Category: English

1 The day the Hawthornes—the wealthiest family in Starling City—came to claim me, I was already one of the brightest stars in Hollywood. The homecoming was a media circus. Paparazzi swarmed the estate, their cameras broadcasting live to the entire nation. But as I approached the grand entrance, Chloe, the daughter they’d raised in my place, stepped forward to block my path. “Sister,” she began, her voice dripping with fake sympathy, “we looked into you. You got famous off that indie film, didn’t you? The one with all the… explicit scenes. The Hawthornes have standards. You’ll have to change into something more appropriate before you can come inside.” She gestured to a small, smoldering brazier and a simple grey dress laid out beside it—a bizarre, humiliating purification ritual. “Dad said that when he and my brother are away, I’m the lady of the house. I hope you understand.” The old me would have played along, carefully managing my image, desperate for their approval. Too bad for her, I’ve been reborn. With a sharp kick, I sent the brazier clattering across the marble. I shoved Chloe aside, my voice ringing with cold fury. “A joke! You want to strip me down? You couldn’t afford the price tag on my coat, let alone the rest of me. Don’t you dare.” “Every part of me is insured for millions. You can’t even afford a single strand of my hair.” “‘Lady of the house’?” I scoffed. “We’ll see how long that lasts. I’ll have you on your knees begging before this day is over.” … My outburst was like a signal. The reporters surged forward, a tidal wave of flashing lights and shouted questions. The world exploded in a strobe of blinding white. “Sienna! Is it true? Are you really the long-lost Hawthorne heiress?” “You seem furious. Is it because you resent Chloe for taking your place?” “This temper doesn’t quite match your sweet public persona, does it?” The questions were like bullets, sharp and relentless. In my past life, I had meekly submitted to Chloe’s demands. My return became her stage. She used me as a stepping stone, then spent years spreading vicious rumors about my ‘promiscuous’ lifestyle until the relentless online hate drove me to despair and, ultimately, death. This time, I refused to be the sacrificial lamb for her ambition. Chloe stared, stunned into silence for a long moment before she finally snapped out of it. I ignored her and strode toward the doors, but she grabbed my arm. “Sienna, we’re all happy to have you back, but you can’t just disrespect the Hawthorne name like this!” Her voice rose, playing to the cameras. “Your big break was a movie where you showed everything! Dad was furious when he found out! A woman with your reputation has to be cleansed before entering this house!” She lunged, her fingers clawing at the fabric of my dress. I slapped her hand away, the sound cracking through the air. “You dare!” I snarled. “Even if I weren’t a Hawthorne, I’m a star worth millions! I’m warning you, Chloe. Touch me again, and you’ll be hearing from my lawyers.” Chloe cradled her cheek, her eyes blazing with hatred. “You…!” This was the drama the paparazzi lived for. They shoved their microphones in Chloe’s face. “Ms. Hawthorne! Sienna is a huge star. Aren’t you happy to have a sister like her?” “She’s the real Hawthorne by blood. Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?” A calculated smile spread across Chloe’s lips. “Of course, I’m happy. This wasn’t my idea; I’m just following my father’s wishes.” She preened for the cameras. “I’m preparing for my own debut, you know. But unlike some, I know there are lines you don’t cross. I would never sell my body for fame. So really, no one here is better than anyone else. I’m just acting as her older sister, as the lady of this house, and teaching her the Hawthorne way.” I let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “Lady of the house? Let’s wait until the Hawthornes officially acknowledge you. For now, you’re just a cuckoo in the nest.” “You!” Chloe trembled with rage, but the cameras held her back. I smoothed my hair, my voice dripping with ice. “Well? Is this reunion happening or not? Because if not, I have places to be.” The reporters seized the opportunity. “We heard the Hawthornes initiated this reunion. Why are you turning Sienna away now?” “Are you really shunning her over that critically acclaimed art-house film?” “Is the world of the super-rich completely devoid of artistic taste?” Chloe’s face went pale, her lips trembling, but no words came out. It’s amazing what a little leverage can do. Just then, the old family butler, Mr. Thompson, hurried out. He bowed his head to Chloe. “Miss Hawthorne, your father saw the live stream. He’s on his way back!” Then he turned to me, his tone laced with contempt. “And he said actresses will be actresses. He told me to tell you not to be afraid, Miss Chloe. You are the only daughter of his heart. No one can bully you.” The reporters erupted. “Did you hear that? Even if Sienna comes back, Chloe’s position is secure!” “So much for a grand homecoming! She’s still second-class!” My phone buzzed violently. My agent, Amy, was screeching into my ear. “Sienna! For God’s sake, get out of there! Forget the reunion! The internet is exploding! They’re saying you’re an ungrateful brat! This is the richest family in the city!” “Do you have any idea how much Hawthorne money is invested in our agency?! Are you trying to kill me?!” I chuckled softly at her panic. “Relax, Amy. Just watch the show. I’ll handle the fallout.” Amy’s voice cracked. “My dear girl, that’s Caleb Hawthorne’s sister you’re messing with! The heir! He’s notoriously overprotective! Do you think he’ll let this go? The second the Hawthornes pull their funding, the agency will drop you so fast your head will spin!” Suddenly, there was a commotion on her end. “Oh, hell! I have to go! I just got a message from the Hawthorne Corp business affairs! Listen to me, Sienna! Come back now!” Dropped? I had to laugh. My adoptive mother was Eleanor Vance, a three-time Oscar winner. I’d just never told anyone, determined to make it on my own. As if the Hawthornes had the power to blackball me. Chloe, noticing I’d hung up, leaned in and whispered, a venomous smile on her face. “Looks like my brother is already making moves. I suggest you learn to behave. So what if you have Hawthorne blood? With that attitude, you’ll never set foot in this house again.” As if on cue, a flashy red sports car screeched to a halt with a dramatic drift at the main gate. The legendary Hawthorne heir, Caleb, stepped out, his face a mask of cold displeasure. Chloe’s expression instantly transformed. She scurried over, clinging to his arm like a damsel in distress. “Caleb… you’re finally here…” Caleb walked right up to me, his eyes raking over me with disdain. “So you’re Sienna.” The paparazzi held their breath, practically salivating. “Mr. Hawthorne! Sienna is one of the hottest stars in the country! Your long-lost sister! How do you feel?!” Caleb sneered. “She might share our blood, that’s true. But Chloe has been a Hawthorne for years. She’s the only sister I’ve ever known. Besides,” he added, his voice hardening, “Chloe is older. For Sienna to show up on day one and treat her with such disrespect… it just shows a complete lack of proper upbringing.” Just then, my phone rang again. Eleanor. She must be furious too. I ignored it. Caleb continued, his voice low and menacing. “I don’t care what kind of celebrity you are. The Hawthorne estate is not a stage for your publicity stunts. If you cause a scene here, don’t blame me for being ruthless.” The reporters buzzed, cameras trained on me, waiting for my response. I met their lenses with a smirk. “This is being broadcast live to the entire nation. Everyone saw who tried to rip my clothes off. How did that become me causing a scene?” I raised an eyebrow. “And didn’t you already pull the funding for my latest project just minutes ago? Who’s the one putting on a show now? I had no idea the great Hawthorne family was so skilled at twisting the truth.” The live-stream comments must have exploded. I could feel the tide of public opinion turning in my favor. Chloe’s face tightened. She quickly adopted a saintly, innocent expression. “Caleb didn’t mean it like that. He’s just always been protective of me.” She paused, then added with a tone of magnanimous charity, “We’re the Hawthornes. We can certainly afford to feed and clothe one more person.” Her eyes welled up. “Today was just about following family tradition. My sister must have misunderstood. After all,” she sighed, “she never had a proper education. She’s been working since she was a teenager. It’s only natural she’d have a more cynical view of the world.” I laughed and raised my hand as if to strike her. She flinched, squeezing her eyes shut and cowering away. I let my hand drop. “Do you know who first contacted me for a DNA test?” I asked, my voice dangerously soft. “Let me tell you something, Chloe. Whether this family accepts me or not is not up to an adopted little stray.” My biological mother had searched for me for years after I was lost. The guilt and despair eventually consumed her, and she took her own life. But long after, once I became famous, my face plastered on screens across the country, my maternal grandmother recognized me instantly. It was her—not some high-and-mighty patriarch or his arrogant son—who had begged me to take the test, who had longed for my return. Chloe’s eyes flew open. “So what if Grandma recognized you!” she shrieked. “This is the Hawthorne house! What she says doesn’t matter! My brother is the sole heir, chosen by Dad himself! If he says you can’t come in, you will never set foot past that door!” I chuckled inwardly. Not his real sister, indeed. She didn’t even know who truly held the power in this family. I calmly pulled over a patio chair and sat down, crossing my legs. A cool smile played on my lips. “Fine. Then we’ll wait for Mr. Hawthorne to get here.” The viewer count on the live stream was skyrocketing. Perfect. If I didn’t blow this up, these two would never learn who was really in charge. As I casually scrolled through the comments, a furious roar cut through the air. “What is going on?! When did my home become a public theater?!” I looked up. It was Charles Hawthorne, his face contorted with rage. I rose slowly, a mocking smile on my face. “No one’s putting on a show. Although some people seem to have gotten a little too comfortable playing a role that isn’t theirs.” Charles’s eyes swept over the sea of cameras, and his face turned a dark shade of purple. “Mr. Thompson! Get these vultures out of here!” The reporters protested. “On what grounds? We’re here for Sienna!” “Some welcome! The great Charles Hawthorne won’t even let his own daughter in the door! Is this how you do things?” A vein pulsed in Charles’s temple. “My daughter? For all I know, she’s just another gold digger trying to get her hands on the Hawthorne fortune! You think shooting a few skin flicks makes you royalty? We were willing to acknowledge her, and this is the thanks we get? She shows up and tries to drag our family’s century-old reputation through the mud!” I looked at him, the irony thick enough to choke on. This man, who had changed his own name to marry into wealth, had the audacity to lecture me about integrity. Caleb, thinking my silence was fear, puffed out his chest. He snapped his fingers at the security guards. “Get them all out! And I want you to monitor the news for the next few days. If I see a single negative story about this family, there will be consequences.” The reporters exchanged uneasy glances. Most of them lowered their cameras, seemingly forgetting that their live feeds were still running. Chloe pointed a finger at me, her voice dripping with scorn. “Looks like this reunion is off. Maybe when the ‘big star’ is ready to change her clothes and step over the brazier, we can talk.” Charles glared at me with disgust. “Don’t think a little shared DNA gives you the right to throw your weight around here! We don’t welcome women who sell their bodies in this house! Now get out before you dirty the place!” Just then, a powerful, commanding voice thundered from the gate. “I’d like to see who dares touch a single hair on my granddaughter’s head!” An imperious, white-haired woman leaning on a cane strode onto the property. She was the true matriarch of the family—my grandmother. Charles, Caleb, and Chloe froze, their faces a mask of pure shock. They clearly hadn’t expected her. After my mother’s death, my grandmother had moved to a neighboring city, leaving the day-to-day operations of Hawthorne Corp. to Charles. She never involved herself in family affairs. In my last life, she was the one who brought me home. But I was too timid then, too eager to please. She thought I was happy. When Chloe’s lies began to circulate, she had tried to help, but by then, I was lost in my depression and pushed her away. Seeing her now, my eyes burned with tears. “Grandma…” I choked out. Her gaze softened with heartache as her wrinkled hand gently cupped my cheek. “Sienna, my girl. It’s my fault. I should have been here on such an important day.” Charles’s jaw was hanging open. “Mom… why didn’t you tell us you were coming?” THUD. Her cane struck the ground with startling force. “I finally find my daughter’s lost child, and this is how you treat her?!” She whirled on Charles, her voice a whip crack. “I wouldn’t have known what a disgrace you are if I hadn’t seen the live stream!” “You are nothing but a son-in-law who married into this family! When did it become your place to pass judgment on my blood?!” The reporters, who had been cowed just moments before, sprang back to life. Cameras flashed, microphones were aimed. “Unbelievable! The CEO of Hawthorne Corp is just a son-in-law!” “A real-life succession battle! The tables have turned!” Sensational headlines scrolled across the live feed. Charles’s face cycled through shades of green and white. He shoved Caleb in front of him like a shield. “Get out! All of you! I’ll sue you for invasion of privacy!” Chloe, so arrogant moments ago, was now pale and frantic. She tugged at our grandmother’s sleeve, pleading in a low voice, “Grandma… please, don’t make a scene… This is embarrassing for Hawthorne Corp…” The old woman ripped her arm away. “Don’t you dare call me Grandma! Sienna is my only grandchild! And the only embarrassment here is you!” A reporter shouted, “Does that mean Caleb Hawthorne isn’t your grandson either?!” “He’s the son Charles brought with him from a previous relationship!” she declared, her voice ringing with fury. “My daughter and Charles were a blended family! I never should have allowed it! I never should have let this ungrateful parasite into our home!” The entire scene erupted. The live-stream chat exploded with a torrent of shocked comments and memes. Caleb’s face was a thundercloud. He grabbed Charles and Chloe and stormed into the villa. My grandmother took my hand, and we followed them inside. Under the glittering crystal chandeliers, she slammed her cane onto the marble floor. The sound echoed through the vast hall. “Charles Hawthorne! Get on your knees!” Charles flinched, but defiance hardened his features. “Mom, what is this? I’m the CEO of Hawthorne Corp!” “CEO? You’re nothing!” she spat. “Without the Hawthorne name, you are nothing! You were a penniless nobody when my daughter took pity on you! Do you think you’d have any of this without her?” She leaned forward, her eyes blazing. “And don’t forget the promise you made when she passed. I told you that if you behaved, Hawthorne Corp would be yours after I was gone. But as it stands, the majority shares are still in my name! You’re just a glorified manager!” Seeing Charles remain defiant, my grandmother snatched an antique vase from the coffee table and hurled it at him. “Don’t make me repeat myself!”

