached the door when Ashley’s voice rang out again. “What’s the meaning of this, Sienna? Are you trying to threaten us by canceling the stipends?” I turned back, genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?” Her voice was indignant, as if I were the one being unreasonable. “If you weren’t threatening us, why would you cancel the stipends?” For a second, I didn’t grasp the implication. “Because you all wanted corporate housing instead,” I said, stating the obvious. “So just because you provide housing, you get to take away our other benefits? I thought you were a rich heiress! How can you be so petty?” The accusation and entitlement in her tone were so astounding, I almost laughed. If I hadn’t understood her angle before, it was crystal clear now. My eyes swept across the room. On the faces of the others, I saw the same look of entitled agreement. So that was it. They wanted it all. They wanted the twenty-five hundred dollars a month, and a free apartment, and a private car service. Where on earth did they think such a deal existed? If they weren’t going to respect me, I had no reason to indulge them. I’d been coddled my entire life; not even my parents had ever made me feel this disrespected. Now I was supposed to take it from my own employees? I slapped the folder I was holding onto the table. “Let me get this straight,” I said, my voice dripping with ice. “You want me to provide housing, a car service, and pay you a cash stipend? Are you that naive, or do you think I’m that stupid?” “You’ve all worked at other companies. Tell me, which one of them had benefits even half as good as what you have here? And now you’re letting a brand-new intern, a child, lead you around by the nose. It’s pathetic.” Seeing my anger, a few of them finally had the decency to look ashamed. It seemed I’d been too nice for too long. They’d forgotten I had a spine. The others fell silent, but Ashley, fearless as a cornered badger, kept pushing. “It’s only twenty-five hundred dollars! Why are you making such a big deal about it? It’s not like you’re short on cash!” she sneered. “Or is that whole ‘heiress’ thing just a lie?” I didn’t understand the source of her venom, and frankly, I didn’t care. Whether it was youthful arrogance or pure jealousy, she was insignificant to me. I didn’t need her approval, and I certainly didn’t owe her an explanation. I gave her one last, long look. “Since you clearly aren’t interested in a good-faith negotiation, this discussion is over. The existing benefits package will remain as is. No further applications for changes will be accepted.” My gaze hardened as I focused solely on her. “Instead of wasting your time trying to stir up drama,” I said, my voice a low warning, “you should be thinking about whether you’re going to pass your internship. Because if you don’t, none of this company’s ‘amazing’ benefits will have anything to do with you.” I wouldn’t fire an employee without cause, but with her attitude, she had just landed herself on my permanent blacklist. She finally seemed to grasp the implication, and her face paled. I turned my attention back to the rest of them. “If you’re unhappy with the benefits here, you are more than welcome to resign and find a better opportunity. I won’t stop you. But if you try to pull another stunt like this in my company, you will find that I am not so accommodating.” This time, when I turned and walked out of the room, no one dared to stop me. By the end of the day, not a single person had submitted their resignation. I put it out of my mind and went home. But that night, out of morbid curiosity, I checked the thread again. Ashley had posted a new update. And this one included a photo. [LMAO, so much for being an heiress. Turns out she’s just a homewrecker’s side piece. No wonder she’s so cheap with the perks—guess her sugar daddy’s cutting her off!]

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My online boyfriend loves playing “abstract.” When his mom called him home for dinner, he said, “Heading back to the old manor to dine with the matriarch.” I played along. When my friends called me over for poker and needed a fourth, I said, “It’s an old-money gathering. I can’t leave; no one dares to move.” My online boyfriend deeply agreed. I always thought we were a couple of abstract artists, spinning tales for fun. Until right before the holidays, when he pulled me into his group chat with his childhood friends. “They all grew up together. They want to meet you.” I clicked on the member list and froze. Why is the stoic, unsmiling CEO of my company in this group? His nickname: Ethan’s Loyal Lapdog. Oh right, my online boyfriend’s name is Ethan Vance. The CEO tagged me in the group. [Sister-in-law, say something!] [Cute Cat.jpg] I didn’t dare move. I literally didn’t dare move! I thought we were just playing pretend? How come you guys are actually real?! 1 Actually, the moment Ethan pulled me into the group, I sensed something was wrong. The four-person group chat was buzzing, and no one noticed my arrival yet. I watched their conversation and fell into deep thought— Sterling: [It’s winter. Let’s go skiing in Zermatt. I lost to Lucas last year; I have to win it back this year!] Ethan’s Loyal Lapdog: [You couldn’t beat me last year, so you think you can this year?] Song: [I’m out. I have to accompany my fiancée to St. Barts for vacation (distressed emoji).] Sterling: [Oof, good luck. Your fiancée is no walk in the park.] … I stared at my phone, rubbing my chin. Something’s off. Something’s really off. Why do these names look so familiar? Especially the one nicknamed [Ethan’s Loyal Lapdog], Lucas… The name Lucas is familiar, and his profile picture of him skiing looks even more familiar! While I was racking my brain, someone in the group finally noticed my existence. Ethan’s Loyal Lapdog: [Eh? There’s an extra person in our group!!] Ethan: [Let me introduce you. This is my girlfriend.] He tagged me. The group went silent for two seconds, then messages flooded in. Sterling: [Sister-in-law!] Ethan’s Loyal Lapdog: [Sister-in-law!] Song: [Sister-in-law!] Ethan’s Loyal Lapdog: [Finally! We’ve been pestering Ethan for so long, and he finally let us meet you!] [I’m so curious. Who is the goddess that managed to take down Ethan?!] I suddenly felt a bit shy. I’ve been online dating Ethan for over two years, and this was my first contact with his friends. Just as I was about to type something, I caught a glimpse of [Ethan’s Loyal Lapdog]’s profile picture again, and my hands froze. I suddenly remembered where I had seen that face! My brain buzzed. I immediately switched out of the chat interface and clicked onto my company’s official website. After rummaging through the backend, I finally found a photo. It was taken three months ago when the company reached a business cooperation with a foreign firm. In the photo, a young man in a suit stood unsmiling. Standing next to the foreign partners, he didn’t lose an ounce of presence. I stared at the caption for a long time. The name Lucas Reed stood out. Lucas Reed, the CEO of our company. And the only son of our company’s founder. Ah… Ah? Messages flashed in the group. [Ethan’s Loyal Lapdog: @Tired Corporate Slave Sister-in-law, your WeChat name is hilarious hahahaha] [Ethan’s Loyal Lapdog: How did you and Ethan meet?] [Ethan’s Loyal Lapdog: Sister-in-law, say something.] [Ethan’s Loyal Lapdog: Cute Cat.jpg] 2 The cute cat sticker spun before my eyes. I randomly sent a greeting sticker and exited. Then, with trembling hands, I clicked open the private chat with Ethan, pretending to be casual: “Babe, your ‘Loyal Lapdog’ looks a bit familiar to me.” Ethan replied instantly: “He’s got a jumpy personality. Did he scare you?” “His name is Lucas Reed, the CEO of SkyHigh Tech. Your family business is extensive; maybe you’ve met him before.” My brain was a mess. While replying to Ethan, I started searching for information on the other group members online. Then, my suspended heart finally died. Sterling, the youngest son of real estate tycoon Sterling Strong, currently studying in the US. Song, the second son of the founder of Nanyang Construction, a veritable rich second generation… My brain could no longer think independently. My fingers unconsciously typed Ethan’s name into the search box. Soon, the search results popped up. Ethan Vance, the eldest grandson of the founder of Dingyan Group, the youngest director of the group, driving corporate innovation and transformation, worth over… I counted the number of zeros. Then I sucked in a breath of cold air and almost fainted. In the group chat, “Ethan’s Loyal Lapdog” was still clamoring. “Sister-in-law, Sister-in-law, how did you guys meet?” “I’m too curious. Tell us, tell us.” Ethan: [Online dating. How else? Met online.] Ethan’s Loyal Lapdog: [Can you be more specific…] 3 Online dating needs caution! For the first time, I truly realized the importance of this sentence. I met Ethan because I saw a help post. “Question: Why is one grilled sausage three dollars, but two are five dollars?” I thought the poster was kind of funny, so I commented casually: “Don’t you know the first thing to do after buying a $9.90 membership?” The other party replied quickly: “Right, right, right! I got that question wrong too!” He praised me for being smart and awesome. In my ordinary 24 years, this was the first time I received such straightforward praise. I suddenly got interested and started discussing with this netizen. Chatting and chatting, we added each other on WeChat. At first, we weren’t that familiar until he discovered I was playing a popular mobile game. So he took the initiative to ask: “Is it fun?” I was enthusiastic: “It’s fun! Do you want to play? I’ll carry you; I’m super good.” “Okay, I’ll go get an account… I’m familiar with this game, but I haven’t really played it. I might be bad, don’t be mad.” … We played games for three months. I found that although this guy’s gaming skills were average, his quality was high. He didn’t curse, his voice was nice, and he was emotionally stable! And he wasn’t illiterate! My favorability towards him multiplied, so I started to take the initiative… After confirming our relationship with Ethan, our chats gradually became more relaxed. I have to say, this guy really suits my taste! It’s just that sometimes, he talks weirdly abstractly. His mom called him home for dinner, he said: “Heading back to the old manor to dine with the matriarch.” He had a civil servant friend, he said: “My close friend is in politics; it’s not convenient to meet up.” Rejecting a blind date arranged by his family, he said: “I don’t like family alliances.” I got it. And quickly applied it. Friends called me over for poker, needing a fourth, I said: “It’s an old-money gathering. I can’t leave; no one dares to move.” Chasing stars and watching concerts, I said: “I’m going to visit a child I’ve been sponsoring for a long time.” Ordering a group meal, I said: “Investing in an online catering project with several partners; the risk is relatively high.” Ethan deeply agreed. “It seems our life status is very similar.” He sent a “Cheers” emoji. “We are truly a match made in heaven.” … I always thought Ethan and I were a couple of abstract artists. Never suspected a thing. Until today, my worldview collapsed. No, so I’m the only one playing abstract? You guys are actually real?! 4 I was dazed at my workstation holding my phone when my colleague, Little Yang, poked me. “Jenny, still on your phone?” She leaned in and whispered, “Rumor has it the CEO might drop by our department for inspection today, but no one knows the exact time. Don’t get caught.” Little Yang and I joined the company around the same time. Except for the two of us, most of the department were returnees or well-connected people. Naturally, we huddled together for warmth. She also knew my family background was average, and it took a lot of effort to get into SkyHigh Tech. If the leader caught me slacking off during work hours, at best my salary would be deducted, at worst I’d be kicked directly into next quarter’s layoff list! Little Yang reminded me out of kindness. I snapped back to reality. CEO? Isn’t that Lucas Reed? Buzz buzz buzz— My phone vibrated twice in the small group chat. It was a new message from Lucas. “Can’t chat anymore, I have something to do.” Song: [Where are you going? Coming back for dinner?] “Going to inspect various departments of the company today. Have to go, my dad ordered it.” [@Tired Corporate Slave Sister-in-law, let’s chat next time!] [I’ll treat you to dinner when I have time!] [Cute Cat.jpg] Song: [Aren’t you just near the company?] Lucas: [Yeah, five minutes away. Gotta go, bye.] … Ten minutes later, I saw him in the company. The lively and jumpy person online transformed into a noble young master surrounded by stars. Lucas was in a decent suit, his hair meticulously styled. Surrounded by several directors, he walked slowly through the corridor. His expression was indifferent. The usually high-and-mighty leaders seemed to become different people in front of him… Fawning, flattering. Lucas didn’t stay in our marketing department for too long. His gaze didn’t even fall on me for a second. For people like them, we live in two different worlds. Giving attention to us is a waste. He is like this. Let alone Ethan. At this moment, I understood the gap between me and them.

