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Since I was little, my mom always taught me: “Date the hot guys, marry the reliable ones.” So at 24, I started dating Carter Brooks. Carter, a veteran player. His motto: “Among all of them, I love you the most.” And me? A master of manipulation and acting innocent. My motto: “I can’t sleep because I can’t sleep with you.” Everyone around us thought we were a perfect match. But a month ago, my mom was diagnosed with early-stage lung cancer. In the hospital, I saw so much loneliness and death, and suddenly, I really wanted to settle down. I was ready to break up with Carter. Chapter 1 Carter hated answering calls, but finding him wasn’t hard. He had a reserved booth at “The Pulse,” the hottest club in the city. 365 days a year, he was there for 360 of them. He was tall and handsome; in a crowd, I could spot him at a glance. Right now, he had just lost a game and was drinking a shot with a young girl next to him, arms interlinked. Seeing me, the girl said innocently, “Sis, we’re just playing a game, you don’t mind, right?” “Of course not. You’re so cute, why don’t you move in with us?” My invitation was full of warmth, but all I got was an eye roll from her. I looked at Carter with a wronged expression. “Carter, does she hate me? Maybe I should just leave.” “But it’s raining outside, and I didn’t bring an umbrella. How about… let this brother here walk me out.” I pointed to a young man sitting nearby. Regular features, fair skin, wearing a sleeveless tee showing off solid arms. Carter shifted his gaze to the guy, looking him up and down. Scaring the guy into waving his hands frantically. “Sis, don’t play me. Everyone knows Carter loves you the most, spoils you the most.” Hearing this, Carter’s mood improved a bit. He took the glass and downed it in one gulp. Pushing aside the girl next to him, he stood up and pulled me into his arms. “I’m out. Your sister-in-law is jealous, gotta take her home to calm her down. Drinks are on me tonight.” “Long live Carter and Sis!” Amidst the cheers, Carter walked out with his arm around me. In the car. He turned to look at me now and then. “Really mad? You know I’m just playing around. Among all of them, I love you the most.” He repeated this line every month. I was tired of hearing it. If I wasn’t such a sucker for good looks, we would have broken up ages ago. He looked at me with those eyes that looked affectionate even when looking at a dog, leaned close to my ear, and whispered, “Babe, what perfume are you wearing today? Smells so good. Babe, I want to…” “I want to break up.” I interrupted his spellcasting. He froze slightly, a smile still on his lips, raising an eyebrow. “Babe, what role are we cosplaying this time?” Occasionally we played role-playing games between couples. Seeing I wasn’t speaking, he teased, “CEO vs. Secretary? Passenger vs. Flight Attendant? Patient vs. Nurse?” “…” “Carter, I’m serious!” My face was solemn. He also put away his smile, playing with a lighter in one hand, the other resting on the seat back. The four words “Rich Playboy” were embodied vividly in him. He said, “Fine, Maya, give me a reason to convince me.” “There are too many women around you outside.” He replied, “Has anyone appeared in front of you? Or did you catch me in bed? Maya, I need hard evidence.” Thinking about these 3 years, I really didn’t have hard evidence! “I want to get married.” They say players fear the shackles of marriage the most. I expected him to relent. But he said casually, “Pick a date, I’ll go with you to get the license.” To him, marriage was just two pieces of paper. Concepts like mutual support and sharing weal and woe were bullshit. I had to continue, “My mom told me to find someone reliable.” He tossed the lighter aside, smiling wickedly. “Then I’ll go ask Mama Jiang where I’m unreliable.” My mom just got out of the hospital, I didn’t want to disturb her, so I refused repeatedly. “No no no, I was joking.” He pulled me back into his arms and kissed me satisfactorily. “I knew it, babe was just teasing me.” Chapter 2 At night. His phone vibrated on the bedside table. I glanced at it. It was Chloe. His “white moonlight”—his first love. Listening to his friends, back then it was only because Chloe went abroad that I got my turn. “Carter, your phone is ringing.” He came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel from the waist down. Water droplets hadn’t been wiped off, sliding down his neck… He wasn’t just handsome; his body was top-tier too. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been stuck for 3 years. I swallowed, buried my head in the quilt, and pricked up my ears to eavesdrop. “Hello?” “Today?” “Okay, I’ll pick you up.” He hung up and kissed me on the cheek. “Babe, I have something to do tonight. Be good at home.” A man, 1 AM, on the phone with his first love, not coming home. I had to go catch them in the act. As soon as he drove out of the garage, I followed him. Arriving at the destination. I waited for a full hour before knocking on the door. The woman wore a white spaghetti strap dress, a braid falling on her shoulder, pure and lovely. In contrast, I looked like a vicious woman, holding a camera, filming right in her face. “Maya, crazy about catching cheaters?” Carter came out of the bathroom, still in the clothes he went out in, not a single wrinkle. I frowned. Shouldn’t be. Carter usually starts at 2 hours for a case. Looking at the camera in my hand, Carter said dissatisfiedly, “Maya, delete the video.” He reached out for my phone. I protected the phone in my arms, shaking my head to refuse. “You said breaking up requires hard evidence.” “Does this count?” “In the middle of the night, you wouldn’t just be using her toilet, right?” Facing my questioning, Chloe suddenly started crying. Damn! I’m Carter’s official girlfriend, the one who should be crying is me, right? Chloe pinched Carter’s cuff, whispering, “Carter, sorry to cause you trouble.” I laughed in anger. When this grandma was acting like a tea master (innocent manipulator), you didn’t even know where you were. I pulled Carter’s other cuff, aggrieved, “Carter, hit me or scold me today if you want, I just want to know, between her and me, who do you love most?” He broke away from Chloe’s pull, hugged me, pinched my waist, and whispered to me. “Babe, stop making a scene, delete the video, be good.” I thought I was winning against Chloe. Turns out, he just wanted me to delete the video. I squeezed out a few tears, murmuring, “So Carter chose her, right?” I could see Carter’s patience was reaching its limit. “Go home first, I really have something to do.” I took advantage of the momentum and continued to attack. “Sorry, I’m too clingy. But don’t worry, won’t happen again.” He held my wrist, gradually increasing the force. Chloe smoothed things over from the side, “Carter, maybe you should go back first, I can handle it alone.” Hearing this, Carter turned to me and said, “Maya, playing around usually is fine, but you crossed the line today!” Tone wasn’t too good, a bit of a warning. Sure enough, no matter how skilled a tea master is, she can’t compare to a sentence from the white moonlight. I shook off his hand and deleted the video in front of him. Left without looking back. I moved back to my own home that night. But my heart still felt a bit blocked. Maybe he said he loved me most hundreds of times, cast too much magic, and I believed it was true. But looking at it now, he loves Chloe, at least a bit more than me. Chapter 3 After breaking up with Carter. My mom was very happy. After all, since the surgery, she had been hoping for me to settle down. She sent me to a matchmaking agency that day. “Miss Jiang, this is the $1888 package, this is the $3888 package, this is…” “Get the most expensive one for my daughter.” “Mom, you still need money for treatment later.” “At my age, I’ve seen through life and death. Your lifelong event is more important. We want the most expensive one.” The matchmaker smiled so wide her face almost cracked. After collecting the money, she took out a stack of profiles and told me, “Miss Jiang, these are the highest quality ones we have.” The photos on the profiles were basically unwatchable. My mind was full of Carter’s bewitching face. “Miss Jiang, your phone is ringing.” The matchmaker reminded me. The flashing screen showed the name Carter. “Hello?” “Maya, did you f*cking delete it!” Hearing his rage, I felt quite relieved. I did delete the video last night. But I was still angry, so I retrieved it from the recycling bin and sold it to a gossip news agency for $2000. Now the headlines of major media outlets. #Second Young Master of the Brooks Family, Night Meeting with Beauty #Illegitimate Daughter of the Chen Family Ascends So Chloe was an illegitimate daughter. No wonder Carter kept asking me to delete the video. I said innocently, “Carter, I just saw the news too. But I clearly deleted it, how did it get leaked?” “I’m really so stupid, can’t even do this small thing well.” “Making Carter worry again.” Carter laughed angrily on the other end, completely forgetting the fact that we broke up last night. “Where are you, I’ll pick you up.” I reminded him, “Carter, we already broke up. Besides, I’m really busy right now.” “Maya, I didn’t agree to the breakup.” Scumbags are like this, thinking about the white moonlight while wanting to eat swan meat. Seeing I wasn’t speaking, he continued asking, “Busy with what?” “Busy with blind dates!” Hanging up the phone, I pointed randomly at the matchmaking profiles. Chapter 4 The blind date location, I set it at a place Carter frequented. No other meaning, just wanted to disgust him a bit. The man in front of me had exquisite features, on par with Carter. A bit like a substitute for the lost love. “Handsome, hello, I’m Maya.” He smiled and shook my hand, “Hello, Caleb.” Caleb? This name sounded familiar. He stood up gentlemanly and pulled out the chair for me. Manners were gentle and elegant. After I sat down, I went straight to the topic. “Maya Jiang, 29, single-parent family, own apartment and car, have savings, had 3 relationships.” “So Carter Brooks is your first love?” How did he know Carter? Back then I lied to Carter saying he was my first love, how did he know too? I was still puzzled. Carter rushed out from behind, grabbing Caleb’s collar. Veins popped on his hands. I tried to stop him, hearing him excitedly say, “About Chloe, I explained to you, I’ll find a way to retract the video too!” Damn, I thought he was impulsive for me. Turns out it was for his white moonlight! I was being sentimental. I continued sitting and drinking coffee, ate melon for half a day before understanding. I went to the wrong booth. Mine was 608, this is 806. Caleb is his brother, no wonder the name sounded familiar. Unlucky enough. I took my bag, planning to sneak away, but was caught by Carter. “Carter, what are you doing, I have things to do!” He ignored my struggle and forced me into the car.

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1 At Thanksgiving dinner, my brother publicly accused me of being the fraud. He slammed a DNA report on the table, shoving it toward me. “Look, Audrey! Faye is the real Blackwood daughter! You’re an imposter—what right do you have to sit here?” Then he pulled Faye forward. Her face was the mirror image of our mother. Everyone froze. As I reached for the report, text appeared over Faye’s head, visible only to me: 【Female lead returns to her wealthy family for a sweet romance with the fake young master?】 【Not yet. They still think they’re siblings.】 【Feel bad for the side character—she’s the biggest victim, mistaken for the fake heiress and sent to suffer with the Nolans.】 Faye and I looked like twins, with identical birthdates on our IDs. A slow smile spread across my face. “Ever think,” I said, “that you might be the real imposter?” … I was Audrey Blackwood, the cherished daughter of a wealthy family. Everyone adored me. Everyone except my brother, Adrian. He’d spent his entire life trying to get rid of me. When he was three, he swapped me with the nanny’s daughter. My parents found out and tanned his hide. When he was five, he abandoned me in a park, only to nearly get kidnapped himself before the police saved him. When he was fifteen, he hired some punk to hit on me, but the guy turned out to be into men and ended up harassing Adrian for three days straight. After that, he’d actually calmed down for a few years. I thought he’d finally accepted me as his sister. I guess I was wrong. On Thanksgiving, of all nights, he decided to give me the surprise of a lifetime. “Mom, Dad,” Adrian announced, standing abruptly. “Tonight, I’m exposing Audrey Blackwood for the fraud she is. She doesn’t deserve a single bite of this family’s food!” He produced a small, decorative hammer from his pocket—one of the table setting pieces—and shattered my wine glass. Red wine and shards of crystal sprayed across the tablecloth. My mother gasped, rushing to dab at my dress with a napkin. My father slammed his hand on the table, his brow furrowed with rage. “Adrian, have you lost your mind? Who gave you the right to treat your sister like this!” Adrian shot me a look of pure contempt before turning to the doorway and leading a girl inside. She was wearing the couture gown I was supposed to get for my eighteenth birthday. Around her neck was the sapphire necklace Mom gave me, and on her wrist, the emerald bracelet from Dad. My gaze snapped to the culprit. “Adrian, are you insane? First you smash my glass, and now you’re giving my things away to strangers?” He threw the DNA report at me, the pages fluttering onto my lap. “I can do it because Faye is the true Blackwood heiress, Mom and Dad’s real daughter!” he declared, his voice ringing with triumph. “You’ve stolen the first eighteen years of her life. A few trinkets are nothing! Besides, they were always meant to be hers!” With a flourish, he pushed Faye in front of our parents so everyone could get a clear look at her face. Mom and Dad both stared, stunned. The resemblance between Faye and our mother was uncanny. Mom has aged gracefully, looking like she’s barely in her thirties; seeing her and Faye face-to-face was like looking in a mirror. And me? Standing beside them, I suddenly looked like the odd one out. A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. I reached for the report Adrian had thrown at me, but then the text appeared over Faye’s head again: 【Finally, a fresh take on the ‘switched-at-birth’ trope. The real heiress returns and sparks fly with the fake young master.】 