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Julian Ford was a masterpiece. I figured if I was going to have a first love, it might as well be him. Even if we broke up, there would be no regrets. So I went after him. Hard. He was caught off guard by my pursuit, then intrigued, and finally, he gave in, but not without laying out the terms: we could date, but we would not get married. The moment we graduated, we were over. I agreed instantly. For three years, we lived out a picture-perfect romance. And on graduation day, just as planned, I was the one to bring up the breakup. That’s when he backed out. I was floored. “But we had a deal, right? We break up when we graduate!” I remember how that day ended. Our conversation had completely fallen apart. Julian, who always held his head so high, lowered it and laughed, a bitter, self-mocking sound. “Summer Hayes,” he said, “you better pray we never cross paths again.” From that day on, I made a point to avoid him. But sometimes, God flicks a finger, the world shrinks, and two people are bound to meet again. 1 Julian and I operated under a silent, unspoken rule. We were a campus couple, and that’s all we were. Once we stepped off university grounds for holidays or breaks, we went back to our separate lives and ceased all contact. In those times apart, he was Julian Ford, scion of a powerhouse New York family, and I was just Summer Hayes, a nobody from Charlotte, North Carolina. No texts, no calls, no questions about what the other was doing. It was as if we were single again. I assumed this strange, compartmentalized relationship would last until our pre-planned breakup. But the summer after sophomore year was unusually long—a full eighty days. Before we left campus, Julian asked me, “Are you going to miss me?” I wrapped my arms around him, playing the part. “Mmmhmm, I’ll miss you like crazy.” He pulled me into a hug and kissed the top of my head, but he was smart enough not to say something foolish like, “Then call me if you miss me.” I’d always admired that rationality in him. His family was in a different stratosphere. His future wife would be chosen from a similar world. We both knew we had no future. This was just a phase, a chance to experience a pure, insulated college romance, and I just happened to be his type. On campus, Julian was my boyfriend. Off campus, when he was a Ford heir, he didn’t want me intruding on his life. I understood, and I played my part perfectly, never crossing the line. What I never could have predicted was that Julian would be the one to break his own rule. The summer was dragging on, and he sent me a message. He was coming back to campus early—a full month before our agreed-upon return date. I was surprised and texted back playfully, “Why so early? Miss me already?” He never replied to that message. But after that, whenever a long break came up, Julian would ask, “Want to go on a trip somewhere?” Most of the time, I’d say yes. We traveled to so many places together. We watched the stars in the vast, open desert of Joshua Tree and saw the sun melt into the ocean in the Florida Keys. I’d get lost in the scenery, completely absorbed, which is why Julian’s sudden kisses always made me jump. He loved to cup my face in his hands, his body pressing down on mine. It was a dominant, possessive kind of kiss. When it came to anything physical, Julian liked to be in control, liked me to be the one yielding to him. But every single time we got to the point of no return, I’d be the one to kill the mood and whisper, “Stop.” His eyes would be clouded with desire, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he struggled for control. He wouldn’t speak, just raise an eyebrow, a silent “Why?” My answer was always the same: “I don’t want to.” Even when he was practically vibrating with need, slick with a thin sheen of sweat, he would stop. Every time. He’d get up, go to the bathroom for a cold shower, and come back to bed to just hold me while we slept. After I’d stopped him enough times, I think he started to figure it out. Eventually, whenever things would start to heat up, he’d pull away on his own and head for a cold shower before I even had to say a word. There was only one exception. One day, he saw a text on my phone from a friend. “Who’s this?” he asked. I didn’t hide it. “A friend from back home in Charlotte.” He didn’t say anything else then, but that night, he was forceful, insistent. I tried to push him away. He pinned my wrists above my head, his body trapping mine. I turned my face away from his kiss, my voice sharp. “Julian, I don’t want this!” “Why not?” he demanded, his voice rough. “Because of your friend in Charlotte?” For a man who was usually the definition of pride and control, his jealousy made him possessive and irrational. I never spelled it out, but I knew Julian understood. The reason I wouldn’t go all the way with him was because I knew he wasn’t the one I would end up with. I didn’t want our connection to become any deeper than it already was. Julian was a gentleman. He understood my reservations and never forced me. But after that night, every time we were intimate, it felt like he was competing with a ghost, pushing the boundaries, testing my resolve. 2 Junior year, second semester. The date we’d set for our breakup was getting closer. The thought of it ending left a hollow ache in my chest. To avoid future pain, I started preparing myself emotionally, detaching piece by piece. That year, Julian planned a trip to England. The second day we were in Kent, while I was still jet-lagged and fast asleep, a group of people burst into our hotel room. I was pulled out of bed, forced into a wedding dress, and my face was made up into a flawless bridal look. Before I knew it, I was being led to a horse-drawn carriage waiting outside. I had no idea when Julian had arranged all of this. He and I had a wedding ceremony in Canterbury Cathedral, officiated by a real priest. There were no guests. Just the two of us. A wedding that meant nothing in the eyes of the law. It wasn’t until the moment we exchanged rings that I finally understood why, for his birthday that year, he had broken tradition and asked me for a gift: a simple ring. It was so that in this moment, I would have something to give him. It was a fake wedding. We both knew it. But that night, when Julian, breathing heavily, started to pull away to take his usual cold shower, I reached out and stopped him. I pulled him back onto the bed and kissed him with everything I had. A tremor went through his entire body. “Summer,” he breathed out, his voice shaking. “It’s our wedding night, Julian,” I murmured against his lips. “Don’t be a spoilsport.” And just like that, I gave in. Who cares what happens tomorrow? I thought. Just for today, I, Summer Hayes, am Julian Ford’s bride. I let myself be reckless. Just this once. I thought it would be just once, but it turned out to be many times. Some boundaries, once crossed, can never be rebuilt. You just keep retreating, losing more ground. Julian and I were both out of control, the brakes had failed. I told myself it was just a final, wild countdown. A way to create one last, insane memory, to make my time with Julian Ford truly count for something. I wasn’t sure when Julian would bring up the breakup. After all, our agreement was simple: date, don’t marry, break up at graduation. There was no specific day circled on the calendar. I waited in agony for a while, but he never said a word. My flight back to Charlotte was booked, and I couldn’t put it off any longer. We needed a formal goodbye. I asked him to meet me at a quiet restaurant near campus and I broke up with him. I thought I knew how he would react. I expected his usual cool, composed demeanor. A graceful acceptance, a polite and gentlemanly farewell. I never expected him to just look at me silently and say, “No.” I was so stunned I couldn’t process it. “No? What do you mean, no?” He stared deep into my eyes. “Summer, I don’t want to break up.” 3 My mind went into a tailspin. Julian was not the kind of person to go back on his word. He was a man of honor, always true to what he said. That’s why I had been so certain that our breakup was inevitable. I never, ever imagined he would change his mind. When did he change his mind? How did I miss it? Panic started to bubble up inside me. I had never, for a single moment, considered a future with Julian Ford. Graduating and breaking up was, in my mind, the perfect, happy ending for both of us. His last-minute reversal threw me completely off balance. I couldn’t speak, just stared at him in disbelief. My reaction was clearly not what he’d been hoping for. A rare urgency crept into his voice. “I know what you’re worried about.” “Summer, just give me five years.” “Five years from now, I promise you, no one in the Ford family will interfere with my marriage.” “When that time comes, we’ll have a real wedding. We’ll invite all our friends and family. We’ll get a marriage license with the state seal on it and we’ll tell the whole world that we belong to each other.” “Summer,” he asked, his voice pleading, “what do you say?” Faced with his earnest gaze, my own eyes darted away guiltily. I forced the words out, my voice tight and stuttering. “But… we had a deal. We break up when we graduate.” Julian flinched, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “What?” It had come to this. If I didn’t lay it all out, this would only get messier. I took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. “I want to break up.” His gaze shot towards me, so sharp it felt like it could physically pierce my skin. He rested his arms on the table, his eyes locked on mine, and a chilling aura radiated from him. “Why?” The word was quiet, almost lifeless, as if he wasn’t asking a question so much as daring me to confirm his worst fears. I had never felt this kind of pressure from him before. Deciding to just rip the Band-Aid off, I let everything I’d been holding back spill out. “Because we don’t fit. We’re from different worlds.” “I don’t have big ambitions, Julian. I just want a comfortable, peaceful life. Eat good food, sleep well.” “I don’t want to be picked apart by your family because I don’t come from money.” “And I don’t want to spend my life navigating the complicated social politics of your world.” “If I marry you, all of that is inevitable.” “So, the truth is… I never, ever planned on building a future with you.” As I spoke, my voice got quieter. I suddenly realized that compared to him, I was the cruel one. He was meticulously planning a future for us, and I was meticulously calculating my escape route. It was as if we were on a battlefield together; he was ready to fight to the death for me, while I had already packed my bags, ready to desert without a second glance. “I’ve said everything I need to say,” I mumbled, scrambling to my feet, desperate to escape. “I’m leaving. You take care.” I turned to go. A hand clamped down on my arm. It felt like a vice, refusing to let go. My heart hammered against my ribs as I looked back. Julian was still sitting, looking up at me. He, the proudest man I knew, looked like he’d been caught in a freezing rain, a coldness radiating from him that chilled me to the bone. He asked, his voice raw, “If you never saw a future with me, why did you give yourself to me?” My breath hitched. I yanked my arm free and forced a casual tone. “I can’t believe you’re actually hung up on that. It wasn’t a big deal to me.” He recoiled as if I’d stung him, his eyes shattering into a million pieces. Then, he pulled his lips into a bitter, self-deprecating smile and stood up. His tall frame instantly cast a shadow over me. He stood straight, too proud to bend, just lowering his gaze to look down at me. “Summer Hayes, you better pray we never cross paths again. Because if we do, I don’t know what I’ll do.” My face was a mask of indifference, but my palms were slick with sweat. A wave of regret washed over me. I never should have gotten involved with him. That day, I fled from the restaurant and didn’t look back. I ran all the way back to Charlotte. From then on, even when I traveled, I deliberately avoided New York City. I thought I would never see Julian Ford again. But you know what they say about the best-laid plans… 4 My cousin Chloe was marrying into money, and she invited me to her wedding. It was being held in New York City. As soon as I heard the location, I politely declined. But then, the groom’s family reviewed the guest list from Chloe’s side and circled a single name: mine. Apparently, I was the only one deemed “acceptable” enough to attend. In other words, Chloe’s own parents weren’t allowed at her wedding. The only people from her side would be me and a few bridesmaids. My aunt, Chloe’s mom, came to my house personally to beg me. She wanted me, as the sole family representative, to be there to “have Chloe’s back.” I was forced to accept the absurd responsibility. We were put up in a luxury hotel. The wedding was the next day. The night before, some girl added Chloe on social media and sent her a dozen photos of herself getting cozy with the groom-to-be, along with a video. A “Bachelor’s Last Hurrah” party was in full swing at a villa about twenty miles from our hotel. The video showed the girl and Chloe’s fiancé in a full-on, passionate kiss. Chloe calmly shut off her phone and turned to me and the six other bridesmaids. “Alright, ladies,” she said, “Let’s go crash a party.” I never thought I would see Julian again. New York is a huge city. The odds had to be infinitesimal. My first time back in four years, and I’d just happen to run into him? But the universe has a twisted sense of humor. Chloe was there to make a statement. She marched right up to the girl from the video and slapped her, hard. The girl, indignant, looked to the groom, Kyle Holt, for support, only to find him watching with an amused grin, making no move to defend her. What the girl didn’t know was that Chloe and Kyle had an arrangement. He could fool around all he wanted, and Chloe would turn a blind eye, on one condition: if any of his flings ever got bold enough to challenge her directly, he was not to interfere when she put them in their place. The girl had drastically overestimated her importance. Chloe grabbed her by the hair and literally threw her out of the party. Kyle, as if nothing had happened, shut the door behind her, then casually wrapped an arm around Chloe’s waist. “Don’t be rude,” he said cheerfully. “Since you’re here, you should go say hi to Julian.” Chloe, who had just been in a brawl, her collar askew and her hair a mess, calmly straightened her clothes. “Okay,” she said. “Let me just fix myself up, and I’ll be right over.” Kyle left her and headed over to a table where a group of impossibly good-looking people were sitting, looking far more civilized than the rowdy crowd by the pool. Chloe glanced in their direction, then motioned for the bridesmaids to huddle close. “See that table?” she whispered. “Any of those guys are fair game, except for the one in the middle.” Curious, I followed her gaze to the man in the middle. My breath caught in my throat. It took me a long moment to look away. I saw him. He hadn’t seen me. It was Julian. Four years older, Julian was different. The last traces of boyish youth were gone, replaced by a deep, steady intensity in his eyes. He carried himself with an air of quiet, formidable authority. One of the bridesmaids, a stunning girl named Isabelle, had her eyes fixed on him. “Why not him?” she asked, a hint of disappointment in her voice. Chloe tugged on her arm, her tone uncharacteristically serious. “He is way out of our league. Don’t even think about it, unless you want to get seriously burned.” Isabelle, who had a proud streak, just gave a soft “Oh,” as if she was taking the advice. 5 I told Chloe I wasn’t good at socializing and would sit this one out. “Are you insane?” she said, dragging me forward. “You’re gorgeous! You need to be meeting guys like this!” She was like a bulldozer. Fearing she’d make a scene, I gave in and followed her to the table. Chloe greeted Julian respectfully, calling him by a nickname I’d never heard. “Julian, hi!” Julian was as polite and charming as ever, but… something was different. There was a new layer of distance to him, a polite wall that made him seem friendly but utterly unapproachable. “I didn’t know you’d be here,” Chloe said, flashing a brilliant smile. “I would have brought my girls over sooner.” Isabelle seized the opening. “It’s so nice to meet you, Julian,” she said, mirroring Chloe’s greeting with a flirty tone. Julian glanced at her, his own smile faint and noncommittal. Another guy at the table smoothly intervened. “Not many people get to call him Julian. You should probably stick with Mr. Ford, like the rest of us.” Isabelle playfully stuck out her tongue. “My apologies, Mr. Ford.” She handled the awkward moment with impressive grace. I was silently applauding her social skills when Chloe suddenly announced, “And Julian, this is my cousin, Summer Hayes.” She stepped aside, leaving me completely exposed. The world seemed to brighten as several pairs of eyes landed on me. The one pair, straight ahead, was the sharpest. The moment his gaze hit me, I felt a physical force, a wave of sheer intensity. I knew I couldn’t escape. I slowly lifted my head and met his eyes, looking at that face that was so familiar and yet so strange. My hand clenched into a fist. Forcing a calm I didn’t feel, I smiled. “Mr. Ford. It’s nice to see you again.” Julian’s lips pressed into a thin, hard line. He just stared at me, saying nothing, his expression cold and unreadable. The atmosphere wasn’t terrible, on the surface. We were both masters of disguise. No one could have guessed the history simmering between us. Chloe continued introducing her friends, and the bridesmaids tried to mingle. Julian’s friends were all friendly enough, and the conversation flowed easily. Until Julian suddenly spoke. “Summer Hayes.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the chatter and silenced the entire table. My heart gave a painful thud, and my eyes snapped to his. He was still seated, looking up at me, his face impassive. Four words left his lips, slow and deliberate. “Long time no see.” A deafening silence fell over the table. After what felt like an eternity, Chloe found her voice, her tone filled with shock. “Wait, Summer… you and Mr. Ford… you know each other?” And there it was. The question, hanging in the air for everyone to hear. I was speechless. After a moment of careful consideration, I gave my answer. “We were classmates.” Julian, who had been watching me intently, flinched almost imperceptibly at my words. He rose from the sofa and walked towards me. He moved slowly, but with a heavy, oppressive energy, like a storm cloud gathering thunder. He stopped right in front of me and asked, his voice laced with a bitter self-mockery, “So, I don’t even qualify as an ex-boyfriend?”