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Senior year was the year I hit rock bottom. I tried to pull a move on Leo Vance, thinking I’d finally get a kiss out of him, but his older brother caught us in the act. His brother, Silas, cornered me in a dark alleyway behind the gym. He grabbed me by the hair and leaned in, his voice a low, dangerous growl: “You want to kiss someone so bad? I’ll give you something to kiss.” Blood rushing to my head, I fumbled with my belt and smirked. “Bring it.” 01 I wasn’t going down easy. I’d been beaten before, and I wasn’t scared. I licked the blood from the corner of my mouth and tugged at my waistband, completely ignoring Silas’s thunderous expression. “What are you waiting for? I thought you wanted this,” I taunted, tilting my head back with a death-wish level of defiance. “Get on your knees and do it.” Silas let out a dark, dry laugh. Then he punched me. Right in the gut. The bastard played dirty. I doubled over, the wind knocked out of me, but my spite only burned hotter. “If you don’t want to do it, why did you ask? I wanted Leo. If you’re too much of a coward, I’ll just go find him and make him do it.” I knew exactly which buttons to push. Silas lived for his “perfect” little brother. In his eyes, Leo was an angel in a varsity jacket. And me? I was the trash. Silas looked at me like I was a virus that would infect Leo if I got too close. Silas reached into his pocket and pulled out a box cutter. The cold, steel blade slid slowly down my chest toward my stomach. I swallowed hard. Since when did this guy carry a weapon like that? His eyes were hidden behind the glare of his glasses, but his anger was a heavy, suffocating thing. “Tell me again. Who are you going to touch? Where?” I finally shut up. I stood there, frozen, terrified that one slip of his hand would end my bloodline right then and there. He tapped the flat side of the blade against my hip. I shivered, nearly losing it. “Silas… put the knife away,” I managed to rasp out, trying to sound tougher than I felt. “I promise. I’ll stay away from Leo.” Silas didn’t move. He looked at me, his voice dropping to a freezing temperature. “Kiss me.” What? The blade moved, a shimmering threat. Silas repeated the command, devoid of any emotion: “Kiss me.” I cursed under my breath. Fine. Silas was a good-looking guy; it wasn’t like I was losing out. The moment our lips touched, he grabbed me by the throat and shoved me back. “Not like that.” His cold gaze swept down. He smirked slightly and whispered, “Get down.” My eyes widened. He wanted me to… I clenched my fists, looking for a way to bolt. Silas read my mind instantly. “If you run, I’ll catch you before you hit the end of the block. And then I’ll cut off that restless little part of you that keeps getting you into trouble.” He pressed his hand onto the top of my head and forced me down. It wasn’t a violent shove, but it was absolute. “If you try to bite, I’ll knock every single tooth out of your head.” I knelt at his feet, teeth gritted in a mix of fury and helplessness. He had worked me over pretty good; I couldn’t run even if I tried. He tapped the blade against my cheek. Silas’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Zane. Open up.” I closed my eyes in total despair. Silas didn’t treat me like a person. He was brutal. When it was over, he pinched my chin, staring at my swollen lips. “How does it feel to be forced, Zane?” He was doing this for Leo. To “protect” him by ruining me. My throat burned. My voice came out as a hoarse wreck. “Try it yourself and find out.” Silas laughed. Up close, I could see his eyes behind the lenses. They were beautiful, but the pupils were so dark it felt like drowning in an abyss. “With a mouth that soft, you should learn to say softer things.” He pulled out a tissue, wiped his hands, and threw the crumpled paper at me as if I were a piece of garbage. “Not a word of this to Leo. I’ll be watching you, Zane.” 02 Silas left me there in the dirt. I was curled in the corner of the alley like a pile of trash. It started to rain. I could smell the dumpster nearby, and honestly, I didn’t smell much better. I fumbled for a crumpled cigarette, but my hands were shaking so hard I couldn’t get the lighter to spark. I threw the lighter against the wall and cursed the world. I limped my way home. From a distance, I saw someone standing perfectly straight at the end of the street. Clean-cut, black-rimmed glasses, a sweater vest over a collared shirt. The picture-perfect student. That was Leo. He heard my footsteps and looked over. He froze, then ran toward me, looking terrified. “Zane? What happened? Did you get into another fight?” I pushed him away. “None of your business.” Leo bit his lip. He fumbled through his pockets for a long time and pulled out a wad of crumpled bills. He handed them to me, his eyes pleading. “Here. Take it.” I didn’t count it. I just grabbed the cash and looked at him. “Get lost, Leo. Stop looking for me.” Leo didn’t move. “Is it because of the other day? Because I wouldn’t kiss you? I wasn’t trying to be mean, Zane. I just… I wasn’t ready. I’ve never done anything like that before…” His voice softened. “Zane, please don’t be mad.” Leo seemed to make a decision. He grabbed my shoulders and slowly leaned in, his eyelashes fluttering. He was offering me exactly what I had wanted. I looked at his nervous, desperate face. Then I stepped back and shoved him away. “I’m not mad,” I said, pocketing the money. “I never liked you anyway. I only hung around because you’re pretty and your family has money.” It was a lie, but it was a necessary one. Leo’s family was wealthy. He was a straight-A student, polite, and soft-spoken. For a delinquent like me, guys like him were the easiest targets. You get money, and you get a sense of power. When I ended up in the same class as Leo, I bullied him constantly, shook him down for “protection money.” Leo was a coward; he never told his parents. Then some of the guys started saying Leo was so pretty he looked like a girl. They told me I should just “date” him so I could have a permanent ATM and a pretty face to look at. I listened. I forced Leo into a relationship. Leo was too scared to say no. He had asked me, trembling, “If I date you, will you stop hitting me?” I thought it was cute. I laughed and said, “Yeah. I won’t hit you. I’ll take care of you.” He believed me. He became like a loyal dog, giving me every cent he had. “Zane, I’ll give you all my allowance, just please stop fighting people.” My crew used to tease him, calling him “the bride.” They cheered and told me to kiss him to see if he tasted like money. Leo was terrified. He shook his head and begged me not to. I didn’t care. I put out my cigarette, grabbed him by the hair, and slammed him against a wall to force a kiss on him. That was the moment Silas saw us. And that was why I was currently bleeding. Leo’s face went pale. His voice trembled. “You’ve been with me for so long… why won’t you even look at me now?” Because your brother will kill me. My throat was raw, but I forced a cruel grin. “Because I realized I like your brother more.” 03 Leo gave me $645—enough to eat for two months. When I got home, my mom, Lily, was lying on the couch smoking. Her skin was covered in a rash. Her heart condition was getting worse, but she refused treatment because we had no money. I counted out $500 and put it on the coffee table for her meds and food. I didn’t want to come home one day and find a corpse. I couldn’t sleep. Everything ached. I dreamed of Silas. He was hitting me, kicking me, grinding his shoe into my face. He looked like he wanted to kill me. I woke up shaking. The day Silas transferred into my class, I was passed out at my desk in the back row. He pulled out the chair next to me and sat down. When the bell rang, he grabbed me by the hair and yanked my head up. I was ready to swing at whoever woke me, but when I saw Silas, I swallowed every curse word in my throat. Hell. Why was this psycho here? Silas flipped through my textbook. He saw the blank pages and laughed. “I’ve seen a lot of losers, but you’re a pure-bred specimen, aren’t you?” I was furious, but I was also terrified. My throat still hurt just looking at him. Being insulted was better than being cut. I ignored him and tried to go back to sleep. Silas slammed the book against my head. “Sit up. Pay attention.” Even a dog has limits. I rubbed my head and snapped, “Mind your own business! You listen to the lecture, I’ll sleep. If I’m such a problem, change seats!” Silas looked at me sideways. “Leo came home crying the other night. We had a big fight.” Not my problem. “He told me you’re in love with me,” Silas continued, his voice mocking. I was suddenly wide awake. That kid… why would he tell his brother that?! Silas leaned back, enjoying my panic. “So. You like me?” I swallowed hard. “I was lying to him.” Silas acted like he didn’t hear me. He pulled his chair closer. “Pay attention to the teacher. I don’t like being liked by losers.” Damn it. Silas was doing this purely to torture me. He didn’t just make me listen; he checked my notes after every class. I didn’t understand a word of it, and my notes looked like chicken scratch. Silas frowned, threw his own notebook at me, and told me to copy it. “I need to use the bathroom,” I grumbled. Silas smiled thinly. “Hold it.” I spent the whole break catching up on notes. By the time the next class started, I was sweating from holding it in. Silas wouldn’t let it go. While I was trying to solve a problem, he reached over and pressed his hand against my lower stomach. Gently. Firmly. I shuddered, letting out a muffled groan as I slumped over the desk. From the corner of my eye, I saw Silas’s lips curl into a tiny, satisfied smile. The man was a total freak. 04 The second the bell rang, I bolted for the restroom. I was just finishing up when someone threw an arm around my shoulder. I looked up. It was Brooks. Brooks was the leader of the local gang—the “Alpha” of our school’s delinquents. He didn’t look at me. He just stared ahead and said, “Zane. I heard you and Leo broke up.” I didn’t answer. Brooks loved knowing everything. He probably knew how many times a day I used the bathroom. He zipped up, turned to me, and said, “Since you’re done with him, mind if I take a turn? He’s a pretty little thing.” “Back when you said he was yours, I gave you a pass. I didn’t touch him out of respect for our brotherhood. But now, you can’t stand in my way.” Brooks was a sadistic prick. When he targeted someone, he didn’t stop until they were broken. I’d seen him bully a kid into a total breakdown before. The only reason I had “dated” Leo was to keep Brooks away from him. I had told Brooks I wanted him for myself, and Brooks had backed off. Now, I had no reason to stop him. “Do whatever you want,” I said. I was trash anyway, and I had my own problems. Besides, Leo had a brother to protect him now. I skipped the rest of class to go work my shift at the BBQ joint. When I walked back into the neighborhood that night, I saw Brooks in the alley. He had a dozen guys with him. Leo was on his knees in the dirt. His face was bruised and swollen. His glasses had been knocked off, and he was crawling around, frantically searching for them. Brooks was smiling as he raised his foot to stomp on Leo’s hand. I looked for a split second, then turned my head and kept walking. As I stepped out of the alley, I ran into Silas. He was drenched in sweat, looking frantic. Searching. I paused. “He’s in the alley.” Silas gave me a look of pure hatred. He grabbed a lead pipe from the ground, pushed past me, and charged into the darkness. I took a deep breath of the damp air. Suddenly, a hot, strong hand grabbed my arm and yanked me backward. Silas had the pipe in one hand and me in the other. “You think you can just walk away? Not a chance.”

