Category: English

To save my husband and my mother, I tackled a bomber off a bridge. The blast took both my legs. I went from a rising star attorney to… nothing. A woman with no legs. A deep, suffocating depression swallowed me whole. In a fit of rage, I smashed everything in our home. My mother just held me, her tears soaking my hair. “Let it out, sweetie. Just cry. Mom’s here. I’ll take care of you forever.” When I grabbed a knife to end it all, Caleb’s hands shot out, his fingers closing around the blade until they bled. His eyes were wild. “If you die, I die with you,” he choked out. “We go together.” After that, I tried. I fought to cage the darkness inside me, for their sake. I didn’t want to be their burden. Until my mother’s birthday. All I said was that my legs were hurting. Suddenly, she swept the birthday cake to the floor. “I almost wish you’d died in that explosion!” she screamed, her face twisted in anguish. “At least then this daily torture would be over!” Before I could process her words, Caleb grabbed me by the throat and started dragging me toward the balcony. “You want to die so bad? Then do it! Be brave for once and jump!” I didn’t cry. I just waited for the push that would send me falling. But another woman lunged forward, throwing her arms around Caleb. “Mia, your life is already over,” she pleaded, “but do you have to drag Mom and Caleb down with you?” I knew her. Sophia. Caleb’s mentee from the firm. The woman he had introduced to the world on camera as his “soulmate.” She was gentle, kind. Full of life and laughter. She could be the daughter and the wife I no longer could. And I… I needed to disappear from their world for good. … The pressure on my throat was immense; I could feel the world starting to go dark. I let my body go limp, helping Caleb angle me over the railing. I even managed a faint smile to soothe him. “It’s okay.” His eyes, bloodshot and frantic, suddenly widened. He let go of me, stumbling back, and started slapping himself across the face, hard. “I’m sorry, Mia, I’m so sorry… I’m a monster, I’m not human…” He and my mother worked in a practiced tandem, pulling me back inside. One started cleaning the mess on the floor; the other tended to me. Sophia, her heart aching for Caleb, took the mop from his hands. As she did, my mother slipped on a wet patch. Both Caleb and Sophia reached out to steady her. Sophia shot me a glare. “We can’t even stay in this house anymore. Let’s go out. We’re going to give Mom a proper birthday dinner.” I tried to crawl toward my mother, to offer some comfort, but Caleb’s voice cut through the air like a whip. “Stay back!” I froze, my body flat against the cold floor. I watched as Sophia helped my mother into a new coat she’d bought for her, then turned to wrap a scarf around Caleb’s neck. With her, their smiles were real. My mother didn’t have to hide her pain, and Caleb didn’t have to mask his exhaustion. She was right. I was the poison in their lives. If I died, they could finally be a real family. My eyes scanned the room. My mother’s sleeping pills were on the dining table. Caleb’s utility knife was on the nightstand. I used to hoard my mother’s pills, planning my escape. I’d used that same knife to slice open my arms, my neck. After they found out, they locked everything away. I couldn’t remember when they started leaving them out again, in plain sight. It dawned on me then. My mother and Caleb… they’d been waiting for me to die for a long time. The prosthetics I wore were chafing my skin raw, blood seeping through the fabric of my pants. They were a gift from Caleb. They’d been the wrong size from the start. I never said anything. Neither did he. My mother never mentioned it either, not even as she forced them on, the metal clasps biting deep into my flesh to hold them in place. They wanted me to stand again. And I wanted to, for them. Even if it felt like walking on knives, I would have done it. Maybe it was the gentle look on my mother’s face as she made her birthday wish that made me want to feel close to her again, just for a moment. All I did was whisper that my legs hurt. But it was the final straw. It broke them. Sophia was right. I couldn’t keep torturing them. I pulled myself into my wheelchair and left the apartment. I didn’t touch the pills or the knife. I wouldn’t die in their home. My mother was terrified of blood, and the sight of it would give her nightmares. Caleb was a judge with a brilliant future; a wife’s suicide at home would stain his career. I wheeled myself to the bridge over the Inner Harbor and pushed myself over the edge. The water was freezing, filthy. But I didn’t struggle. I just hoped the current would carry me far away, to a place where my mother and Caleb would never have to see me again. My soul detached from my body, a weightless thing, and drifted back to them. They were in a private dining room, posing for a family portrait. Afraid of ruining the happy scene, I shrank into a corner, even knowing they couldn’t see me. I waited until the camera flashed before floating closer. A waiter brought in a new cake, complimenting them on having such a devoted son and daughter. My mother beamed, wrapping an arm around Sophia. “She’s the only daughter I have,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She took Sophia’s hand and placed it in Caleb’s, holding them together. “And this is my son-in-law.” As she leaned over the candles to make a wish, my mother repeated it, her voice a low prayer. “I wish for Sophia to be my daughter, and for Caleb to always be my perfect son-in-law.” A tear escaped and traced a path down her cheek. She mouthed two words, silently. I’m sorry, Mia. I didn’t feel sadness. Only relief. Your wish came true, Mom. Three years ago, a case Caleb presided over had made him a target for a powerful criminal syndicate. They came for us during a family trip. In the final moments, as the bomber counted down, I pushed them away and threw myself, and him, off the bridge. The blast took my legs. My mother had never forgiven herself. “If I hadn’t insisted on that trip, if I hadn’t made you two come with me, you never would have been hurt!” She had that same look on her face now. My ghostly hand reached out, wanting to wipe her tears away. Don’t cry, Mom. If I had to choose a thousand times, I’d still choose to save you. I don’t regret it. My mother slid the family heirloom, a delicate sapphire bracelet, onto Sophia’s wrist, then gave Caleb a meaningful look. “Some friends are waiting for me. I’ll leave you two to talk.” The door to the private room clicked shut. Sophia leaned in close to Caleb, her touch intimate as she wiped a smudge of tea from the corner of his mouth. He slumped forward, resting his forehead wearily on her shoulder. After my… accident, he had refused all promotions. His life became a grueling cycle: investigating cases by day, studying nursing care at night, and taking me to physical therapy during his lunch breaks. All while dealing with my episodes of self-harm. I hovered above him, seeing how half his hair had turned a stark silver. A bitter ache filled my non-existent chest. I wanted to stroke his hair, to smooth away the lines of exhaustion. Sophia’s hand got there first. “You’ve spent all this time trying to save her, Caleb,” she murmured. “But who is going to save you? It breaks my heart to see you waste away like this.” She tilted her head. “Let me take care of you. Please?” Caleb was silent. After a long moment, he raised a hand and cupped her face, his voice