【Real Heiress vs. Fake Young Master. I ship it.】 I jerked back in shock, and the comments vanished. I rubbed my eyes. Leaning forward again, they reappeared. 【Is that the real heiress’s unlucky sister?】 【The side character has it rough. One DNA test and the whole family turns on her. The female lead resents her, the fake young master torments her, and her parents grow distant. She gets sent to the Nolan family to be tortured, only to find out it was all a huge mistake. Who wouldn’t turn into a villain after that?】 Real heiress? Fake young master? Unlucky victim? The flood of information left me reeling. Adrian, mistaking my silence for guilt, moved to shield Faye protectively. “Don’t even think about trying anything,” he snarled at me. “If you dare to hurt Faye, I’ll make you regret it.” He locked his eyes on mine. “Remember this: Faye is my real sister, connected by blood. You? You’re just a cuckoo who’s been living in her nest.” And then it all clicked. The fake heiress was actually the fake young master. Adrian was the cuckoo. 2 The comments said I’d be mistaken for the fake heiress, becoming the next victim of Adrian’s stolen identity. I wasn’t about to let that happen. In a move so fast it was a blur, I spun around, grabbed the DNA report, ripped it into a dozen pieces, and tossed the confetti into a nearby wastebasket. I turned back, spreading my hands innocently. “You’re going to need some proof for an accusation like that, Adrian,” I said calmly. “What makes you so sure I’m the fake one?” 【Is she a paper shredder? How did she tear up a whole report that fast?】 【The fake young master’s face is beet red, but am I the only one who finds this satisfying?】 【But now the female lead is even more convinced she’s the evil fake heiress.】 I risked a glance at Faye. Her eyes were red-rimmed, making her look like she was on the verge of tears, but the look she gave me held a sharp glint of suspicion and hostility. Yep, she definitely saw me as the enemy. Adrian, meanwhile, was frantically digging through the trash, trying to salvage the shredded paper. He spent a few moments trying to piece it together on the floor before giving up in frustration. He couldn’t even reassemble the cover page. His fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. If our parents weren’t here, I had no doubt he would have already tried to punch me. “Even without the report, I know Faye is a Blackwood,” he insisted, his voice tight. “The moment I saw her, I felt this connection. I just knew she was my sister!” He pointed a trembling finger at me. “And you! An imposter is an imposter. Don’t think destroying the evidence will let you keep squatting in this house!” I let a small, knowing smile play on my lips. “We’ll see who the real imposter is.” Adrian thought I was talking about Faye. He shot me a venomous glare before turning to comfort her. “Don’t worry, Faye. She can’t steal your identity. Your big brother will always have your back.” Faye’s voice was a choked whisper. “Okay. Thank you, brother.” Then she looked up, her eyes shimmering with tears as she faced my parents. “Dad, Mom… I know this is hard to accept, but I really am your daughter.” 【She looks so vulnerable and scared. She must be afraid her parents will choose the side character over her.】 【But the side character is innocent too! She’s also a real heiress. Why do they have to pit the sisters against each other?】 【Isn’t there a plot hole? If the female lead was switched with the fake young master, she’d be the same age as him. Why does everyone think she was switched with the other sister?】 【The female lead was undocumented as a child. When she was finally registered for school, her birthdate was just made up. It was just a coincidence that it ended up being the same as the side character’s.】 I see. Thanks for clearing that up, invisible commentariat. Looking at Faye, my mother’s heart seemed to shatter. Her eyes welled up as an undeniable sense of familiarity washed over her. It was as if Faye truly was her own flesh and blood. She couldn’t stop herself from stepping forward and taking Faye’s hand. Feeling the calloused skin of her palm, a wave of pain and regret hit her. Suddenly, Mom remembered I was still there. If I really wasn’t her daughter… she’d still raised me for eighteen years. How could she choose? They were both precious to her. She turned to my father. “Honey, no matter which of them is our biological daughter, let’s adopt the other one. We’ll raise them both.” “No!” Adrian immediately shot down the idea, his face a mask of disgust as he looked at me. “Mom, she’s a thief! She stole everything that should have been Faye’s. If I hadn’t found Faye, she might have spent her whole life suffering in poverty!” He gestured between us. “While she was living in luxury, Faye was enduring hardship after hardship. I won’t allow her to stay in this house. In fact, she needs to get on her knees and apologize to Faye!” Compared to me, Faye was painfully thin. My gown hung loosely on her frame, and her hair was dry and brittle with split ends. It was clear she’d had a difficult life. The comments above her head exploded: 【How dare the fake young master say that? He’s the real thief! He should be the one kneeling and begging for the female lead’s forgiveness! His real parents beat and abused her. She got into a top university, but they forced her to drop out and work as a hostess in a club.】 【But the male lead is innocent too! He didn’t ask to be switched at birth. And he does a lot to make it up to her later.】 【He’s only saying this now because of the misunderstanding. From his perspective, letting the ‘fake heiress’ stay is unfair to the female lead. He’s not wrong from his point of view.】 【But he’s the one who benefited from it all!】 … The commenters were at war, but my attention was fixed on two phrases: “beaten and verbally abused” and “forced to drop out and work as a hostess.” My own sister had lived like that for twenty years? Suddenly, I understood Faye’s hostility. If I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t be able to forgive someone who had stolen the happy life that was supposed to be mine. But the person she should hate isn’t me. It’s Adrian. I gave Faye a long, meaningful look before speaking calmly. “If I’m the fake heiress, you won’t have to kick me out. I’ll leave on my own.” Adrian scoffed. “Then you’d better start packing.” He turned to our father. “Dad, we have to do another DNA test tomorrow. We need to give Faye the certainty she deserves and make this imposter face reality.” That was exactly what I was waiting for. My father first agreed to Adrian’s suggestion for a new test. Then, his voice sharpened as he addressed his son. “Adrian, you are the heir to the Blackwood family. Where is the composure that comes with that title? And regardless of the test results, Audrey is your sister. Now, let’s eat.” The ever-perceptive butler had already instructed the staff to clear the cold dishes and bring out a fresh course. Adrian let out a cold snort and pulled Faye to the table, directing her to the seat I had just vacated. “Faye, you sit here.” Just as he was about to sit next to her, I slid into the chair myself, bumping him aside. Adrian’s face darkened. “Audrey!” he hissed. I cleaned my ear with my pinky. “What? Are you the only one allowed to get close to her?” He glared. “Don’t think sucking up to Faye is going to convince us to let you stay!” A flicker of something unreadable passed through Faye’s eyes. She glanced at me discreetly before starting to eat, taking small, careful bites. It was obvious she had crammed on table manners. My mother watched me with an approving smile. My father, however, addressed Adrian. “You’re the older brother. Set an example. Be more tolerant of your sister.” Grumbling, Adrian had no choice but to take the seat next to me, shooting daggers at me for the rest of the meal. I acted as if nothing was wrong, happily eating and serving food to my parents and Faye. The rest of Thanksgiving dinner passed in a strangely tense atmosphere. That night, Faye was given a guest room in the mansion. Adrian was not pleased. “Faye has been lost to us for so many years, and the first night she’s home, you put her in a guest room? That’s just cold.” He pointed toward my door. “Audrey’s room is the biggest and has the best view. She needs to give it to Faye!” Faye gently tugged on Adrian’s sleeve. “It’s alright, Adrian. I’m used to small spaces. The guest room is wonderful, really. I’m fine there.” But as she spoke, her eyes drifted to the framed photo on my nightstand—a picture of Mom and Dad kissing my cheeks, my own face beaming with joy. In her gaze, I saw a cocktail of envy, sadness, and longing. I sighed, pushed Adrian out of my room before he could argue further, locked the door, and pulled Faye onto my large, soft bed with me. Faye’s eyes went wide. She instantly yanked her hand away from mine, jumped up, and fled into the ensuite bathroom to wash up. I’m not sure what went through her head, but she did end up sleeping in the same bed with me that night. She kept a wide distance between us, her back turned to me, her head buried under the covers. She was like a hedgehog, curling into a tight ball at the slightest touch, hiding her soft belly. I knew she wasn’t asleep. “I’m eighteen,” I said into the quiet darkness. “What about you?” 3 The next morning, my father pulled some strings and found a private clinic that could run a DNA test on short notice. As our Maybach pulled up to the clinic’s entrance, a figure suddenly darted in front of the car. The driver slammed on the brakes. Faye, sitting across from me, was thrown forward. I reacted instantly, catching her and pulling her into my arms. She blushed, a flicker of surprise on her face. Once she was steady, I looked through the window. The comments were back. 【Didn’t the side character live with the Blackwoods for half a year before her adoptive family dragged her away? Why are the abusive adoptive parents showing up now?】 【The female lead didn’t send money home, so her adoptive parents went to the club looking for her. They found out the fake young master took her, and when they heard the Blackwoods were doing a DNA test, they rushed over to stop them, terrified his identity would be exposed.】 【Oh no, the side character is screwed. After she’s taken back by the Nolans, she gets sold off to some old cripple to be his wife and bear his children!】 My hands tightened into fists. I peered out the window. A middle-aged couple was blocking our way. The man was splayed across the hood of the car, while the woman frantically rattled the door handle and pounded on the window. “Child snatchers!” she shrieked for all to hear. “Give me back my daughter! Everyone, come see! The rich are stealing people’s children!” Faye’s face turned deathly pale. Adrian’s expression was thunderous. He grabbed me by the collar, dragged me out of the car, and shoved me toward the screaming woman, Brenda Nolan. “You want your daughter?” he spat. “Here she is! She’s your daughter. Faye is the precious gem of the Blackwood family!” Brenda froze for a second, but she quickly realized the Blackwoods hadn’t figured out the whole truth. She immediately burst into crocodile tears and lunged for me. “So you’re my real daughter! Come on, let’s go home with Mom.” I sidestepped, and she stumbled past me, nearly smashing her teeth on the pavement. “The DNA test isn’t even done,” I said coolly. “Who knows if you’re really my mother?” Hearing this, Brenda waved her hands frantically. “Oh, that’s too expensive! We’re simple people, we can’t afford things like that. Just test Faye. If she’s a Blackwood, then you must be my daughter.” With that, she and the man, Rick, planted themselves by the entrance, refusing to come inside. They were terrified I’d drag them in for a test too. “Your parents are just dripping with desperation,” Adrian sneered at me before taking Faye’s arm and leading her into the clinic. We paid for a rush job, and the results came back quickly. Two reports. One for Faye and my mother, the other for Faye and my father. Both confirmed a direct biological link. She was their daughter. There was no question of her being an illegitimate child from one side. My mother hugged Faye, both of them sobbing. My father watched his long-lost daughter with a look of profound heartache. Adrian, clearly disappointed by my calm reaction, started his victory lap. “Audrey,” he began, a cruel smirk on his face. “Oh, wait. I should call you Audrey Nolan now, shouldn’t I?” If I were you, I’d be crawling back to that gutter with your hick parents right now instead of sticking around to be humiliated! Brenda and Rick chose that moment to reappear, dabbing at their dry eyes and begging me to acknowledge them. I just shook my head. “I’m not your daughter.” Brenda collapsed to the floor, wailing and beating the pristine tiles. “What a cruel fate! To give birth to a daughter who won’t even recognize her own parents! What are we supposed to do in our old age?” Rick, a brutish-looking man, jabbed a finger in my face. “You ungrateful brat! I bet you just can’t stand to give up the good life. You’re planning to cling to the Blackwoods, aren’t you?” Adrian stood off to the side, arms crossed, enjoying the show. I just tilted my head and gave him a sweet smile. “The fake heiress is an ungrateful brat, you’re right about that. But I’m not the fake heiress.” Adrian’s amusement vanished. “If it’s not you, then who is it?” I leaned in, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Have you ever considered that you might be the cuckoo in the nest?” A second later, my father’s voice boomed from behind me. “Adrian, you’re the one who was switched at birth.”