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The New Year dawned with a document I never asked for, titled: Preston and My Year-End Review. It detailed a transactional accounting of my life, written in neat, mocking bullet points: First: My KPI for sleeping with your husband this year was 150 times. Target: Exceeded. Second: Securing a villa and luxury vehicle from your husband. Target: Achieved. Third: Getting your son to call me ‘Mom’ ten times a day. Target: Exceeded. Fourth: Brave enough to stand before you and fight for my happiness. Target: Achieved. Mrs. Miles, I tend to your husband’s needs and nurture your son. Do I get a bonus, or will you gracefully step down? Attached was a photo. A nauseating counterfeit of a family portrait. Preston had his arm slung possessively around her waist, and my seven-year-old son, Frank, was standing in front of them, grinning. The woman was Dahlia Croft, Frank’s private piano instructor. Preston Miles walked in just as I was finishing the report. He saw the papers in my hand and went rigid. “Don’t go after her, Evie,” he said, his voice instantly tight with panic. “I was the one who initiated it. She’s innocent in this. Whatever you need to do to me, whatever compensation you want, I’ll give it to you.” The blood drained from my body, leaving me ice cold. I simply stared into his eyes. “I just want you to go back to who you were.” I want you to be the hungry, grateful boy who had nothing but me. The one who had no idea what it felt like to be loved. He misinterpreted my silence, letting out a visible sigh of relief. “Even with Dahlia, I would never neglect you.” He paused, then added, as if sharing a trivial scheduling conflict, “Since you know about Dahlia and me now, why don’t we just have her join us for the holidays this year?” The sheer audacity of his request made my mind go numb. Fifteen years. Was this the man I had loved for fifteen years? How could he press his advantage this far? My shock registered to him as gentle assent. He raised a hand, intending to give me the same patronizing, affectionate stroke on the head he used to. I flinched, stepping back. The corners of my eyes stung, but I swallowed the bitter, metallic taste of emotion. “Do whatever you want. I have a crucial experiment scheduled for the break.” And every holiday after this one, both father and son will be absent from my life. Outwardly, I was composed, rational. Inside, my heart had been pulverized into pieces too fine to ever be reassembled. I turned and walked toward the stairs. Preston’s whine followed me up the polished marble steps, laced with a familiar, sour resentment. “It’s always the lab first, isn’t it? I’m always second to your test tubes.” Then his voice sharpened, adopting a forced, strained humor as he addressed my retreating back. “Honey, are you actually hoping I cheat on you?” I stopped, looking back at him. He was beaming, waiting for my reaction, then added, “I thought you’d lose it. I never expected you to still be thinking about your experiments at a time like this.” “If I asked you to cut her off, for good,” I asked him, my voice flat, “could you do it?” His smile vanished, replaced by an expression of grim resolve. “You want the truth, or the lie?” “The truth.” He didn’t hesitate. “I can’t. Just like you can’t give up your research.” He paused again, his expression softening into one of feigned regret. “If you hadn’t poured every ounce of yourself into the lab, neglecting my needs, we never would have needed Dahlia.” Ah. So my dedication was the real affair. My tireless nights in the lab, developing the proprietary compounds that made his pharmaceutical company the titan it is today, was my fault. My success, my labor, my mistake. He has forgotten the road we traveled. Then I will personally escort him back to the gutter he crawled out of. I immediately drafted a text to my attorney: “I need divorce papers ready immediately. Furthermore, I am revoking Preston Miles’s company’s use of all my patents and research findings. Effective immediately.” He’d become soft, complacent. Good times can blind a man. Preston’s phone rang. Even though he lowered his voice, I recognized the distinct sound of Dahlia Croft’s concerned cooing. “It’s fine, baby, she didn’t make a scene,” he was whispering. “Her head’s buried so deep in the lab she doesn’t have the energy to care about me. No, don’t send me anything like that again. Yes, you’ll spend the holidays here. Whatever you want. From the living room to the bedroom, consider it done.” Every word was a perfectly aimed dagger, yet I didn’t cry. My hands were shaking. My throat was tight, suffocating. My stomach churned with nausea, the only physical signs of the sheer, inhuman psychological torture I was enduring. My attorney texted back: “I need seven business days, Evie. Just give me a little time.” Seven days. Normally, in the white noise of the lab, seven days flashed by. Now, I felt like I was serving seven years. I looked at my hands—bleached by endless cleaning, marked by minor chemical burns—and my strained, short-sighted eyes, and the permanent half-tinnitus from years of high-frequency equipment. All my sacrifice, all my desperate labor, was now nothing but a sick joke. I remembered ten years ago, when the company was new. Preston was so frantic about not having proprietary compounds to manufacture that his hair began to grey overnight. I, a pharma research graduate, had locked myself away. Years of relentless, punishing work were what gave him the company he had today. He used to call me his Aorta. His most valuable, irreplaceable lifeline. How hilarious. Since he no longer cherished the hard-won prosperity, I would simply sever the artery. Late that night, I went to the lab and quietly dissolved all my ongoing projects. The sterile silence of the empty space was heavy with a complex, dizzying mix of emotions. Ding-dong. In the absolute quiet, the ping of my phone was deafeningly sharp. It was Dahlia. Another taunt. The picture showed her and Preston, bare-shouldered in bed, Preston fast asleep beside her. “Mrs. Miles, I took care of your husband again.” “Preston told me you support us. Can you send me a little bonus, sister?” “Serving a man is hard work. Preston acts like he’s never seen a woman before.” “You have no idea how rough he is with me.” “I’m working hard, sister. Surely you can spare a New Year’s bonus.” A violent surge of heat and nausea hit me. I switched to my secondary burner phone and discreetly video-recorded the evidence, sending it immediately to my lawyer. My silence, to Dahlia, read as total weakness. The next day, my son, Frank Miles, was admitted to the hospital with a fever. When I arrived, Dahlia was spoon-feeding him a bowl of steaming porridge. “There you go, sweet boy. You have to eat something, even if you’re not hungry. That’s how you get better fast.” Preston was standing to the side, hands shoved casually into his pockets, his gaze soft and indulgent as it drifted from Dahlia to Frank. “See? Your Mom takes such good care of you.” My heart twisted into a Gordian knot. We weren’t even divorced, and he was allowing our son to call this woman ‘Mom.’ “Yeah, Mom loves me the best!” Frank beamed with happiness. His voice was the final, fatal blow. My blood froze. Hearing my son call Dahlia ‘Mom’ brought my breathing to a dead stop. Dahlia saw me. Her eyes flickered with unconcealed victory, but her tone was sickeningly sweet and natural. “Evie’s here, big sister. Why don’t you feed Frank now?” Frank didn’t spare me a glance. He clung to Dahlia. “No, I want you to feed me, Mommy. I like it when you do it.” He glanced at me, and his tone shifted to one of childish dismissal. “That Mom just does experiments. She doesn’t know how to take care of anyone. Daddy and I both like you, Mommy.” My face hardened. I stared at Frank. “What did you call her?” Dahlia stepped in, feigning understanding to twist the knife. “Evie, please don’t be hard on him. He’s just a six-year-old boy. It’s just a word, a silly mistake. Don’t worry about it.” Preston moved between Frank and me, an oily peacemaker. “He’s sick, Evie. Don’t make him feel worse.” He reached for my back, attempting to steer me out of the room. “Go back to the lab, alright? Dahlia has him covered. Don’t worry.” A wave of pure disgust rose in my stomach. I recoiled, shoving his arm away. “Don’t touch me.” He was stunned. My reaction was unusual; the even-keeled, perpetually rational Evie rarely showed anger. Frank, startled by the tension, burst into tears. Dahlia played the martyred saint. “Evie, you’re scaring Frank. If you’re upset, take it out on me, not the child. He’s innocent, please don’t hurt him.” A single, burning thought possessed me. I looked at the sobbing Frank and asked, “Who are you calling Mom?” I braced myself. If he said he wouldn’t call Dahlia that again, I would find a way to forgive him, to keep him. Instead, Frank wailed, pointing his finger in accusation. “You’re a Mom, and Dahlia-Mommy is a Mom! I like her! She’s nice and takes care of me and teaches me piano. You don’t! You only care about your experiments! This Mommy is way better than you!” I was struck by a lightning bolt. Tears, hot and heavy, escaped without permission. Preston dragged me out into the hallway, his voice a harsh hiss. “What is wrong with you, taking your anger out on a child? He doesn’t know any better! You’re not needed here. Go do your experiments!” He turned, went back into the room, and locked the door behind him to prevent me from causing any more ‘trouble.’ That evening, my mother-in-law, Eleanor Miles, came to ‘reason’ with me. “Evie, you’re a wonderful woman and a good daughter-in-law. I’ve always said so.” She took my hand and patted it gently, her voice softening into a conspiratorial tone. “Men, dear, they’re just… wired differently. Dahlia can take care of him, and Frank, too. If you’d just let go of your jealousy, you’d realize this is actually a wonderful thing.” She smiled brightly. “You don’t have to service your husband, you don’t have to mother your son. You can devote yourself entirely to your research. What could be better?” My heart was frozen solid, immune to her toxic logic. I withdrew my hand quietly. “Mhm. I won’t interfere anymore.” Her eyes lit up with triumph. She thought she had won me over. “Wonderful! I’ll have the maid clean out the bedroom next to yours for Dahlia.” She chattered on, oblivious. “She’ll move in soon, which is great for Frank’s piano, and it helps you by taking care of those two. It’ll be nice to have someone to shop with.” Seeing my continued silence, she took it as tacit agreement. Beaming, she clapped me on the back. “I knew it! You’re a sensible girl, Evie.” She immediately called Dahlia, not bothering to lower her voice. “Dahlia, dear, you can move in tonight. The room is ready. It’s almost Christmas, and the sooner you move in, the sooner the house will feel warm and festive! And now I’ll have someone to keep me company!” When Preston brought Dahlia home, I was on my way out. Seeing my grim face, Dahlia feigned distress. “Evie, you look upset. Maybe I shouldn’t move in?” I met her eyes, my expression utterly devoid of warmth. “This is the Miles home. You can stay as long as you like. I won’t interfere.” I quickened my pace. Preston rushed after me, catching my wrist. “Are you really okay with this? If you’re not, I can get a place for Dahlia outside.” I pulled my hand free. My heart felt like cold ash, but my voice was steady. “I just have work to handle. And no, I genuinely don’t care about you and Dahlia.” He sighed, relieved, his voice suddenly affectionate. “Good. Go handle your work, but call me when you’re done. I’ll come get you.” He actually believes he’s the master of compromise. I left the Miles house and never returned. On the twenty-sixth of December, Preston’s company held its annual holiday gala. He had notified everyone but me. By chance, I was driving past the venue on my way to an appointment. I stopped. I saw Preston on the stage, holding Dahlia’s hand, with Frank holding hers, too. They looked every bit the picture-perfect family as they spoke to the employees. Preston held the microphone, his voice ringing with genuine, triumphant pride. “This year, the company and I personally have gained so much.” He beamed. “I want to thank my wife, who has given me so much support and warmth.” My eyes felt as though they were being stabbed with needles. Even though my heart was dead, the sight brought a fresh wave of pain. She was his wife? She gave him support? The words were a cascade of thick, painful slaps across my face. The microphone was handed to Frank. My son, innocent and happy, looked up at Dahlia. “The person I thank the most is also my Mom,” he said sweetly. “Thank you for giving me so much love. I love you, Mom.” He wrapped his arms around Dahlia in a hug. The room erupted in applause, the sound of people declaring them the “perfect family” washing over the room like boiling water. Only Dahlia’s eyes, scanning the crowd, found me. I turned to leave the venue. She ran after me, stopping me near the exit. “Evelyn George,” she challenged. “You have a remarkable amount of self-control. This? And you won’t even crash the party?” She sneered. “I know you won’t make a scene because you’re terrified of losing the Miles name and your privileged life. You think you can keep the title of ‘Mrs. Miles’ if you just play nice?” I let out a soft, contemptuous laugh. “We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?” She was certain of her victory, scoffing at me. “We will! Your husband and your son have just announced my identity to the world! Tell me, what do you have left to fight me with?” I ignored her, walking away quickly. She will soon learn that what she fought so hard to possess is nothing but sinking mud. On Christmas Eve, the Miles house was lavishly decorated and bursting with activity. Every year, I personally cooked the Christmas feast. Preston finally remembered to call me. He called several times, but I didn’t answer. A strange, anxious tremor ran through him. Dahlia, ever the helpful understudy, comforted him. “Darling, it’s my first Christmas in our home. Let me cook the feast. Evie must be swamped in the lab. After I finish, you can try calling her again.” Preston tried to keep his composure, but his anxiety was reaching a fever pitch. When Dahlia finished the elaborate meal, he still hadn’t reached me. The housekeeper delivered a package addressed to him. “From the Madam.” Preston tore open the package. The words DIVORCE AGREEMENT hit him with the force of a thousand volts. Just then, his assistant called, voice frantic. “Mr. Miles, we have a problem. Mrs. Miles has revoked all usage rights to her patents. Without those patents, we have zero ability to operate the company.”