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On our daughter’s one-month celebration, I caught my best friend on my husband’s lap. “Ryan,” she purred, “you sure your wife hasn’t guessed I swapped our babies?” “Not a chance,” he scoffed. “That stupid bitch dotes on ‘our daughter’ nonstop. What about her brat? Why isn’t she with you?” “I tormented her for a month—got boring. Held her head underwater in the tub till she stopped moving. You’re her dad too… don’t get soft, right?” My husband looked disgusted. “Like I care if that brat lives or dies. I only married Eleanor for her family’s money. Once our daughter inherits everything, I’ll kick her out.” I wiped a tear and pretended to overhear nothing. I poured my all into raising their daughter. Twenty years later, she came back from studying abroad. I transferred all my company shares and assets to her name. At the press conference, my best friend Chloe walked up with Ryan, waving a DNA report. “Hospital mix-up years ago,” she announced. “Ava’s our biological daughter. You’ve had her long enough—time to give her back.” Ryan slid a divorce agreement and debit card across the table. “Sign this so we can be a family. Five grand on the card—payment for your ‘services.’” A cold smile tugged at my lips. “Fine.” 1 “Honey, I noticed you had a little cough yesterday, so I woke up early to make you some warm pear soup. Here, drink it while it’s hot.” Ryan, my ever-thoughtful husband, gently placed a bowl in front of me, his eyes overflowing with what looked like pure adoration. “Dad, you’re so good to Mom,” our daughter, Ava, chirped from across the breakfast table. Yes. He was. Everyone could see how well Ryan treated me. He always sensed my moods, comforting me with sweet words and thoughtful surprises. When I was sick, he was by my side, catering to my every need. In our most intimate moments, he would hold me tight and whisper that marrying me was the best thing that had ever happened to him. If I hadn’t overheard that conversation twenty years ago, I never would have believed that this tender, devoted man was a soulless monster. I took the soup and drank it in silence. A moment later, the doorbell rang. “It must be Auntie Chloe!” Ava squealed, jumping up from her chair and running to the door. There stood my best friend, her arms laden with shopping bags. “Ava, sweetie!” she beamed. “It’s getting colder, so your godmother bought you some new winter clothes. And I know how much you loved those pastries I made last time, so I brought you some more.” Ava’s eyes curved into happy crescents. “Thank you, Auntie Chloe! You’re the best!” Chloe set the bags down and pulled Ava into a tight hug. “Of course, I am, darling. You’re my precious angel! I wish I could give you everything good in this world.” She led Ava to the table and then looked at me. “Eleanor, Ava told me there’s a parent-teacher conference today. Do you think… maybe I could go?” Her face fell into a practiced mask of sorrow. “You know how it is. I wasn’t as lucky as you. I married a good man and have a perfect daughter. My ex-husband ruined my life, and that poor thing I gave birth to… she was so fragile, she drowned in the bathtub. I never even got the chance to go to a parent-teacher conference.” Her eyes darted between Ryan and Ava, a picture of tragic longing. For years, she had used her daughter’s early death as an excuse to overstep every boundary. It wasn’t just the daily visits. She planned Ava’s birthday parties every year. She took her on special outings for holidays. On Mother’s Day, she would take Ava out alone, posting dozens of selfies of their “special day” online. Whenever I questioned it, her excuse was always the same. “My poor baby is gone, and I don’t think I can ever have another. We’re best friends, Eleanor. I just want to love Ava as if she were my own.” Before I could answer, my husband chimed in. “Eleanor, Chloe’s been through so much. It would mean the world to her. Just let her go and experience it.” The three of them stared at me, their eyes filled with eager anticipation. I forced a small smile. “Of course. I’m busy today anyway.” Chloe’s face lit up. Ava clapped her hands in delight. After breakfast, Chloe whisked Ava off to school, with Ryan insisting on driving them. I watched the three of them leave, a happy little family, and said nothing at all. 2 Perhaps they thought I was so easy to fool that I’d never notice a thing. Chloe’s audacity grew with each passing year. At first, she only met Ryan in secret when I was at the office. Now, she’d find any excuse to come over, even when I was home. “Eleanor, I’ve been teaching myself to cook! I thought I’d come practice on you guys.” “Eleanor, I just got back from the countryside and brought you some fresh produce!” “Eleanor, my pipes burst! Can I please stay with you for a few days?” I knew perfectly well that she was only there to see Ryan and Ava, but I never turned her away. I welcomed her politely every time, agreed to every request. Ryan was more than happy with this arrangement. His lips would curl into an unconscious smile whenever she appeared. Sometimes, he and Chloe would exchange flirtatious glances right in front of me. Even Ava grew closer to her “godmother,” buying her a special pair of house slippers to keep at our home for her frequent visits. This charade continued until Ava’s final year of high school. The day her SAT scores were released, Chloe arrived first thing in the morning to wait with us. When the abysmal results came in, Ryan feigned outrage. “How could you score this low?” he demanded. Ava just shrugged. “We’re rich. Why would I kill myself studying? Mom can just buy me a degree from somewhere, can’t she?” Ryan shot a quick glance in my direction. Seeing no reaction from me, he pressed on. “Your mother loves you, but even she can’t let you throw your life away like this! She works so hard managing the company. You need to step up! How are you going to help her? How can she trust you with her legacy?” Chloe immediately jumped in. “Ryan, relax. Eleanor is Ava’s mother. Of course, she’s going to take care of her.” “Exactly,” Ava added. “I’m her only daughter. She owns all those companies. It’s not like she’s going to let me starve.” Chloe gave Ava a look of approval, then turned to me. “Eleanor, Ava is a good kid. You can’t let her go to some third-rate college. What if she gets bullied? Why don’t you just make her a general manager at your company? Let her start learning the ropes.” Over the years, coddled by Chloe and Ryan, Ava had become arrogant, lazy, and utterly incompetent. She didn’t even qualify for an unpaid internship at my company. But I didn’t say that. Instead, I put on a serious face. “A general manager? That’s not nearly enough. She’s my only daughter. She deserves everything I have. I’ve already made a plan. First, I’ll send her abroad to get a proper education. When she returns, I will hand over the entire company to her.” At my words, Chloe’s eyes lit up. She burst out laughing. “Yes! Exactly! A brilliant girl like Ava was born to be a CEO!” She clapped her hands. “I’ve always said it. Ava was destined for greatness. So much better than that worthless, short-lived brat of mine.” Ryan and Ava nodded enthusiastically, their faces beaming. Watching the three of them dissolve into triumphant laughter, I smiled too. They were laughing at my foolishness. I was laughing at their naivety. 3 While handling the university applications, I brought Ava to the office with me every day, teaching her the ins and outs of the business without holding anything back. The day she left for her flight, Chloe made a special trip to see her off, bringing a mountain of gifts, as if terrified Ava wouldn’t survive on her own. She fussed over her endlessly, a perfect picture of a mother’s loving concern. After Ava boarded, Chloe stood watching the plane until it was just a tiny speck in the sky. Only then did she turn away, her eyes glistening with tears. With Ava gone, Chloe’s visits became less frequent. Ryan, however, started going out more and more. He would come home looking completely drained. When I asked, he’d say he was out with friends, or that he’d joined a gym to stay in shape. When he ran out of excuses, he’d sigh dramatically. “I raised Ava myself, you know. She’s never been away from me before. I just miss her so much. If I don’t keep busy, I think I’ll go crazy.” I ignored the cloying scent of Chloe’s perfume on his collar and offered my fake comfort. “She’ll be back before you know it. Then our family can be together again.” Ryan gave me a strange, knowing smile. “Yes. Soon, our family of three will finally be reunited.” Three years later, Ava returned. Chloe, who I hadn’t seen in ages, was at our house at the crack of dawn, ready to go to the airport with us. The moment she saw Ava, Chloe burst into tears and ran to embrace her, holding her in a fierce, possessive hug. After they’d had their emotional reunion, Ava walked straight up to me. “Mom, I’m back,” she said, wasting no time. “When are you giving me the company?” I looked at her eager, impatient face and smiled faintly. “Let’s go. I’ve already called a press conference. I’m going to give you everything, right now, in front of the whole world.” 4 The press conference was a circus. The room was packed with reporters, business leaders, and the city’s elite, all gathered to witness the transfer of power at the colossal Sedgwick Corporation. Under the glare of a hundred cameras, I announced that my daughter, Ava, would be succeeding me as CEO. Then, with lawyers and journalists as my witnesses, I signed the transfer agreement, handing over every asset, every share, and every company I owned to her name. The room erupted in thunderous applause. People marveled at our deep mother-daughter bond, their eyes fixed on Ava with unconcealed envy. It was at that precise moment that Chloe and Ryan made their grand entrance, arm in arm. As a confused murmur rippled through the crowd, Chloe held up a DNA report and addressed me in a loud, clear voice. “Eleanor, I won’t lie to you anymore. Ryan and I have been in love for years. We had our daughter at the same time as you. But there was a mix-up at the hospital. Ava is our biological child. You’ve been squatting on her for twenty years. It’s time to give her back to us.” The room exploded. “Isn’t that Chloe, Eleanor’s best friend? She was sleeping with her husband and had a baby with him?” “But wait, Chloe’s baby died after a month! If they were swapped, does that mean… it was Eleanor’s biological daughter who died?” “That’s monstrous! She steals her husband, and then gets her daughter killed? And now she shows up right after Eleanor signed over her entire fortune? Is she even human?” Amid the uproar, Ryan spoke, his voice filled with self-righteous indignation. “For years, I was trapped in a loveless marriage. As a man, I tried to do the responsible thing. But night after night, I asked myself, is this the life I truly want? Eleanor provided a good life for me and Ava, but my heart has always belonged to Chloe. I’m just a man trying to follow his heart. Is that so wrong? Marriage should be about happiness, and so should divorce. I hope you can all wish us well!” He sounded like a tragic hero, a victim of circumstance finally breaking free to pursue his one true love. I ignored him, my gaze fixed on Ava. “What do you have to say about this?” Ava glanced down at the signed transfer agreement in her hands, then looked up, her expression cool. “Mom… this will be the last time I call you that. You raised me, and I appreciate that. But you’re not my real mother. Blood is thicker than water. I hope you won’t stand in the way of our family’s reunion.” Chloe smirked triumphantly. “Have some dignity, Eleanor. Just because your own defective daughter died, it doesn’t give you the right to cling to someone else’s.” Ryan tossed the divorce papers and a debit card onto the table in front of me. “Let’s get this over with while everyone is watching. There’s five thousand dollars on the card. For your troubles.” A wave of fury swept through the room. “Like father, like daughter. A whole family of vultures.” “We all know how Eleanor doted on that girl! Spoiled her rotten for twenty years, gives her a billion-dollar empire, and this is how she repays her?” “Five thousand dollars? Is he serious? That’s an insult!” “I can’t watch this. Eleanor, don’t listen to these animals!” The crowd was on my side, some even offering legal help to get my assets back. Through it all, Chloe and Ryan remained perfectly calm, as if they had prepared for any outcome. But as the room filled with righteous anger on my behalf, a quiet, chilling smile spread across my face. “Fine.” As the entire room watched in stunned silence, I signed the divorce papers. Chloe and Ryan froze, clearly not expecting me to agree so readily. They snatched up the papers, scanned them to make sure they were real, and then, satisfied, broke into wide, relieved smiles. As they basked in their victory, I spoke again. “Since you’ve given me such a wonderful surprise,” I said, my voice smooth as silk, “it’s only fair that I have a gift for you in return.” 5 “A gift? What gift?” Ryan asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. The rest of the room stared, curious. With all eyes on me, I produced an ornate mahogany box I had prepared in advance. I handed it to Ryan. “Even though Ava no longer considers me her mother,” I said solemnly, “after raising her for twenty years, she will always be my only heir. This is my family’s heirloom. Please, take it. I wish your family a lifetime of happiness together.” Ryan’s eyes widened. He hesitated for a moment before cautiously opening the box. Inside lay an antique jade ring. The crowd was baffled. “It really is the family heirloom! Has she gone completely mad? Why would she give it to these monsters?” “The shock must have broken her mind.” “Poor woman. Her husband betrayed her, her daughter isn’t hers and just stole her fortune, and her real child is dead. Who could handle that?” “Even so, she shouldn’t be rewarding them! If it were me, I’d want Chloe dead.” The audience now looked at me with a mixture of pity and contempt. Chloe began to clap slowly. “Eleanor, I always thought you were just a rich fool. But today, you’ve really impressed me. You’re not just a fool. You’re a born doormat. The most pathetic creature I have ever seen.” Ava wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I’m so glad you’re not my real mother. I would die of embarrassment.” Ryan rolled his eyes. “Being married to you, Eleanor, was the greatest shame of my life. Don’t ever speak to me again. I can’t afford the humiliation.” With that, he wrapped his arm around Chloe, took his daughter’s hand, and strode triumphantly out of the press conference. I immediately became the top trending topic online. The entire fiasco had been live-streamed. The whole country had witnessed my downfall and my bizarre reaction. “Is there something wrong with this woman’s brain?” “Her biological daughter was murdered, and she’s giving her blessing to the killers? What kind of sick person does that?!” “I have never been so frustrated in my life! How can any woman be this pathetic?” “Warning: this topic may cause aneurysms. Can we please stop promoting it?” The internet was on fire. People were either furious with me or pitied me. Some even contacted me, offering to help me capitalize on the drama with a “tell-all” livestream to recoup some of my losses. I refused them all and went home. When I arrived, Chloe was already moving her luggage in. Ryan and Ava were throwing my belongings out onto the curb like trash. Seeing me, Ryan lifted his chin, his face a mask of pure loathing. “Eleanor, this house belongs to Ava now, and we’re divorced. Take your junk and get out. Don’t interrupt our family reunion.” 6 The mask was completely off. The gentle, caring man I had known was gone, replaced by this stranger filled with a deep, simmering hatred. Ava looked down her nose at me. “To live a life as pathetic as yours… it’s truly a failure. Get out. Don’t dirty my floors.” The daughter who had once looked at me with respect now viewed me as less than dirt. I said nothing. I walked over, picked up my discarded suitcase, and left without a word. I rented a small, dilapidated apartment in a rundown part of town and began my new, solitary life. A few days later, Ryan, Chloe, and Ava showed up at my door. “Is this a place for humans? A coffin is bigger than this,” Chloe complained the moment she stepped inside. Ryan wrinkled his nose. “Eleanor, you have hands and feet. Can’t you find a job with room and board? You were once the richest woman in the country. Are you happy living in this rat hole? My bathroom is bigger than this place.” I ignored their taunts and continued eating my simple meal. Seeing my composure, Chloe smirked and pulled a photograph from her purse, shoving it in my face. “You seem to be enjoying yourself, Eleanor. I wonder if your little short-lived brat is doing as well in her grave?” The photo was of my daughter. My real daughter. She was gaunt, her tiny body covered in bruises. Tear tracks stained her hollow cheeks. She looked utterly broken. Seeing me stare at the photo, Chloe’s smirk widened. “No wonder I couldn’t stand the sight of her. She was born to die young. How worthless must a child be for God himself to strike her down in her first month? So unlucky. No one ever loved her, and she didn’t even get a funeral.” Her words were dripping with scorn and triumph, as if my daughter’s death was a joyous and deserved occasion. I remained silent, my face impassive. My lack of reaction seemed to infuriate Ryan. “You really are a piece of work, Eleanor,” he seethed. “The daughter you carried for nine months is dead, and you don’t feel a thing? And all those idiots online feel sorry for you, spamming our inboxes with hate mail. Our company’s stock has plummeted because of it. You’re the one who caused all this. You’re the one who deserves to die!”