trembling. “Okay.” Sophia melted into his arms. “Caleb,” she whispered against his chest, “stay with me tonight.” His arms, which had started to lift by instinct, hovered in the air for a second before wrapping tightly around her. He pulled out his phone and sent me a text. Working late. Ordered you some takeout. Make sure you eat. Tears I could no longer shed streamed down my face. Don’t worry about me anymore, Caleb. I knew that without Sophia’s love and support these past three years, he would have completely shattered. I was grateful to her. Because of her, my mother had a new daughter, and my husband had a new wife. My mother returned home late, humming a cheerful tune. She noticed the takeout bag by the door. “Mia, dinner’s here!” My bedroom door was closed. Silence. Her face instantly hardened. “What is it now? Are you throwing another tantrum? I swear, you’re driving me insane!” She dropped the bag in front of my door with a thud and slammed the door to her own room. It was better this way. It was her birthday. She shouldn’t be upset because of me. I drifted through the wall and hovered beside her. She was scrolling through Sophia’s social media. A video showed Sophia in a kitchen, stirring a pot of soup. Caleb came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. His voice was a low, intimate murmur. “Thank you,” he said, “for making me feel alive again.” My mother liked the post and left a comment: “My beautiful children, live your lives well. I’ll officiate your wedding.” My eyes were fixed on the new diamond band on Caleb’s ring finger. I flew back to my own room, searching frantically. I found it in a corner, covered in dust. My old wedding band. Inside, the name he had engraved himself was worn almost smooth. I wasn’t heartbroken. He was getting his life back. He wasn’t being dragged down into hell with me. This was a good thing. Caleb didn’t come home until after midnight. He was humming, a faint lipstick smudge visible on his collar. He tripped over the cold takeout bag, and his good mood vanished. “Mia! If you don’t want to eat, then starve!” He stormed into his study. He’d just fallen asleep when his phone buzzed. It was Sophia. Caleb was sleeping too deeply to hear it. I circled frantically, hoping nothing was wrong. Finally, he stirred and answered. A terrified scream came through the speaker. “It’s all my fault! I couldn’t stop myself from falling in love with you!” “Caleb, please, just make your wife leave me alone! Please!” She sent a video. The sapphire bracelet my mother had given her was shattered on the floor. “She saw it on my social media feed! She sent people to my apartment to take it back, and they broke it!” The camera spun, revealing Sophia’s face, red and swollen with handprints. “She had them beat me… and… and she used these to threaten me!” Behind her, on the floor, was a pair of bloody, severed prosthetics. And scrawled on the white wall in what looked like blood were two words: HOMERWRECKER. DIE. I froze, for a moment forgetting I was a ghost. Caleb, you know me! I don’t even know where she lives! How could he possibly believe this? But then he was on his feet, rushing out of the study and kicking my bedroom door with furious force. “Mia, can you act like a human being for once? Torturing me and Mom wasn’t enough? Now you’re hiring thugs to terrorize Sophia?” “I must have been cursed the day I married you, you monster! Why don’t you just DIE?” I was completely still. A ghost isn’t supposed to have a heart. But I felt as if someone had just ripped mine out of my chest, leaving a gaping, frozen void. Colder than the winter river. I tried to console myself. This is a good thing, Mia. He has to hate you to truly let you go. I followed Caleb as he sped to Sophia’s apartment and watched them cling to each other. Caleb’s eyes were cold as ice. “I’m calling the police. A few nights in a holding cell will teach Mia a lesson.” Sophia, looking guilty, tried to defend me. “No, Caleb, don’t blame her. It’s my fault. I couldn’t control my heart.” “Just stay with me. Please don’t leave.” Caleb didn’t call the police. He took Sophia to a hotel. And there, he gave in to temptation, falling into bed with her. I found I couldn’t leave. I was trapped, forced to bear witness. All I could do was turn away. Sophia’s voice was a seductive moan. “Caleb… you have to take responsibility for me now.” His ragged breaths filled the room. “Thank you,” he gasped. “Thank you for freeing me from that monster.” “I’m filing for divorce tomorrow.” Caleb didn’t wake until noon the next day. He surveyed the messy hotel room, a flicker of regret in his eyes. He went to the balcony and smoked an entire pack of cigarettes, his gaze eventually falling on the fading red marks on Sophia’s face. His expression hardened. “This was my mistake. She shouldn’t have hurt you.” He turned to make a call, not seeing Sophia’s eyes flutter open behind him. “Miller? I need to report my wife. Assault, trespassing, intimidation. Can you bring her in, hold her for a few days…?” The voice on the other end was loud and chaotic. Shouting in the background. “Careful, it’s a floater! Heavily bloated… Caleb, look, we’re swamped right now!” “We pulled a Jane Doe from the Inner Harbor. Mangled by a boat propeller… we can’t even piece her together…” “The whole precinct is on overtime trying to get an ID. I’ll handle your thing when we’re clear.” My non-existent heart clenched. Caleb was sharp. Terrifyingly so. I was afraid he’d go to the scene, that he’d realize I had killed myself. And that my body was… ugly. Just then, Sophia let out a pained cry from the bed. “Aah—” Caleb’s head snapped toward her. She was whimpering in her sleep, tears on her cheeks. “Please don’t hit me… please, I’m begging you…” Caleb’s knuckles turned white. “Miller, just get someone over to my house as soon as you can. I’m afraid Mia might hurt someone else.” After a moment’s silence, the captain agreed. Still furious, Caleb called my mother. “Mom, Mia went after Sophia again…” My mother, sedated by her sleeping pills, had slept through Caleb’s rampage the night before. She was in the kitchen, making porridge for me, when the call came. She listened for a moment, then her face went cold. She turned off the stove. After hanging up, she poured the freshly made porridge down the drain. Then she picked up the cold takeout bag from my doorway and threw it in the trash too. “Maybe starving for a day or two will teach you a lesson. How did you become so vicious?” She sent a voice message to Sophia. “Sophia, honey, you’ve been through so much. Mom is on her way to take care of you.” She packed up all the expensive supplements and tonics in our house and left. As she stepped out of the building, she noticed a crowd gathered by the riverbank. She paused. I panicked, rushing to block her path. Don’t go, Mom! They just pulled my body out! You’ll see the birthmark… it will kill you! But she didn’t move. She was listening to a reporter giving a live update nearby. “Someone fell in,” she murmured, her expression unreadable. Then she whispered, “I wish it had been Mia.” I felt as though a hand was squeezing my throat, suffocating me. After a long moment, a bitter smile touched my lips. It was me, Mom. Your wish came true. My mother and Caleb met at Sophia’s apartment. They cleaned her place, and my mother cooked a meal. At the dinner table, she placed her bank card in front of Caleb. “This is my decision. You need to divorce Mia.” “This is for you and Sophia. A wedding