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My three childhood friends all loved me. Until the day that nude model showed up. I put down my brush and told her to get dressed. Liam suddenly frowned. “Elena, treat people like human beings.” I froze, not understanding what he meant. Then I saw him staring at the model, a hint of heartache in his eyes. I turned to look at the other two. “And you? Do you feel the same?” They stepped back, drawing a line between themselves and Liam. “Whatever Elena paints is beautiful.” “Even if she’s not painting a person, if Elena paints it, it’s the most beautiful android!” 01 These words made Summer freeze. She stood there, clutching her dress, unsure whether to put it on or not. She looked helplessly at Liam. The man’s brow furrowed tightly. As expected, he stepped in front of her, his sigh filled with compromise. “It’s been said. No need to make things difficult for others.” I didn’t understand. Summer was the one who approached me. She said she’d rather let me paint her alone than strip in front of a room full of people. Besides, she was wearing undergarments. I looked up. “Summer, do you find it difficult to let me paint you?” She panicked, gripping the hem of her dress tightly. “I… I didn’t…” Liam looked back at her. A second later, her eyes reddened, and she bit her lip, looking down. It looked utterly humiliating. “I volunteered.” Silence filled the room. I packed up my paints. “Since you’re unwilling, you don’t need to come anymore.” She looked up sharply. “I, I didn’t say…” I had already turned and walked out. 02 Footsteps followed me. Usually, there were three. This time, there were two. They sat down in front of me. A gentle breeze blew, lifting the sheer curtains of the gazebo. Noah spoke softly, “Don’t be angry. Since the model is gone, I’ll find you a better one, okay? “I saw it before. That model approached Liam privately. She cries a lot, saying her life is hard. “He probably just felt sorry for her.” A maid brought three glasses of juice. I took a sip and didn’t speak. Rapid footsteps sounded on the wooden deck. Liam didn’t even look. He took my glass, drank half of it, and sat down beside me. “Princess, what are you throwing a tantrum about now? “A senior in high school not studying, running out to be a nude model to support her family. I just simply felt she was having a hard time. I didn’t mean anything else.” The image of Summer’s dependence on him flashed in my mind. I pushed the glass of juice towards him. “You drink it. I’m not thirsty.” Liam looked at me, his tone softening. “She was crying so hard just now. She really needs money. I told her she could come back tomorrow. “Elena, you need a model anyway…” I frowned. “Why should I pay for your sympathy?” Nobody spoke. I felt annoyed. I decided to stay away from them. As I left the courtyard, Liam shouted from the gazebo. “Elena, I’ll pay!” 03 The four of us grew up together. It seemed like an unspoken agreement that my house became our gathering spot. When painting, I actually prefer quiet. But the three of them wore me down, and eventually, having them watch me paint became a habit. Summer arrived at the scheduled time. I pushed open the studio door. She was chatting with my three childhood friends. Her small face lit up with excitement. Seeing me enter, her smile vanished instantly. She stood up awkwardly. “Miss Elena, standing again today?” “Sit down. Your sitting posture is also quite nice.” It wasn’t me who spoke. It was Liam. Summer looked over, a blush spreading across her cheeks at a visible speed. Then she looked at me subconsciously. She didn’t speak. Heh. I picked up my brush. “Trouble you today. Full nude.” Behind me, Miles gasped. He covered his eyes with both hands. “Elena’s going for such a large scale.” 04 Mist gathered rapidly in Summer’s eyes. Tears welled up as she bit her lip. “Miss Elena… does it have to be like this…” I didn’t speak. She tugged at her dress, as if taking off the dress she had removed a hundred times had become incredibly difficult. I smiled. “What’s wrong? Haven’t you been nude many times in the academy?” She glared at me. Tears fell down her cheeks. As if I had embarrassed her terribly. Liam couldn’t help but stand up. “Elena, why do you just find her unsightly? Models are raised by parents too!” A wave of anger rushed to my head. I threw the paintbrush at his feet. “Art workers deserve respect. Regarding figure models, art students call them ‘Model Teachers’. what kind of garbage is filling your brains?! “And you!” I stared at Summer. “If I remember correctly, I paid you the full nude price from the beginning. Considering there were men here, I let you keep your undergarments. “Now that you need to do your job, you’re acting coy and crying. What? Did I give you too much, teaching you to be hypocritical?!” Summer’s face turned pale. Tears stopped at her cheekbones. She stared at me in shock. I smiled. “Since you’re unwilling, get out. Don’t treat my studio as your personal show.” “Elena.” Liam chose to block her again. “That’s too much!” “Oh, and you.” I rubbed my forehead. “You paid the money, right? Then you can roll out with her.” 05 I turned and walked out of the studio. Seriously. Art students shouldn’t lose their temper. Limited energy, insufficient blood. Liam left, but the other two followed me. Miles made American ginseng tea with red dates downstairs. “Elena, why such a big fire? It’s not worth it.” He nudged Noah. “Hey, say something. You know I’m clumsy with words.” Noah was looking at his phone. “Liam announced it on his Moments.” “What?” Miles looked at his own phone and exclaimed, “Damn, what does he mean? Is he really choosing a model over Elena? “Can’t he tell? That girl is a ‘pick-me’!” My gaze landed on his phone. Liam posted: [Met a new friend. Very obedient and kind. Preparing to introduce her to everyone.] He attached a photo of Summer. In a white dress, hugging her knees in the grass. Summer smiled shyly and purely. My reflection in Noah’s eyes was expressionless. “Elena, don’t be sad.”

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When his best friend launched a high-end dating reality show and begged him to join, he rejected it instantly: “If you’re sick, go see a doctor. You want me on a dating show? Did you hit your head?” His friend nearly knelt down: “I just need one handsome, genuine billionaire to anchor the show. Help a brother out. Just join for a bit.” “How about I show you the female guests’ intro videos? Maybe one is your type.” The CEO was already impatient, waving for his assistant to drag his friend out. Then, her video played. The CEO froze for a few seconds, then suddenly changed his tune: “Actually… a dating show sounds interesting.” His friend, currently being dragged out by the assistant: ??? 1 Jason was stunned for a moment. Once he realized what happened, he shook off Liam’s assistant, tears welling up in his eyes as he rushed back to hug Liam tight. “Bro, I know you’re a busy man. Asking someone of your status to join a reality show is really pushing it.” “But this is the first project my dad gave me. You know I don’t want him to think I’m just a trust fund baby who only knows how to party. I want to prove myself.” “I won’t forget this favor. Don’t worry, you don’t need to interact with anyone. Just be yourself and help me boost the ratings.” Jason rambled on, moved by his own speech. Liam ignored him completely. His lazy, upturned eyes were glued to the screen, staring intently at my intro video. Jason was still immersed in the touching moment of brotherhood, burying his head on Liam’s shoulder and fake-sobbing. When my video ended, Liam pushed Jason away with disgust. He unhesitatingly pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the spot on his suit where Jason had touched. Liam Su, the youngest CEO of Su Pharmaceuticals. At only 23, he was a man who constantly dominated the headlines of financial news. An Ivy League graduate with a handsome, noble face that made hearts skip a beat. Given his status and position, agreeing to join a dating show was completely out of Jason’s expectations. Jason even thought that even if he knelt on the spot, Liam wouldn’t give him the time of day. With his calm and serious personality, participating in a frivolous dating show was absolutely absurd. Jason came to beg him just to try his luck; he never expected him to actually agree. Just in case, before begging Liam, Jason had also asked another wealthy friend for help—Chase. Chase was different from Liam’s striking, superior appearance. He had the classic “bad boy with a heart of gold” look, a flamboyant personality, and had just returned from studying in the UK. The three of them grew up together. Jason knew Chase had a thing for the “Ice Queen” type—girls who looked cold but were cute deep down—so he specifically invited me. My participation in this show was purely accidental. I wasn’t a celebrity, influencer, or model. I was a tarot card reader. That day, Jason was scouting for “ordinary people” cast members. He passed by my booth and suddenly stopped, sticking to me like gum for days, insisting I join the show. I was so annoyed that I casually said: “I’ll do it for fifty thousand bucks.” I intended to make an unreasonable demand to drive him away, but I didn’t expect him to agree instantly. To capture the genuine reaction of the guests meeting for the first time, our pre-recorded intro videos were supposed to be confidential. But Jason broke the rules and showed mine to Liam. Jason showed it to Liam because he was truly desperate. He knew Liam would definitely refuse. Plus, having known Liam for so many years, he had never seen him get close to any woman. He even once suspected Liam wasn’t interested in women at all. Showing him the videos was a last-ditch effort. Regarding Liam, there had always been a rumor in their circle. It was said that when he was in Thailand, he passionately pursued a Chinese-American girl. But that girl dumped him. Since then, he hadn’t dated anyone. Jason scoffed at this rumor, considering it pure fabrication. He’d sooner believe in aliens than believe the iceberg known as Liam Su would actively chase someone, let alone get dumped. Jason was also stirring the pot; after Liam agreed to participate, he immediately leaked the news to a wealthy heiress who had always had a crush on Liam. On the way to the recording location, I was actually quite nervous. I grew up in Thailand and had only recently returned to the States. Before leaving, I did a tarot reading for myself. The cards showed a high probability of reuniting with an ex, while simultaneously meeting a younger guy who would fall for me at first sight. The spread was complicated, radiating a strong “drama” vibe. However, I thought I probably misread the cards. My ex had quite the status; given his identity, it was absolutely impossible for him to participate in an entertainment reality show. Unless his brain was broken. 2 The show I was on was called Heartbeat Island. Five men and five women sent to a deserted island, phones confiscated, living together for ten days. Truly unscripted, completely live-streamed. I was Female Guest #1, and the first to arrive at the waiting area. Female Guest #2 was a cool, elegant professional model. Female Guest #3 was a bubbly, well-known influencer. Female Guest #4 was a shy, introverted manga artist. Female Guest #5 was a glamorous, wealthy heiress. After the female guests arrived, the male guests made their entrance. Male Guest #1 was a cute “puppy dog” type influencer. Male Guest #2 looked honest and reliable, a chef who owned a restaurant—after all, every dating show needs a cook. Male Guest #3 was tall and fit, a professional model. When Male Guest #4 appeared, the originally quiet waiting area instantly buzzed, and several female guests’ eyes lit up. He was a tall, handsome guy, 6’2″, with a face full of youthful energy. When he smiled, he had faint dimples. But he wasn’t the “soft” type; he had healthy tan skin and a sexy build. His voice was magnetic, creating a huge contrast that made people blush. “Hi everyone, I’m Chase.” The female guests stared at him shyly. The livestream comments exploded the moment he appeared: [Oh my god, so handsome!!!] [Where did the production team find this treasure? He could debut as an idol right now.] [Wait, did you guys notice? Everyone else’s profession is public, why is his confidential?] The comments were curious, observing his expressions closely. They wanted to know what type he liked and which female guest he would sit next to. 3 [I bet he’ll sit next to #2. This kind of wild guy loves a cool older sister type.] [Me too, I’m already shipping him and #2.] [Seriously though, Female Guest #1 next to #2 has been cold-faced since the beginning. She looks distracted, no expression for anyone. Like everyone owes her money!] [Right? She looks so innocent and cute, why the cold face? Look how happy #2 is smiling.] [Upstairs, I actually like #1. I dig that ‘Ice Queen’ vibe.] [Me too. If she doesn’t want to smile, she doesn’t have to. Does she have to fake a grin?] I joined this show purely to rot and earn that fifty thousand appearance fee. I had no intention of dating. So I stayed silent the whole time, acting like an invisible person. The chaos in the venue and the livestream comments had nothing to do with me. While I was bored picking at my fingers, the camera suddenly focused on me. I looked up, confused. Chase was standing in front of me before I knew it. “Hi,” he looked at me, the tips of his ears slightly red, faint dimples showing on his handsome tan face. “Can I sit next to you?” Before I could respond, the production team’s broadcast suddenly sounded. The mysterious Male Guest #5, who was originally scheduled to appear on the third day, was announced to be arriving early. Hearing this news, the glamorously dressed Female Guest #5, the heiress, stood up excitedly. She declared to everyone: “I’m here for Male Guest #5.” Her meaning was clear; she left no room for retreat, directly announcing her crush. The comments praised her: [#5 is so brave. Doing this blocks her own retreat, other guys won’t dare pursue her.] [I’m really curious, who exactly is Male Guest #5?] [Curious +1. Even before the show aired, the official account kept hyping him up without even a silhouette. Can’t guess who it is.] [Based on the official hype, #5 must be a big shot. Maybe a famous celebrity?] Because of the heavy promotion, Male Guest #5 was already mysterious and a hot topic. Before filming even started, the netizens’ attention was almost entirely focused on him. Everyone wanted to know who he was. And now, the wealthy heiress #5 declared she was only here for him. This pushed the anticipation for Male Guest #5 to the peak. Everyone turned their heads, looking curiously toward the entrance. 4 The lights at the entrance suddenly brightened. A tall, upright figure walked out. The man wore a high-end black shirt, cuffs casually rolled up to his forearms, a low-key but luxurious limited-edition watch on his wrist. His stride exuded a natural aura of nobility. When the man reached the front of the stage, the breathing in the waiting area almost stopped in unison. “Is that… Liam Su?” The model, Female Guest #2, covered her mouth, her voice trembling. “Omg, he’s my idol!” The comments exploded directly. Screens full of shock and disbelief: [It’s actually the Crown Prince of Su Pharmaceuticals, Liam Su.] [Someone who only appears in financial news deigned to join an entertainment dating show?] His appearance also aroused suspicion: [Is this show scripted?] [Even if it’s scripted, this production team has some serious connections to get him!] [No wonder Female Guest #5 said she’s only here for him. A top-tier man like this, who wouldn’t swoon?] Liam’s lazy, upturned eyes swept across the room casually. His gaze passed over the stunned and admiring looks of the female guests without pausing, landing straight on me. The moment I looked up and met Liam’s eyes. My heart trembled.