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For three years, the mission was my life. Then I got pregnant. And that’s when the System told me it had the wrong girl. I was so grateful I could have wept. I was packed and gone in an hour. Ten minutes later, my husband, who was supposed to be in London on business, materialized in our bedroom. His eyes were wounded, his lips pressed into a thin line. “On the divorce papers, under ‘reason,’ you wrote that I’m…too rough. We can work on that. I can be gentler, Audrey. Can’t I?” I saw the flicker of something inhuman in the color of his eyes, and a sob tore from my throat. “I’ve always been afraid of snakes.” 1 On the third anniversary of my marriage to Damian, the System, long silent, suddenly reappeared. I’m so sorry, Host! I’ve just realized you’re not the protagonist! I was dabbing concealer onto my collarbones, trying to hide the faint, rosy marks he’d left, getting ready for the lecture I had to give. Hearing its voice, I shot straight up. “Are you serious?” Its tone was steeped in apology. Yes. It was a clerical error on my part. A mix-up. You’re just a… a very beautiful bystander. Damian has already met the true protagonist. I dropped to my knees on the cold marble floor and bowed my head ten times in silent, profound thanks. The System burst into digital tears. Oh no, this is a disaster! The Host has had a complete mental breakdown! “Quiet,” I told it, scrambling to the walk-in closet and digging under a stack of cashmere for the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago. Holy hell. I knew it. I always knew it. My family has been in the funeral business for generations—we craft exquisite, custom caskets. What were the odds that I’d end up married to a titan of the New York financial world? I was in a daze on my wedding day, completely bewildered. But he’d looked at me with such a convincing, deep affection in his eyes, a perfect mask of devotion. It was only recently that I learned he wasn’t human at all. He was raising livestock. And I was the prize pig. 2 The System first contacted me during my sophomore year of college. It told me I was the protagonist. I told it I was the Queen of England. It directed my attention to the man who had just dropped onto campus to give a guest lecture on market volatility: Damian Blackwood. He’s the male lead, it said. Give it some thought. He was magnetic, with a sharp intelligence that seemed to radiate from him. Men and women alike swarmed him, phones held high to snap pictures. The lecture hall was packed to the rafters. I swallowed hard. “I suppose I could make an effort.” Inside, my heart was exploding. My ancestors must have done something right to land me a catch like this. Back then, I thought I had some kind of protagonist’s halo. Winning over Damian was so suspiciously easy, it felt like one of those elaborate scams you read about online. But he was incredibly generous, and his affection never felt fake. We got married without a hitch. Aside from a certain coolness and a possessive streak, he was practically perfect. He was healthy, and he indulged my every whim. I thought it was love. It wasn’t until a year ago that I discovered I was his prey. He was feeding on me. Literally. 3 Last New Year’s Eve, he had a last-minute business trip, so I flew home to my parents. They complained I was interrupting their quiet life and sent me packing back to Damian after only two days. As I was leaving, my mother pressed a container of her homemade lasagna into my hands. “Make sure Damian eats plenty. There’s more in the freezer.” I stood on the porch, hands on my hips. “Mom, what about me?” My father chimed in. “Don’t be selfish, Audrey. Damian always lets you have the first bite of everything. You’ve put on a little weight, you know. It’s time you let him have his turn.” I pouted, dragging my suitcase back to the city in a huff. I remembered the moon was a slim crescent when I left the airport that night. By the time I walked up the long drive to our house, it was a full, luminous orb. The air was heavy and still, thick with a strange tension. And I could hear a woman’s voice from inside. I slipped in through the back garden gate. There, under the wisteria-covered trellis, stood Damian and a woman whose face was turned away from me. Her first words hit me like a physical blow. “You take so little each time,” the woman said, her voice a low purr. “Are you trying to be a hummingbird sipping nectar?” “Any more and she’d get suspicious,” Damian replied. Hearing that, a phantom ache bloomed in my wrist. I lifted my hand to the moonlight, and the two tiny red dots on my skin seemed to glow. There were identical marks on my neck. I thought back to the nights when, lost in passion, he would bite me in those tender places. I’d always thought it was just his little quirk, a secret intimacy between us. The woman laughed. “I prefer to drain my prey completely, then swallow them whole. It’s no fun relying on just one. Next time, I’ll bring you a few new toys to play with.” Huddled in the shadows, I squinted, and I could have sworn the woman’s long, dark hair was writhing. As I focused, I realized it wasn’t hair at all. It was a nest of thin, black snakes. She plucked one from her scalp and let it coil around her fingers. “Don’t forget to maintain your form, Damian,” she cooed, her hand slithering up his chest to straighten his tie. “We wouldn’t want her to find out, would we?” I dug my nails into my palms, forcing back tears, my heart hammering against my ribs. Because in the next instant, the woman’s form dissolved, melting into a colossal white python that slithered away into the darkness of the woods. 4 I kicked off my shoes and backed away on silent feet, then ran to the nearest hotel to hide and try to quiet my shaking hands. The System had once told me its mission was complete, that the protagonist and male lead would be together forever. I’d assumed it was a metaphor. That night, I realized being devoured was also a form of eternal union. A very physical one. Damian, unaware he’d been exposed, continued to play the part of the devoted husband. Thinking my appetite was off, he tried tempting me with all my favorite foods. My God, are all you monsters so considerate to your food? I refused to eat, telling him I was on a diet. He just looked at me with that soulful, adoring gaze. “Darling, you’re beautiful no matter what.” It was in those moments that I noticed it: his pupils were deeper, wider than a normal person’s. When he stared at me, his eyes held a glint of pure, ravenous hunger. I had to secretly wipe away tears. Monsters were master actors, far better than human men. After all, they were willing to put in the effort to keep their prey happy. Not like most men I knew, who were all sweet talk and empty promises, ready to run at the first sign of trouble. Damian’s performance was flawless. The kisses, the cuddles, the impeccable attention to my needs. But the more he did it, the more I thought of a cat playing with a mouse. The cat never eats it right away. It has to have its fun first. Damian was playing with me. When he noticed me pulling away, he started drugging me. My guess is that going too long without feeding caused his animal traits to surface. Twice, when I fought to stay conscious, I saw the faint shimmer of scales on his forearms in the dim light, and a wave of goosebumps washed over my skin. Under the influence of whatever he was giving me, just the sight of his face made my heart race, my blood hum, my body flush with heat. It was a path straight to ecstasy. When he bit me, I no longer felt even the slightest prick of pain, lost in a consuming, hypnotic pleasure. In the haze, I could hear his satisfied whispers. “My love, you’re so sweet.” “My love, I could just eat you all up.” I think I died a little inside each time. It’s not that I wanted to cooperate. But he had me tagged like a wild animal; no matter where I went, he always seemed to know. He was never worried I’d run. It’s just the romantic bond between a protagonist and the male lead, the System had chirped. Romantic, my ass. I was a mouse in the cat’s jaws. How could I not be terrified? 5 A year passed like that. Then the System showed up again, telling me I wasn’t the one. I knew my daily prayers to every deity I could think of had to count for something. The only complication was the unidentified species currently taking up residence in my womb. But my family had connections, people who dealt with… unusual situations. As I left, dragging my suitcase behind me, I asked the System one last time. “Once the real story starts, Damian will really forget about me? Are you sure?” Positive. One hundred percent. A sigh of relief escaped me. Once this was over, I was going to build a shrine. I was going to volunteer in the Peace Corps. I was going to go dig wells in Africa. Conveniently, Damian was in London closing a deal. He wouldn’t be back for a while. I packed a go-bag with essentials and booked the first flight to Iceland. Snakes hate the cold. Damian especially hated the cold. I hoped he’d take the hint. Just as I was about to shout “I’m finally free!” my phone rang. It was Damian. “Why is there a draft for divorce papers in your email? Did you find someone else? Who is he? I’ll kill him.” His voice grew deeper, colder with each word. I used to think he had separation anxiety, that he’d get clingy if I was away too long. Now I knew it was prey separation anxiety. He panicked if his favorite snack wasn’t within reach. He seemed to realize his mistake. “Audrey, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His voice was thick with what sounded like tears. “I was impulsive. We can talk about this. Please.” I was just wondering how he knew about the papers. I’d only sent them to Riley and my lawyer. I shot them both a quick text. A moment later, a message came back from my lawyer, Mr. Chen. My apologies, Mrs. Blackwood. I’m actually on your husband’s payroll. The retainer he offered was… substantial. I could have screamed. I decided to be cruel, to make up a reason so insulting he’d have to let me go. “You’re like a machine, all force and no finesse. Life is too short. I’m going to find some actual pleasure.” His voice was small, wounded. “I was trying to be careful. I was gentle. I even took courses… I thought you liked it.” My face burned. “I don’t want to hear it,” I snapped. “We’re done. Goodbye. I hope you find your true love.” And leave a poor human girl alone. I hung up before he could respond. Passing through the living room, I glanced at the TV, which was tuned to a nature documentary. I was suddenly reminded of the one time I’d seen Damian’s other form. His semi-transformed state. It was a full moon. I had come home unexpectedly to grab a file, and he, hearing me, had quickly locked the bedroom door. But I was fast enough to see the motion. He hadn’t used his hand. He’d hooked the door shut with his tail. A long, black tail. The memory made me sick with fear. I don’t know why I’m so terrified of snakes. It’s been with me since childhood, a primal fear that goes deeper than simple instinct. The System assured me that Damian and the real protagonist were meeting in London right now. Their romance was about to blossom. I shut off the TV and splashed some cold water on my face. Freedom. Freedom, here I come. I had just walked into the bedroom to get my passport when I heard a sound behind me. Damian, who was supposed to be an ocean away, was standing in the room. My God, I didn’t know teleportation was one of his skills. I spun around, and my eyes met his. I saw the unnatural glow in their depths, the one that only appeared when he was aroused or enraged. “I can be gentler,” he repeated, his voice a low plea. A sob escaped me as I backed away. “I’ve always been afraid of snakes.” 6 The words had barely left my lips when a small, bright green snake poked its head out from the collar of his shirt, its beady eyes fixed on me. Hearing my confession, it seemed to understand, and it quickly slithered down Damian’s arm and out of the room. The sight of its slick skin and sinuous movement sent a shriek tearing from my throat. Damian immediately slammed the door shut and, just as he always did, pulled me into his arms to comfort me. The irony was suffocating. He was the greatest threat of all. I struggled out of his embrace and retreated to the window. “Get out!” I screamed. “Both of you, get out!” The little green snake poked its head back through the crack in the door, a few blades of catnip dangling from its mouth. It chewed thoughtfully, looking utterly clueless. As the commotion in the bedroom grew, it just stared at me with wide, innocent eyes. Tears streamed down my face like a broken pearl necklace. It was terrifying enough on its own. The fact that it could understand English made it a thousand times worse. Damian, flustered, turned and hissed at the little snake, shooing it away. He still didn’t realize that my terror of him was absolute. He took a step towards me, wanting to hold me. I scrambled onto the bed and scurried to the other side of the room. He thought I was just angry about the snake. “It must have snuck in,” he explained, his voice laced with that same wounded tone. “We have catnip in the garden. I have no idea why it likes to eat that.” He closed the distance in a single stride, scooped me up, and placed me gently on the bed. Then he knelt on the floor beside it, looking up at me. I noticed his pupils flickering with the intensity of his emotions. When the sunlight hit them, they seemed to explode into a galaxy of gold. They were just like the eyes of the snakes I’d seen in documentaries. His expression softened, and he reached out to touch my face. My mind flashed with images of black scales, and a wave of revulsion washed over me. I slapped his hand away, hard. Damian’s lips trembled almost imperceptibly before he forced a placid smile. “If you don’t like it, I’ll get rid of it right now.” Fighting my fear, I shrank back on the bed, my voice hot and sharp. “It’s not that I don’t like it. I hate snakes. I despise them.” When I was little, my teacher showed our class a nature film. A snake swallowed a live mouse, its belly twitching as the mouse struggled inside. The sight made me physically sick. I had nightmares for a month. Even now, the memory makes me want to vomit. At my words, he froze. His long lashes fluttered as his gaze fell to my ankle, his face clouded with an indescribable sadness. 