gift.” Sophia snatched the card, her face alight with glee. “Thank you, Mom! Caleb and I will take good care of you after we’re married!” Caleb was silent for a long time before pushing the card back to my mother. “It doesn’t matter who I marry. You’ll always be my mother. I’ll take care of you.” “As for Mia… I’ll have her moved to a long-term care facility…” My mother didn’t see the venom in Sophia’s eyes. She took the card back, shaking her head as tears began to fall. “Caleb, Mia and I have been too much of a burden on you. I’m thinking of taking her to Switzerland… for euthanasia.” “I’ve heard they have these pods… you just fall asleep…” Her voice was choked with sobs, but her face was filled with an unmistakable look of relief. Caleb bolted from the table and rushed to the bathroom. I followed him, watching as he sagged against the closed door, crying without a sound. Mia, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t hold on. He slapped himself twice, hard. I couldn’t touch him, but I cried with him. It’s not your fault. It really isn’t. You did more than enough. For three years, he hadn’t had a single full night of sleep. The medication made me sick, and every night he would be up, cleaning up my vomit. Countless times he was jolted awake by my sobs, only to find me sitting in a pool of my own blood, a razor in my hand. He’d have to fight back his own despair to patch me up and coax me back to sleep. If our roles were reversed, I don’t think I could have done what he did. Caleb, I owe you everything in this life. In the next one, let me be the one to love you. I drifted back to my mother. Sophia was holding her hand, crying as well. “Mom, I’m so sorry… Caleb and I… we slept together.” My mother just smiled and shook her head, about to offer her blessing when Sophia cut her off. “And last night… when Mia sent those men… they beat me so badly… I lost the baby. The doctor said… I can never have children now.” The smile froze on my mother’s face. I screamed, trying to make them hear. She’s lying! She’s framing me! I never did any of that! Tears of blood streamed from my spectral eyes. I knew it was useless. My mother believed her. She left in a rage, calling my phone again and again. No answer. When she got home, she kicked my bedroom door open. The curtains were drawn, blocking out all light. She hurled her phone onto my bed. “Mia, I wish you had died in that explosion with that bomber! It would be better than the shame you’ve brought on me now!” “You made that girl miscarry! That’s murder!” Caleb followed her into the room. He held out a signed divorce agreement. And a pair of handcuffs. “You can have the house, the money. You’ll go to a care facility, and I’ll take care of Mom.” “I’m sorry, Mia. I can’t do this anymore.” He stepped forward with the handcuffs, reaching into the darkness to pull back the covers. “I’m taking you to turn yourself in. We can plead for a lighter sentence.” There was no reply. After a moment, Caleb’s voice was hard. “If you don’t cooperate, I’ll have to call the precinct and have them bring you in by force.” My mother pounded her fist on the bed. “Mia, after you get out, I’m taking you to a psychiatric hospital. You’ve gone completely mad! I don’t even recognize you anymore!” She let out a sob. “If only Sophia were my daughter.” A tearing pain ripped through my core. Mom, don’t believe her! She’s evil, she’ll never be good to you! But I was dead. They couldn’t hear me. Thud. Caleb fell to his knees beside the bed. “Mia, I’m begging you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Please. Let my mother and me live.” I already have, Caleb. I already made my choice. If there were even a sliver of light, they would see that the bed was empty. Just then, Caleb’s phone rang. It was Captain Miller. “Caleb, we got an ID on the body from the river. It’s your wife. Coroner puts the time of death at two days ago…”

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1 My daughter is pathologically righteous. When her male classmate accidentally bumped her elbow while doing his homework, she reported him to the principal. He was forced to transfer schools. When a male teacher was tutoring a female student after class, she snapped a picture, posted it on the school’s online forum, and accused them of having an affair. The teacher was fired. I tried to reason with her, my voice tight with frustration, but she was defiant. “Mom,” she’d said, her chin jutted out, “men and women should keep their distance. I won’t tolerate any indecency, not from anyone.” “Not even from the people I love most.” Last night, I worked late again. My colleague, Mark, gave me a ride home. The next morning, I was a trending topic. A picture, taken from a deliberately misleading angle, was plastered all over the internet. The comments were a tidal wave of vitriol. And there was my daughter, livestreaming from the living room. “Mom,” she said, her voice cool and steady for her online audience, “this time, you need to learn your lesson. With the whole world watching, maybe you’ll finally learn to behave.” My heart sank. With her twisted sense of right and wrong, she was systematically destroying my life. But what she didn’t know… Was that “Mark,” the man who drove me home, was her father. An undercover agent working on a top-secret international case. I stepped out of my front door and was met with a barrage of hostile stares. My neighbors, who usually greeted me with a friendly wave, now looked at me with a mixture of disgust and suspicion. Before I could even attempt an explanation, a text from my office pinged on my phone. Human Resources was “gently suggesting” I take the day off. Defeated, I turned back home. The moment I opened the door, a phone was shoved in my face. Dahlia’s eyes were cold, her voice like ice. “Hey everyone,” she said to her livestream, “this is my mom. She has a thing for late-night dates with strange men. And she’s always leaving me home alone.” I looked at her, and it was like seeing a stranger. The daughter I had raised was gone, replaced by this cold, judgmental creature who spoke of me with utter contempt. The number of viewers on her stream was climbing. Fueled by her narrative, the comments poured in. “What a sad excuse for a mother. Only cares about her own pleasure.” “She looks like a slut. I knew she was no good.” “Damn, she’s still got it though. Hey, send me her number!” The vile words echoed in my ears. Dahlia followed me, a relentless shadow with a camera, documenting my every move. “My mom can’t control herself,” she narrated. “To make sure she doesn’t run off with another man, I’ll be livestreaming her 24/7. Please, join me in keeping her accountable.” I went to the kitchen; she followed. I went to the bathroom; she was right behind me. I snapped. I grabbed the phone and threw it across the room. “Dahlia, have I been too lenient with you? Have you completely lost your mind? The bathroom is a private space! Are you really going to film me in here?” She calmly picked up her phone and blocked the bathroom door with her body. “If you’ve done nothing wrong, you have nothing to hide. What are you so afraid of?” “Mom,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion, “I’m going to watch your every move. I’m going to make you repent.” The daughter I had raised for over a decade now looked at me with the eyes of an enemy. I couldn’t hold back my anger any longer. I raised my hand to slap her. She didn’t even flinch. She just leaned in closer. “Go ahead,” she