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Five years. My wedding band hadn’t left my finger since the day I put it on, yet on the morning of our anniversary, I found a silk men’s tie—not mine—tucked into the passenger seat of Bianca’s car. “Oh, that,” she said, dismissively waving a hand. “My new junior associate must have left it when we were running accounts yesterday.” That night, for our intimate anniversary dinner, she brought the associate. Chase. She insisted he sit right beside her. “I haven’t been feeling well recently,” she murmured, her voice laced with manufactured frailty. “He needs to be near me to monitor my schedule and make sure I don’t overdo it.” Later that week, when I went to her office suite, Chase blocked the door, forcing me to book an appointment with my own wife. His eyes, usually hidden behind an unctuous smile, were arrogant. That was the line. I fired him on the spot. Bianca barely reacted. “Just an assistant, Fion,” she said, a delicate shrug lifting her silk shoulders. “If you don’t like him, let him go.” We settled back into our routine, an uneasy, brittle peace. It was as if that small friction had never occurred. But the atmosphere at the firm changed. Almost overnight, I became an outcast, frozen out by colleagues, and even the new interns felt emboldened enough to publicly challenge me. Then the ‘accidents’ started. I began having freak near-misses on the drive home. The worst one landed me in the ICU for a week. The final, devastating blow came with Barnaby. My loyal Golden Retriever, whom I’d raised for eight years, was maliciously murdered and left on our doorstep. After burying Barnaby beneath a weeping cherry tree in my parents’ plot, I went to a downtown bar, desperate to numb the grief. I was numbly trying to drink away the pain when I overheard a group of women in the next booth—Bianca’s old college friends. “When do you think Fion will figure out Bianca arranged the ‘accidents’?” one slurred. “Doesn’t matter, does it? Even if he knew she killed his dog, he’d still crawl back begging for forgiveness,” another scoffed. “Fion just doesn’t know his place, firing her boy.” The ice in my veins didn’t melt; it shattered. My head spun. The isolation, the crashes, the murder of my dog—it had all been Bianca’s cold, calculated retaliation for daring to fire Chase. So be it. I would give them what they wanted. … Bianca was gently rubbing Chase’s temples, her fingers light and solicitous. Her friends were cooing. “Bianca really treasures Chase, doesn’t she? Have you ever seen her so attentive to anyone else?” “After he was humiliated and fired publicly, she immediately bought him that villa. The luxury cars she’s gifted him? They’re practically disposable.” Bianca’s lips curled into a faint, satisfied smile. “I won’t see Chase suffer. And I want everyone to know: even without a job, as long as I’m around, he’ll never want for anything.” The room tilted. I gripped the back of a chair, fighting to stay upright. Moments later, Chase announced a sudden headache and slipped upstairs to rest. As soon as he was out of sight, Bianca’s expression hardened. “How’s the rest of the plan coming along?” “Smoothly, Queen B. You should have seen Fion’s face when he saw the dog’s carcass.” Bianca nodded, her voice devoid of warmth. “He forced Chase to resign and triggered his anxiety disorder, leading to his heart issues. The pain Chase suffered, I will make Fion repay it a hundredfold.” One of her friends leaned in, excited. “It’s been a while since the last accident. Time for another one?” Another worried, “But if they happen too often, won’t he call the police? What if they trace it back to us?” Bianca casually took a sip of her champagne. “He won’t. Every time he’s hospitalized, I’m right there, holding his hand, never leaving his side. He just thinks he has rotten luck. He’d never suspect me.” I turned, clamping a hand over my mouth, stifling a sob. I should have suspected. Why had she been so unnaturally tender after every single crash? I’d thought it was guilt, worry. It was only the satisfaction of the perpetrator watching their victim bleed. But Barnaby. We’d gotten him when we first started dating. He was family. How could she have killed him? Barnaby had run away once years ago, and after that, he’d never stepped outside, even with the door wide open. He was a big dog; it would have taken two people to drag him out, let alone fight him. But Bianca, with her friends, had managed it easily. When she cornered him, when she put her hands on him, why would he fight? He would have just thought his mom was playing a game. I leaned on the bar, tears streaming. Bianca glanced at her phone, her brow knitting into a sharp line. She slammed the phone down, her teeth clenched. “I thought the punishment was enough, but Chase still can’t sleep because of him! Schedule the next one as planned. I will make Fion pay a hundred times over for his stupidity!” My ears were ringing. The world was blurry and distant. The fracture in my arm—from the last crash—was still healing, and every movement sent a jolt of raw pain through me. Before, if I’d just scalded myself with coffee, Bianca would have rushed me to the ER. Now, thanks to her, my body was a patchwork of old injuries piled on top of new. I don’t know how I got home. Standing at the door, I instinctively waited for Barnaby to greet me. The sudden, agonizing memory that he was gone brought me back to reality. I locked myself in the bedroom and cried until I was hollow. I eventually heard the front door open. Bianca stood in the doorway, then her eyes fell on me. She paused, then knelt and pulled me into her embrace. “I’m so heartbroken about Barnaby too, my love. I promise I’ll find the monster who did this and make them pay,” she whispered. “I’ll buy you another dog, okay? Don’t be sad.” I violently shoved her away. She didn’t get angry. Instead, she grabbed my hands, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. “It’s my fault. I failed to protect you and Barnaby.” She left the room and returned with a glass of what looked like a homemade soothing drink. “It’s an herbal calming tea I picked up for you. Drink this, relax your nerves, and get some rest.” Like a ragdoll, I let her hold the glass to my lips and drink. Within two minutes, my head was swimming, my consciousness fading. My body hit the floor. As I slipped into blackness, I heard Bianca’s voice, cold and detached, talking into her phone. “Send the guys in. Take him away. This time, dump him directly onto the interstate.” This time, my legs were crushed beneath a speeding car. When the police brought me to the hospital, Bianca was there immediately. She gripped my hand, her face a mask of anguish. “The doctor says you’re under too much stress, darling. You were sleepwalking. It’s all my fault. I should have been watching you at home.” My legs were numb with agony, and tears flowed uncontrollably. All this excruciating torment—just because I fired Chase. Bianca, how little do you value my life? Would my death mean nothing to you? “The orthopedic surgeon isn’t on call tonight, but hold on, my love, I’ll summon a specialist from another city!” But before I opened my eyes, while my mind was still floating, I distinctly heard her talking to a nurse: “Chase is having trouble sleeping. Pull every available doctor to check on him. Fion has survived worse injuries; he can wait a couple of days.” I wished, in that moment, that the car had just killed me. That the asphalt had claimed me so I didn’t have to endure this anymore. The driver, afraid of a fatality, used their connections to finally get an orthopedic surgeon. Even a stranger, I thought bitterly, was kinder than my wife. When I awoke in the hospital room, the first face I saw was Chase’s. He gave a sickly, thin-lipped smile, his voice a concerned, gentle murmur as he asked about my well-being. Then, his right hand slipped beneath the covers and pressed down hard on my broken leg. A white-hot streak of pain ripped from my thigh to my brain. I shrieked, my body slack. My weak shove barely connected with him. Chase threw himself backward dramatically, landing hard on the floor with a groan. Hearing the noise, Bianca burst into the room. She helped Chase up, then scowled at me. “Fion, I know you resent Chase, but he came here out of kindness to check on you.” “Rest up,” she ordered. They walked out, arm in arm. I didn’t see Bianca again until I could move slowly with crutches. Trembling, I made my way to the cemetery. My parents had passed years ago, and I had dug a small, quiet hole next to their headstone for Barnaby. The scene that met me stopped my heart. The entire burial plot was overturned. The white, fragile bones of my parents were scattered haphazardly on the dirt. I screamed, a sound ripped from my gut. I threw the crutches away and crawled, bloody-kneed, toward the mess. I lay on the desecrated ground, wailing uncontrollably. A cemetery worker rushed over. “Are you next of kin? A man and woman came in today with a crew. They just started digging everything up. We couldn’t stop them.” My vision narrowed with rage. Bianca. Why? Why are you doing this to me? My heart constricted, suffocating me. I pulled out my phone, my fingers shaking so badly I kept misdialing her number. When I finally connected, she hung up on me twice. Ten minutes later, she answered. The first sound I heard was heavy, ragged breathing—two sets. My voice emerged as a raw, strangled bellow. “Bianca! What did you do to my parents’ graves! Why?” Her voice was thick with annoyance. “Chase knows a little about feng shui. He said their burial spot was cursed, which is why you’ve been getting hurt lately. He was trying to help them relocate—but we got halfway through and ran out of time, so we just left it.” She hung up. Hatred, pure and deep, consumed me. I couldn’t protect my dog, and now I couldn’t even give my parents peace in death. I wiped my tears. A cold, absolute resolve settled in my chest. Even dragging this broken, crippled body, I would have my revenge. Back at the apartment, I found Bianca and Chase emerging from the bedroom, their clothes rumpled and mismatched. Fury surged. I swung my crutch at Bianca. Before I could turn my rage to Chase, Bianca kicked out, sending me sprawling to the floor. “Are you insane? Just because we didn’t get your parents’ plot moved in time?” Chase immediately burst into tears, dramatically falling to his knees. “I’m so sorry, Fion. I’ll go right back and work all night. I promise I’ll have it moved tonight!” I screamed, my voice cracking. “Who told you to touch them! They’re my parents! Who gives you the right! And Barnaby! He was just a dog!” Bianca rushed to pull Chase into her arms, shooting me a hateful glare over his shoulder. “I think you’ve truly gone mad. You can be difficult with me, but I will not allow you to hurt Chase!” I lay on the floor. The sutures on my wounds had torn open. Blood soaked my pants and dripped onto the pristine white marble. Bianca and Chase stood over me, perfectly fine, not a speck of dirt on their clothes. Who was truly hurting whom? “Fine. I’m a madman. I don’t deserve you. Just let me go!” Bianca frowned. “What are you talking about? You’re my husband. Don’t misunderstand—I’ve always loved you. But you hurt Chase, and you need to pay the price.” I shook my head, despairing. “Haven’t I paid enough?” I looked up and noticed the ring on Chase’s finger: a three-carat diamond, blazing on his hand. Our engagement ring had been a modest 0.3 carats. I had offered to buy hers, but she insisted on buying mine, claiming she was an independent woman. Knowing she was struggling financially then, I’d accepted the small stone. She promised me she’d get me a massive one when she was rich. Now, she was rich, and the massive diamond was on another man’s hand. Catching my eye, Bianca looked slightly uncomfortable. “Chase comes from a wealthy family; he needs the best. But yours does need an upgrade. I’ll find you a bigger one soon.” The sheer arrogance made my chest ache. Didn’t she remember? Before her, I had been the pampered son of a wealthy family, too. After we married, she refused my family’s money, and to protect her pride, my lifestyle plummeted. I stopped buying luxury goods and canceled my five-star memberships. Over time, she had simply convinced herself I didn’t deserve nice things. My thoughts were violently interrupted by a panicked shriek. Chase was scrambling behind Bianca, trembling. “Fion, why are you doing this to me! You know I’m terrified of rats!” I looked down. A small rat was scurrying across the high-rise living room floor. Before I could defend myself, Bianca slapped me so hard my head swam. “How