7 I’d twisted my ankle yesterday, and it was still slightly swollen. As he moved to touch it, I snapped, “Don’t touch me.” “Oh. Okay.” He looked lost for a moment, then stood. “I’ll go deal with the snake.” The moment he left the bedroom, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and reached for my phone to call my uncle, the one who dabbled in the occult. Then I remembered: my purse, my phone, everything was in the living room. A cold dread washed over me. I had arranged for a colleague to pick me up for a trip we were taking. A male colleague. From my office. We were friends. Damian was a jealous man. No, that wasn’t right. He used to be a jealous husband. Now he was a predator guarding his kill. He would assume someone was trying to steal his food. Just as I was about to get off the bed to retrieve my phone, Damian stormed back in, his entire aura radiating an icy fury. I used to love him. When this was all a “mission,” I even wrote a little handbook on how to please him. I knew that when he was truly angry, he never showed it. Instead, his face would relax into a calm mask, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he subtly clenched his jaw. That was when he was at his most dangerous. And then he would punish me, day or night, with a desperate, frantic passion, marking my skin with his scent and his teeth. “Want to listen?” He held up my phone. I was confused. “Listen to what?” He smiled faintly and put it on speaker. “Audrey, I’m just about to leave for your place.” It was Alistair Finch, a professor from my department. Damian walked silently towards me and sat on the edge of the bed. Alistair’s voice continued, oblivious. “So, you really went through with the divorce? It’s all so sudden. I thought you and your husband were so happy together.” I opened my mouth to answer. Damian tapped his own lips, his eyes fixed on mine. It was a terrible curse, to know your predator so intimately. His meaning was clear: if I said a word, he would kiss me into silence. I shot him a glare and stayed quiet. Alistair rambled on, expressing his sympathy, saying how a wonderful person like me deserved better. I whispered to Damian, “What’s the problem? He’s just a colleague being supportive.” He mouthed one word back: “Vulture.” Heh. For a monster, he was surprisingly well-versed in human social dynamics. The man was being perfectly normal. I finally spoke up. “Thank you for your concern, Professor Finch. I’m fine. I’m not one to dwell on things—” Before I could finish, Alistair cut in. “In that case… would it be alright if I pursued you?” Damian raised an eyebrow. I froze. “Audrey, you’re an extraordinary woman. It was inevitable that I’d be drawn to you. Please, don’t feel pressured. I just wanted you to know that there’s someone else in the world who secretly admires you.” My face was a rigid mask. Alistair sighed with relief. “You and your husband were so close before. I thought I’d never have the chance to say this. I’m glad—” Damian’s calm gaze never left mine, but across the room, an antique vase on the bookshelf suddenly exploded. I knew it was him. But he just looked at it with wide, innocent eyes and said, “Must be old.” Then, turning his attention back to the phone, he spoke directly to Alistair. “We’re still very happy together.” Hearing the crash, the professor grew concerned. “Audrey? I’m coming over.” A look of grim satisfaction crossed Damian’s face. He glanced at me, a smirk playing on his lips. “Please do.”

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I was running a fever, getting fluids from an IV drip, so I asked my sister to make dinner for my mom. When I got to her house that night, I was giving my mom a sponge bath when she spoke, her voice cold. “You’re so dramatic. If you don’t want to take care of me, just say so. You don’t have to make up excuses.” I froze. She took my silence as guilt and continued. “You’ve been like this since you were a kid. Always faking something. Always an excuse when things get hard. “Your sister and brother are so much better. They never make me worry.” I silently put the towel down, dumped the water, and walked out of the room. As I closed the door on her stunned face, I decided I was never coming back. 1 I passed my sister, Chloe, in the hallway as I arrived. She was changing her shoes, her face tight with annoyance. “Can’t you get your IV after Mom’s asleep? It’s not a big deal. I have a presentation this afternoon.” She slammed the door behind her before I could say a word. “Hannah! Get in here and get me some water! I need to be cleaned up, I feel disgusting!” My mother’s voice called from the bedroom. I dropped my bag and went to the bathroom to get the water. I could feel her bad mood the second I walked in. She was glaring at me. I was too tired to care. “Ow! You got it in my hair! Are you trying to hurt me?” “Sorry, I’ll be careful.” “Hiss! Can you close the window? The draft is freezing.” I looked at her. It was ninety-five degrees outside. The breeze was like a furnace. But I just got up and closed it. She let the silence sit for a moment before she said it. “You’re so dramatic. If you don’t want to take care of me, just say so. You don’t have to make up excuses.” I paused. “It’s not an excuse.” I wanted to say that I was exhausted. That I’d been caught in a downpour two days ago and my entire body ached. But I was too tired to even form the words. “You’ve been like this since you were a kid. Always faking. Always an excuse. “Your sister and brother are so much better. They never make me worry.” 2 The washcloth slipped from my hand and fell into the basin with a splash. “What are you doing? Was I wrong?” A few drops hit her arm, and she shrieked. I felt the tears well up and fought them back. My mother had a stroke last March. She’s been paralyzed and bedridden for over a year. In that entire time, I am the only one who has taken care of her. And I’m still not as “good” as my siblings. “Oh, fine, now you’re crying. I was just kidding. “Besides, you were always faking it. We were all supposed to go to the state fair, and suddenly you’re throwing up. We were going to go shopping, and you pretended to be asleep.” The tears finally came. The day of the fair, she had forced me to eat day-old leftovers she didn’t want to waste. I told her it smelled sour. She insisted it was fine. “It’s not going to kill you. This is good pot roast, don’t waste it.” She scraped all of it onto my plate. When my brother, Leo, tried to grab some, she smacked his hand. “Don’t eat that junk, sweetie. You can have eggs.” She made two fried eggs for him and two for Chloe. They went to the fair. I spent twelve hours with violent food poisoning, thinking I was going to die. And the shopping day? I’d been up all night with a 103-degree fever. In her memory, I was just lazy. “Are you really mad?” she asked, that familiar, condescending look on her face. I just smiled a little, pulling her nightgown straight. “When are Chloe and Leo taking their turn? We all agreed to four-month rotations.” 3 “For that? You’re going to abandon me over that? How can you be so selfish! Was I wrong? “You suddenly get a ‘fever’ and can’t come, so your sister has to be inconvenienced. Do you know how busy she is? She’s so busy at the firm she barely has time to eat!” I glanced at the two empty Grubhub containers on the dresser. A two-person order, licked clean. When I was too tired to cook and suggested takeout, she’d yell. “How do you know that food is clean? It’s poison! Is this how you take care of me?” I had to cook. Three meals a day. Always what she wanted. We were all her children. Why was I the only one? I thought about my husband and my daughter, Lily, and the looks on their faces when I left them again this morning. I was done. “I had a career, too. I quit to take care of you. I’ve done it for over a year. They’re your children, too. They need to be responsible.” Her eyes darted away. “Well, your sister and brother gave me money!” I laughed. “They each gave you $1,000. Your first hospital stay was $30,000. I paid for it.” Her face twisted in rage. “Are you asking me to pay you back? You’re throwing that $30,000 in my face? “Hannah, do you know how much I spent raising you? It was a lot more than $30,000! “You are unbelievable! Get out. Get out! I don’t have a daughter named Hannah!” “It’s just too hard to be your daughter,” I whispered. She didn’t hear me. She asked what I said. I just shook my head, my smile bitter. I picked up the basin, dumped the water in the bathroom, and walked out of the room with my purse. She stared, shocked. I closed the door. I guess she doesn’t have a daughter named Hannah anymore. 4 I drove to a mall, ordered a coffee, and texted my husband, Mark. ‘I’ll pick Lily up from school. We’re having dinner at home tonight.’ He replied instantly with a dancing emoji. ‘Thank god. I am so sick of takeout.’ He didn’t ask what happened. He knew. I went grocery shopping, got home, and started dinner. When it was time, I drove to Lily’s school. Right as I parked, Chloe called. “Did you and Mom have a fight?” “Not really.” She sighed. “Then why is she calling me, crying her eyes out?” The school bell rang. Kids spilled out of the doors. I remembered a day, years ago, when it started pouring rain. The schoolyard was full of parents with umbrellas. I ran out, searching, and saw my mom. She had two umbrellas. She handed one to Chloe and one to Leo. The three of them walked off together, leaving me behind. I tried to run after them, but the creek by the school had flooded over the bridge. I slipped and almost got swept away before a stranger pulled me out. When I got home, soaked and shivering, my mother slapped me. “What is wrong with you? I brought you an umbrella! Why are you soaking wet?” My brother piped up. “Nuh-uh, Mom. You only brought two. You forgot Hannah.” She just stared for a second, then said, “Oh.” …I wasn’t listening to Chloe anymore. I hung up and waited for Lily. That night, my family was halfway through dinner when my phone rang again. My mother. I picked it up, and her shriek pierced my ear. “You’re still not here? Are you trying to starve me? “How can you be so petty? I say one little thing and you throw a tantrum! “Hannah, I am your mother! I am allowed to criticize you!” 5 I looked at Mark and Lily. They were both staring at me. I got up and went to the patio. “I took care of you for over a year. It’s Chloe and Leo’s turn. “Mom, I am not your only child. “And you said it yourself: they’re the good ones. I’m sure they’ll be happy to step up.” I hung up and went back to the table. “Are you leaving again, Mommy?” Lily asked, her voice small. “Can you finish dinner first?” My eyes burned. I stroked her hair. “I’m not leaving, sweetie. Mommy’s staying home. I’m going to read you a story tonight.” “Yay!” She was so happy. I was supposed to read her a story, but I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. I woke up hours later in my own bed. The house was quiet. My phone said 11:00 PM. I had over a dozen missed calls. Aunts, uncles, cousins. I ignored them and rolled over, but Mark came in. “You should at least shower,” he said gently, pulling me up. I buried my face in his chest. “I’m sorry.” He stroked my hair. “It’s okay. Dinner was amazing, by the way. Your cooking has seriously improved.” I managed a weak laugh. He led me to the bathroom. When I came out, he had my fever medication and a glass of water waiting. “My fever’s gone. I don’t need it.” He just scooped me up. “I think I know if you’re better or not. Take it. Or I’m telling Lily to be your medicine-monitor tomorrow.” I grumbled, but I took the pills. As he was drying my hair, I fell asleep again. He carried me to bed. I felt him take my hand, rubbing his thumb over my palm. “You have calluses,” he whispered. I pulled my hand back and wrapped my arms around him. I wasn’t that little girl anymore, desperate for a drop of affection. I just had to admit it. She doesn’t love me. I picked up my phone, went to the family group text, and uploaded the spreadsheet of all my mother’s medical expenses. I tagged Chloe and Leo. ‘Here are Mom’s medical bills from the past year. Let’s split it three ways. The rounding is in your favor. You each owe me $10,000.’ 6 Mark, watching over my shoulder, let out a small laugh. I turned off my phone and buried my face in his chest. “What? They should pay their share.” He just held me. “Whatever makes you happy.” My nose stung. Happy. This was the happiest I’d been in a year. My phone lit up with notifications from the group text. Not from my siblings, but voice messages from my mother. ‘Why aren’t your sister and brother saying anything? They gave me money!’ ‘Hannah, you can’t treat family this way! This is blackmail!’ ‘I knew you were always a cold, heartless child!’ ‘I’m your mother! I’m sick! How dare you ask me for money!’ ‘Are you trying to kill me? Is that what you want?’ Her voice was choked with sobs. My relatives started piping up, telling me to “let it go” and “be the bigger person.” I dropped Lily at school, found a park bench, and tagged Chloe and Leo again. ‘How much did you pay? Show me the receipts. I have receipts for every single bandage and grocery run for the last 14 months. Mom has three kids, not one. Or maybe you two could just die? If you die, I promise I’ll take care of everything myself.’ My fingers were shaking, but I hit send. It felt good. I bought a popsicle and ate it in the sun. The group text lit up again. This time, it was Leo. ‘Fine. I’ll look at it tonight. But seriously, Hannah, you don’t need this money. Why are you making this so ugly? We’re family. The rich ones should just pay.’ I bit down on the popsicle. ‘The problem is I’m the one who’s rich AND doing all the work. Now it’s your turn. Good luck!’ I added a smiling emoji. My phone rang. My mother. “That thing yesterday… I was wrong, okay? Just stop harassing your brother and sister.” 7 She sounded embarrassed. I crunched on my popsicle. “I’m not harassing them. I just want my money.” “Isn’t it your duty to pay for my medical bills? Hannah, don’t be like this! Your husband makes good money! You should pay more! It’s called ‘from each according to his ability.’ Your sister has a mortgage. Your brother is still in school!” The popsicle was gone. My mouth was freezing. “I have a mortgage, too. $6,000 a month. And Leo is almost thirty. He’s not ‘in school,’ he’s ‘avoiding work.’” My brother, Leo, had been in and out of community college for eight years. He was now “full-time” studying for the GRE. He hadn’t held a job in his life and still got an allowance from my mom. I remembered when I’d just graduated, trying to find a job, and I asked my mom for $500 to cover rent. She’d immediately started crying. “I’m sick, I had to borrow money from your aunt for my co-pays… your cousin is having a baby, that’s another gift… the utilities are past due… I was going to ask you for money…” I ended up giving her the last $200 in my account. I lived on credit cards until my first paycheck. Now, my mother’s voice was sharp and righteous in my ear. “Your sister isn’t greedy like you, living in some huge house! And your brother is ambitious! You’re just jealous of your own siblings!” I laughed. “You’re right. I am. That’s why I’m suing them.”