challenged. “The whole world is watching. If you hit me, it’s child abuse. It’s domestic violence.” “And I’ll have all the evidence I need to give to the police.” I was speechless. My home, once a sanctuary, now felt like a prison, suffocating me. I couldn’t stand to be there another second. I slammed the door and left. On the street, the stares of strangers felt like needles in my back. Their whispers followed me. “You’d never guess by looking at her, but she’s that kind of woman.” “Her own daughter exposed her. She must be a prostitute.” “Stay away from her. Who knows what diseases she’s carrying.” I felt like a turtle, retreating into my shell, my head bowed in shame. I spent the night at my best friend’s place. She tried to console me, telling me Dahlia would grow out of it, that she would understand one day. But my heart ached. She used to be such a sweet, clever little girl, always clinging to me, begging for cuddles. How had she become this monster? When I returned home the next day, the house was full of strangers. They were a cleaning crew, hired by Dahlia. She emerged from the living room, a frown on her face. “Mom, with your… lifestyle, you could be bringing all sorts of germs into the house. I’m having the place disinfected.” The air was thick with the acrid smell of some industrial-strength cleaning agent. The new wallpaper I had just put up was already stained and discolored. Rage boiled up inside me. I snatched the spray bottle from one of the workers and threw it to the ground. “What do you think you’re doing? Get out! All of you, get out of my house!” Dahlia stepped in front of them, a human shield. “I hired them. They’re providing a service. Until we’re sure you’re not carrying any diseases, you have no right to make them leave.” The cleaning crew muttered amongst themselves. “That Dahlia is such a good kid. How did she end up with a mother like that?” “Exactly! It’s people like her who spread diseases, and she won’t even let us disinfect!” “This is infuriating. That poor girl.” Their whispers were a chorus of condemnation, all centered on my supposed promiscuity. And Dahlia just stood there, her face impassive, as they methodically destroyed my home. 2 The next day, I planned to go to my office and explain everything to my boss. But before I could even rehearse my speech, I got a call from Dahlia’s school. “Mrs. Dalton, we need you to come to the school immediately.” The principal’s grim tone told me it was serious. When I arrived, I found out that Dahlia had accused me of collecting “inappropriate materials” that were having a “negative impact on her mental and emotional well-being.” The teachers in the office stared at me, their eyes like daggers. I walked up to my daughter, my voice shaking with disbelief. “I’m your mother!” I almost screamed. “Why are you doing this to me? What inappropriate materials? Show them to me!” Dahlia’s expression was unnervingly calm. She reached into her backpack and pulled out my old physiology textbook from when I was studying for my medical license, along with a few copies of a women’s magazine I liked. The textbook had been on my desk for years. The magazines were a guilty pleasure, a bit of nostalgia. She flipped through the textbook to the chapter on the reproductive system, the pages filled with detailed anatomical diagrams. She handed it to the school administrators, her voice ringing with the authority of a prosecutor. “Mom, can you honestly say this is a normal book? It has explicit drawings of private body parts.” The administrators, despite their education, flushed with embarrassment. She wasn’t done. She opened the magazines. I had to admit, the headlines were a bit sensationalized, but I kept them tucked away, out of sight. Dahlia, like a triumphant rooster, continued to list my crimes. “Mom, because of your promiscuous lifestyle, I’ve decided to post your professional license and your ID online. As a warning to others.” The school administrators tried to intervene. “Dahlia, I’m sure your mother didn’t mean any harm.” “She knows she was wrong now. Let’s just let it go, okay? Let her go home and reflect.” “Mrs. Dalton, what do you say? We can just forget about posting your information online.” Until now, the humiliation had been mostly anonymous. The pictures she’d posted were blurry, and not everyone was terminally online. But this… posting my official documents, my professional license, my ID… it would be social suicide. Every parent at her school, everyone at my job… they would all know. It would be like walking around naked. Before I could answer, my phone rang. It was my niece. “Auntie, why is Dahlia at my office? She’s demanding they fire me!” The world went black for a second. My niece had just passed her probationary period at her new government job. “How did you even find your cousin’s office?” I demanded. Dahlia sneered. “Last month, I saw her holding hands with a man on the street. It was disgusting. A person like that has no place working in public service.” I was shaking with rage. My niece was a grown woman. It was perfectly normal for her to be dating. “Dahlia, your cousin is in a perfectly normal relationship! Holding hands is not a crime!” I shouted. “You’re going to ruin her life!” She just tilted her head back. “Improper conduct is a serious matter. I don’t care what she does, but if I see it, I will report it. I have zero tolerance for immorality.” I was so angry I could barely breathe. I had to spend the rest of the day smoothing things over with my niece’s boss, promising it would never happen again. After that incident, my brother and his wife cut off all contact with us. 3 My information went up on all the major websites anyway. My clearest photos, my full name, my elementary school, my high school, my place of work, even my department. My address was posted, too. I was put on a digital pillory. My every move was documented and dissected. The word “slut” was permanently attached to my name. My office quickly found out. The online rumors spread like wildfire, each new version more exaggerated than the last. Tabloid reporters and clout-chasers camped outside my house. My phone was inundated with obscene text messages. “Hey beautiful, how much for a night? Can I book you for tonight?” And calls, from a rotating cast of blocked numbers. “I sent you a text, you bitch! Stop playing hard to get! How much? I’ve got the money!” I would scream at them to leave me alone, throwing my phone across the room, but I could still hear their jeers. “What a whore! Pretending to be all high and mighty. Her own daughter said she sells her body!” I was too afraid to look at my phone, too afraid to go online. I became a prisoner in my own home. I tried to talk to her, to reason with her. “Dahlia, I’m not seeing anyone. It was late, I couldn’t get a cab, and Uncle Mark gave me a ride.” She turned to look at me, her eyes like poisoned darts. “Hmph. I’d rather you didn’t come home at all than have a man bring you. You say you were working late. But who knows what you were really doing.” Her insinuation hung in the air, thick and venomous. My voice trembled with rage. “What was I doing, Dahlia?” Faced with my hysteria, her expression remained chillingly calm. “You don’t have to ask me. You know what you did.” I took a deep breath, trying to quell the fire in my chest. She was still my daughter. Deep down, I still loved her. I pulled out our old family photo album. A happy, loving family. A sweet, adorable Dahlia. I never could have imagined she would