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My husband, Damon Blackwood, had a standing quota with his little bird. The Canary’s Contract: twelve nights a month. This month, swamped with work, he’d only managed eleven. The little bird, Ainsley Shore, threw an all-day tantrum—no food, no drink, just pure, streaming, theatrical tears. Damon, desperate to placate his mistress, came begging to me, the wife. “Ellie, just a quick call. Explain to her that this month was entirely hers. Tell her I haven’t been near you—it’s just one sentence.” He wasn’t wrong. Intimacy between us had been dead for years. Since his first affair three years ago, I’d developed a visceral, agonizing aversion to his touch. The moment he tried to come near me, I was seized by panic, by a crushing sense of suffocation. He’d tried a few times, and each time ended with me fighting for air. He never dared touch me again after that, yet he still insisted I was the only woman he ever truly loved. But he never stopped cheating. I dialed the number. My voice was calm, almost flat. “Damon belongs only to you, Ainsley. And that’s how it will be.” When I hung up, Damon looked relieved, then slightly wounded, mistaking my lack of fury for jealousy. He tried to soothe me, his eyes full of that familiar, fake tenderness. “You know I still care about you, too.” But I don’t want you anymore, Damon. We’d been separated—under the same roof, but separated—for almost two years. The courts would grant the divorce soon. The little bird wasn’t so easily convinced. She didn’t believe me. She sent Damon right back. He shuffled back into the living room, defeated, at his wit’s end, and started working on me again. I cut him off, getting straight to the point. “Damon, what exactly do you want me to do?” Seeing my steady demeanor, the absence of the raging fury he expected, he let his guard down and spoke his worst thought aloud. “Get a doctor’s check. There are specialized physicians for this,” he said, all business. “Don’t worry, I’ll hire a female doctor. A thorough, internal examination—that will prove we haven’t been intimate.” He paused, softening his tone, trying to coax me as if I were a difficult child. “The girl’s got a one-track mind; she won’t believe it otherwise. Just humor her.” He lifted his hand, a glint of patronizing affection in his eyes, reaching out to pat my head. “You’re the sensible one, Ellie. Unlike her, who just throws tantrums.” A wave of nausea crashed over me. I flinched back instantly, an instinctual retreat, moving as far away from him as possible. A dense, sharp pain bloomed in my chest, and the familiar crushing sensation of panic began to tighten around my lungs. I was long past caring, but for him to ask me—his wife—to subject myself to a medical exam for the sake of his mistress, the ultimate humiliation, was a fresh, gut-wrenching betrayal. My gesture, recoiling from him as if he were toxic waste, used to hurt him deeply. But after years of it, he had grown accustomed to the rejection. He even stepped back voluntarily this time, careful to maintain a safe distance. “Just treat it like a regular physical,” he pleaded softly. “Don’t let it stress you out.” The bile rose in my throat, acrid and sharp. I clutched my chest, letting out a short, cynical laugh. “Damon Blackwood, you are unbelievable. You’d be doing me a favor if you just gave me what I want. Let’s get the divorce finalized!” I finally yelled. He knew he was in the wrong, so he didn’t push. His voice softened again, attempting to soothe the tantrum he himself provoked. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Ellie. You are and always will be the most important person to me.” “Just calm down.” He always said that. He always said I was the most important, yet he was utterly incapable of staying off the Canary’s bed. He was banking on his wealth and power, certain that I would tolerate this pathetic throuple. After all, I had fought tooth and nail for the title of Mrs. Blackwood. He was convinced I could never let go of this life of ease and luxury. What modern-day Cinderella willingly walks out of the gilded castle? What he didn’t know was that this Cinderella had already stockpiled her exit funds. I was financially free and had been for months. Then, his phone exploded with a relentless series of calls. The ringtone was customized—a jarring, saccharine pop song titled “The One.” The ringtone Damon had set for Ainsley Shore. Even in the middle of our heated argument, he answered her. I heard Ainsley’s tear-choked, spoiled voice, demanding attention. “Damon! I gave you my youth—I was only eighteen! You’re a liar and a cheat! You promised me twelve times a month and swore you wouldn’t touch the wife! I’m your caged bird, but you’re a fraud! We’re over! I won’t let you hurt me again!” Ainsley was the most demanding and least afraid of his mistresses. He’d spoiled her rotten. It was sickening. I remembered when his mother—his very traditional, deeply respected mother—passed away unexpectedly last year. Damon, as the only son, was supposed to keep vigil. But Ainsley, drunk and hysterical, had cried and begged him to come to her. He’d left the wake for his own mother, delegating the duty of watching over her body to me, his wife, while he went to console his mistress. That night, Ainsley had sent me a photo—a provocative, taunting picture. “He was so tired after coming for me a few times tonight that he passed out. Sorry you have to handle everything at the Blackwood house alone.” No one knew how I survived that night. The pain was so profound it bordered on a physical collapse. Before Ainsley, Damon had been genuinely devoted to his mother. From that night on, I knew his affair wasn’t just about sex. He was in love. He loved her so much he was willing to trample my dignity into the dirt for her. The sound of his voice, strained and harsh, snapped me back to the present. “You are impossible! Fine, you don’t believe me? The doctor will examine her tomorrow! Will that finally satisfy you?” I hadn’t even refused the examination—I had demanded a divorce. Yet, he agreed to the disgusting demand just to shut her up. The next morning, Ainsley showed up with a male physician she’d brought from outside. Damon was shocked. “Absolutely not a man! Only a female doctor!” he barked, his face tightening with a sudden, possessive jealousy. For all his continuous cheating, he still kept a fierce grip on me. If I so much as had a longer-than-necessary conversation with a male colleague, his temper would flare. A classic case of “Do as I say, not as I do.” Ainsley’s face hardened. “How do I know a female doctor wouldn’t be on her payroll? What if you two are conspiring to deceive me?” He, of course, indulged her. “Then you find the female doctor! You hire her yourself!” She pouted, agreeing with ill grace. Did they truly think I was a doormat? I walked straight up to Ainsley and slapped her. Hard. “You trash!” I hissed, savoring the shock that stole the breath from her lungs. “What right do you, a glorified mistress, have to dictate the intimacies of my marriage?” The act of violence was a rush of clean, pure malice. To twist the knife, I deliberately added, “And for your information, Damon didn’t make his quota because he was too busy with me. We slept together seven times, and the man was exhausted!” The massive number of seven nights hit Ainsley like a thunderbolt. She instantly dissolved, tears streaming, and she screamed at Damon. “She admitted it! Why are you still trying to deny it?” I’d done it. I’d successfully enraged them both. Damon glared at me, his face crimson. “What the hell are you saying? Haven’t you caused enough trouble already?” Ainsley ran off, clutching her stinging cheek. Damon instantly chased after her, his priority clear. What was truly pathetic and darkly ironic was that as he ran to console his mistress, he paused just long enough to bark an order at the butler. “Make sure the Madam takes her medicine!” Ever since my aversion to his touch began, he had spent a fortune on various treatments, insisting the doctors could “fix” me. He often reassured me, “It’ll get better. Once you’re well, we’ll have our baby.” He didn’t know I had poured every single pill and drop down the sink. I hadn’t taken a single dose. I was counting the days until my freedom. On the way to an appointment to finalize my travel documents, I was intercepted by Damon’s people. I was held in the house and forcibly strapped onto a cold, hard examination table. Five female doctors. They roughly bound my arms and legs. As I thrashed and screamed, a video call rang on one of the doctor’s phones. The next second, Ainsley’s voice filled the room. “Make sure you check carefully!” “Miss Shore, we are professionals. We will be thorough.” I was overcome with blinding rage. “Ainsley Shore, you deserve to burn in hell! And you, Damon Blackwood! You’ll rot!” I knew he was with her. And sure enough, his voice came through the phone, steady and controlled. “Ellie, Ainsley is pregnant. I’m 35. Please, don’t make this harder than it has to be.” His meaning was crushingly clear: Cooperate. Since he was 25, Damon had yearned to be a father. Early in our marriage, we had conceived once, after years of his fertility treatments, as his sperm count was low. That brief time was the happiest of my life with Damon. But when I was nine months pregnant, he met Ainsley. Young, vibrant, beautiful. One motorcycle ride, and he was completely gone. Three days later, I saw the photo she’d posted online—the two of them on the bike, a thousand comments calling them a gorgeous, destined couple. The shock sent me into premature labor and a devastating difficult birth that cost us the baby. The loss of our child did not bring the prodigal husband home. He cried, yes, and promised me, “It was an accident. We’ll have another.” Damon didn’t know that in that moment, my hope, and my love for him, finally died. Now he had another chance at a child, and he would stop at nothing to secure it. His words sliced into my deepest wound. He knew the depth of my grief, yet he was asking me to endure this humiliation for his and Ainsley’s baby. I screamed, my voice raw, “You heartless monster! If you let them touch me, I will hate you for the rest of your life! You can’t do this to me!” Ainsley’s voice cut in, impatient. “I’m not listening to them argue, Damon!” Damon’s patience finally snapped. He spoke to the doctors, his voice cold. “Give the Madam a sedative.” He hesitated for a second, then addressed me, trying to be placating. “Just for a moment, Ellie. It won’t harm you. Be a good girl. Try to understand my position.” I continued to struggle wildly, but I froze when I saw one doctor pick up a long, thin speculum and reach for my clothes. Then another needle, sharp and cold, plunged into my arm. My struggling soon faded. I was numb, drowsy, sinking into a void. In that fading awareness, I realized the phone line to Ainsley was still open. The doctor was still conducting the invasive examination. The phone was near my ear, broadcasting an insidious conversation. Damon’s voice was strained, laced with a forced control. “You’re pregnant, you can’t. Be patient, I’ll make it up to you after the baby is born.” “No! I won’t hold back. Just be gentle. Even if I’m pregnant, twelve times a month can’t be skipped,” Ainsley whined, her voice sickeningly sweet and demanding. Then, she changed tactics. “You always say you love me, but what about her? Why won’t you leave her?” I wanted to know the answer too, listening through the fog of the drug. Damon’s voice remained even, chillingly detached. “Are you stupid? Divorce means splitting my assets fifty-fifty. I haven’t touched her in years; it’s practically a divorce already. Remember, I’m a businessman. Everything is a cost-benefit analysis.” He’s such a convincing liar. He told her he couldn’t afford the divorce. In reality, he had transferred the vast majority of his wealth into my personal accounts, legally notarized and untouchable. I’d even tried to force his hand by deliberately leaking corporate secrets to his rival, costing Blackwood Industries billions and nearly bankrupting him. He hadn’t yelled. He hadn’t even filed charges. He had just placated me. I finally saw the truth: he truly loved me, and he truly loved Ainsley. He was greedy. He wanted his anchor at home, and his thrill outside. He wanted us both. The doctor finally spoke, removing the phone from my ear. “Miss Shore, we’ve examined Mrs. Blackwood. She hasn’t been intimate recently. In fact, there is no evidence of sexual activity in the last four years.” Ainsley’s satisfied sigh was audible. “Thank you. I’m wiring you an extra bonus.” They packed up and left. As the sedative wore off, a deep, pervasive throbbing started in my lower body. A smell of iron and blood filled the air. I tried to move; the sharp pain that followed was excruciating. My backside was slick with sticky blood. This hadn’t been a sterile, scientific check. This was a brutal act of torture. A blinding, terrifying hatred consumed me. I lay there for hours, drenched in cold sweat, until the pain was manageable. In that moment of total brokenness, an outrageous, earth-shattering idea bloomed in my mind. Dragging my ravaged body, I stumbled to the garage. I found the ignition, and I set fire to the ten-million-dollar mansion—the “Cinderella’s Castle” Damon had built for me. The flames were a blinding, crackling gold. I stood at a distance and watched it burn. And as I watched, I started to laugh. I laughed at ten years of marriage, a decade-long farce. I laughed at the thought of the “prince” who had thrown the glass slipper at his Cinderella. And I laughed because, in that moment of fiery, glorious madness, I was finally breaking free. I was becoming my own person. Damon didn’t receive the news until the house was nothing but a scorched, smoking skeleton. That day was also the initial hearing for my divorce case. My lawyer was there representing me. Damon was on his way back when his lawyer called. The news hit him like a lightning bolt. “Why didn’t you tell me she filed a second time?” he thundered at the lawyer. The lawyer stuttered. “Mrs. Blackwood said… she said you knew.” He hadn’t. He thought I had acquiesced after my initial failed attempt at a divorce years ago. He thought he had bought my silence. He hadn’t realized I was still fighting, using his chronic adultery and our two years of separation as grounds. Damon hung up the phone, completely stunned, and frantically tried to call me. No answer. When he arrived, witnessing the ruin of the castle he’d built, his knees buckled. He stumbled and fell to the ground. Firefighters were beginning the cleanup. Damon struggled to his feet, trying to push past the yellow tape and the first responders. “Sir, you can’t go in there.” He kept shoving. “My wife is inside!” “We checked, sir. The house was empty. Just property damage.” The tension in Damon’s body instantly eased. He let out a great, shuddering breath of relief. His legs felt solid again. He even managed a weak, relieved smile. “Good. As long as she’s safe.” “Mr. Blackwood, we found a lead on the Madam’s whereabouts.” Damon’s right-hand man rushed up, shoving a phone with a video on the screen into his hand. Damon grabbed the device. The images he saw made his eyes go bloodshot. This was worse than the shock of the fire and the lawsuit. His hand, holding the phone, trembled violently. His aide was terrified, barely breathing. Damon had never seen the CEO this enraged—veins bulging in his forehead, a murderous fury radiating off him. The video showed me, dressed to the nines, sitting in a man’s lap, laughing and flirting with the young male model.