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My parents gave my brother all three of the family properties. A week before Thanksgiving, my younger brother, Leo, called. He wanted to bring over a pie from his company’s holiday gift basket. I said no. I tried to keep my voice steady, but I refused everything he offered. He was confused. “Chloe, what’s the deal? I gave you one last year. Why the change of heart?” Leo couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t just let things be, why I had to rock the boat and make Mom and Dad upset. I didn’t answer him. For years, family togetherness felt like a Thanksgiving pie that was sickeningly sweet. And I was always the one who had to break off a piece and swallow my half, bitterness and all. 1 After I’d turned down his company’s free pecan pie for the third time on the phone, he showed up at my apartment building anyway. My phone buzzed. A text from Leo. “Hey, you home? I’m downstairs with the pie.” As if he knew I was about to say no again, he followed up with a barrage of texts: “Mom and Dad are getting older, they can’t handle all this sugar.” “Jessica’s on a health kick, so it’ll just sit around at my place.” “And it’s that fancy one from the downtown bakery you love. You said it was your favorite last year.” I stood at my living room window, watching two autumn leaves detach from a branch. A gust of wind blew them in opposite directions. “Just take it back, Leo. I told you, I don’t want it.” I texted back. “Chloe, what is going on with you? Just take it. If I go home empty-handed, Dad’s going to say I don’t care about my big sister.” Even from five floors up, I could see my brother—all six feet of him—pacing on the sidewalk like a kid waiting to be picked up from school. He looked anxious. It reminded me of the year he graduated high school. That was the year Dad got hurt at the construction site and Mom had a major health scare. We didn’t have the money to send him to the state university he’d gotten into. I quietly gave up my spot in a fully-funded grad program and got a job right after graduation. Leo had paced outside my bedroom door back then, too. “Chloe, you can’t do this. Your major is one of those where you need an advanced degree to get a good job, right?” My mom, who couldn’t stand to see her son distressed, barged into my room. “You tell your father’s side of the family that you chose to do this,” she’d ordered. “I don’t want them thinking we sacrificed our daughter just to pay the bills.” Leo, bless his heart, stood up for me like he always did. “Mom, lay off. She’s already been sending me money from her part-time jobs. Giving up on her dream is hard enough.” Seeing him being so sweet made me swallow the bitterness I felt. I forced a smile. “Don’t overthink it. That’s what big sisters are for, right?” I told myself it was okay. So Mom played favorites a little. But Dad always said he’d work his fingers to the bone to make sure I finished college. And Leo and I had been close since we were kids. We were a happy family. I had my little room in their house, a place I dreamed of whenever I was homesick at college. But the three properties—all of them—shattered that balance I’d so carefully maintained. Suddenly, I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. I couldn’t pretend we were still that close-knit family. 2 I dug in my heels. Leo, who was usually so easygoing, finally got frustrated. “Fine. I’m texting Mark. I’ll leave it with the doorman.” He left. When my husband, Mark, came home, he was carrying the festive-looking bakery box. The words “Happy Thanksgiving” printed on the side felt like a cruel joke. He saw my red-rimmed eyes, didn’t say a word, just put on an apron and went into the kitchen to make my favorite dinner: seared salmon with roasted asparagus and lemon pasta. I could barely manage a few bites. There was a giant lump in my throat. Mark didn’t push. He just covered the leftovers and put them in the fridge. “It’ll be here if you get hungry later.” I stared out the window at the crisp, bright moon and felt a chill that had nothing to do with the November air. What was I so upset about, really? Everything I did for them, I did willingly. After Dad’s accident, his old injuries flared up constantly, and he couldn’t work anymore. After Mom’s surgery, her back was never the same; she was always crying about her bad luck. Whenever they needed money for a hospital stay, or when they started collecting cans to help with Leo’s tuition, I stepped in. I was used to giving without expecting anything in return. When Mark and I got married, his parents gave us a generous check for eighteen thousand dollars to help us get started. My mom, who was usually so domineering, sat me down, her voice uncharacteristically soft, and asked if they could use it to pay off my dad’s lingering medical debts. My father, who had always been my rock, looked at me with such shame in his eyes, his shoulders slumped. I held back tears and talked it over with Mark. We gave them all of it. Thankfully, Leo made us proud. He didn’t have a fancy degree, but he landed a stable job right out of college and married Jessica, a wonderful girl from a well-off family. My parents sold our childhood home and used the money, plus their savings, to buy Leo and Jessica a new condo. I didn’t complain. I even chipped in five thousand dollars for their closing costs. Leo was grateful. He took on the responsibility of looking after our parents. He always sent me thoughtful gifts for my birthday and Christmas. They weren’t expensive, but it was the thought that counted. But now, with the reality of the three properties—the two rentals and my grandparents’ old house—all signed over to Leo, I woke up. I realized I couldn’t let myself be pacified by a pecan pie anymore. 3 That night, I tossed and turned. I remembered when the news came that our old neighborhood was being bought out by developers. My mom, who usually called me for the smallest things, suddenly became a master of bureaucracy, spending days in the city planning office, getting all the transfer paperwork done. My dad, who always preached that “you’re both my kids,” signed the agreement without a moment’s hesitation, putting Leo’s name on every single line. They never even thought about telling me. I found out by accident, when Jessica let it slip during a family dinner. The shock and hurt on my face must have been obvious. It felt like my own family had stabbed me in the heart. Jessica knew she’d messed up and kept apologizing. Leo pulled her into the other room to calm her down. What did my mom say then? I remember it clearly. “Chloe, you’re a married woman now. You have your own family with Mark. It’s tradition that the family assets stay with the son.” “Your brother is about to have a baby,” she continued. “That child will need a good school, a future. I have to plan for that.” I looked at my dad, pleadingly. Just a month before, he had fallen and broken his hip. Leo was swamped at work, trying to get a promotion. Jessica was pregnant, and Mom was hovering over her 24/7. It was me who stayed at the hospital day and night, who dealt with the doctors, who paid all the bills. But in that moment, my dad just lit a cigarette and took a long drag. “Chloe, you’re the successful one in this family,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “You already bought your own place. You’ll have no problem buying another one.” I don’t even remember how I walked out of their house that day. Leo ran after me. “Chloe, don’t be upset. Mom and Dad must have had their reasons for not telling you. But listen, no matter what, wherever I am, you always have a home with us.” A dull knife hurts the most. Now I understood what that meant. 4 The evening before Thanksgiving, my phone rang. It was Leo. “Hey, so, same plan as usual? Dinner at Mom and Dad’s tomorrow around noon?” I was about to say no when my mom snatched the phone. “Chloe, are you done with this childish tantrum? It’s a holiday!” she snapped. “Your cousins dropped off pies three days ago! Your brother is more thoughtful than you are—the first thing he did when he got his gift basket was think of you. He’s about to become a father, and you, his sister, haven’t shown an ounce of interest.” Mark and I both get nice holiday bonuses from our jobs. In past years, I’d take the gift cards and stock my parents’ pantry with organic groceries and fancy olive oil. I’d go to the specialty market and buy a case of craft beer for Leo and a box of artisanal cheeses for Jessica and drop them off. But this year… I was just so tired. A deep, bone-weary exhaustion had settled over me. My mother-in-law, who has been a saint helping us with our daughter ever since my father-in-law passed, always tells me to save things for my own family, that she doesn’t need much. This year, I had Mark take everything to her house. She kept saying, “Oh, this is too much, we’ll never eat all this!” But the genuine gratitude in her eyes didn’t lie. It turns out, everyone likes to feel chosen. I was the fool for listening to my mother for so long, for believing that my parents’ house was my only true home. The slap of reality stung. So, I took a breath and said to my mom, “Mom, when you gave the houses to Leo, you told me that a married daughter has her own family. I think you were right. So from now on, I need to focus on my husband’s family. The holiday bonus, the gifts, I gave them all to Mark’s mom this year. She’s worked so hard helping us with our daughter. Tomorrow, I’m taking her for a spa day to thank her. So we won’t be coming over.” The other end of the line was dead silent. Feeling a sudden drain of energy, I hung up. 5 A second later, my phone screen lit up. It was a flood of messages from Leo. “Chloe, Mom’s been helping Jessica so much with the pregnancy, she’s so stressed her blood pressure is through the roof. Did you have to provoke her?” “You know Mom has always been a little insecure that Mark’s mom was a teacher with a good pension. Why would you rub it in her face that you’re doing nice things for her?” “It’s just a few houses! Don’t you think they had their reasons for the decision? Are you really going to cut us all off over this?” I felt too exhausted to even argue. I typed back one sentence. “Leo, stop. I don’t want to hear a single word of it.” I didn’t know what else to say. Mark came over and handed me a glass of warm milk. “Drink this. Get some sleep tonight. I have a feeling you’re going to need your strength for the battle ahead.” “A battle? Don’t be so dramatic.” He gave me a wry smile. “Do you remember our wedding day?” I did. I remembered my mother practically on her knees, begging me to let them keep the eighteen-thousand-dollar wedding gift from his parents. I hadn’t wanted to, but she brought in an army of relatives to pressure me. My own mother-in-law, not wanting to see me torn, told Mark to respect my decision. I glanced at my phone. The screen lit up again. And again. Looking at the string of angry, accusatory messages, you’d think I’d just committed a federal crime.