could a rat get up here? You put it here, didn’t you!” Chase was shaking and weeping behind her. Bianca’s eyes were filled with hatred, like she was looking at an enemy. She kicked my injured leg. The agony was too much. I blacked out. When I woke up, I was dangling in a cage suspended in mid-air. A chorus of frantic squeaking came from below. I looked down, and a wave of revulsion and icy horror washed over me. Below me, a dense, writhing mass of rats covered the floor. “Help… please… help…” My voice was a choked, useless rasp. My legs were already slick with fresh blood, but the fear eclipsed the piercing pain. It was only when I looked up and saw the two figures standing calmly on the balcony railing that I truly understood despair. Bianca’s voice drifted down, chillingly rational. “Fion, this is for your own good. You need to stop with these cruel games. Experience Chase’s fear, and maybe you’ll learn.” Knowing it was futile, I screamed anyway. “Please, I’m begging you! I didn’t do this! I swear I won’t do it again!” The next second, the cage floor dropped open. I fell, plunging straight into the swarm of rodents. Their needle-sharp teeth tore at my raw wounds. The primal instinct to survive forced me to shield my head, pushing with the last of my strength. I woke again in a hospital bed, wrapped like a mummy, unable to move. My legs were completely numb. A cold terror gripped me. Would I ever walk again? Bianca stood beside me, her expression one of pained concern. “Fion, why do you always pick fights with Chase? If you just got along, none of this would happen.” She softened slightly. “Those were lab rats, they didn’t have diseases. But someone mistakenly mixed in a sick one, which is why your leg got infected. The person who did it knows they messed up. It wasn’t intentional.” I knew exactly who that person was. My heart pounded, the anger choking my breath. “Get out! Both of you, get out!” Bianca’s face went cold. “You are truly ungrateful. Chase already apologized, and you still act like this.” She turned and stormed out. I fumbled for the phone on the bedside table and dialed a number I hadn’t used in years. It was answered almost instantly. I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. “Shirley. I miss you. I don’t want to be with Bianca anymore… it hurts so much…” I sobbed into the phone. The woman on the other end drew a sharp breath. Her voice was low and gravelly. “I’m on the next flight to you. I will make both of them pay for what they’ve done.” A deep, profound calm settled over me. I finally slept soundly. But I woke to a sudden, terrible stillness. Bianca was standing beside me. Seeing the cold, empty look in her eyes, a bead of sweat tracked down my temple. “What are you doing?” She reached out and gently stroked my cheek. Then I saw the syringe in her hand. My blood ran cold. Her voice was an unnerving whisper. “Once I inject this, you’ll never walk again.” “Be a good boy. Stop making trouble. I’ll take care of you forever.” I was paralyzed, forced to watch as she plunged the needle into my numb thigh. I closed my eyes in absolute despair.

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My father was a human trafficker. My mother was the daughter of a billionaire he’d kidnapped. The day the police finally found us, he fell off a cliff during the chase and died. My mother and I were sent back to her family, the Wentworths. But my mother’s mind was broken. She screamed and shoved me away. “I never gave birth to a trafficker’s child.” My grandfather trembled with rage. “The Wentworth family will not have such a mongrel in our house.” They sent me away to a prestigious boarding school. The school’s top bully tormented me, forcing me to eat from a dog bowl. “Your father was an animal,” he sneered. “So you’ll eat like one.” After one forced bite, I started to cry. No one had ever told me that a dog’s dinner could be this delicious. 1 The moment the bully’s lackey, Gabe, shoved my face into the dog bowl, an incredible aroma of savory meat shot up my nose. I stared at the chunks of salmon and beef, and I couldn’t help myself. I took a small bite. The next second, a tear plopped into the bowl. In my entire life… I had never tasted anything so good. Ignoring the hand still pressing down on my head, I buried my face in the bowl and began to eat ravenously, swallowing my tears along with the food. “What the hell?” Gabe yelped, snatching his hand back and stumbling away. “She’s… she’s actually eating it!” The head bully, Jax, stared for a moment, then nudged his other friend, Porky. “Are you sure that food is clean? The dog hasn’t eaten from it, right? No germs? Why’s she acting so weird?” Porky looked just as stunned, scratching his head. “I watched my housekeeper make it fresh. To teach her a lesson, I even used yesterday’s leftover salmon and beef. The bowl’s new, though.” While they were talking, I had already licked the bowl so clean it shined. I looked up, my eyes wet and pleading, and asked in a small voice, “Is there… any more? I haven’t eaten in three days…” Jax kicked a nearby chair over, his face a mask of fury. “What, you like it now? You’re addicted?!” But I wasn’t scared. When my father got drunk, he liked to beat me. He was a big man, well over two hundred pounds, and his fists were the size of sandbags. Once, my mother tried to run away. When he caught her, he was so angry he broke a dozen thorny branches beating her with them. I threw myself over her, begging him to stop, but his eyes were bloodshot with rage. He grabbed a hoe and swung it at my head. I was unconscious for three days after that. I still have a long scar on my forehead. Besides that scar, my body was a map of other injuries—from pinches, from scalding water, from the thorny branches… No matter how fierce these boys tried to be, they could never be as terrifying as that man. Bianca, the most popular girl in school, walked by with her lunch tray and rolled her eyes. “Are you guys stupid? Just give her the stuff you don’t want to eat.” With a blank expression, she dumped all the broccoli, carrots, and fatty meat from her tray into my dog bowl. The students around us had a collective lightbulb moment. Soon, a mountain of food piled up in my bowl. “I hate bell peppers!” “Here, you can have this. The shrimp smells weird.” “Crab is too much work.” “This pork belly is way too fatty. You’ll get sick.” I stared blankly at the ever-growing pile of leftovers: steamed lobster, a whole Dungeness crab, glistening braised pork belly… No, these weren’t leftovers. This was my paradise. “Is… is all this really for me?” I asked timidly, my voice barely a whisper. “Weirdo. She really is an idiot.” Gabe muttered as he walked away, but not before tossing a chicken leg into my bowl. Porky stared at my bowl for a long moment, then turned to Jax. “Hey, man, you think that dog food is really that good? She looks like she’s really enjoying it…” Jax gritted his teeth and yelled at me, “You’re not leaving until you finish every last bite! You hear me?!” Then he spun around and kicked Porky. “What are you looking at! You want some too?!” Once most of the students had left, I cradled the heavy bowl and found a quiet corner to squat in. Sunlight streamed through the window, making every grain of rice sparkle. I grabbed a piece of meat with my hand and shoved it into my mouth, then scooped up a huge mouthful of rice, my cheeks puffing out like a hamster’s. 2 During her moments of clarity, my mother told me she used to play the piano. But all ten of her fingers had been smashed and deformed. She couldn’t even hold my hand properly. For as long as I could remember, she was locked in the pigpen, a long iron chain fastened around her neck. She would often scream like a madwoman, muttering in a foreign language I didn’t understand, her words eventually dissolving into sobs. She ran away every chance she got. At first, she would try to take me with her. I wasn’t wanted in that house either. I was a girl, and because of that, I was despised from the moment I was born. Growing up, the man I called Father only ever called me “Worthless Girl.” When I was eight, he finally took me to get registered. The clerk at the office asked for my name. “Worthless Girl,” he grunted impatiently. The clerk looked at him in disbelief. “Are you sure? Once it’s on the certificate, it’s not easy to change.” “She’s just as worthless as her mother. She doesn’t deserve a good name.” The clerk, furious, scribbled “Lynn” on the paper and asked if that was correct. My father couldn’t read. He assumed it was the name he’d given me and nodded dismissively. I huddled by the counter with my head down, only breathing a sigh of relief when I saw the name on the official document. As we were leaving, the clerk slipped a hundred-dollar bill into my hand. I looked up at her with gratitude. When we were far enough away and my father wasn’t looking, I turned back and gave her a deep, long bow. That night, after he got drunk, I took the money and the key to the pigpen. It was the dead of winter. My mother was wearing nothing but a torn tank top, shivering in a corner. Her hair was a matted mess, and the skin on her neck was a thick, dark red callus from the iron chain. “Mom, take this and run.” I expertly unlocked the chain and gave her the money. She stared blankly at the banknote. She had been cut off from the world for so long she didn’t recognize the new currency. Suddenly, her eyes filled with suspicion. “You’re lying to me. You’re his child. You must be trying to trick me.” Her mind was a fractured thing back then, her words disjointed and confused. I coaxed and pleaded until I finally got her out the door. But we hadn’t gone more than a few steps before we ran into a neighbor on his nightly patrol. The villagers came after us with torches and dragged us back. That time, we were beaten black and blue. They smashed a rock against her head, leaving a deep gash. The blood soaked through the straw in the pigpen. When she woke up, the only thing in her eyes when she looked at me was hatred. “It’s all your fault. If it weren’t for you, I would have escaped.” “Please, sweetie, can you help Mommy get away?” “Your family are all demons. Please, just let me go.” Her mind slipped further and further away. Around that time, a charity began sponsoring our village, and I was sent to the town school. As I learned more about the world, I began to understand. My mother had been kidnapped. I was the child of a human trafficker. I told this secret to my only friend. The next day, the entire class ostracized me. “Your mom’s a psycho, your dad’s a monster, and you’re no better.” They threw trash at me, spat at me. Once, they shoved my head into a toilet. 3 Eventually, the police followed a lead and found us. They rescued my mother and me. My mother’s sanity came and went. But when she was lucid, she was in agony. The moment she saw me, she would shrink away, trembling. “I don’t know her. She’s not my child.” My grandfather was so enraged he had a heart attack. He refused to let me in the house. “The Wentworth family has no place for such a mongrel. To think that scum is even associated with our family.” My cousin, Connor, threw me out. I had nowhere to go, but I was too worried about my mother to leave. I squatted by the front gate for two days until I finally fainted from hunger on the steps. When I woke up, I was in a hospital with an IV in my arm. My grandfather stood by the bed, leaning on a cane, his hair completely white. “Child, don’t blame us. Neither your mother nor the Wentworth family can accept you. It’s not your fault, but you have his blood. We will pay for your schooling, give you the best education possible. But beyond that, you’re on your own.” I didn’t blame them. I understood. I was that man’s daughter. It was a stain that could never be washed away. I didn’t dare ask if they could give me something to eat. I was starving. But I knew they were all suffering. My mother, my grandfather. Just being able to continue school was more than I could have hoped for. That man had planned to pull me out after elementary school, just so I could learn a few words and fetch a higher price when he married me off. And so, I was sent to this school. They seemed to have paid for all my tuition, but they must have forgotten about living expenses. Since returning to the Wentworths, I hadn’t eaten a single meal. The only thing in my stomach was the glucose from the IV drip. My cousin Connor wasn’t at this school, but he had already spread the word to his friends here: My father was a human trafficker, and they should “take care” of me. To be able to eat my fill, and to eat so well, with so much meat I’d never even seen before… I was deeply grateful. Being “taken care of” was a wonderful thing. 