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On the day Ethan Vance got engaged, he specifically hired a few thugs to harass me, ensuring I’d be stuck at the police station giving statements until well after dark. When I finally got back, I overheard someone asking where I had been. Ethan laughed, “I was afraid she’d make a scene, so I sent her to the precinct to cool off for a day. By the time she gets back, the dust will have settled.” I stood outside the door, smiling bitterly and shaking my head. I blocked all of Ethan’s contacts, turned around, and boarded a plane out of the country. That night, I heard Ethan went crazy when he couldn’t find me. The usually even-tempered man had bloodshot eyes, muttering, “She’s just jealous. She’s doing this to spite me. Once she cools down, she’ll come back. She has to.” But he didn’t know, I wasn’t running away out of spite. I really didn’t want him anymore. 1. By the time I finished giving my statement at the police station, it was already dark. On the day of Ethan’s engagement, I was flustered and got into a fender bender while turning a corner. The other driver was difficult, dragging things out until now. Ethan’s phone went straight to voicemail. His social media was flooded with photos of him and his fiancée. Picture after picture stung my eyes. I was furious. The suppressed grievances and anger of the day needed an outlet, so I took a taxi straight to his house. The door was ajar, and loud voices drifted out. Ethan sometimes brought friends home to drink or watch a game. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I stopped when I heard them talking about me. “Honestly, we all thought you’d end up with Harper. You two grew up together, childhood sweethearts. She’s beautiful, sure, but her temper is really something else,” Liam sighed. “She’s spoiled. She’s been making a fuss for years, doesn’t she ever get tired?” Ethan sank into the sofa, checking his watch, his handsome brow furrowed with annoyance. Calculating the time, she should be here soon. Guarantee she’ll come crying and screaming. Just thinking about it gave him a headache. “It’s weird. You got engaged to Chloe, and Harper didn’t flip the sky upside down? Haven’t seen her all day. Where did she go?” Liam asked. Ethan chuckled, “I was afraid she’d make a scene, so I let her drink tea at the police station for a day. By the time she gets back, the dust will have settled.” “Brilliant move. Only our Ethan can handle Harper,” Josh praised endlessly. “Ethan, have you ever thought about it? You getting engaged to Chloe might really break Harper’s heart. What if she leaves for good?” Liam asked. Ethan pictured her tear-streaked face in his mind, feeling a sudden irritability. Then he scoffed coldly, acting indifferent, “I wish she would.” I wish she would. Seven years of my devotion exchanged for this sentence. I withdrew my hand and turned to leave. It was early winter. The weather hadn’t truly turned cold yet. But I was chilled to the bone, from the inside out. After all these years of circling around Ethan, arguing and fighting, I was the only one left by his side. I thought we would make it to the end. But to get engaged to someone else, he schemed to put me in a police station. How cheap must I be to let him trample on me again and again? It started to rain. The forecast said the temperature would drop at midnight, possibly snow. Snow in Seattle tends to last forever once it starts. I used to be most afraid of winter. Ethan would wrap me in his open coat, and there was always a blanket in his car for me. Looking back now, those moments I thought were happiness ultimately couldn’t sustain us to the finish line. The rain got heavier, wet hair sticking to my forehead. My steps were actually staggering. I shook my head, smiling bitterly. How did life become this mess? Suddenly, the fighting spirit I used to have was gone. Those arguments about love or no love felt like a joke. Tightening the damp coat around me, a thought took root in my mind. I want to go somewhere warm. Where there is no winter, no snow. And definitely no Ethan Vance. 2. I blocked all of Ethan’s contacts, including his friends’. A strange number texted me. It was Chloe, Ethan’s fiancée. [Ethan is already engaged to me. You don’t know how much he spoils me. You better leave sensibly and save yourself some face.] [Ethan hated you the most before. Every time he saw you, he’d give me a gift as compensation. I have what you have, and I have what you don’t.] [Don’t bother him again, or I’ll tell everyone about you seducing my fiancé.] Chloe, the little assistant by Ethan’s side who always made mistakes. Slender and fragile, her eyes would turn red if you spoke a little harshly, like a kitten. Did Ethan know she was this arrogant? She tripped me up explicitly and implicitly many times. Spilled wine on my couture gown, deliberately broke my diamond necklace. At those times, I felt she was a scheming “pick-me” girl, but Ethan’s heart ached for her. If my tone was slightly harsh, Ethan would jump out to protect her. Pity my clothes and jewelry. I made a scene, but Ethan would only say lightly, “You have so many of those things. She’s just a girl fresh out of college, what does she know? Don’t make it hard for Chloe on purpose.” Even if I have a lot, they are mine. If someone breaks them, they have to pay. I entrusted this matter to a lawyer, asking him to get every penny back from Chloe. Then I pulled out my SIM card and threw it in the trash. Scum man and cheap woman, I wish you two locked together forever. My parents came downstairs, seeing me packing, eyes full of worry. “Harper, do you want to reconsider? That kid from the Vance family is really too much. We’ll go to the Vances right now for an explanation!” My thing with Ethan was tacitly approved by both families. Similar backgrounds, grew up together, nothing seemed more suitable than this relationship where we knew each other’s roots. “Mom, Dad, if you still want to save me some face, don’t go. Isn’t it good for me to go abroad and help brother with the business? You always wanted me to get some experience.” They were surprised I said this. After all, I was too love-struck before, chasing Ethan everywhere since high school. “Is this out of spite?” Mom asked carefully. I hugged them tightly, tone firm, “I caused too much worry before, but not anymore.” My parents had high hopes for me, just like for my brother. It was me who was ignorant, willful and stubborn, mistaking Ethan for my whole world. “Good, good. Our Sutton family children are ambitious. If you’ve made up your mind, go do it. If you make a mess, Dad will cover for you.” I agreed, voice choking. Turning to board the plane abroad, everything in Seattle, for me, has turned the page. 3. That night, Ethan waited. Waiting for Harper, or her call. He thought, if she called again, he would be kind enough to answer. Even if she cried and made a scene, he would tolerate it. But, nothing came. This feeling was like a kite with a broken string, making one panic. “Ethan, I really can’t hold on anymore, I have to sleep first.” Josh couldn’t keep his eyes open. Drinking with him all night, the more it went on, the more distracted Ethan seemed. Chloe called, gently asking about his well-being. “Ethan, not asleep yet? I miss you so much, want to come see you.” Ethan held his glass, rejecting, “Josh and the guys are drinking with me. This is my last bachelor night party. Be good, listen, go to sleep first!” Chloe acted coquettish for a while before hanging up resentfully. Josh leaned over to Liam, whispering, “What’s up with Ethan? First time I heard someone having a bachelor party after getting engaged.” Liam swirled the wine in his glass, sighing long and hard. “What bachelor party? He’s waiting for someone! Can’t you see it’s that obvious?” According to the past, with Harper’s temper, she would have stormed over long ago. Not showing up now, something was wrong. “Should I call Harper and ask where she is?” Liam asked. Ethan got up and went to the window, not refusing, “Suit yourself.” Liam called the police station first, they said Harper left when it got dark. Harper’s phone couldn’t get through at all. Ethan called, only to find he was blocked. Liam and Josh too. “Ethan, looks like Harper is really angry this time,” Josh said. “Harper isn’t the type to settle down. Is she playing for real this time? You put her in the precinct and got engaged to someone else. It’s a bit much,” Liam had wanted to say it all night, and finally said it. Liam and the others helped call Harper’s friends, but no one had news of her. The usually good-tempered Ethan rarely went crazy, kicking over the coffee table, smashing wine bottles, glass shards all over the floor. He never thought Harper would leave. She was like a little tail, following him, pestering him. They had been together for so many years, both families had long acquiesced. As for Chloe, the more Harper bullied her, the more he wanted to protect her. Protecting to the end, he couldn’t tell what kind of feeling it was anymore. His eyes bloodshot, he murmured, “She must be jealous. Deliberately spiting me. She’ll come back when she cools down. Must be.” In the past, before Chloe, she also argued and made scenes. Just needed to coax her patiently, and she would forgive, treating him better than before. But he didn’t know, Harper wasn’t running away out of spite. She really didn’t want him anymore. 4. After a long journey, sitting on the plane all night. After landing, the person picking me up wasn’t my brother, but his best friend, Lucas King. Heard they grew up together, thick as thieves. There were rumors that his relationship with my brother was ambiguous, even secretly crushing on my brother. But I kept an eye out and smiled politely at him. “Long time no see, Lucas.” He was tall and handsome, jeans and T-shirt look casual and free. The hearty smile on his face was as warm as the climate here. “Your brother went out of town to negotiate business last minute, asked me to pick you up.” He reached out to take my suitcase, patted it: “Want to sit on it?” “I’m not a kid anymore.” Lucas is five years older than me. Before, when he often came to play at our house, he liked to pull me around the room on a suitcase. He whistled, threw the luggage into the car, and took me to his place. The weather here averaged 70°F, quite comfortable. His flashy red convertible sports car had music blasting. Looking at the scenery outside the window, the warm wind blew away a body of fatigue, and the frost brought from Seattle. I like this place. “Your brother’s house is being renovated recently. You’ll have to suffer at my place for a few days. Room is ready, second one on the right upstairs, opposite mine.” The room location was great, with a huge floor-to-ceiling window, just the decoration was hard to describe. Pink everywhere. Totally a straight guy’s aesthetic. I was exhausted, tidied up a bit and lay down to catch up on sleep. In my dream, I went back to the day I first saw Ethan in high school. He leaned against the windowsill, wearing headphones reading a book. The wind blew the trees outside, his bangs, and the corner of his snow-white shirt. Totally a movie scene. Playing Truth or Dare, seeing who dared to confess first. I went without thinking. “Ethan Vance, I like you.” He looked up at me, a mocking smile appearing on his lips: “Harper Sutton, are you a pig?” I woke up instantly. Even in the dream, I was dying of embarrassment. I was really brave back then. I remember on the day of the confession, Ethan only smiled mockingly and didn’t speak. Lucas’s voice came from outside the door. “Harper, are you a pig? You slept for a day and a night. Even a pig would lose to you. Get up and eat!” Lucas cooked the meal, and it was quite standard. He was famous before. Not satisfied with the food in a restaurant, he opened one himself. Liked drumming, started a band. Liked stones, went into deep mountains, ended up being rescued by a helicopter. Halfway through university, suddenly took a break to race cars. Such rebellious deeds were countless. In the end, his family couldn’t stand watching anymore and kicked him abroad to experience life. Knowing my brother was here, he moved his branch company here. At that time, my parents and I were terrified, afraid the only son of the Sutton family would be ruined in his hands. I actually envied him quite a bit. A person like him shouldn’t have any regrets, right? “Lucas, what have you been busy with these years?” I was curious. “Doing business.” He didn’t even lift his eyelids. “Wait, why did you come here?” “To do business with my brother.” We seemed to be discussing a very dry topic. He frowned and thought for a moment, saying seriously: “While your brother is away, you follow me first!”

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Every time I kill someone. I inherit all the knowledge in their brain. On the eve of the SATs, I murdered my best friend. Because her grades had always been perfect. After the exams, I replaced her. And successfully got into an Ivy League university.

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Alistair Marshall’s voice was poison as the needle slid into my vein. “Lydia,” he whispered, “go back to the girl who only had eyes for me.” When I opened my eyes, I saw his face—a mask of false devotion. I pulled my hand back, finding hands once insured for millions now cracked and calloused. Seeing my daze, he smiled. “The drug worked. It reverts your memory to eighteen.” “Welcome back, Lydia. For ten years you’ve been hysterical, accusing me about Penelope. Now we can start over.” I looked toward the doorway. A woman in white stood there, timid yet provocative. “Lydia, you’re awake,” she cooed. “Mr. Marshall turned down a million-dollar contract to stay with you.” I ignored her. Under my pillow, my fingers found a leather journal. Inside, in my own writing: Lydia Prescott, if you’re reading this, that bastard Alistair really did it. Do not trust him. You are the Prescott heiress. You never loved him. I closed the journal, heart aching. So this is what I became? This broken shell? Alistair waited for me to fall into his arms. Fighting nausea, I smiled mockingly. “Sorry, old man. Who are you?” 1 The smile on Alistair’s face froze. But he quickly composed himself, chalking it up to the kind of playful tantrum my eighteen-year-old self was known for. “Lydia, don’t play games. I’m your husband, Alistair Marshall.” “You used to love calling me Alistair. You told me it was love at first sight, that you were willing to cut ties with your family just to marry me.” He spoke as he reached for my hand. I sidestepped his touch, my gaze landing on the dust-covered Steinway grand piano in the corner. My most prized possession. Now, it was treated like a storage shelf, piled high with junk: Penelope’s cheap handbag, a stack of Alistair’s files, and an unopened, tacky piece of lingerie. “That’s my piano.” My voice was ice as I pointed at the heap of garbage. Penelope scurried over, making a great show of sweeping the items aside. But in her haste, she “accidentally” knocked over a cup of coffee, spilling it all over the keys. The dark brown liquid bled between the black and white, a grotesque scar. “Oh! I’m so sorry!” Penelope gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as tears instantly welled in her eyes. “Lydia, I didn’t mean to… I was just trying to help you clean up…” A furious roar filled my ears. Almost instinctively, I raised my hand to slap some sense into this insipid, conniving woman. But before my palm could connect, my wrist was caught in an iron grip. Alistair pulled Penelope behind him, a look of pained concern on his face as he frowned at me. “Lydia, don’t take it out on her.” “It’s just an old piano. You haven’t touched it in five years anyway. Ever since you fired the housekeeper out of jealousy and insisted on doing all the chores yourself, these hands have been useless. What’s the point of keeping it?” He grabbed my ruined hand, his tone laced with a sick, twisted sort of pride. “Look. These hands may not be able to play the piano anymore, but they’ve washed my clothes. They’ve cooked my meals.” “Every callus on them is a medal of your love for me.” I stared at his self-satisfied face, then glanced down at the journal on my lap. On page 15, it read: Alistair was drunk. He burned the back of my hand with his cigarette. He said he hated the way I looked when I played the piano, so aloof and superior. He said I only looked like a real wife when I was on my knees, scrubbing the floor. I turned my hand over. Sure enough, there was a round, ugly cigarette burn marring the skin. So this was his “medal.” A wave of bitter sorrow washed over me. Not for him, but for the version of me who had cried herself to sleep, night after night, in utter despair. Lydia Prescott, what did you go through to be broken so completely? “Alistair.” I snatched my hand back. I took a wet wipe from the nightstand and began methodically cleaning each finger he had touched, as if trying to scrub off a virus. “Since the piano is dirty, just throw it out.” “This entire house, in fact, makes me sick.” Alistair’s brow furrowed, and he was about to retort when his phone rang. To display his supposed transparency, he put it on speaker. A man’s fawning voice came through the line. “Mr. Marshall, that ‘Eternal Love’ diamond ring you ordered has arrived. The inscription ‘For my beloved Penelope’ is all done. Should I have it delivered tonight?” 2 The air in the room turned to ice. Penelope couldn’t hide the delighted surprise in her eyes. She lowered her head, feigning shyness. “Oh, Alistair… you shouldn’t have…” Alistair fumbled to end the call, his eyes darting toward me. He expected me to scream, to fly into a rage, to interrogate him with the same hysterical fury I apparently had before. After all, the diary detailed how the twenty-eight-year-old Lydia had turned herself into a haggard shrew over trivial matters like this. But he was about to be disappointed. To my eighteen-year-old self, this scene wasn’t infuriating. It was comical. I simply sat there, even picking up my chopsticks to eat a piece of braised pork. “How lovely,” I commented coolly. “‘Beloved Penelope.’ It has a nice ring to it. After all, garbage belongs with the trash.” Alistair was stunned. He stared into my eyes, searching for a flicker of jealousy or pain. All he found was a dead, chilling indifference. That indifference terrified him. It was a sign that I was slipping from his control. He took a deep breath, reverting to his old tactics of manipulation. “Lydia, are you jealous?” “I know that ring is the style you’ve always wanted. We were poor back then, and I couldn’t afford it. You suffered so much with me…” “Now that I have money, I want to make it up to you. But Penelope has been with me for years, without any official title. This is just a small token to comfort her.” He grew more confident with every word, seemingly moved by his own twisted generosity. “Come on, Lydia, stop this. Tonight is our wedding anniversary. I have a surprise for you.” “As long as you behave, accept Penelope, we can all be a happy family again, just like before.” I put down my chopsticks and looked at this insufferably arrogant man. And I laughed. I laughed so hard tears started to form in my eyes. “Alistair, are you an idiot?” I grabbed the journal and, in one swift motion, hurled it at his face. It hit him with a sharp, satisfying crack. He staggered back, stunned, a red mark blooming on his forehead. “Who told you I was in love with you when I was eighteen?” I stood up, looking down on him as if he were an insect. “When I was eighteen, I was the diamond of the city’s high society. The line of men trying to date me could have circled the city three times over.” “And you? You were just a scholarship kid in a washed-out shirt, too poor to even afford meat in the university cafeteria.” The color drained from Alistair’s face. That was the past he fought so desperately to forget. “The only reason I ever gave you a second glance was because you reminded me of a pathetic stray dog my family once took in.” “Loving you was something that foolish future version of Lydia did.” “As for me, right now, all I want is for you to…” “Get out of my house with nothing but the clothes on your back.” 3 Alistair wasn’t enraged by my demand for long. He touched the red mark on his forehead, and instead of anger, a knowing, condescending smile spread across his face. “What’s this? Your memory reverts to eighteen, and your temper along with it?” He calmly picked the journal up from the floor and tossed it into the trash can as if it were a child’s toy. “As I recall, the eighteen-year-old you would stand under the blazing sun for two hours just to catch a glimpse of me on the basketball court. This little act of disgust you’re putting on now…” He stepped closer, towering over me, and playfully twirled a lock of my hair between his fingers. His eyes held the mocking amusement of someone teasing a pet. “Are you trying to cover up the shame of me discovering your little secret crush? Or do you think playing the part of the proud, feisty girl is a better way to hold my interest?” My stomach churned. I was about to call him delusional, but he produced a black credit card from his pocket and tucked it into the collar of my dress. “Alright, that’s enough. The performance was good. This thorny little attitude is certainly more appealing than the crying lunatic you became.” “You will attend the charity gala with me tomorrow night. It’s Penelope’s first time at such an event, and she’s nervous. You were raised in high society; you know the rules. You’ll be her chaperone. Teach her how to socialize.” “Keep Penelope happy, and I’ll unfreeze the limit on this supplementary card. Your mother is still waiting for her medical funds overseas, isn’t she?” My entire body went rigid. So that was it. That was the leash he had me on. The journal mentioned it: the Prescott family had gone bankrupt, and my mother was critically ill in a hospital abroad. Alistair controlled all of her medical payments. He dangled life-saving money in front of me like a treat for a dog, and only if I obediently wagged my tail would he deign to spare a little. He seemed to relish shattering my eighteen-year-old high-society fantasy, turning and leaving with a contemptuous smirk. At the gala, Penelope wore the “Mermaid’s Tear” necklace Alistair had bought for a million dollars at auction, preening like a proud swan. I trailed behind them in an out-of-season black pantsuit, looking like a sullen butler. Alistair sipped his champagne, his gaze as arrogant as a lion tamer’s. “Go on. Play ‘Für Elise.’ It’s Penelope’s favorite.” Under the watchful eyes of the entire room, I sat at the piano. The hands once hailed as those of a prodigy were now covered in chemical burns and the ugly scar from a cigarette. The moment my fingers touched the keys, a shooting pain made them go stiff. The notes that came out were discordant, clashing, like noise. Penelope giggled behind her hand. “Oh dear, is Lydia trying to ruin the party on purpose?” Alistair slammed the piano lid shut, nearly crushing my fingers. He leaned in, his voice a furious whisper. “What are you trying to pull? Are you so desperate for my pity that you’d resort to self-harm?” Self-harm? I looked down at my hand, which was trembling uncontrollably. My fingertips were red and swollen, nearly numb from the impact. That instinctive flinch wasn’t a ploy. It was a decade of deep-seated, bone-deep terror of this man, embedded in the very cells of this body. And the pathetic irony was that he mistook that terror for love. He saw my brokenness as his prize. I forced myself to ignore the searing pain and met his gaze, which was filled with a mixture of disgust and smugness. Any hint of tears that the pain had brought to my eyes evaporated instantly. Seeing my silence, Alistair assumed he’d correctly guessed my intentions. He scoffed and shoved my hand away. 4 After the gala, as if to punish me for my “uncooperative” behavior, Alistair gave me the silent treatment. He and Penelope watched movies in his study, while I was forced to hand-wash his expensive suit in the cold night air. I took a pair of scissors and cut the five-thousand-dollar suit into ribbons, then flushed them down the toilet. Then, I snuck up to the attic. The journal mentioned that my twenty-eight-year-old self had hidden all of the mementos from my eighteenth year in a secret compartment in the attic. I found the small tin box. The moment I opened it, my eyes burned. Inside was a thick stack of letters, a withered dried-flower necklace, and a silver lighter engraved with the initials ‘D.K.’. These were memories that belonged only to me and him. The boy who was wild and rebellious to the world, but gentle only with me. When my family’s fortune collapsed, I had said the cruelest things imaginable to him, forcing him to go abroad so I wouldn’t drag him down. Then, I had turned around and married Alistair. I traced the engraving on the lighter, almost feeling the warmth it once held. “What are you doing?” A cold voice sliced through the silence behind me. I jumped, and the box fell from my hands, scattering its contents across the floorboards. Alistair stood in the doorway, his gaze dark and menacing as he stared at the letters on the floor. Then, a mocking sneer spread across his lips. He strode over, picked up one of the letters, and began to read it by the moonlight streaming through the window. “‘Lydia, wait for me. When I come back, I’ll give you a home…’” “Signed, D.K.?” Alistair looked as if he’d stumbled upon a hidden treasure. He threw his head back and laughed. “No wonder… no wonder you hid them all the way up here.” He pointed at the signature, a look of smug understanding on his face, as if he had just found irrefutable proof of my love for him. “Lydia Prescott, you tell me to get out, but behind my back, you’ve been hiding the love letters you wrote to me for ten years?” “D.K… Darling Marshall. So you’ve been secretly in love with me since you were eighteen?” I looked at this monumentally delusional man and felt a sense of pity at how absurd he was. “Alistair, have you ever looked in a mirror?” “D.K. stands for Damian Knight! As in, Damian Knight of the Knight family!” The smile vanished from Alistair’s face, replaced by a furious, violent rage. The name Damian Knight was a shadow that had haunted him his entire life. In university, Damian was the sun, and Alistair was the dirt. The only reason he had pursued me so relentlessly was for the chance to beat Damian, just once. “Shut up!” He struck me across the face. “You’re still trying to lie to me? Damian Knight died overseas years ago!” “You’re just saying his name to make me angry, to make me jealous!” He pulled out a lighter from his own pocket and set the pile of letters ablaze. The firelight danced across his twisted, contorted face. I lunged for the burning letters with my bare hands, my palms searing in the flames, but all I managed to grab was a handful of hot ash. Alistair kicked me away in disgust. “Stop the act. Tomorrow, we have a meeting with a trillion-dollar investment magnate. A real player.” “Cover up those disgusting injuries. If you dare to embarrass me in front of our guest, I’ll have them pull the plug on your mother.” 5 At the airport’s VIP terminal, Alistair was so nervous he kept wiping sweat from his brow. Penelope had shed her usual arrogance and clung to his arm like a docile pet. Only I stood there, my hands wrapped in thick gauze, my eyes empty as I stared at the arrival gate. With the letters gone, the last spark of light inside me had been extinguished. The only things keeping me upright were my hatred for Alistair and my concern for my mother. “Listen to me,” Alistair warned in a low voice. “This CEO is a difficult man. He’s ruthless and has no interest in women.” “When he gets here, you keep your mouth shut and stand in the back like you’re invisible.” “If I can secure this investment, Marshall Industries will ascend to a whole new level. I’ll finally be a part of the city’s true elite.” He adjusted his tie, his face alight with a desperate hunger for power. “He’s here!” A commotion erupted at the gate as a group of bodyguards in black suits emerged, surrounding a tall, imposing man. The man was dressed in a bespoke black suit, his posture ramrod straight, radiating an aura so powerful it was hard to look at him directly. He wore dark sunglasses, and his thin lips were set in a firm line, a clear warning to stay away. Alistair immediately plastered a fawning smile on his face and practically bowed as he scurried forward. “Mr. Knight! It is an honor, sir. I’m Alistair Marshall of Marshall Industries. Thank you so much for taking the time…” The man didn’t break his stride. He didn’t even glance in Alistair’s direction. He walked right past Alistair’s outstretched hand as if he were stepping around a piece of trash. Alistair’s hand hung in the air, his smile frozen on his face, a portrait of pure, unadulterated humiliation. Penelope tugged at his sleeve, her own composure crumbling. The man stopped directly in front of me. Through the dark lenses of his sunglasses, I felt an intense, burning gaze lock onto my face, then drop to my bandaged hands. The terminal fell deathly silent. Alistair scrambled to recover, rushing forward to explain. “Mr. Knight, my apologies, this is my wife. She doesn’t know any better. Please forgive her for startling you…” He reached out to pull me away. “Get out of the way! Don’t block Mr. Knight’s path!” CRACK! Before Alistair could finish his sentence, the man raised his hand and delivered a brutal backhand slap across his face.

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I am a born mimic. Whatever they did, I did back, often with a ruthless, escalating accuracy. Pop-Pop said my long hair meant short wits and cut it off. So, I waited until he was asleep and cut the longest thing I could find on him. Nana, furious, sold me to some strange man. So, I waited for a moment of inattention, shoved her into his rusty pickup truck, took the thousand dollars he paid for me, and bought myself enough junk food to last a week. I was happily gorging on chips when a sleek, black Rolls-Royce pulled up to the shack. A woman with tear tracks and a pearl necklace informed me I was Rue Ashworth, the true heiress, switched at birth. My real parents, Richard and Eliza Ashworth, dabbed at their eyes with silk handkerchiefs and pushed a girl in a spotless dress toward me. “Rue, Briar is your sister now. You need to get along with her.” The fake heiress, Briar, smiled sweetly and called me “Sister.” The next day, while we were shopping at Bergdorf’s, she slipped a million-dollar diamond necklace into my jacket pocket and then casually accused me of theft. I blinked. Then, I copied her move, pulling the necklace from my pocket and swiftly tucking it into Dad’s—Richard Ashworth’s—back pocket. 1 The moment the necklace was “discovered” missing, the air in the jewelry department turned instantly cold. Briar Ashworth covered her mouth, her eyes fixed on me with a knowing, saccharine pity. “Sister,” she murmured, loud enough for a sales associate to hear. “I know people from the sticks are always sticky-fingered, but you’re an Ashworth now. You shouldn’t embarrass the name like this.” My parents and my older brother, Holden, turned their gazes on me, heavy with disgust and disappointment. I was, in their minds, the thief. But I didn’t wait for the interrogation. I simply copied the most extreme reaction I could think of. I ripped off my jacket and sweater in one clean, startling movement. “I didn’t take it!” The sheer vulgarity of the action, the startling flash of skin in the luxury store, stunned them into silence. Mom rushed forward to cover me with my jacket. “Rue, what are you doing? It’s fine if it’s not you. Briar has a quick temper, don’t mind her.” I nodded, accepting the apology I hadn’t asked for. Then, I turned to Briar, copying the exact, veiled suspicion she’d just worn. I covered my mouth and lowered my voice. “I think I saw you take that necklace, Briar. If you have it, you should really take it out. Don’t make things worse.” Briar jumped. “You’re lying! I did not!” I ignored her, acting as her emotional echo chamber, repeating her words back with subtle changes. “But it was only us and our parents here. If it wasn’t you or me, was it Mom? Or Dad? Or Holden?” An embarrassed flush crept up their necks. The store manager was hovering, agitated. “That’s enough,” Dad sighed. “We’ll all be searched. Briar, don’t worry, we know it’s not you. We’re doing this together.” But the next moment, their embarrassment became full-blown shock. The missing necklace was found in the back pocket of my father’s tailored trousers. The store manager looked at the CEO of Ashworth Industries like a common shoplifter. I gasped, copying Briar’s former smug expression and adding a theatrical wink. “See? Told you city folk were sticky-fingered.” Dad’s face went crimson. “I am a CEO! I didn’t steal a necklace! This is preposterous. Check the security feed! Now!” Briar tried to stop him, but my father was desperate to clear his name. The footage showed Briar quickly pocketing the necklace, then slyly slipping it into my jacket pocket. And then it showed me, seconds later, slipping it just as slyly into Dad’s. Confronted, Briar started to sob uncontrollably, clutching her chest like she was about to faint. I rushed over, performed a flawless, movie-style round of CPR to revive her, brought her back to startled life… and then promptly gave a dramatic ‘Guh-buh!’ and collapsed myself. My parents and Holden scrambled to hold me, calling for a medic. Briar, jolted back to consciousness by my overzealous chest compressions, stood motionless, speechless with fury. Heh. That’s just how students of human behavior operate. When I woke up, my entire new family was surrounding the hospital bed. “The doctor says it’s malnutrition, Rue. You’ve suffered too much.” “Briar just lacks a sense of security, dear. You shouldn’t blame her. We’ve told her to apologize.” Briar, tearful, presented me with a box of fried chicken, mumbling an apology. “Sister, I specially made this fried chicken for you.” Mom and Dad beamed with satisfaction. “Rue, d it. It’s Briar’s way of showing she cares.” 