turn into this. Back then, Mark hadn’t yet taken on this deep-cover case. Three years ago, he had to change his name, his entire identity, for this international operation. Her father was her hero, the person she admired most in the world. I tried to appeal to that love. “Dahlia, look. Look how happy we were. Your dad should be back next year. The first thing we’ll do is take a new family photo.” She snatched the photo from my hand, took a pair of scissors, and cut my image out of it. She carefully placed the picture of just her and her father back in the album and gently wiped it with a soft cloth. She gave me a cold look, her voice low but sharp as a razor. “You don’t deserve to talk about him.” 4 To be spoken to with such venom by the child I had nurtured and loved… it was like being flayed alive. She continued, her voice flat, her words designed to inflict maximum pain. “Mom, Dad would be so disappointed to see you like this.” “Dad is a hero. It’s been 223 days since he left. When he comes back, we’ll never be apart again. As for you… you can go wherever you want. I feel dirty just being near someone with your loose morals.” Before he took this case, our life was sweet. Mark doted on Dahlia, treated her like a princess. She was always the proudest kid in her class because her dad was a cop. But when duty called, he didn’t hesitate. Dahlia cried for three days and three nights when he left. But because of the sensitive nature of his mission, we couldn’t tell her the truth. The people he was after were ruthless. If his cover was blown, our entire family would be in mortal danger. Because we couldn’t explain why he left, Dahlia jumped to her own conclusion: that our marriage was falling apart. She had asked me countless times. “Mom, are you having an affair? Is that why Dad left?” And every time, I would give her the same answer. “Dad is on a very important assignment. He’ll be back as soon as he’s done.” She was skeptical, but she would count the days, waiting for his return. But the case was complex, with international ties, and the timeline kept getting extended. Dahlia stopped believing me. She became convinced that I had cheated on him, that I had driven him away. Looking at her familiar yet alien face, my heart sank. I demanded that she take down all the posts about me. She didn’t argue, and for a moment, I thought I had gotten through to her, that her conscience had finally kicked in. The next day, I realized how wrong I was. The situation was infinitely worse. They had doxxed Mark. It was his undercover name, but it was still him. The post was vile. [Undercover agent Mark Dalton caught in late-night tryst with married woman. This is a disgrace to the force. We demand an official explanation.] They had tagged the local government’s official account. And they had included a picture of him, a clear shot of his profile. The moment I saw it, my blood ran cold. The whole reason he had changed his name was because he had made too many enemies in his line of work. Exposing him like this was a death sentence. I ran to find my daughter. “Take that post down! Right now! Take it down!” A smirk played on her lips. “What’s the matter? Worried about your lover? You two were on a late-night date. If I won’t tolerate it from you, what makes you think I’ll let him get away with it?” Every minute that post was up, his life was in more danger. People in the comments were already trying to dig up more information on him. My voice was shaking. “Do whatever you want to me! I won’t fight you! Just please, take down the post about Mark! I’m begging you!” She just laughed. “Still denying it? You did something disgusting, just admit it! Here’s the deal: you post a public statement online confessing that you’re a whore, that you cheated on Dad and drove him away, and that you’re sorry. Post it for three days straight. Then, maybe I’ll consider your request.” Tears streamed down my face, my heart twisting in agony. But for Mark’s sake, I did as she asked. After that, my life was completely ruined. I couldn’t take public transport. Going to the grocery store became an ordeal. My job had already sent me a termination letter. I was a puppet, trapped in my bedroom. But when I thought of Mark, it felt worth it. His case was at a critical juncture. We couldn’t afford any mistakes. I had asked him before if we should just tell Dahlia the truth, but he had insisted it was too dangerous. He said that as soon as the case was closed and the criminals were behind bars, we would explain everything to her, and she would understand. I realize now how naive we were to have faith in her. One day, I was scrolling through the news and saw it. Dahlia had taken down the online post. But she had printed it out as a flyer and was handing it out to people on the street. The moment I saw it, I ran out of the house to stop her. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic prayer repeating in my head: Please let him be okay. Please let him be okay. When I found her, she was as defiant as ever, methodically handing out the last of her flyers. A small crowd had gathered, curiously reading the papers in their hands. A few had been dropped, scattered by the wind. The scene drove me mad. “Stop it! Dahlia, stop!” But she ignored me, launching into a detailed account of my “crimes” for the curious onlookers. I didn’t care anymore. I lunged forward, trying to snatch the flyers from her hand. We grappled, a messy, undignified scuffle. She grabbed my hair, pulling hard, refusing to let go. I don’t know how long we fought before my phone rang. It was Mark’s unit. My worst fear had come true. My hand was trembling so hard I could barely answer the phone. It felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. “Ma’am, it’s about Agent Dalton. There’s been an incident.” I was too late.

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My childhood best friend accidentally discovered my secret: I’m intersex. Panicked, I threatened him: “Don’t tell anyone!” His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly. “Then let me see it, and I’ll keep your secret.” “Deal?” 01 Playing League of Legends late at night, I was on a ten-game winning streak. Feeling cocky, I immediately sent a screenshot of my match history to my childhood friend, Carter Hayes. [Hehe, look at me go. Am I awesome or what?] I expected a couple of “You’re a beast” compliments, but Carter replied with something baffling. [?] [Let me see.] I was confused. See what? Didn’t I just send the screenshot? Before I could react, a FaceTime call popped up. I answered blankly. Carter’s handsome face appeared on the screen. He must have just showered; his hair was wet and messy, and his dark eyes were staring straight at me through the screen. I tilted my head. “It’s late. Why are you video calling?” “Didn’t you say ‘look at me’?” “I sent you the screenshot, are you blind—” Suddenly, I paused. I realized what this jerk was implying. Damn it… “Carter, do you have no shame?” “If the girls chasing you knew you were this much of a perv behind the scenes, they’d regret ever liking you.” I laughed and cursed at him. Carter didn’t get angry. A hint of a smile appeared on his usually cold face. “You asked me to look, so naturally, I have to support you.” “Besides, we’re both guys. What’s the harm in looking?” Then, his gaze turned profound. “Ezra, unless you have a secret in your pants you don’t want me to know about?” 