4 When I returned to the classroom, no one threw trash at me or laughed, which I had expected. Logically, after learning my story, no one should want anything to do with me. I went back to my seat in the last row. The girl next to me was beautiful, with cool, distant eyes. Her uniform was so clean it seemed to smell like sunshine. When I sat down, she didn’t cover her nose and complain about the smell like my old deskmates used to. She did, however, frown slightly and shift her books a half-inch away from me. “What are you looking at? Turn to page 28.” Her voice was so pleasant that I just stared at her for a moment. “Are you still daydreaming? If you fail the exam and drag down our class average, you’ll have to answer to me.” I quickly flipped to page 28, a strange feeling twisting in my gut. They must have something else planned for me. I’d heard that the rich kids at these elite schools had all sorts of creative ways to torture people. But for the rest of the class, no one bothered me. When the teacher came in, everything was normal. I later learned that she was Sloane, the class academic officer, and the class average was the most important thing in the world to her. From then on, things started appearing on my desk. Sometimes it was a photocopied set of her neatly written notes, other times it was an old workbook with key problems highlighted. My math was terrible. During lunch break, when the classroom was mostly empty, she would tap my desk with her pen. “This problem. Look at the construction line first.” Her tone was flat, but she explained each step incredibly slowly, pausing until she saw the confusion clear from my eyes before moving on. My English was a complete blank slate. I barely knew the alphabet. She wordlessly tossed me an old Walkman. “Study this. I’m quizzing you tomorrow.” She always had a scowl on her face, but her voice was so nice to listen to. As she was teaching me how to pronounce a word, I zoned out again. “Has your voice always been this beautiful?” I blurted out. She froze, her face flushing bright red. She jabbed my test paper with her pen. “If you don’t start paying attention, I really will have to answer to you. Look at this, you only got a 38 on the quiz.” I didn’t dare let my mind wander again. I started waking up before dawn every day to practice my English. Back in my old school, everyone ignored me, which gave me a lot of time to study. I was always at the top of my class. But now I was in last place, dragging down our average. I couldn’t let Sloane’s efforts go to waste. 5 Without any money, food became a problem. I went to the school office and asked if there were any work-study opportunities. My homeroom teacher looked at me as if I’d told a joke. “This is an elite academy. We don’t have students working.” Then she narrowed her eyes. “Weren’t you sent here by the Wentworth family? How could you possibly be short on money?” Another teacher quietly pulled her aside. “She’s the one who was kidnapped with the Wentworth daughter. The one born to the trafficker.” My teacher was young, fresh from studying abroad. Her face went pale, and she jumped back as if I were contagious. “We don’t have a work-study program. You should go back to class now.” She muttered under her breath, “What is this school coming to, letting in just anyone.” I walked out of the office with my head down. I had heard words like that my whole life. I was immune by now. If I couldn’t work, I’d just have to go to the cafeteria. At least the kimchi and soup were free. I wonder if there will be any “dog food” today? The thought of that meal made my mouth water and my stomach clench. I had just sat down in my usual corner when a heavy lunchbox landed on the table in front of me with a thud. Jax stood over me, hands in his pockets, his brow furrowed. “Hey. Are all you girls so obsessed with dieting? Just drinking soup? Eat this. Maybe it’ll put some meat on your bones.” Porky stood beside him, trying his best to look menacing. “Yeah! My cousin cries for a whole morning if she gains a single pound!” I didn’t say anything. I just quietly opened the lunchbox. Inside were braised pork ribs, stir-fried shrimp, two perfectly fried sunny-side-up eggs, and a generous portion of tightly packed rice. I picked up the spoon and started eating. The food was still warm. The ribs were so tender they fell off the bone, and the shrimp were sweet and fresh. I ate quickly and cleanly. In two minutes, the box was empty. I even scraped the last bit of oil from the sides with my spoon. “Thank you,” I said, putting the empty box down and looking up at him. My eyes started to feel hot. Jax froze, and his ears turned a shade of crimson I could see from across the room. He took a sharp step back, his voice rising in a flustered jumble. “Are—are you crazy? Who needs your thanks! We’re bullying you! Bullying, you get it?” He grabbed the still-dazed Porky and stormed off, fuming. “I told you guys to be meaner! Otherwise, how are we supposed to answer to Connor? We’re the school tyrants! We have to be mean!” Connor. My cousin’s name. It felt like a tiny needle pricked my heart. A dull ache, but not too painful. He must hate me so much because he loves my mother and feels for her suffering. As long as my mother was with the Wentworths, getting better, nothing else mattered. I wondered if she was eating well today, if she was doing any better. I washed the lunchbox until it shone, dried it carefully, and put it back in Jax’s desk drawer. The sunlight fell on it, warm and gentle. I thought for a moment, then, when no one was looking, I left him a small note. “It’s not necessary. Please don’t give me any more food. Thank you.” After another thought, I gently crossed out the words “it’s not necessary” and changed them to “it’s no trouble.” 6 During evening study hall, I was the only one in the classroom. All the other students were day students; I was the only boarder. I was used to it. Before Sloane left, she wordlessly dropped a thick stack of problems on my desk. “Key concepts. Finish them.” I didn’t dare waste a second. She had put so much effort into preparing these for me. Her tutoring was a gift I could never have imagined, a top student’s private lessons, even more detailed than the teachers’. But as I worked, my stomach started to ache with hunger. Damn it. Lunch was delicious, but it hadn’t been enough. I got up and chugged two large glasses of water. I didn’t expect to run into Bianca, who had come back for something she’d forgotten. She was staring at me like I was a freak. “Are you insane? Gulping down two huge glasses of cold water like that.” I looked down, not daring to speak. Just then, my stomach betrayed me with a loud, rumbling growl that echoed in the empty hallway. Bianca’s expression froze. She frowned, a look of disgust on her face, and tossed a meal card at me. “Here. Use it.” I couldn’t accept it. Not because I thought it was a trap, but because I didn’t deserve it. The card was blindingly bright, covered in tiny diamonds that formed the shape of a glittering, haughty cat. It looked incredibly expensive. Bianca seemed even more annoyed. She shoved the card into my hand. “I just hate that sound. It’s distracting. I have misophonia, you know?” Realizing her excuse didn’t quite make sense, she grabbed her art portfolio and practically fled down the hallway, leaving behind the faint, pleasant scent of gardenias. I clutched the card in my hand, the sharp edges of the diamonds digging into my palm. Without warning, big, fat tears began to splash onto the glittering cat’s ears. This was so frustrating. I had been at this school for less than a week, but I felt like I had cried more than in the past decade combined. I never cried like this, not even when my father beat me. What was wrong with me? 7 Life went on. I didn’t have to worry about school fees. The balance on the meal card Bianca gave me always read 9999+, no matter how much I spent. I started keeping a little notebook, writing down every penny I used. One day, when I got into college and found a job, I would pay her back. Jax didn’t bother me again, but my desk was always piled with food. Now, however, it was in clean, disposable containers. One day, I came to school early and saw Jax and Porky putting food on my desk. “The cafeteria food is so gross. I don’t know how she eats it.” “This is a new recipe my family’s chef came up with. It’s good for the brain.” “And this. She studies so late every night, this is good for her eyes.” “This one has iron. She’s skinny as a ghost. I saw her hand the other day… man, she has this long scar. Looked painful.” “Jax, do you really think that scar… was from a dog bite?” “Shut up. Put the stuff down and let’s go before someone sees us.” In a matter of minutes, a mountain of food was stacked on my desk. I didn’t have the courage to face them, so I waited until they left before going to my seat. My chest felt full of something warm and soft, swelling until it ached. I had nothing to give them in return. I pulled out the workbook Sloane had given me and threw myself into the problems. All I had was the pen in my hand. I would solve every single problem. I would devour every word in these books. I would get the highest scores, get into the best university. That was the only way I could repay their warmth. 8 The mid-term exams came quickly. I got first place. Sloane shot up from her seat and threw her arms around me, her usually cool voice filled with unrestrained joy. “That’s my girl! From dead last to number one!” She was happier than if she had gotten first place herself, her eyes shining like they were full of stars. “Quiet! This is a classroom, not a fish market!” The teacher slammed her hand on the desk, her gaze cutting through me like a knife. “Some people shouldn’t get cocky just because they’ve made a little progress.” The smile on Sloane’s face instantly vanished. She let go of me, picked up her Louis Vuitton bag, and casually tossed another one out the window. “Teacher, I dropped my bag. Could you please get it for me?” The teacher’s face turned purple. Sloane smiled sweetly. “You can keep it.” The teacher’s expression changed in an instant. “Oh, my, I couldn’t possibly. I’ll go get it right now.” She practically ran out of the room to retrieve the bag. Sloane rolled her eyes and pulled out another set of practice tests. “Finally, some peace and quiet. Don’t get arrogant. These are practice questions from the exam writer. Finish them in the next two days.” I beamed and nodded eagerly, ready to start. Bianca couldn’t stand it. “She just got first place. Can’t you give her a break? Let her relax, go for afternoon tea or something.” Sloane held the papers down. “Bianca, do you think everyone can afford to be a carefree, decorative vase like you?” Bianca blushed. “Who are you calling a vase? I passed my TOEFL last year and I’m going abroad next year. You’re calling me a vase?” I quickly stepped between them. “Actually, I can do the problems and drink water at the same time.” Bianca let out an exasperated laugh and shot me a glare. “Fine. I’ll have some Bvlgari afternoon tea sent over. They have a Christmas special today. We can all celebrate.” Porky jumped in. “Awesome! I’ll have hot pot delivered.” Even Sloane got caught up in the mood. “Alright, you get one day off. I’ll have my family send over a couple of chefs to make steak and foie gras.” It was the first, and perhaps only, Christmas of my life that was so boisterous, so warm, so filled with the aroma of food. The classroom was a surreal mix of Michelin-star desserts and steaming hot pot. Chefs in crisp white uniforms pan-fried steaks at a makeshift station, the sizzling sound and rich aroma filling the air. The students laughed and joked. Even the ever-serious Sloane snuck a bite of Bianca’s gold-leaf cake. I ate the tripe Porky put on my plate, listened to Bianca complain about the hassle of preparing to go abroad, and watched Jax silently cook slices of beef for me from across the room. For a few moments, I almost forgot who I was and where I came from. Until the classroom door was thrown open with a violent crash. All the laughter and chatter died as if a switch had been flipped. Connor stood in the doorway, his face dark and stormy. He saw the delicate bone china plate in my hand, the smudge of cream I hadn’t yet wiped from the corner of my mouth. His eyes blazed with fury, and he overturned the nearest hot pot table. The scalding red broth and colorful ingredients splattered across the floor. Students nearby screamed and jumped back. “You’re a trafficker’s daughter! You have his filthy blood in your veins… What right do you have to be so happy?”