2 I eyed the chicken. A faint sheen of oil drifted across the weak, beneath which the glassy eyes of a half-dead chicken stared up at me. It looked utterly unappetizing. But I obediently accepted the container. A fleeting look of triumph crossed Briar’s face. Then, I dramatically grabbed my head and sank back onto the pillow. “My head. It’s pounding. I’m so dizzy.” Mom and Dad panicked, calling the nurse. Only Holden, my brother, looked cold and skeptical. “Rue, Briar spent hours to learn how to make the fired chicken. Her hands are blistered. Are you pretending to be sick because you just don’t want to eat it?” I rolled my eyes, then copied an act of exaggerated virtue. “I’m so sorry, Holden. This broth is my sister’s precious gift. I can’t bear to waste it. Please, you eat it for me.” Just as some saintly child in a fable might offer the best portion to an elder, Rue offered the poison to her brother. Holden, delighted by my generosity, proudly accepted the container. Briar lunged to stop him, but it was too late. Holden downed the entire thing in one gulp. The next second, his face flushed crimson, he clawed at his throat, and collapsed to the floor. “H-help…” The doctor called in to treat my “dizziness” rushed Holden off to the ER. Two hours later, he was successfully installed in the bed next to mine. “Briar, what exactly did you put in that broth?” Dad demanded. Briar continued to sob and refused to admit anything. But from then on, my parents were extremely cautious. They forbade Briar from preparing any food for either of us. I happily stayed in the hospital for two weeks, eating room service and gaining a noticeable five pounds. When I finally returned to the family’s three-story home, Briar was waiting in my new bedroom with all of her designer clothes, jewelry, and several bank cards. “Sister, all of this should have been yours. I’m returning it to its rightful owner. Just please—please don’t kick me out. Just give me a place to stay.” Ah? I copied her, falling to the floor and wailing, pushing the pile of loot back toward her. “Sister, I can’t take these. They’re yours! Please, I beg you, don’t kick me out! Just give me a place to stay!” Briar’s tears stopped mid-sob. She ground her teeth and sank to her knees again. “I’m begging you, Sister.” I copied her again, falling to my knees opposite her. “I’m begging you, Sister.” When my parents opened the door, they found Briar and me facing each other on the floor, weeping and clutching the haul of clothes and gold, as if performing a bizarre, tear-soaked ritual. Mom’s eye twitched. They almost called a priest. Instead, they split the non-clothing items equally between us. Briar seethed, forcing a smile. I smiled, too, but mine was genuine. Selling Nana only got me a thousand dollars. This pile of jewelry was worth a thousand Nanas. My parents didn’t understand my sudden joy. Mom gently stroked my hair. “Rue, you’ll have everything Briar has, from now on.” They meant it. Because Briar had a fiancé—a promising young man from a powerful family. So, two days later, they found me one of my own: Harrison Vance, from a family of equal standing to Briar’s fiancé, Grant Song. “His parents said you two should date for a bit before the engagement party.” Harrison looked at me with open distaste, but his eyes were full of an unspoken, longing affection when they landed on Briar. The first time we met, he didn’t so much look at me as look past me, striding right up to Briar. “Briar,” he purred. “May I call you that from now on?” 3 Briar shyly consented, shooting me a triumphant glance. Harrison gave her expensive jewelry. He gave me a generic silk scarf—a promotional gift-with-purchase. He bought her a custom gown. He sent me a coupon for a spa. He and Briar were caught in a stairwell making out. He gave me… nothing. My complimentary item had been fully revoked. But I had learned. I found Grant Song, Briar’s intended fiancé, and I stole kisses from him. Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss. He wasn’t as tall as Harrison, but he was sweet enough to bend down so I could reach. While Harrison and Briar were busy having a clandestine affair and burning through cash, Grant and I were busy having a sweet, clandestine affair and being perfectly pleasant. My parents watched our supposed sisterly harmony and smiled, satisfied. “This is better,” Dad said. “You girls should spend more time together. Briar, take Rue out and introduce her to your friends.” So Briar, Harrison, and a large group of her socialite friends decided to take me hiking in a remote wilderness area. Briar’s friends barely spoke to me, only exchanging knowing glances. “You can’t polish a turd,” one whispered, loud enough to be overheard. Briar stood at the center of her court like a spoiled princess. “My sister is from a dirt farm, and she brought all her backwater habits with her. She grew up with a couple of old people, and the day we picked her up, she smelled like…” A few girls instantly covered their noses, fanning themselves dramatically. I understood. This was the moment for vicious, social-climbing gossip. “It’s true, I grew up with them. But Briar is their blood,” I chimed in, perfectly mimicking her casual cruelty. “They were anti-laundry, anti-shower. She inherited the ‘unwashed’ gene. Sometimes she goes weeks without changing her clothes or washing her feet.” I covered my nose and fanned the air. “That’s why she always has that faint whiff of… old gym sock.” The girls took two shocked steps back. Briar looked ready to pull off her shoes and swear to a jury she scrubbed her feet daily. “You liar! I shower every day!” Her friends nodded politely, but I noticed the frantic, silent texting taking place beneath their fanning hands. Briar bit her lip, terrified I would unleash another, more damaging truth. On the fifth day of our camping trip, Briar brought me a carton of milk. “Sister, milk helps you sleep. Drink it and have a wonderful rest.” I smiled and nodded, then turned and presented the milk to Harrison. “Briar sent this. She said milk helps you sleep well.” Harrison, unsuspecting, drank the whole thing down. The next morning, Briar woke everyone up at dawn. They all tip-toed out to the SUVs. “This place is isolated, full of wildlife. By the time that backwater little hick wakes up, it’ll be noon.” “She’ll lose her mind when she realizes everyone’s gone!” “I even put a signal jammer on the campsite. She won’t even be able to call the police! She’s going to have a rough time.” I, being the accomplished student of human behavior I am, had quietly followed their lead and crept into the back of the SUV. Hours later, as we drove into the city, they were still chattering about how hysterical and terrified I would be, their laughter loud and high-pitched. The noise woke me up. I couldn’t resist letting out a little giggle of my own. Briar and her friends froze, their necks snapping around. “What was that noise? Rue? How are you here?” “If she’s here… then who did we leave at the campsite?” 4 When Harrison was found, his face was like thunder, his arms covered in scratches from stumbling through the brush. He charged at me, ready to slap me. But I hadn’t driven the car. I hadn’t put the sleeping aid in the milk. I had only copied Briar’s “gift.” A quick set of questions revealed the truth. My parents’ faces were sickly pale. They apologized profusely to Harrison’s parents. But they insisted Briar wasn’t “wicked.” “Rue, dear, Briar is just… lacking in judgment, but she’s not evil. Besides, you and Harrison are getting married soon. This would make a spectacle if we let it get out.” I nodded and looked at Harrison. “Yes, Harrison, Briar was just playing a silly trick. She’s not evil.” Harrison was forced to swallow his rage. He shot me a venomous look that promised future revenge. The engagement date loomed. Harrison and Briar whispered constantly, their eyes burning with a poisonous, shared malice aimed at me. But I hadn’t forgotten the insult of the gift-with-purchase. So, on the day of the engagement, standing before two hundred guests, I gave the engagement ring to Grant Song, Briar’s fiancé, and presented the velvet box to Harrison. I pointed at the empty, crimson box. “This is for you.” Harrison looked at the box and at the genuine diamond sparkling on Grant’s finger, as if he’d been publicly violated. Briar snorted out a laugh. “Sister, the engagement ring goes on your fiancé’s hand. Did you seriously not know that?” I was a student of human behavior. Of course, I knew. I copied Harrison’s worst snobbery, tilting my chin up forty-five degrees, my eyes conveying five parts contempt, three parts arrogance, and two parts icy disdain. “What kind of person deserves what kind of thing. In my eyes, this,” I gestured to the empty box, “is exactly what he’s earned.” With a toss of my hair, I walked off the stage, leaving a sputtering, enraged Harrison behind. My parents desperately tried to smooth things over. Holden insisted I apologize. But Harrison had never apologized to me. I hadn’t learned that move. I ignored them and went to the buffet. As Dad and Holden mingled, a waiter with shifty eyes approached me. He claimed Mom had twisted her ankle and needed me to check on her upstairs. A thick layer of malice seemed to cling to him—I could almost taste the coming disaster. I pretended not to notice. When we reached the room, just as he opened the door, he raised his foot, attempting to kick me inside. Years of mimicry had taught me the swift reading of intent. The moment his foot lifted, I was prepared. I hooked my heel behind his and sent him tumbling into the dark room. The room was pitch black. A figure hidden behind the door immediately slammed something into the waiter’s head. He crumpled. A gruff voice from inside muttered, “Well, hello, pretty thing. Someone paid me to ruin you. You’re about to have your biggest society scandal.” Click. The door locked shut. Hearing the lock, Briar stepped out from an adjacent room. She didn’t see me hiding behind a large potted fern. She smirked at the closed door. “Rue. There’s only room for one daughter in the Ashworth house. I’ve prepared a lovely surprise for you. From now on, they’ll never look at you the same way.” “Competing with me? You don’t deserve to.” I watched her, secretly nodding. Ah, that’s how it works. I felt a sudden rush of understanding, a cognitive leap. My parents told me to learn from Briar. I decided to learn the newest, most complex lesson she had just taught me. I got to work. After a long time, my masterpiece was complete. I waited, excited for the praise I knew I would receive. They would be so proud. A few minutes later, Briar, Mom, and Harrison’s parents, trailed by a nervous crowd, rushed toward the room. “Briar, are you sure the waiter said it was this room? I told her she couldn’t have seafood. How could her allergy be this bad?” Mom said, her voice laced with worry. Briar looked down, a triumphant smile tugging at her lips. “Mom, we need to hurry! If Sister has a life-threatening reaction, it will be too late!” She flung the door open! “Sister, I’m coming in to help you, okay?” The next second, every eye in the corridor went wide. Gasps and screams echoed off the marble walls. Briar’s eyes went saucer-wide. She stumbled back. “How… how did this happen?”

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Port Sterling’s infamous playboy Jimmy Cabot had one rule: girlfriends were monthly, not lifetime. No strings attached. Women lined up across the city hoping to be his next fling. A good mood might earn you a villa; a bad one still came with a million-dollar goodbye. Everyone pitied me, calling me history’s most pathetic society wife. They assumed I’d endure it forever. Then Jimmy brought home Coco Miller—a plain university student who broke his one-month cycle. He gave me two choices: an open marriage with Coco as my equal, or a divorce taking half his wealth. His friends smirked, betting I’d stay for the money. Without hesitation, I chose divorce. In my past life, I chose tolerance. Coco then banned Jimmy from touching me or sharing his fortune. Old and alone, I watched her surrounded by family. When Jimmy died, his will omitted me entirely—everything went to her. I died a lonely queen in an empty castle. Reborn, I finally understood: take the money and leave. This time, we mean nothing to each other. 1 I took the divorce papers and read them carefully before reaching for a pen. Jimmy’s voice, a rare intrusion, cut through the silence. It was tight, laced with a tension he himself didn’t seem to notice. “Nina, think this through. Once you sign, there’s no going back.” My hand didn’t waver. The pen carved a clean, decisive arc across the paper. Signed. “I’ll pack my things and leave tonight.” How could I possibly have regrets? In my last life, I’d foolishly believed that bringing Coco home was just another one of his cruel games to get a reaction out of me. I thought, after all the years we’d been tangled together, he must have felt something for me. Pathetic. He and Coco had two children in three years and lived out a storybook romance. Meanwhile, I became a forgotten piece of furniture in my own home, an awkward fixture for half a lifetime, the butt of every joke whispered behind cupped hands. It wasn’t until we were old that I overheard him talking to Coco in his hospital room. He told her that the whole sordid affair—the half-dressed man in our bed—he’d orchestrated it all. “I was just tired of her,” he’d said, his voice raspy with age. “I didn’t want to make things too ugly, so I staged the whole thing.” There wasn’t a shred of guilt in his cloudy eyes. “That way, whatever I did afterward seemed justified.” So that was it. No wonder my desperate explanations were always met with his cold, unyielding disbelief. He knew the truth from the very beginning. He didn’t love me, yet he used a crime I never committed to chain me to him for fifty years. He could have made a clean break, but instead, he chose death by a thousand cuts. Looking up at his face now—younger, but still etched with that same casual cruelty—I felt nothing of the love that had once consumed me. Only a churning, bitter hatred remained. He stared at the signed agreement, his eyes wide with disbelief. Outside the door, the rustling sounds of eavesdroppers abruptly stopped. A second later, my “esteemed” in-laws burst in, their faces beaming. My mother-in-law grabbed Coco’s hand, her eyes appraising. “Oh, it’s so wonderful to have some youth in this house! So much vitality!” My father-in-law, a man who usually treated me with icy disdain, was now smiling warmly. He shot a pointed look in my direction. “Finally getting rid of the dead weight who’s been warming a seat for years. All this time, and not a single heir to show for it.” Coco lowered her head, a picture of shy modesty. “Oh, Uncle, don’t say that. I’m not that much younger than Nina…” She paused, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “Actually, I’m a month pregnant. We didn’t want to say anything until we were sure.” I raised an eyebrow. Of course. The same backhanded compliments, the same nauseating performance. Only this time, I didn’t care. For years, in my quest to be the perfect Mrs. Cabot, I’d worked like a dog at Cabot Industries by day, only to come home and cater to these two demanding relics by night. I was just over thirty, but gray hairs were already starting to streak my temples. I really had aged. I turned and walked to our bedroom to pack the few miserable belongings I could call my own. My mind was already racing, planning my first post-divorce vacation spot. I didn’t notice Jimmy had followed me in. “It’s late. You don’t have to move out immediately. You can go tomorrow.” “The villa on the west side is empty, isn’t it? You can stay there for now. I’ll come visit when I have time.” “Nina, I know you love me. Stop this tantrum.” He seemed to recall something, a fond, patronizing smile playing on his lips. “But the title… I can’t give you that anymore. I won’t let my child be born with the stigma of being illegitimate.” I didn’t answer. I just picked up my suitcase, walked past him, and headed straight for the door. “I have nothing to say to you. I’m thrilled to be divorced.” “If you have any shred of decency left, you’ll wire me the money you owe me as soon as possible.” The night wind, carrying flurries of snow, hit my face. It was cold, biting, but it couldn’t extinguish the fire that was finally roaring to life inside me. 2 Jimmy was, as always, brutally efficient. When I woke up the next morning, three billion dollars had been deposited into my bank account. The first thing I did was book a full-day package at Port Sterling’s most exclusive private spa. New haircut, full body massage, the works. The haggard woman with graying temples in the mirror vanished. In her place was a bombshell with audacious crimson hair and eyes that glinted with a sharp, newfound fire. I had just slipped into a new dress when my best friend, Kara, called. She started screaming before I could even say hello. “Nina! What the hell is going on with you and Jimmy? Has the whole world gone insane?!” I held the phone away from my ear, a lazy smile on my face. “What’s wrong?” “What’s wrong? You haven’t seen the news?” Kara’s voice was thick with disbelief. “It’s everywhere! Photos of Jimmy at the gala with that little tramp!” “He told the reporters, right to their faces, that she was his one and only wife! He said they’re planning the wedding now!” “And your holier-than-thou in-laws were right there, gushing about how she ‘deserves’ it all!” Her voice softened, laced with concern. “Nina… are you okay?” The public acknowledgment I had craved, the validation I had begged for my entire life—Jimmy had given it all to someone else. “I’m fine,” I said, admiring my new look in the reflection of a champagne flute. “We’re divorced.” “Divorced?” Kara couldn’t believe it. She had watched me love Jimmy for over a decade. She had watched me bend and break and debase myself for this marriage, wagging my tail for any scrap of affection he might throw my way. I didn’t explain further, just chuckled softly. “Are you free tonight? Drinks are on me.” At Port Sterling’s most decadent nightclub, our table was covered in bottles of Ace of Spades. A group of handsome young models surrounded me, diligently keeping my glass full. Kara’s eyes were wide. “Holy shit. Now I believe you. You’re really over him. This isn’t the old Nina.” The old Nina, desperate to prove she wasn’t a gold digger, would agonize over the price of everything. She was terrified Jimmy would think she was frivolous, a spendthrift who didn’t care about their home. Now, sitting in this opulent booth, I saw a stranger in the mirrored wall. The fiery red hair, the perfectly tailored couture dress—she was both unfamiliar and intimately known. Kara raised her glass and clinked it against mine. “This is more like it. You look like the girl from A-University’s finance program, the star they hadn’t seen in a century.” She took a long swallow of champagne, her voice full of righteous anger on my behalf. “Every venture capital firm in the country was fighting to hire you. If you’d started your own company, you would have crushed Cabot Industries by now!” “You slaved away for his family for a decade, and this is all you get in the divorce.” “Nina, you deserved so much better.” More than a decade. In my last life, under my leadership, Cabot Industries had become the top corporation in the country. Yet in my final years, I couldn’t even afford a box of painkillers. I was eventually kicked out onto the street by Coco’s “devoted” children, left to freeze to death next to a pile of garbage on a cold winter night. The empire I had built with my own blood and sweat became the inheritance for Coco and her offspring. At the thought, I downed the rest of my champagne. The liquid burned my throat, but it only stoked the flames within me. Fine. Let them all watch. Let’s see how well they do without Nina Sterling. 