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At our high school reunion, Rosalind, the former prom queen, posed a question to the women at our table. “After ten years of marriage, what would you do if you found out your husband was cheating?” Most of the women immediately said, “Divorce him!” Then, Rosalind’s gaze fell on me. I laughed and declared, “The only way I’m leaving my marriage is in a black dress.” Everyone chuckled at my dark humor, but Rosalind’s face went pale, a strange look clouding her eyes. … Seven days earlier, Rosalind had called me to organize this reunion. It had been nearly twenty years since we’d graduated, and the thought of seeing everyone again filled me with a giddy excitement. I have a problem: when I get excited, I can’t sleep. The first night, I tossed and turned, unable to settle down. My husband, Eason, drowsily wrapped an arm around me. “What’s wrong, honey?” “Rosalind is planning a high school reunion. I’m just too excited to sleep.” “You’re silly,” he murmured, gently patting my back like he was soothing our daughter. “Let’s count sheep together.” Under his calming touch, I finally drifted off. It’s no exaggeration to say that my husband was the gentlest, most understanding man in the world. Which is why, at the reunion, when Rosalind asked her question and I made my bold declaration, I felt completely secure. “The only way I’m leaving my marriage is in a black dress.” Everyone laughed. Everyone except Rosalind. I thought it was just a bit of party chatter. I had absolute faith in Eason. But for the rest of the night, I felt Rosalind’s eyes on me. Whenever I tried to meet her gaze, she would quickly look away. Later, I cornered her in the restroom. “Rosalind, we’ve known each other for years. If you have something to say, just say it.” She forced a laugh and denied anything was wrong, but I saw right through it. “Spit it out.” Her eyes met mine, her expression deadly serious. “You have to promise me you’ll stay calm.” A knot of dread tightened in my stomach, but I took a deep breath and nodded. Rosalind took out her phone and opened her photo gallery. The world exploded. It was like a landmine had gone off in my head. There were dozens of photos of Eason with different women. I’m not the jealous type; a simple group photo wouldn’t have bothered me. But these were different. The way he held them, the intimate poses—more intimate than any he ever struck with me—and the look in his eyes… it was pure, unadulterated lust. “These… who are…?” Seeing my confusion, Rosalind swiped to another picture with a bitter smile. “Look at this one.” It was a photo of her and Eason. Together. Rage erupted in my chest. The mistress was flaunting it right in my face. “He told me he was single!” Rosalind said quickly. “That bastard lied to me!” “Why should I believe you?” She showed me their chat history. It was a nauseating mix of sappy declarations, explicit flirtation, and financial transactions. “He said he was unattached. He took over a hundred thousand dollars from me, and I was living in a fantasy, dreaming of marrying him and having his kids. Then, one day, Sienna sent me a picture of his family—a picture of him with you—and I realized it was all a lie.” “Sienna? Who’s Sienna?” My head was spinning. “Another woman he scammed.” Anger, confusion… I hadn’t even processed Rosalind, and now there was a Sienna. I left the reunion without saying goodbye. I had to go home. I had to confront Eason. What had he been doing behind my back? How many women were there? Rosalind chased after me. “Cathy, don’t do anything reckless!” Reckless? If she weren’t an old classmate, I would have slapped her across the face. “Cathy!” She grabbed my arm. I violently shook her off. “Get your hands off me! Don’t you dare touch me!” Rosalind’s eyes immediately filled with tears. Playing the victim now, you hypocrite? I spat on the ground and jumped into a taxi, leaving her standing there. As the cab sped away, my mind raced. How should I confront him? How could I possibly unleash the hurricane of fury building inside me? Then, my phone rang. It was Eason. How dare that monster call me? I answered, ready to scream, but a soft voice came through the speaker. “Mommy, when are you coming home? I miss you.” My throat tightened, and tears burned my eyes. After ten years of marriage, I had finally been blessed with my daughter. My five-year-old Lily was my entire world. If I blew up my marriage, what would happen to her? If Eason was prepared for this, he could easily fight me for custody and win. My own words from earlier echoed in my mind. The only way I’m leaving my marriage is in a black dress. I swallowed the tears, my resolve hardening into something cold and sharp. I wouldn’t let Eason just walk away. For a monster like him, the only destination was hell. When I got home, Eason was as attentive as ever. He had my slippers ready and was drawing me a bath. On any other day, I would have melted and rewarded him with a kiss. Now, the sight of him made me want to vomit. He was a beautiful facade hiding a rotten core. “Honey, did you have too much to drink?” he asked, noticing my expression. He didn’t suspect a thing. To him, my forthright personality had always been as transparent as glass. His ability to be a philanderer on the streets and a saint in the home proved he was light-years ahead of me in the art of deception. No woman who discovers her husband’s betrayal can remain calm. It’s impossible. But what could I do? The only thing I could do was force myself to think clearly. I had already lost so much. I couldn’t afford to lose everything. I played along with his assumption, pretending to be drunk. I stumbled into the bathroom and made loud retching noises, letting the tears I’d been holding back finally stream down my face. “I need to shower,” I mumbled, pushing him out and locking the door. I turned on the water and sobbed until I was empty. Later, I curled up in bed with Lily and held her until she fell asleep. Eason quietly opened the door, tucked us in, and left as silently as he came. Everything had happened so fast. One moment, I was certain he was cheating. The next, seeing his familiar tenderness, a sliver of doubt crept in. Could the photos be fake? Rosalind and I hadn’t seen each other in over a decade. Why would she go to the trouble of organizing a reunion just to tell me she was sleeping with my husband? It felt like she had another motive. Was she trying to drive me away so she could take my place? It was certainly possible. Rosalind called again, saying she wanted to talk. “I don’t want to talk,” I said coldly. “If you think you can destroy my marriage with a few photos, you’ve picked the wrong person.” There was a long silence before she hung up. I sneered. Did she think her pretty face gave her a license to do whatever she wanted? Beauty is not a substitute for brains. But she didn’t give up. The next day, she showed up at my office. “Cathy!” she said, pulling me into her car before I could protest. “What the hell do you want?” I snapped. “Is wrecking my family some kind of game to you?” She didn’t say a word, just drove. We ended up in a part of town I’d never been to, a place throbbing with neon lights and pulsing music. Since getting married and especially since having Lily, my world had shrunk to a simple triangle: the office, home, and her preschool. I believed a married woman’s place was as a devoted wife and mother. Rosalind, clearly a regular here, led me to a discreet corner booth. “There’s going to be a show,” she said. “I need you to watch it, and I need you to stay calm.” It was a show, all right. I watched with my own eyes as Eason walked in with another woman, his hands all over her, their every move oozing with a practiced intimacy. “That’s Sienna,” Rosalind whispered, her eyes fixed on my face. “As far as we can tell, besides you, his wife, he has two other girlfriends: me and her.” Watching Eason’s sleazy performance, my mind flashed back to the gentle, caring man at home. The confusion was overwhelming. Should I believe Rosalind, or should I believe Eason was innocent? Ultimately, the three of us sat down together. Me, Cathy, Eason’s wife and a senior manager at a private firm. Rosalind, the owner of a chain of beauty salons, scammed out of her heart, her body, and her money. And Sienna, a wealthy heiress with two private hospitals in her family, who had suffered the same fate as Rosalind. The silence was thick with tension. Rosalind asked me again what I planned to do. As Eason’s legal wife, if I chose to forgive him, they would both walk away and let me try to save my marriage. “We were classmates, Cathy,” Rosalind said earnestly. “I want what’s best for you. Otherwise, I would have never told you any of this.” A bitter taste filled my mouth. My marriage needed a third party to salvage it. “We can back off,” Sienna said, her voice sharp. “But can you guarantee that bastard will change his ways and become a faithful husband?” Who could guarantee that? No one. And even if I saved this marriage, could I ever truly trust him again? Could I sleep next to a man whose body and soul were so thoroughly tainted? I couldn’t. But if I chose divorce, what would I be left with? The company I worked for—the company I had poured my heart and soul into for a decade—was legally registered under his aunt’s name. Eason was the silent owner. I had worked tirelessly, thinking I was building our future, only to realize he had planned this from the start, leaving me with nothing. Our house was in both our names, but what good was half a house? A divorce would leave me unemployed and homeless; Eason had the capital to easily buy out my half. Worst of all, I could lose Lily, the daughter I nearly died to bring into this world. A divorce would leave me with absolutely nothing. I sat in silence, the weight of my failure crushing me. Rosalind and Sienna were smart; they understood my predicament. Rosalind gently took my hand. “Cathy, don’t worry. We’re going to teach that bastard a lesson. Together.” My demand wasn’t greedy. I just wanted what was rightfully mine: a share of the profits I had generated for the company over the past ten years. Sienna scoffed. “Is that all? If it were me, I’d take back ten times what he stole.” I managed a weak smile. That was the difference between being married and just dating. For them, a breakup was the end of it. For me, I had Lily to consider. I couldn’t afford to burn everything to the ground and risk losing her in the process. They say three women are a drama waiting to happen. Our little play was about to begin. The company’s legal owner was Eason’s aunt. That meant in a divorce, I had no claim to it. But I had made that company millions, and I wasn’t walking away empty-handed. As the de facto boss, I knew every corner of the business, especially its finances. The first step was to not arouse Eason’s suspicion. So, I had Rosalind make an anonymous tip to the tax authorities, reporting the company for tax evasion. Soon enough, the auditors showed up.

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It was supposed to be my wedding day, but my fiancé, Cade, stood in front of the limousine, blocking my way. “I’m not here for you today.” I froze, completely lost, as his groomsmen erupted in laughter behind him. “Game over, boys,” Cade announced, a triumphant smirk on his face. “I won.” “Damn, Cade, you actually did it. You tamed the ice queen.” “Pay up,” Cade said to his friends. “Bet money and wedding gifts. I want every cent.” Then, my sister, Lily, appeared. She was wearing a wedding gown identical to mine. Cade took her hand and helped her into the limousine. The car sped away. I tried to run after it, but my family swarmed around me, forming a human cage. My brother, a top-tier actor, blocked my path. “Cade is in love with Lily. He’s marrying her. This is their wedding day, so you will behave.” My mother, a famous actress, clasped my hand. “Audrey, darling, your sister suffers from severe depression. She’s suicidal. Cade is the only one who can keep her stable. Just… let her have this.” My father, a billionaire tycoon, just snorted. “You’ve already had eighteen years of the life that should have been hers. Letting her have one man is the least you can do. It’s a bargain, really.” Then, they had their security drag me back to the house and lock me inside to prevent me from causing a scene at the hotel. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. In fact, I could barely contain the smile spreading across my face. 1 As the bodyguards shoved me into the mansion, a calm, digital voice echoed in my mind. Host, do you confirm you wish to exit this world via death? “Confirm.” Please select your method of death. “I want to leap from a building. I want to die right in front of Cade and the Blackwood family. I want to scar them for life.” Generating method of death… Method confirmed. Upon successful death, Host will be rewarded with one hundred million dollars. This selection cannot be changed. “Confirm.” This was my twenty-first year in this world, and the third year since Lily, the real heiress, had been found. I’m a transmigrator. In this life, I was the “fake” daughter of a billionaire, swapped at birth with my “sister,” Lily. I was an orphan in my previous life, so when I first arrived here, I thought I’d won the lottery. I had a loving mother and father, and a brother who protected me from everything. But that all shattered on my eighteenth birthday, the day my father brought Lily home. Now, every door and window in the mansion was locked. They’d posted guards to watch me. “Miss Audrey,” the housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, sneered, brandishing a baseball bat. “You’d best stay put. For your own good.” Her expression was menacing, like a wolf guarding a hen house. I took two steps toward the door, and a searing pain exploded in my leg as she swung the bat. I collapsed, crying out. “Miss Lily gave me specific instructions,” she said, looming over me. “If you misbehave, I am to break your legs.” Suddenly, she screamed at the top of her lungs. “She’s trying to escape! She’s going to ruin the wedding! Stop her!” Several burly security guards immediately advanced on me, clubs in hand. 2 I scrambled backward in terror. “What are you doing? I’m not running! You can’t just attack me!” “Oh, we know what you’re thinking, Miss Audrey,” one of them growled. “Even if you’re not running now, you will be later.” “It’s easier to just break your legs now,” Mrs. Gable added with a vicious smile. “That way, we know you won’t be crashing Miss Lily’s big day.” “My parents will hear about this!” I yelled, my voice shaking. “And what will they do?” she laughed. “I’ll just tell them you were trying to escape and fell from the second-story window. They won’t lift a finger.” “Do it!” They swarmed me, their clubs rising and falling. I heard the sickening crack of my own bones. My white wedding dress blossomed with crimson, a horrifying sight. But they didn’t stop. It was as if their goal wasn’t just to stop me, but to kill me. “If I die here today, the Blackwoods will destroy you!” I gasped. “You still think you’re their precious daughter?” Mrs. Gable spat. “You’re just some stray they took in by mistake! They wanted to throw you out the second they found Miss Lily. It was your brother who begged them to keep you. Said they could just treat you like a stray dog!” “Trying to steal Miss Lily’s fiancé? You don’t deserve to live!” A horrifying realization dawned on me, and I started to laugh, a broken, hysterical sound. “So this isn’t about the wedding. You’re trying to murder me.” “An accidental fall during an escape attempt… entirely plausible, don’t you think, Miss Audrey?” Panic seized me. I could die, but not like this. This wasn’t the death I had chosen. What if the system didn’t count it? What if I couldn’t go home? Fueled by a surge of adrenaline, I lunged forward, tackling the guard in front of me. I crashed into a small altar where my mother had lit a candle for Lily’s well-being. The candle tipped over, its flame instantly catching on the heavy drapery. The room went up in flames. “You little bitch! You set the house on fire!” In the chaos, I dragged my shattered body out of the mansion. The estate was covered in security cameras; they wouldn’t dare follow me past the gates. I stumbled onto the main road, a gruesome sight in my blood-soaked wedding dress, dragging my broken leg. I tried to hail a cab, but car after car swerved around me, the drivers horrified. Finally, a young woman pulled over, her eyes wide with concern. “Oh my god, do you need help?” I begged her to take me to the hotel. The hotel was owned by my father; the staff all knew me. The security guards and front desk clerks stared in shock but didn’t dare stop me. When I reached the entrance to the grand ballroom, my family was there, greeting guests with brilliant, happy smiles. The moment they saw me, those smiles froze and shattered. 3 This was the wedding of the year, crawling with reporters. The second they saw me, a frenzy of camera flashes blinded me. My brother stalked toward me. “What are you doing here?” he hissed. “Useless guards, can’t even watch one girl! Look at you! Did you do this to yourself just to ruin this for us? Is this how desperate you are for a headline?” My mother rushed over, her face a mask of worry. “Audrey, what happened? Is that… is that blood on your dress?” “Yes, it’s blood. My blood. Lily’s people beat me half to death. I barely escaped.” My father slapped me, hard. The taste of copper filled my mouth. “You shameless brat! You just can’t stand to see your sister happy, can you?” My mother grabbed my arm. “Audrey, you said Lily’s people did this?” My brother pulled her away. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s paint. She’s always been a drama queen, pulling stunts for the cameras!” He seized my wrist and started to drag me away. I stumbled and fell. As I hit the marble floor, my broken leg was exposed to everyone. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. The bone of my shin had pierced the skin, a jagged white shard against the bloodied flesh. I had dragged myself here on that leg. A normal person would have passed out from the pain. But the system, in its mercy, had activated a pain-dampening protocol. I felt nothing. My mother covered her mouth, tears streaming down her face. “Audrey… oh god, you’re so badly hurt!” For a second, I saw a flicker of pity in my father’s eyes. “How did you let this happen to yourself?” Even my brother, who had been spitting venom just moments before, was speechless. Cade pushed through the crowd and saw me lying there. “Audrey?” I lifted my blood-streaked face to look at him. “Perfect timing. I have a few questions for you.” Lily arrived, a vision of angelic purity in her white gown, her face stained with tears. “Audrey, this is the most important day of my life. Must you destroy it?” she sobbed, her body trembling. “Why do you hate me so much? You’ve already stolen everything that was mine! All I wanted was Cade! Can’t you just let us be happy?” My brother reached for me. “I’ll take you to the hospital.” “Brother!” Lily’s voice was a desperate wail. “The ceremony is about to start! You’re leaving?” She looked at me, her eyes full of poison. “This is just one of her tricks. Do you really believe I would do this to my own sister?” My brother dropped my hand as if it were on fire. “Audrey, you are sick,” he spat. “To frame your own sister, you would mutilate yourself like this. Go to the hospital on your own. And don’t worry, the Blackwood family has no use for a cripple. We’ll pay for the best doctors to fix your leg.” I knew then that nothing I could say would matter. I gritted my teeth and pulled myself to my feet. “I just have a few things to say. Then I’ll go.” My eyes found Cade. “Our entire relationship… it was just a bet with your friends, wasn’t it? You never had any real feelings for me. Yes or no?”