02 My expression froze for a second, then quickly returned to my lazy demeanor. “Secret my ass.” “I’m mainly afraid you’ll feel inferior after seeing it.” Carter looked enlightened. “So that’s why you never went to the bathroom with me at school, never showered together after gym, and haven’t slept over at my place in ages? All to protect my fragile ego?” I gave him a thumbs up. “Congratulations on learning to deduce. Good boy, now go to sleep.” I don’t know which word amused him, but Carter rolled over in bed. The lighting cast shadows on his handsome face, making him look incredibly good. He continued to stare at me, his tone indulgent. “Ezra, you’re fierce as hell.” “Bullshit, how am I fierce?” “Always bristling like a cat.” “Hey, I’m not a cat.” I retorted grumpily, chatting nonsense with him. My mood soared for no reason. Just before hanging up, I remembered what our friend Big Mike said during the game. “Carter, Big Mike wants to organize a trip to a hot spring resort for a couple of days before the holidays. You in?” “If you go, I go.” “Okay, I’ll tell him.” “What about sleeping arrangements? You sharing a bed with me?” Carter asked casually. My eyelid twitched violently. I feigned disgust. “There are plenty of rooms at the resort. Why do you have to stick to me? Sleep by yourself.” “What if there aren’t enough rooms?” I hedged. “Not enough… we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. How could a huge resort run out of rooms?” The repeated rejections made Carter’s expression cool down a bit. He became somewhat distant and imposing. This was his normal state in front of outsiders. But having grown up with him, I knew instantly I had upset him. Usually, when we joked around, he didn’t care, even indulging me. But when he was really angry, just one look from him made me cower. “Fine, fine. We’ll sleep together if we have to. Don’t be like that.” He didn’t accept it, asking coolly: “Ezra, did I offend you somehow?” “No, it’s… it’s my own issue.” “What issue? I always feel like you’re hiding something from me, and this secret is keeping you distant.” My heart jumped. I forced down my panic and lied. “Don’t overthink it.” “We’re grown up now. We can’t be glued together like when we were kids. Two guys acting like that is weird.” “If anyone’s clinging, it should be a girlfriend.” “…” Carter looked expressionlessly at my guilty face through the screen. His eyes held a scrutinizing look. As if he could see through my secret. Cold sweat trickled down my back. But a moment later, he returned to normal. “Mm, got it. Go to sleep early.” He hung up. I didn’t know if he believed me or not. Clutching my phone, I collapsed on the bed, staring blankly. After a long while, I sat up and pulled open my pajama pants. Looking down, my eyes filled with disgust and helplessness. Because there was something there that didn’t belong on a man. It was pink, pretty, but deformed. 03 Since I can remember, my parents always felt guilty toward me. I didn’t understand when I was little, but gradually I understood. Because I was like Carter, but also not. He was a normal boy, and I was a freak. I possessed female parts. I started to hide this secret carefully. In school, I used germaphobia as an excuse to avoid using public restrooms or showering with others. Even in college, I never went to public bathhouses. I acted like a normal guy with my bros, arms around shoulders, but I never dared to play childish games like comparing sizes. Living in fear every day. I dared not let anyone know except my parents and doctors. Especially Carter. He was great. Cold personality, brilliant, just his face alone made him the center of envy. He was also my best bro, childhood friend, neighbor. When I was silently sad because of this deformity, he comforted me without knowing why. When I was bullied as a kid because my growth was delayed due to this condition, he fought for me. But I never dared to tell him why I was sad. I was afraid that if Carter knew, he would look at me with disgust and distance himself. Even more afraid he would tell others, ruining my reputation forever. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him; I just didn’t dare to gamble. So I deliberately avoided him. But now my avoidance made him angry. Damn. Is it worth giving me attitude just because I won’t sleep in the same bed? Annoying. He’s so annoying. I rubbed my face against the pillow glumly. After a while, I DM’d Big Mike and told him to book a room with two double beds for me and Carter. No choice. Just have to sleep. I’ll just wear two layers of underwear and pajama pants. That way, I can maintain our relationship without exposing my secret. Three layers of protection. Maximum security. Unless Carter has X-ray vision. 04 On the day of the hot spring trip, Carter naturally found out at the front desk that we were sharing a room. He looked at me with some surprise. Raised an eyebrow. “Not disgusted by me anymore?” I scoffed. “Barely tolerating you.” Carter smiled. It looked really good. The cold war of the past few days officially ended. We went back to bantering. But I wasn’t stupid enough to completely let my guard down. Back in the room, I needed to change into a bathrobe for the hot springs. I avoided Carter and went to the bathroom. After taking off my pants, I didn’t dare look down. Blushing, I put on two pairs of underwear first. Uncomfortable, but it added a layer of protection. After checking carefully to ensure nothing showed, I opened the bathroom door. Only to be startled by Carter standing right outside. I didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, silent. Seeing me come out, he looked me up and down. Remembering the bathroom door was frosted glass, my heart jumped. Did he… see anything? But I kept calm on the surface. “Playing doorman?” “Wanted to use the bathroom, but you were in there forever.” Carter’s gaze landed on my face, voice flat. “Ezra, do you despise me even when changing clothes?” Great, he’s being dramatic again. I explained hopelessly: “Nothing like that. Didn’t I agree to share a room tonight?” “If that’s not enough, want to share a blanket tonight?” He nodded instantly. “Sure.” “?” I tried to salvage it. “I was joking, bro.” Carter’s eyes were dark. “I took it seriously.” “…” I wanted to slap my big mouth. Doomed. Looks like I need to wear another pair of boxers tonight.

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After chasing Julian Blackwood for ten years, I finally got tired. I gave up on him and got together with Asher Vance, who liked me. Asher set off fireworks all night across the city and bought a private island to propose to me. But on the eve of our wedding, he disappeared. When I found him, I heard him sneer to his friends: “I only chased Harper to spite Julian.” “Now that I have her, it’s actually pretty boring.” “But I’m not satisfied yet. So, wouldn’t it be fun to leave her at the altar and humiliate her?” So, I ran away first, making him the laughingstock of the city. Later, I heard that the proud heir of the Vance family turned New York upside down, but couldn’t find his missing bride. 