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To indulge myself one last time, I essentially “sugar-mommy’d” a poor, mute guy. He had a cold, aloof look but loved adventure. To make him happy, I pushed my body to the limit. Bungee jumping, racing, diving, skydiving… I did everything I had never done before, just to accompany him. My savings were quickly drained. While on the verge of death, I secretly went to the hospital to sign a donor form, planning to donate my heart to his sick mother after I died. But then, I saw a photo of him on the hospital director’s desk. He was wearing a luxury watch. The director smiled and said: “That’s my son. Ivy League grad.” “But he’s too playful. Recently, he’s into some ‘live-action role-play’ game, pretending to be poor and mute.” “He even said the girl he’s playing with is old and tacky, and he’s planning to switch to a new target.” I laughed until I cried. Then, I tore up the donation form. “I’m willing to join the clinical trial for the new cancer drug, but I have one condition.” “I want the Sterling family to adopt me as a daughter.” Chapter 1 The moment I saw Luke Sterling’s photo, I felt like a bolt of lightning had struck the top of my head. He was wearing a Patek Philippe, leaning lazily against the railing of a yacht, surrounded by flowers. A beautiful girl snuggled in his arms, wearing a matching watch. It was clearly the same face, but completely different from the Luke I knew. I remembered Luke from this morning, rubbing his sleep-filled eyes and signing “good morning kiss” to me. My temples throbbed as if a drill were boring into them, the pain blinding me for a second. Ding. My phone buzzed. It was a message from Luke. “Snow, I handed out flyers for half the day and made thirty bucks. I bought you a bracelet.” I opened the picture, and my breath hitched. I recognized this bracelet. Last night, I accidentally found a velvet gift box in his backpack. Inside was an exquisite, beautiful Van Cleef & Arpels clover bracelet. But the one on the screen was a cheap knockoff, paint chipping, gems crooked. It looked like the lowest quality street vendor trash. So, Luke bought the authentic one worth $5,000 first, then bought a thirty-dollar piece of junk. The junk was for me. Where did the $5,000 one go? To the girl on the yacht? I suddenly remembered looking at that bracelet in a shop window a month ago. Luke had immediately signed: “When I have money, I’ll buy it for you.” Now he “bought” it. I thought about the gifts treasured in my rental apartment closet. Fading earrings, unraveling cashmere scarves, bags stamped with “LY”… He seemed particularly keen on buying me low-quality knockoffs of big brands. In the past, I just thought he didn’t know brands. Now I realize, he did it on purpose. Or perhaps, for every authentic item he bought for other girls, he bought a $9.99 Temu version for me, the “old and tacky” sugar mommy. What a fun way to prank someone. Ding, the phone buzzed again. “Why aren’t you replying? Don’t you like it?” I slowly typed: “I like it. Thank you.” Luke quickly sent another promotional image for a ski resort: “Let’s go skiing this weekend. They’re having a sale.” “By the way, I have a few friends who want to come too. You don’t mind, right, sis?” I glanced at the so-called sale price: $199 per person, gear rental not included. That was what I earned from delivering Uber Eats all night. I stared at the screen and suddenly laughed out loud. As I laughed, my eyes grew hot. It turns out when things are extremely absurd, you really do want to laugh. The Director opposite me looked at me strangely. “Miss, are you okay?” I put away my phone. “Nothing, just saw a joke. It was very funny.” “Let’s continue discussing the clinical trial.” Chapter 2 Due to the nature of the drug, the trial process would be excruciatingly painful. And the cure rate was very low. Therefore, no patient was willing to gamble on that tiny survival rate. With the project approval deadline approaching, the Director, who was also the drug’s developer, was anxious. As soon as I offered to test the drug, her eyes lit up, but then she asked suspiciously: “Why make such a request?” I pressed down on the dense pain in my chest and forced a smile: “My parents favored my younger sister. I’ve never felt familial love since I was young.” “Besides,” I pointed to the photo frame, “I also want a handsome younger brother.” The Director glanced at Luke in the photo and smiled knowingly: “Fine. If you can survive the three-year trial period, I’ll make you my daughter.” Goal achieved. I let out a sigh of relief. After signing the NDA, the Director looked at me meaningfully. “Try hard to survive.” I nodded forcefully. “I will.” I turned to look at the magnolia branches outside the window. They were weighed down heavily by the fine snow, drooping listlessly. But they still stubbornly clung to the branches. Just like me. I planned to die this winter, but now I was painfully jolted back to life. Chapter 3 I didn’t reply to Luke’s messages again. Even when he later sent “Just consider it a loan from me first,” I didn’t respond. I sat on the sofa, silently waiting for him to return. Just past nine, Luke appeared. He wore a gloomy expression on his handsome face and threw his keys heavily onto the shoe cabinet, making a harsh clatter. Before, at times like this, I would walk over, gently pull his sleeve, and sign: [Are you angry?] Then he would deliberately keep a straight face, waiting for me to coax him. But today I didn’t. I sat on the sofa, flipping through the hospital’s re-examination report. I had never told Luke about my illness. He thought I just had severe anemia. At this moment, I suddenly wanted to know, what if he knew I was dying? Would he regret always pranking me? I pricked up my ears and heard him slam a water glass onto the kitchen counter, then deliberately slam the fridge door shut loudly. He was waiting for me to speak, waiting for me to compromise like before. But this time, I just silently held the lab report, the paper rustling between my fingers. Luke completely missed my expectation. He only cared about his own waiting. Seeing that I didn’t relent, he finally couldn’t hold it in. Luke grabbed his jacket, glared at me coldly, and signed: “I’m going back to the dorm to sleep.” I didn’t stop him. The moment the door slammed, I got up and followed him out. He made a call at the complex gate, his cold, low voice drifting into my ears with the night wind: “Goose, come pick me up.” “Where else? Waiting for this cheap woman.” “Call Mimi too. I have a gift for her.” This was the first time I heard Luke’s voice. Usually, I only heard uncontrollable, muffled groans from his throat when we were intimate. Even those few sounds, I thought were sexy. I had asked him how he became mute and if there was a cure. He pulled his lips and signed: “A fever burned it out. Doctors say there’s hope abroad, but the medical fees would be over a million.” At the time, I thought if I died, I’d donate my heart to his mother. Then I’d sell the rest of my organs—corneas, kidneys, whatever—finding buyers beforehand. No matter what, I had to scrape together the medical fees for him. Letting him speak again became my dying wish. Now I hadn’t died yet, but I had already heard his voice with my own ears. Ridiculous and tragic. Chapter 4 Luke entered a high-end club. The bouncer bowed and scraped to him, clearly showing he was a regular. I followed him in. Standing in the shadows of the hallway, through the crack of the half-open private room door, I saw dim lights and a table full of liquor bottles. As soon as Luke entered, people on the sofa started jeering: “Yo, Luke, not keeping ‘Sis’ company today?” He sneered, loosened his tie, and downed half a glass of wine: “Spent too much time with her lately. She’s getting pushy.” The girl I saw in the photo leaned in, her finger tracing ambiguously over his collarbone: “Luke, do you have something for me?” Luke took the gift box out of his pocket. “Here, play with it.” The girl opened it and pouted dissatisfiedly. “Isn’t this last year’s style?” Luke glanced at it. “Yeah, I originally planned to give it to her.” “What? Didn’t you give her the $9.99 stuff?” The group of rich kids quickly gathered around. “Luke, you didn’t catch feelings, did you?” Standing in the shadows at the door, I couldn’t help clenching my trembling fists. Luke was silent for a moment, slowly blowing out a smoke ring: “What nonsense. A tacky, cheap old woman like her? You think I’d be interested?” “I was just thinking, I’m bored anyway. I’ll reveal everything in a few days.” “Honestly, compared to me, she’s not bad. Sometimes I use her as a punching bag when I’m mad.” The crowd erupted in teasing boos again. I was only meters away, yet it felt like I was in an abyss. “Luke, actually that woman isn’t ugly. She looks quite delicate. After you reveal the truth, maybe I’ll go comfort her while she’s heartbroken. I could probably score.” The girl named Mimi slapped the blond guy who spoke: “No way. That woman looks sickly. What kind of taste do you have?” Blondie chuckled. “I just like that fragile type… Luke, is she sick or not?” Luke swirled his wine glass. “Just a bit of anemia. She’s dramatic.” Mimi covered her mouth and laughed. “Right, last time I switched the pills on her nightstand. It’s been so long, and she hasn’t noticed?” The girl’s laughter was as melodious as a nightingale, but it sounded like needles in my ears. No wonder my illness accelerated. It was because the expensive special medicine I gritted my teeth to buy was switched by Luke! A metallic taste surged in my throat. I covered my mouth and swallowed it desperately. Inside the room, Luke seemed a bit agitated, checking his phone repeatedly. Mimi lay on him. “Luke, why do you care about her?” Luke pinched her chin, smiling frivolously: “What’s the rush? I’m waiting to see when Snow gives in. Are you jealous?” “Don’t worry, she’s about to be past tense.” After speaking, he lowered his head and kissed her. Whistles and laughter erupted in the room. Standing outside, my fingernails dug deep into my palms, but I felt no pain. I slowly took out my phone and sent him a message: [I’ll take you guys skiing this weekend.] Almost the next second, a deafening cheer came from the room. “Fuck! She replied!” “Luke, you win again!” Luke lazily held up his phone, the screen’s light reflecting his triumphant smile. He shook it at the room full of people and said, “See? What did I tell you? She can’t leave me.” Mimi giggled and fell into his arms: “It’s a deal. After skiing, bring her to my birthday party at my family’s hotel. Then reveal your identity and announce our relationship.” Luke paused, lowered his head, and bit her ear. “Of course.” After they finished being intimate, he looked down and typed on his phone. Soon, I received a reply: “Okay. Classes are busy these days, so I won’t come back. See you at the ski resort this weekend.” I replied with a single word: “Okay.” Then I turned and left. The club hallway was very long. My shadow was stretched thin and lonely. The night wind was still cold, but this time, I didn’t cry.

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