3 The next day, news that I had registered a new company spread like wildfire through the city’s elite circles. Some sensed an opportunity and came knocking with investment proposals overnight. But most, wary of offending the Cabots, chose to watch from the sidelines, their amusement barely concealed. Someone, probably at Jimmy’s direction, had the tabloids running stories mocking my overconfidence, painting me as a bitter ex-wife playing at business. I scrolled past the headlines on my phone, my expression blank. I didn’t, however, expect a call from Jimmy himself. “Nina, stop this nonsense.” “Running a company isn’t a game. That money won’t last you long. Your position at Cabot Industries is still open. Come back.” “No thank you, Mr. Cabot,” I said coolly. There was a pause on the other end. He sounded annoyed, but he reined it in. “Nina, can’t you be a little more understanding? I just… I found my soulmate.” “Besides, why start some pathetic little company when you have a place at Cabot? That Southbridge acquisition you were handling…” I hung up. Of course. He only remembered my value when he needed his most capable tool back. The Southbridge project was a beast I had spent six months wrestling with, a deal I’d secured at the cost of a bleeding ulcer. Without me, Cabot Industries was completely lost. At Cabot, my official title was President, but my monthly salary was a paltry three thousand dollars. My “esteemed” father-in-law had once told me, “We’re all family, don’t be so concerned with money.” I used to believe it was a test of my character. Now I saw the truth. I was nothing more than a cheap, ruthlessly effective workhorse they had found. The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. My mind was made up. The deals I had secured for Cabot Industries in my past life—this time, even if my new company couldn’t swallow them whole, I would personally deliver them into the hands of Cabot’s greatest rival. 4 After I hung up on him, Jimmy threw his phone against the wall. He had grown accustomed to my obedience over the years, to having me at his beck and call. To be dismissed so cleanly was a blow to his ego he couldn’t stomach. Just then, his executive assistant entered, looking flustered, carrying a stack of documents Jimmy couldn’t begin to comprehend. He needed signatures. The recent stress, combined with years of being disconnected from the company’s daily operations, had left him completely overwhelmed. Coco followed the assistant in, her eyes full of theatrical concern as she took Jimmy’s hand. “Jimmy, darling, don’t work yourself to death. I’m your wife now. Let me join the company and help you.” He hesitated. “You’re still young, you don’t know the business. Maybe you should spend some time in different departments first.” Coco’s eyes instantly filled with tears. “Nina got to be President. Why can’t I?” Jimmy’s first instinct was to say that Nina was a top graduate from A-University’s finance program. But the moment he looked into Coco’s big, pleading eyes, all logic fled his mind. He softened, nodding his assent. Her tears vanished as quickly as they’d appeared. She threw her arms around him. “I just worry about you so much,” she cooed. “You’ve gotten so thin lately.” Within two weeks of its launch, my company was already thriving. During that time, Coco sent more than a few troublemakers my way. They were petty, amateurish attempts at sabotage, all of which I dismantled with ease. The network I had built in Port Sterling over the years was far beyond what a naive girl like her could ever challenge. A few of my most loyal senior employees from Cabot, whom I had personally mentored, had been eager to jump ship since they heard I was striking out on my own. Coco’s arrival had made their lives a living hell, constantly undermining them. I told them to be patient. All I asked was that they create a few small, critical problems on their way out as a… parting gift. Coco thought the departure of a few employees was no big deal. She was probably celebrating the purge of the “ex-wife’s loyalists.” What she didn’t understand was that some people aren’t just employees; they’re the main arteries of a company. Project after project began to fail. Cabot Industries’ stock price plummeted. My company, on the other hand, was now a powerhouse. My new team was a well-oiled machine, landing several multi-million-dollar contracts in quick succession. Standing before the floor-to-ceiling windows of my conference room, I watched my jubilant team below and announced, “Tonight, the Seafront Club! My treat! We celebrate until we drop!” “To the boss!” Amid a chorus of cheers, I led my people out the front door. A familiar black Rolls-Royce Phantom was parked silently at the curb. The door opened, and Jimmy stepped out, a smug look on his face as he beckoned to me. I didn’t even glance his way, leading my team straight past him. His assistant moved to block my path. Jimmy caught up, his face a mask of irritation and anger. “Nina, what is the meaning of this? Didn’t you see me? You’ve gotten bold.” I was losing my patience. “Can I help you, Mr. Cabot?” I asked, my voice dripping with detached formality. My tone caught him off guard, but he pressed on, his voice a command. “Shut down this little company of yours and come back to Cabot.” His audacity was so staggering I almost laughed. He mistook my smile for hesitation, and his voice softened. “Nina, I’m exhausted. Can you please stop this game and come back? Please?” He paused, as if making a monumental concession. “If Coco is really bothering you that much, I can have her move out for a while.” Looking at this self-absorbed man, I seriously questioned my judgment from my past life. “I’m not playing a game,” I cut him off coldly. “Mr. Cabot, we are divorced. I would appreciate it if you would stop interfering in my life.” His patience snapped. “I’m already compromising!” he yelled. “What more do you want? The company needs you right now! Is this really the time to be playing hard to get?!” I suddenly realized there was no getting through to him. In his world, everyone and everything was supposed to revolve around him. “If you need help, Mr. Cabot, you should ask your loving wife, Coco. I’m just an outsider. It’s not my job to clean up your messes.” A look of dawning comprehension crossed his face. “Is that it? You’re still hung up on the title?” “Nina, once Coco has the baby, I’ll… consider it.” “But you have to promise to keep it a secret. I don’t want to hurt Coco’s feelings.” I stared at him, articulating each word with precision. “I’ll say this one more time. Get. Lost. And don’t ever let me see you again.” “I don’t want to remarry you. Not in this lifetime.” Jimmy’s face contorted with rage. “Nina, don’t push your luck!” he snarled. “This is Port Sterling! I could crush a pathetic little startup like yours without breaking a sweat!” Just then, a clear, drawling male voice cut in. “Oh? Is that so, Mr. Cabot? Such big words.” “Not only are you publicly harassing my fiancée, but you’re also threatening to destroy her company?” Jimmy spun around, his jaw dropping when he saw who it was. Liam Vance. Heir to the other great family of Port Sterling, and Jimmy’s lifelong rival. Liam strolled over, his movements lazy and confident, and casually wrapped an arm around my waist. He rested his head on my shoulder with practiced intimacy. “Darling,” he purred, “I was waiting for you in the garage forever. Didn’t realize you were out here getting barked at.” Jimmy was trembling with rage. He pointed a shaking finger at me. “Nina! Explain yourself! Why would you betray me?!” Then, as if a brilliant thought struck him, his expression shifted to one of smug certainty. “I see! This is all an act, isn’t it? You’re just using Liam to make me jealous!” Liam rolled his eyes dramatically and started pulling me away. “Don’t waste your breath on idiots. It lowers your IQ.” “Stop!” Jimmy shouted, trying to follow. But the combination of his fury and weeks of sleepless nights caught up to him. A sharp, stabbing pain shot through his stomach. “Ah—” he cried out, doubling over and clutching his abdomen, beads of cold sweat forming on his forehead. “Nina… my stomach… it hurts…” I didn’t stop. I didn’t even slow down. I didn’t look back once. Behind me, I could hear his muffled groans of pain and the frantic cries of his assistant.

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My evil stepmother is a national sweetheart. She plays the innocent flower on the outside, but she used public opinion to drive me to my death. My soul floated in the air— I saw Dad weeping bitterly, while my stepmother took my shares. I saw some netizens celebrating that the “homewrecker” was finally dead! I was utterly despairing, but… when I opened my eyes again, it was the day Dad brought his celebrity stepmother home. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. This time, I’m going to live my life to the fullest! In my past life, just because I called her “sister,” she gave me a stern warning. This time, when she stood in front of me and asked me to call her “Mom,” I immediately burst into tears. Dad immediately came over and picked me up. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” I asked timidly, “Dad, Auntie insists I call her Mom, but she’s not my mom. Can I not call her Mom…?” Mom’s death has always been a pain that Dad couldn’t forget. When I mentioned it, Dad remembered her again. His face fell as he scolded, “Bella, we just got married. If the child doesn’t want to call you Mom, she doesn’t have to. Why do you have to force her?” My stepmother’s face stiffened for a moment, but she quickly adjusted her expression. She gently hugged me. “I’m sorry, honey. I was too impatient. I just wanted to be accepted by Sweetheart so badly.” Her words sounded wronged, and Dad’s expression softened. Unexpectedly, slap! I slapped my stepmother’s hypocritical face. Both of them were stunned. Dad immediately scolded me, “Ice! What are you doing?” “Dad…” I cried, feeling wronged by his scolding. “Auntie pinched my waist, it hurts…” Chapter 1 My stepmother’s face flashed with panic as she hurriedly explained, “No, I didn’t, honey…” Dad lifted my shirt to look, and sure enough, there was a bright red mark. His face changed instantly. My stepmother couldn’t explain herself and broke out in a cold sweat. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. Auntie was too rough just now.” I sneered internally. Did she secretly pinch me any less in my past life? Dad suppressed his anger, his eyes filled with complex emotions as he carried me away. That night, my stepmother slipped into my room and stuffed a card into my hand. “Sweetheart, your dad and I are going on our honeymoon. Auntie heard you’ve wanted to go traveling for a long time, haven’t you? Auntie is giving you this card. When we leave, you can secretly go wherever you want.” Trying to get rid of me already? Because of my weak health, Dad never allowed me to travel alone, nor did he allow me to have money for travel. In my past life, I listened to her and secretly went traveling alone, only to end up nearly dying of a high fever on the road. This time, I still took her card and obediently said, “Thank you, Auntie.” The next day, I brought it up at the dinner table. “Dad, I want to go traveling by myself.” Both of their faces changed. “What travel? Try mentioning it again!” Dad’s face turned red with anger. I retorted, “I want to go! Auntie gave me the money, why should you control me!” Dad immediately lost his temper at Bella. “Bella, are you out of your mind?! Didn’t I tell you about her health condition? Are you trying to kill her?!” “Honey, I was just afraid Sweetheart would be bored home alone.” She cried as she spoke, looking aggrieved and weak. Dad always fell for this. His anger subsided. “Dad, just let me go. You and Auntie are going on your honeymoon, and I’ll be really bored home alone,” I acted coquettishly, pulling Dad’s hand. “Besides, I’ve prepared all my medicine, nothing will happen.” At the mention of my fragile health, Dad got angry again. “Nobody’s going!” he said to Bella. “What honeymoon?! Cancel it all!” My stepmother’s face was as black as coal. Even though she was a national sweetheart, marrying my dad was still considered climbing the social ladder. This marriage was too high-profile. When the news spread that Dad didn’t even take her on a honeymoon, everyone speculated whether Dad really loved her. She was eager to show that her relationship with us was good, so she insisted on taking intimate photos with me. At first, I cooperated with her, but later she got the idea of live streaming, thinking it would better reflect the mother-daughter interaction and establish her image. That night of the live stream, she hugged me intimately, calling me Sweetheart, and wanted to rub cheeks with me. I “accidentally” bumped my head against her face, knocking her nose crooked. I was so scared I quickly covered her crooked fake nose— “I’m sorry, Mom! I’ll put your nose back for you!” Chapter 2 I held back my laughter and reached out to adjust her nose. She was so scared that she immediately turned off the live stream. After all, the national sweetheart debuted as the “bare-faced goddess,” known for never getting plastic surgery and rarely wearing makeup. How could that be? In my past life, she spent millions of my dad’s money every month just to maintain her face. Now she’ll have her hands full. Bella hated me to the core, but she was busy with PR for the next half month. It wasn’t until my dad helped her calm the public opinion that her reputation didn’t completely collapse. Knowing this made me feel uncomfortable again, because my dad was willing to help her calm the public opinion, but in my past life, I was killed by public opinion! Maybe, even my dad didn’t believe me about that incident. As expected, two years later, Bella suggested to my dad that I should be sent into the entertainment industry. “Honey, Sweetheart isn’t cut out for studying anyway, and she’s always wanted to be a big star. Why don’t we arrange some resources for her and send her to act?” In my past life, I really did want to be a big star, so I adored my stepmother and begged her to take me into the entertainment industry. At that time, I was about to take the college entrance exam, but disregarding my dad’s objections, I threatened suicide to go film a movie. Unexpectedly, the famous director my stepmother introduced me to often sexually harassed me in private. Finally, I couldn’t bear it anymore and beat him up. Who knew he would intentionally film it and post it online? He and my stepmother played good cop, bad cop online, implying that I framed him. I was crushed by public opinion, like a rat crossing the street, everyone shouting to beat me. My dad was disheartened with me at the time. Although he withdrew the public opinion, he couldn’t control the rumors in school. Under the pressure of public opinion, I lived a life worse than death every day, with no mood to review for exams. Eventually, unsurprisingly, I failed to get into university and was completely abandoned by my dad. The last straw that pushed me to jump into the river was the news of my stepmother’s pregnancy. She hugged my dad and smiled sweetly. “Sweetheart, you’re going to have a younger brother.” At that time, I felt like I had been struck by lightning, as if I were outside of this family. This was the last straw that broke the camel’s back. I never thought my dad would have other children. He clearly promised me that he would only love me as his daughter… That night, I jumped from the Zhangjiang Bridge and died in the icy cold river water. Chapter 3 Now, in this life, my stepmother proposes again to pull me into the entertainment industry. “Bella, why are you talking to the child about this now? She’s taking the college entrance exam next year. Do you want to distract her?” My dad was unhappy as soon as he heard it. “I’m just planning for Ice. Besides, Ice has always begged me to take her into the entertainment industry. With our family’s strength, can’t we make her famous?” Seeing that my dad was about to get angry, I immediately cut in, “Yes! I just want to be a big star! Auntie told me that being a big