01 A month before the wedding, Asher Vance disappeared. I searched the entire city but couldn’t find him. On the seventh day of his disappearance, I received news that he was in Miami. I flew there overnight. On a yacht, I finally saw him. Just as I was about to knock on the door, I heard his sneer: “I only chased Harper to spite Julian.” “Now that I have her, it’s actually pretty boring.” I stopped in my tracks. He didn’t sound drunk; on the contrary, he sounded very sober. So, very cruel words came out of his mouth: “And after tasting her, I realized she’s quite dull.” Ambiguous laughter erupted around him. “As expected of Lord Vance, taking down the Ice Queen.” Asher seemed to enjoy this compliment and continued: “Don’t look at how desperate she was chasing Julian before, she’s actually frustratingly pure. It’s a pity…” “Pity what?” Asher slowly exhaled a puff of smoke: “Pity that although I was her first man, I wasn’t the first man she loved.” “She loved Julian for ten years. Who knows if she’s cleared her heart out yet?” “If it weren’t for my deadly rivalry with Julian, thinking of chasing Harper to disgust him, I wouldn’t bother playing the role of the silently guarding devoted man.” Someone teased: “You’ve been dating for three years now. Why is Lord Vance getting sentimental?” Asher looked annoyed, his voice cold: “Just because I chased her for so long, I feel unsatisfied.” Someone in the crowd continued: “I heard she’s looking for you everywhere, going crazy. You’ve been gone for so many days, is it okay?” Asher took a drag of his cigarette, exhaling smoke with a scoff: “Running away at the altar to embarrass her, wouldn’t that be fun?” I saw no guilt, pity, or love in his expression. Only the satisfaction of revenge. Only the feeling of finally reaching this day. My fingernails dug into my palms, my heart felt like it was being pricked by needles, suffocatingly painful. I always thought Asher was my salvation and my destination. I only agreed to him after ensuring my feelings were not just gratitude, but like. That day, he was so happy he set off fireworks across the city. After three years together, he bought an island in my name to propose, filling the sky with sky lanterns. I thought this was love, romance. I didn’t expect it to be a play he put on to take revenge on Julian. So, those ten years of deep affection and help, were they all an act? 02 In a trance, I recalled some past events. At twelve, I was brought back to the Sutton family from a small southern town, uneasy, inferior, and timid. Back then, Julian only blocked bullying for me once, and I fell hopelessly in love with him. I chased him until everyone knew. But he was disgusted with me to the extreme. Later, I finally found it utterly meaningless, and I gave up on him. I saw Asher, who had been silently guarding me. That night, it was raining heavily, and he held an umbrella for me the whole time. He said: “Harper, I don’t ask you to see me. I only ask that you be free and follow your heart from now on.” How ridiculous. I swept my heart clean to welcome Asher’s arrival. When I fell step by step into his tenderness. When I started fantasizing about a sweet future with him. I didn’t expect to give him a chance to execute a lingering death on my heart. Cut by cut. Blood dripping. My nose stung, and uncontrollable pain filled my eyes. A tear fell, quickly wiped away by me. The voices inside continued, all giving him ideas: “To take revenge on a woman, naturally, you should make her fall from the height of happiness into the abyss. Isn’t that more interesting?” “Right, so Lord Vance, you should go back. Go back and accompany her to choose wedding dresses, send out invitations together. Act like nothing happened, then on the wedding day, leave her alone in humiliation. I bet Harper will go crazy.” All disgusting laughter. I suppressed the nausea, waiting for Asher’s reply. How I wanted to hear him say, “Stop joking, I love Harper.” Or, “That’s going too far for a girl.” But after a long silence. I heard Asher agree in a deep voice: “Mm, that’s a good idea. Let’s do that.” Boundless anger crushed me, almost suffocating me. I forced a pale smile, but tears fell recklessly. Asher, you want to play, right? Then I’ll play along. I also really want to see your expression on the wedding day when you find out I ran away. 03 I erased the traces of my trip to Miami and returned to the apartment I shared with Asher. I took out the gifts he gave me over the years and destroyed them one by one. Strange. I wasn’t thinking about anything, so why were there so many tears? I once heard a saying. Heartbreak is like rheumatism; on sunny days, it’s fine. But on rainy nights, it hurts to the bone. Maybe this is just my withdrawal reaction. I got up and laid the custom-made wedding dress flat on the floor. Expressionless, I used scissors to make a tear. I needed to remind myself. Feelings are like this. Once there is a crack, no matter how you mend it, it can never go back to the beginning. After cleaning everything up, I put these things in the study, which Asher rarely entered. Lying in bed sleepless, scrolling through short videos, I saw a push notification from someone I might know. The name was [The One Who Loves Ah-Yan]. Like a ghost possessing me, I clicked in. It was a record of a girl’s secret crush on a man. The latest one, her location was in Miami. Caption: [The man I’ve liked for ten years is getting married next month. I want to summon the courage to confess. Cheer for me.] In her picture, I saw a familiar hand. Wearing a wedding ring on the ring finger. That was Asher. 04 I didn’t wait for news from Asher, but received a call from Julian. “Guess who I met in Miami?” “Julian, I’m not in the mood. Stop changing numbers to call me.” Just as I was about to hang up, I heard the suppressed gloating in his voice: “Harper, why do you think Asher disappeared for so long? Don’t you know? He doesn’t want to marry you. He minds that you chased me.” “He only approached you to take revenge on me. He’s not worth entrusting your life to.” “What exactly are you trying to say?” I was getting impatient. “Harper, at least besides you liking me for ten years, there haven’t been other girls around me…” I sat up, raising my voice: “Julian, you’re doing this on purpose, right?” “Five years have passed, and you’re still so keen on sowing discord between him and me.” “But let me tell you, no matter what, this is my choice. I accept the bet and the loss, and I will never turn back.” Julian was silent for a moment, answering irrelevantly: “I sent you something. You’ll be interested.” After hanging up, I received a video. Under dim lights, a girl and Asher stood face to face. He exhaled a smoke ring, his expression as lazy as ever. Amidst cheers, the girl stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips. And he did not dodge. The video ended there. I opened the girl’s social media account. The status had been updated: [How can this not count as success?] The picture was of the two kissing. I felt nauseous, ran to the bathroom, and hugged the toilet, retching for a long time. Only then did I remember I hadn’t eaten all day. What could I throw up? At this moment, my stomach cramped with pain. I forced myself to sleep on the bed, curled up in a ball. Suddenly, I remembered when I first started dating Asher, I wanted to see the stars from the mountain top at midnight. He didn’t ask a single question, indulging my little whim, driving me to the mountain top overnight. In the cool midnight air, he held me gently, his warmth transferring to me. He leaned down and asked carefully: “The moonlight is so beautiful, Harper, can I kiss you?” We can never go back. Sleeping groggily until midnight, I heard movement in the living room. Cold sweat broke out, and I had no strength to get up. The next second, the bedroom light turned on. The blinding light made it impossible to open my eyes. I heard Asher’s anxious voice: “Harper, what’s wrong?”