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1 The gala for my father’s 70th birthday had just ended when my wife’s frantic call cut through the night. “Adrian, it’s a disaster! The investors vanished with the money. I have to leave the country—don’t try to contact me!” Wide awake, I told her to stay safe, then hung up and immediately froze all her bank accounts. The only investor was my father, who lay drunk in the next room. What “bankruptcy” was she really running from? I took the next flight out and found her not in hiding, but glowing in a wedding gown at a five-star resort—arm in arm with her “best friend” Leo. She rushed over in panic as I entered. “Adrian, I can explain! Leo’s dying father just wanted to see him married. This is all an act.” I laughed coldly and slapped her. The sound echoed in the sudden hush. “An act? Then let me give you a wedding gift and help you keep up the show.” Leo stood flushed and trembling in his tuxedo, as if I were the one ruining his big day. “Mr. Cole,” he said, his voice dripping with false pity. “I know you’ve always struggled with Vivian’s unrequited love, and that it’s led to… certain delusions. I sympathize, truly. But this is my wedding day. Must you be so aggressive? You can’t force these things.” Vivian chimed in, her tone placating. “Whatever it is, we can talk about it after the ceremony. Please, Adrian. Don’t make a scene.” Even now, all she could think about was continuing with the wedding. I laughed again, a raw, humorless sound. My eyes fell on the watch gleaming on Leo’s wrist. It was the million-dollar Patek Philippe I had lost months ago. “No wonder you paid him a thirty-thousand-dollar-a-month salary. The two of you have been at this for a while, haven’t you?” My voice dripped with scorn. “And my watch… I bet you stole that for him too.” I sized Leo up. “One of you has the gall to steal, the other has the gall to wear it. You two really are a match made in hell.” The crowd erupted in laughter, phones held high to capture the drama. Leo stomped his foot in a theatrical fit of rage, then pulled a document from his jacket. “Open your eyes and look!” he shouted, brandishing a marriage certificate. “Vivian and I are legally married!” He pointed a triumphant finger at me. “He’s sick. He gets obsessed with any woman who shows him the slightest kindness. My wife is just his latest fixation.” The mood of the crowd shifted. A few people shot me menacing looks. “That desperate, huh? She’s a married woman. Maybe you should come up to my room instead…” one man slurred, stepping forward to grab me. I snatched a wine bottle from a nearby table and brandished it, forcing him back. I pointed the bottle at Vivian, my voice low and dangerous. “I’ll give you one last chance. Me, or him. Who is your husband?” Vivian’s eyes flickered, and her answer was a stake through my heart. “My only husband is Leo.” Her voice turned to ice. “Now, apologize to him, or I’ll have you committed to a psychiatric hospital.” Leo’s hand tightened around Vivian’s, his face a mask of smug victory. “Darling, don’t waste your breath on a lunatic. He’s not worth it.” Seeing their vile, triumphant faces, something inside me snapped. I raised the bottle, ready to bring it crashing down on them. If I was going to hell, I was dragging them with me. But Vivian was faster. She kicked out, her heel grinding into the back of my hand with a sickening crunch. A wave of white-hot agony shot up my arm, stealing my breath. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. “Leo is my life,” she snarled, her eyes filled with a terrifying hatred. “You hurt him, and I will make you pay a hundred times over!” Leo, ever the actor, pretended to pull her back. “Darling, it’s our wedding day. It would be bad luck if something happened. Just make him get on his knees and apologize.” Vivian nodded, her tone one of magnanimous charity. “You heard him. Get on your knees and beg for forgiveness. Otherwise, I’m making the call to the asylum right now.” The raw disgust in her eyes was like a physical blow. My first love. Seven years of my life. All of it, meaningless. I pulled out my phone and opened the photo gallery, displaying our own marriage certificate, our wedding photos. “This is proof of our marriage. I’m reporting you for bigamy!” In this country, bigamy meant prison time. Doubt flickered across the faces in the crowd. “That man’s certificate is dated seven years ago. Were these two really lying?” “If they broke the law, they should be punished!” Leo leaned in close, his voice a triumphant whisper. “You still don’t get it, do you? Your marriage certificate with Vivian is a fake. She promised me she would only ever love me. You were never worthy of marrying her.” The world tilted on its axis. The last seven years of my life, my devotion, my love—it was all a joke. A bitter, hollow laugh escaped me, my eyes burning with unshed tears. I raised a trembling hand towards him, but before I could touch him, he collapsed to the ground, clutching his chest. “Vivian!” he gasped. “My heart… I think I’m dying…” Before I could process his words, a sharp sting exploded across my face. Vivian had slapped me so hard my ears rang, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth. She knelt beside Leo, cradling him, her eyes spitting venom at me. “You’ve given him a heart attack with your rage! If anything happens to him, I’ll make you pay with your life!” I tried to speak, but my tongue was thick with bitterness. “Get me to a hospital!” Leo wailed. “I can feel my heart giving out!” Vivian forgot about me entirely, shouting for someone to help carry Leo to a car. My vision swam, and the world went black. I woke up in a hospital bed. An IV was in my arm, but it wasn’t dripping fluid in; it was drawing blood out. I tried to struggle, but I was completely drained of strength. Vivian stood over me, her expression a mask of cold contempt. “Leo is in surgery. He needs a transfusion, and you happen to be a match. Consider this your apology.” “I didn’t push him!” I roared, a fresh wave of adrenaline cutting through the haze. She grabbed my wrist, her fingers digging into my flesh. “He waited seven years for me. I won’t let anything happen to him. If it does, I swear, I will burn your body to ash.” She squeezed until I was gasping for air before finally letting go, leaving me in a sea of helpless despair. The blood loss pulled me back under. I drifted back to consciousness to the sound of Leo’s voice. He was on the phone. “The arrangements with the asylum are made. The second Adrian Cole wakes up, have him transferred… I want him to spend the rest of his life in there.” He saw my eyes were open, hung up, and walked over to my bed. He poured a glass of hot water and deliberately spilled it onto my arm. “This is what you get for crossing me,” he hissed. Pain seared my skin. I trembled, biting my lip to keep from screaming. “You were faking it,” I rasped. He laughed, not even bothering to deny it. “So what if I was? Vivian only believes me.” He placed a hand over his heart. “This heart of mine could have been perfectly healthy. But I had an unfortunate little fall, you see. Made a pre-existing condition much worse. Vivian feels so guilty about it. And you, my friend, are the perfect scapegoat.” “You’re pathetic!” I choked out, shaking with rage. His smile turned predatory. “And once you’re out of the picture, all your assets will be mine.” A cold sweat broke out across my back. He wasn’t going to let me leave this hospital alive. With a surge of desperation, I threw myself out of bed, shoving him aside and stumbling for the door. But my body betrayed me. After only a few steps, my legs gave out, and I collapsed. Leo followed at a leisurely pace and kicked me hard in the ribs. “Run,” he taunted, seeing I couldn’t even get up. “I thought you were so tough.” “Just getting rid of you would be too easy. Let’s play a game. I hear there’s a local mercenary outfit that’s always looking for able-bodied labor. Why don’t we drop you off there?” I scrambled backward in horror. “You can’t. My father is—” He grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking my head back, and slapped me twice across the face. “Your family is a bunch of ungrateful snobs! Every time Vivian brought them gifts, they looked down on her. If she hadn’t been propping up your family all these years, do you think you could have lived the life of a rich kid?” My heart sank. Vivian had been a poor girl from the wrong side of the tracks when we met. I used my own savings to help her start her business. My family never approved of our marriage, so Vivian rarely interacted with them. The few times she did visit, she brought nothing more than a fruit basket. The idea that she “propped us up” was a laughable fantasy. Without my father secretly investing in her company, she never would have gone public in seven years. His bodyguards dragged me out and threw me into a waiting van. We drove to a desolate, run-down compound, where he shoved me out in front of a group of hulking, leering men. He held up his phone. “Whoever puts on the best show gets fifty grand,” he announced to the thugs, who began cracking their knuckles and advancing on me. They surrounded me, their fists flying. I grabbed a rock, hurled it at one of them, and screamed at Leo, “You will regret this!” He was unfazed. He started a video call with Vivian. My battered, helpless form on his screen sent her into peals of delighted laughter. “Leo, you’re too kind,” she chirped. “He hurt you. He should be in prison.” “He was with you for a while, Vivian,” Leo sighed dramatically. “I’m trying to be merciful. If he would just get on his knees and admit he was wrong, I wouldn’t have to do this.” “He’s a monster,” Vivian spat. “I’ve had enough of him. Leo, we’ll have to redo our wedding, of course.” They chattered on, completely ignoring my existence. My last sliver of hope died. Leo ended the call. “What are you waiting for?” he barked at the men. “Get to it, or you won’t see a dime!” I surged forward with my remaining strength, tackling Leo to the ground and closing my hands around his throat. “If I die, I’m taking you with me!” He panicked, choking and screaming for help. Suddenly, Vivian’s furious voice cut through the air. “Adrian Cole, you’re dead!” She had followed us. She scooped up a heavy stone and brought it down on the back of my head. The world exploded in a flash of pain. She kicked me off Leo, her eyes blazing with hatred. “First you hurt him, now you try to kill him? This time, I’m not holding back!” She barked orders at her bodyguards. “Get more men! And call the local media! Today, Adrian Cole’s reputation dies with him!” Ignoring the blinding pain in my head, I tried to crawl away, but I was no match for them. They dragged me back and forced me to my knees in front of Vivian and Leo. She fussed over Leo, carefully wiping dust from his suit with a sanitized cloth, refusing to even look at me. “Don’t worry, darling,” she cooed. “I’ll make him pay.” Leo clutched her hand. “I don’t blame him. As long as I’m with you, I can endure anything.” I spat at him in disgust. “How many women have you pulled that routine on? How many other fiancées does Vivian have to compete with?” I’d seen him at her office before, getting cozy with other women. I never thought he and Vivian were actually involved. My words hit their mark. Leo’s face turned red with fury. “Vivian, he’s humiliating me! I can’t live like this!” He made a show of running towards a wall, only to be “saved” by Vivian at the last second. Her eyes were burning. “It seems I’ve been too lenient with you. You’ll spend the rest of your life in this hellhole. Men! Break his arms and legs.” I thrashed in their grip, roaring, “You’ll pay for this, Vivian! As long as I’m breathing, I will never let you get away with this!” She just laughed. “Oh, I’m waiting. I remember you have that old college friend, the one who’s been single all these years, waiting for you. I wonder how she’ll react when she sees you as a crippled, broken mess. The handsome, popular boy from campus will be nothing but a pathetic joke.” I couldn’t believe it. She was going to destroy me, all for him. I felt the bones in my limbs snap. The physical agony was nothing compared to the pain in my heart. Seven years of memories, once so sweet, now tasted like ash. I lay on the ground, a useless heap, my eyes locked on hers, burning with a hatred I never knew I possessed. She stood over me, her arm linked through Leo’s, looking down at my broken form with cold satisfaction. The thugs closed in, their stench and their cruel, hungry eyes making me want to vomit. I trembled with fear, which only seemed to excite them more. Leo leaned close to Vivian. “Don’t look, my love. I don’t want you to be frightened.” “I’ll watch,” she said, her voice soft. “I’ll watch him get everything he deserves. He could never compare to your kindness and purity.” I had nothing left. I was completely and utterly alone. With my last ounce of will, I writhed on the ground like an insect, trying to escape their blows. They backed me into a corner. There was nowhere left to run. As they moved in for the kill, I closed my eyes. I’d rather die than suffer this humiliation. I was about to bite down on my own tongue when the piercing wail of sirens cut through the air. A convoy of police cars screeched to a halt, surrounding the compound. In the middle was a gleaming black Rolls-Royce with the license plate 8888—a symbol of unimaginable wealth and power. The door opened, and the man who stepped out was my father.

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

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