star allows you to know many people and make a lot of money. Given our family’s situation, why take the college entrance exam!” “What good people are there in the entertainment industry for you to know!” My dad’s words slapped my stepmother hard in the face. Seeing her face turn bad, he realized he had also scolded her. “Bella, do you really mean well for her?” My dad finally sensed something this time and became suspicious of my stepmother. “Honey! How can you think of me like that! I’m just doing it for her own good, to help her fulfill her dream! Boohoo…” This time, my stepmother’s pitiful crying did not arouse my dad’s sympathy. I innocently pulled my dad’s sleeve from the side and persuaded, “Dad, don’t quarrel with Auntie. I’ll study hard from now on.” My dad was distressed and angry. “You speak for her. I think she has many schemes!” A rift of suspicion arose between my dad and stepmother, and I was happy to see it succeed, watching my stepmother pretend to be pitiful while studying hard. Because I had fallen behind too much, later I even took the initiative to suggest to my dad to hire a tutor to come to the house specifically at night. My stepmother was afraid I would get into a good university. Because my dad said that as long as I got into a prestigious university, he would hand over the company to me in the future. Her stomach hasn’t moved yet, how can she be willing!? So she often ordered people to bring in food during tutoring sessions. It was all ice cream, milk tea, potato chips, cakes, and other things kids like to eat to distract me. I ate them all, but I was never distracted by these little things. Later one day, my dad found out I didn’t go to class and pulled me out of bed. “Sweetheart! Why are you sleeping in again?! Don’t you have school today?” I clutched my stomach, sweating profusely. “Dad, my head is dizzy, my stomach hurts so much.” My dad immediately became worried. “What’s wrong? Dad will call the doctor to see you right away!” The doctor examined me and said I had eaten something bad, causing gastroenteritis and a slight fever. My body has been weak since childhood, and my dad forbade me to eat indiscriminately. When asked, the auntie said my stepmother gave me so much junk food, and he was furious! “You ate three ice creams yesterday?” he questioned me. I nodded timidly. He was about to go settle accounts with my stepmother, but I stopped him. “Forget it, Dad. Stepmother isn’t my biological mother, it’s normal for her not to understand these things about me.” My dad’s face immediately darkened. He thought of my mother again. My mother died due to difficult childbirth, leaving me behind as soon as she gave birth. My dad wanted to give me a complete family, and he married my stepmother after hearing that she was a breath of fresh air in the entertainment industry. He thought—the national sweetheart is certified by the people nationwide, how bad could she be? But now he finally felt regretful. I asked him, “Dad, if you and Auntie have children in the future, will you not want me anymore?” “Dad doesn’t plan to have any more children. Don’t worry, Dad will only have you as his child in this life.” I instantly became suspicious—then what was the deal with the child in my stepmother’s belly in my past life? Chapter 4 There were six months left until the college entrance exam. To prevent my stepmother from affecting me, my dad asked me to move back to the old mansion, and his relationship with my stepmother became increasingly strained. I thought, with their relationship like this, it was impossible for my stepmother to still get pregnant, right? As a result, the news of my stepmother’s pregnancy came one month before the college entrance exam. My dad only said it was an accidental pregnancy, but since she was pregnant, and my stepmother tried her best to keep the child and wouldn’t allow an abortion, my dad had to give up. When I returned home after the college entrance exam, I saw my stepmother sitting on the sofa, glancing at me with pride. “Sweetheart, you’re back?” I nodded. She touched her small belly and showed off to me with a smile like in the past life, “Sweetheart, you’re going to have a younger brother.” In my past life, I hated this sentence the most. It was this sentence that drove me to desperation! I smiled and pressed a fruit knife against her belly, pressing her down and whispering, “Okay, as long as you dare to give birth, I will definitely treat my younger brother well.” She screamed, dodging backward as if seeing a ghost. “What are you doing! Are you going to kill me!?” “Auntie, don’t shout so loudly. I just wanted to peel an apple for you.” I shrugged helplessly. Since then, my stepmother was terrified that I would do something to her child, wishing I would get out. I immediately suggested, “Auntie, does the thing about sending me to film before the college entrance exam still count?” My stepmother’s eyes lit up. She looked at my dad’s face before nodding. “You’re not allowed to go,” my dad objected directly. “Dad, the college entrance exam is over. Don’t worry, I’ll handle everything.” After all, none of the people who killed me in my past life can escape! My dad initially refused to relent until the college entrance exam results came out. The phone screen displayed—623 points! I was so excited that my hands were trembling. “Dad, I got in! I finally got in!” My dad had never imagined I could score so well! As the calm and self-composed president of Yu Corporation, he was so excited that his eyes turned red, and holding me, he called my biological mother’s name— “Tang Yuan, do you see this? Our Sweetheart is promising!” My heart was filled with sorrow. It took two lifetimes to get this ending. “Dad, let me do what I want to do. I won’t let you down again.” After persuading my dad for half a month, he finally relented. Before I left, he urged me repeatedly to be careful of anyone in the entertainment industry. Stepping onto the filming island again, director Jiang Tao walked towards me amiably, “Miss Yu, nice to meet you!” He asked me to hand over my phone, but the phone accidentally slipped into the ditch. I looked embarrassed, “What should I do, Director Jiang? If you want the phone, come pick it up yourself.” Everyone on the set went silent. Jiang Tao always set up a generous and kind persona. Even after losing face, he pretended to laugh and asked someone to fish up the phone, but a trace of darkness flashed in his eyes. Sure enough, later he bullied me overtly and covertly. He wouldn’t let a scene pass even after dozens of takes, and later he couldn’t even help but curse at me. People on the set had rarely seen him like this, only saying that I wasn’t professional enough and made Director Jiang angry. I turned a deaf ear to his reprimands and swallowed my anger. Until one night, he finally came to my room to “explain the play” to me. In my past life, when he wanted to sexually harass me, I bit off a piece of meat from his ear, while he picked inconspicuous places to hit when he attacked. I was beaten half to death by him, but the next day when I lifted my clothes to check, the marks were gone. Instead, he actually took a picture of his ear injury and posted a Weibo— “Your kid did this, you have to give me work injury money@Actor Bella(cry-laugh)” Bella is my stepmother’s name, and she replied to the producer— “@Jiang Tao, sorry sorry, Ice is still young, used to messing around at home (sticking out tongue).” After this incident fermented, for a time my name was on the trending search #Who is Ice?##Yu President’s only daughter plays big shot##National sweetheart marries into wealthy family and gets bullied# Netizens were certain that the incident of me hitting people was just the tip of the iceberg, and they didn’t know how I bullied Bella at home. The internet’s abuse of me, who had just come of age, began from this time, and even my birth date and eight characters were dug out. Will I let him get his wish in this life? Jiang Tao’s face was covered with grease. Seeing that I didn’t refuse, he took off my clothes as soon as he entered my room, his eyes revealing obscenity. “Come, let Uncle Jiang properly explain the play to you.” “You’re always not good. Today Uncle will teach you a good lesson!” I showed a frightened and panicked expression to the invisible camera connected to the live broadcast room. “Director Jiang, why are you taking off my clothes to explain the play?”

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Ethan and I went viral because of one photo. In the picture, we’re standing in our blue and white varsity jackets, throwing up peace signs. Attached is the class ranking sheet: Ethan is #1. I’m #2. The top comment read: [There is zero romantic chemistry in their eyes. Just the sheer determination to academic-weapon the other person into oblivion.] I’ve been crushed by Ethan for ten years. I thought I was destined to be the eternal Salutatorian. Until I woke up… I realized I was the villainess in a high school romance novel. And Ethan? He’s the protagonist. Realizing this didn’t make me sad. It made me realize my time had come. I’m going to be Valedictorian! 1 I’ve been trailing behind Ethan for a decade. Every test, I’m one spot behind him. I am the “Forever Second Place” on the honor roll. During a nap in Homeroom, I gained sentience. I discovered I was the “Mean Girl” antagonist in a YA novel. In the story, to ruin the romance between the Hero and the Heroine, I act like a total brat until I get expelled. The Hero and the Transfer Student Heroine overcome me—the “obstacle”—and get together. But then, their grades slip, their parents freak out, and they break up. The Hero, to save the Heroine from her abusive father, deliberately misses the SATs, repeats a year with her, and they eventually go to a state college together for a Happily Ever After. The Hero of this story is Ethan, the guy who always beats me. After waking up, I sat up and glared at Ethan, who was chatting two rows ahead. Society is crumbling. How is this guy the Main Character? But it doesn’t matter. In the book, the Heroine transfers to our AP English class this week. Her arrival is the start of my bright future. As long as I refuse to play the villain, I won’t get distracted. I will crush Ethan and take the crown! I was buzzing with excitement all day. The thought of finally flipping the script was intoxicating. Walking home with Ethan that evening, I couldn’t hide my grin. Ethan looked confused, but his walking pace was practically Olympic speed. Our moms are besties, and we live right across the street from each other. Before we went inside, he looked at me like I was an idiot, then quickly shut his door. After dinner, my best friend texted me: “Girl, you’re trending!” She sent a TikTok link. It was a video I posted a few days ago after midterms. Just two pics: The selfie of me and Ethan, and the GPA ranking. No caption, but the internet got me. “No romance. Just the pure desire to academically destroy each other.” “Bro is even clutching a pen in the photo.” “When is she going to take him out to claim the throne?” I liked the comment about taking him out. Soon. 02 The Heroine transferred to our class the next day. When she introduced herself as “Maya,” I knew it was real. Just like in the book, the teacher assigned Maya the seat next to Ethan. I sat diagonally behind Ethan, with a perfect view of their backs. First day, Maya didn’t have her textbook yet. Ethan slid his book to the middle of the table so they could share. Mr. Henderson started explaining a complex calculus problem. They both leaned in, heads together, to look at the equation. They looked up at the same time, realizing their faces were inches apart. Realizing the proximity, they both jerked back and sat up straight. I couldn’t see their faces, but I clearly saw Maya’s ears turn bright red. Ethan awkwardly made a fist over his mouth and coughed. A weird feeling bubbled in my chest. I took a deep breath. Stop looking. This is what I want, right? Riley, stop looking at the boy. Focus on the GPA. I forced my attention back to the whiteboard. First period ended, and a group of guys surrounded Maya’s desk. I glanced over. Two of them were varsity jocks, known players who changed girlfriends like they changed socks. Maya, being cute and new, was fresh meat. She looked terrified. As Class President, I was about to step in, but Ethan—returning from the bathroom—got there first. He blocked Maya from their view. “Don’t you guys have anything better to do? The Dean is walking down the hall.” Hearing the Dean was coming, the guys scattered. Maya smiled shyly at Ethan to say thanks. I pulled back the foot I had stepped forward. A moment later, the Dean actually appeared at the door. He didn’t come in, just waved me over to the office to sort some files. Standing in the office, sorting scantron sheets, my brain was stuck on replay. The boy in the varsity jacket, backlit by the sun, shielding the nervous girl. And the girl looking at him with starry eyes. That’s probably what love looks like. Main characters are destined to attract each other. It’s physics. I shook my head, trying to shake the unwanted emotions out of my brain. That night, walking home, I was unusually quiet. Usually, I yap the whole way. Ethan, usually the listener, spoke first. “What’s up with you today? Something on your mind?” I looked up into his confused, concerned eyes. How do I say, I’m thinking about you? We grew up together. This was the first time I couldn’t speak freely. “What do you think of… Maya?” Ethan looked puzzled for a second. “Why do you ask?” “I’m Class President. Gotta know the new students to help them adjust.” I lied. Ethan nodded, buying it. “Her? She’s nice. Very quiet.” It was a neutral comment, but my heart sank. Sophomore year, our parents suspected us of dating. We sat in the living room for hours explaining we weren’t. Ethan had said, “I could never like Riley. If I liked someone, it would be a quiet girl.” I had punched him in the arm right there in front of our dads. That was when I crushed my own little high school crush on him. My feelings are complicated. We’re just childhood friends. But why does this hurt so much? I didn’t speak the rest of the way. At his door, he hesitated, then just said, “See you tomorrow.” 03 Maya successfully integrated into the class. She was beautiful, kind, and everyone loved her. Even I had to admit, she was a good person. It made sense why Ethan, usually a snob, would like her. Without me interfering as the villain, their romance was on the fast track. Maya wasn’t great at Math. The teacher asked Ethan to tutor her. For a while, Ethan stayed late after school to help her. The walk home went from “us” to just “me.” I tried to ignore the hollow feeling. I studied until midnight. Woke up at 5:30 AM. Starbucks, school, study. If I kept busy, I wouldn’t feel the loss. A week later, Ethan surprisingly turned down Maya’s request for tutoring and ran up to me. “Let’s go. Got my allowance. I’m treating you to hot pot.” I stared at him blankly. “Don’t you have to tutor her?” I regretted the words immediately. It sounded like jealousy. But Ethan didn’t mind. He grinned. “Not every day. I taught her the basics. Now I can walk home with you again.” Seeing his eyes crinkle in a smile, I froze. “Okay… sure. I have cleanup duty. Wait for me.” Ethan did half my work for me, and we left together. We were happily discussing whether to order extra beef or shrimp paste. Just outside the school gates, we took a shortcut through a small park. Usually, it’s empty. But today, I heard crying. We exchanged a look and walked faster. Behind the public restrooms, a group of sketchballs had cornered a girl in our school uniform. It was Maya. Ethan didn’t hesitate. He rushed in. He grabbed a guy with dyed yellow hair by the wrist. “Ow! You crazy? Let go!” The other guys surrounded us. “Oh, another pretty girl? Why don’t you both hang out with us?” One guy looked me up and down, whistling. Ethan grabbed him by the collar. The others lunged. I kicked the nearest one in the shin. Our parents put us in self-defense classes when we were kids. We aren’t Bruce Lee, but we can handle a few street punks. We dropped them, but one guy pulled a pocket knife and slashed my arm. Ethan saw red. He was about to pound the guy into the pavement, but I stopped him. That night, Maya and Ethan accompanied me to the ER. Maya kept thanking us. But the way she looked at Ethan… it was admiration. It was hero worship. We never got hot pot. The doctor said it wasn’t deep, but I had to eat bland food. We got home at 8 PM. My mom yelled at me for getting hurt. 04 After that, Maya was even more attentive to Ethan. When he played basketball, she was on the sidelines with Gatorade. I don’t know if he took it, but everyone could see Maya liked him. Ethan didn’t seem to react. I buried myself in books. School, home, study. But sometimes, my brain drifted to Ethan. His face—always gentle with me, only frowning when worried—started haunting my dreams. I didn’t want to admit it. But now, I knew. I actually liked Ethan. But he’s the Main Character. And she’s the Heroine. I’m just the villain. And villains who fall for the hero never get a happy ending.

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