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The nursing home called. They said my father had checked in. I instinctively replied, “You have the wrong number. My father, George Stone, passed away three years ago.” I heard the rustle of papers on the other end. “The intake form lists George Stone, age sixty-five, a recipient of the eminent domain buyout, and his daughter, Harper Stone. This is your cell number.” The hand holding my phone started to tremble. My father was George Stone, and I was Harper Stone. And yes, our dilapidated family home had recently been condemned by the city, qualifying us for a substantial seven-figure buyout. Every single detail was correct. But my father’s urn was sitting on the memorial mantel in my living room. How could he possibly be in a nursing home? “You must have made a mistake. My father died of a heart attack three years ago. His ashes are right here.” A two-second silence. More paper rustling. “Ms. Stone, I’ll verify your information. You are Harper Stone, you work at Deloitte, correct?” “Yes,” I said, frowning. “And your family property was recently approved for the East District Buyout, is that right?” A chill ran down my spine. How did this person know such specific information? “Yes, but my father truly…” The voice cut me off. “Then I suggest you come down immediately. Your father isn’t doing well. He keeps crying out for his daughter.” Then the line went dead. I stared blankly at my cell phone, my heart pounding with a sudden, inexplicable dread. Half an hour later, I pulled up to the Green Meadows Assisted Living Facility. The moment I pushed open the reception room door, I saw a frail, silver-haired man sitting on the small sofa. He was a roadmap of wrinkles, but his eyes lit up the instant he saw me. “Harper!” The old man jumped up, arms wide, ready to hug me. I took a reflexive step back. I had never seen this face before. “Who are you?” I asked, my voice tight with suspicion. Just as the words left my mouth, someone darted out from the side. Smack! A stinging blow across my face sent me stumbling backward. Half my face felt instantly hot and swollen. “You have the nerve to show up now!” The man who hit me was my younger brother, Leo Stone. He was wearing a filthy, crumpled t-shirt, his hair was greasy, and his eyes were bloodshot. “Leo, are you insane?” I gripped my cheek. “Insane? You dumped Dad here three months ago and never looked back! You left me—your poor brother working an honest job—to be hounded by collection calls every damn day! Who’s insane?” He jabbed a finger inches from my face, spittle flying onto my skin. I suppressed my rising fury and turned to the woman behind the desk, the facility manager. “Ma’am, please show me the intake form.” The manager impassively pushed a clipboard toward me. The form clearly read: George Stone, Male, 65, Buyout Recipient. Emergency Contact: Harper Stone. A photocopy of a driver’s license was clipped to the form. I picked it up. The photo was an exact match for the old man sitting on the sofa. But my father was supposed to be three years… “How long are you going to keep up the act, Sis?” Leo smirked, pulling out his cell phone. He shoved a photo into my face. “This is you, three months ago, on the security footage, dropping him off. Still going to deny it?” In the picture, a woman in a sharp professional suit was helping an elderly man through the facility’s front doors. The clothes, the build—it looked disturbingly like me. “That’s not me,” I ground out. “It’s not you?” The old man, the imposter, spoke up, his voice a raspy whisper. “Then tell me, was our old house on Maple Street, Apt 3B?” I froze. “When you were ten, you broke your leg, and I carried you to the clinic. The doctor said you needed a cast, and you cried so hard the whole hospital could hear you.” As the old man spoke, his eyes welled up with tears. My head swam. Those were details only my father would know. The man’s trembling hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, embroidered handkerchief with a clumsy, off-center ‘G’ stitched into the corner. “You gave me this for my tenth birthday. I’ve carried it ever since.” I stared at the stitching. It was unmistakably my work from childhood. But… “Enough of this reunion! Pay the bill!” Leo shoved me hard. The other residents’ families gathered, watching and pointing. “These young people today, they think their parents are an embarrassment. Denying your own father.” “Look at her. Dressed like a queen, heart black as pitch.” A large woman rushed toward me and gave me a violent push. “An ungrateful viper like you deserves the worst!” Caught off balance, I fell, my knee striking the chair leg with a sickening thud. Leo didn’t help me up. Instead, he pulled out his phone and started filming. “Look everyone! This is my sister! She dumped her own father in a facility, ignored him for months, and now she’s pretending she has amnesia! I’m putting this video online to expose her!” I lay on the floor, my knee throbbing. I looked up at the stranger dabbing his eyes. But my father’s urn was on the mantelpiece. What in God’s name was happening? I gripped the chair and hauled myself up. I fumbled for my own phone and pulled up the photos from the funeral three years ago. “Look closely! This is a photo from his wake. I have the cremation certificate. This man is not…” Before I could finish, Leo lunged, snatching my phone. Crash! He slammed it onto the floor. The screen instantly shattered and went black. “You evil witch! You’re actually fabricating evidence that Dad is dead? Have you lost your mind trying to hoard the Buyout money?” Leo’s scream vibrated in my eardrums. The old man buried his face in his hands, his shoulders convulsing with sobs. “Harper, what did I ever do to deserve this? To be cursed by my own daughter…” “I’m not cursing you!” I pleaded. Leo suddenly tore open his t-shirt, revealing a network of old scars and calluses. He dropped to his knees in front of the old man. “Dad! Look how your sister treats us!” He wailed, tears and snot smearing his face. “She’s been an ungrateful viper since childhood! I’ve been hauling concrete and working construction to send money home, and look at my hands—they’re raw!” “She sits in her air-conditioned office collecting a six-figure salary, and now she wants to kill you off just to steal your money!” The onlookers gasped. “That woman is cold-blooded.” “Hurting her own father? She’s not human.” The manager tapped her desk. “Ms. Stone, please be mindful of your behavior. Your father is clearly distressed.” A middle-aged woman in a caregiver uniform hurried over, leaning in to whisper. “Ms. Stone, I’m Donna, the lead nurse. When the resident first arrived, he was disoriented, kept saying he wasn’t George Stone. He’s only stabilized recently. I suspect he has advanced dementia…” “Shut the hell up!” Leo leaped to his feet, jabbing a finger in Donna’s face. “You cheap hired help! Don’t you dare spew your medical garbage! I’ll get you fired!” Donna paled and backed away, silenced. I stared at the old man, my mind racing. “Then answer this: What was my mother’s name?” The old man froze, his eyes darting away. He stammered, his lips moving soundlessly. “Eleanor!” Leo jumped in. “Eleanor Stone! What kind of daughter doesn’t know her own mother’s name?” “My mother’s name was Eleanor. But we called her Ellie,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Eleanor Lee Stone.” Leo didn’t flinch. “Lee was her maiden name! Ellie was her family nickname! You’ve forgotten your own mother’s name, you traitor! I think you’re the imposter!” He grew louder, spitting his accusations. “You hated us because we were poor. You left for college and never came home. Mom cried your name until the day she died, and you didn’t come back! And now you want to pretend to be the dutiful daughter?” The crowd murmured in agreement. “Too educated for her own good. Disowned her whole family.” “She needs to be on the news.” I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. The manager stood up, her face grim. “Ms. Stone, your father has an outstanding balance of eight thousand dollars. Please settle it immediately, or we will have to call the police for abandonment.” “That’s right! Pay up!” Leo lunged, grabbing a handful of my hair from behind. “Ah!” The agonizing pain from my scalp made me gasp. He started slamming my head against the wall. Thud! Warm liquid trickled down my forehead. “Pay up! You bloodsucker! This is Dad’s life savings, and you’re trying to hoard it! I’ll kill you today!” Leo continued to slam my head. It felt like my skull was splitting open. “Hit her harder! That’s what an ungrateful daughter deserves!” “Teach her a lesson!” I could hear people cheering him on. My vision blurred; all I saw was red. I heard Leo’s curses, the crowd’s jeers, and the old man’s sobbing. Then, I laughed. “What are you laughing at, you psychopath!” Leo released me. I crumpled to the floor. The old man, Victor, pulled a worn photograph from his jacket and handed it to the manager. “This is our family portrait. Harper was only five…” The manager took the photo. I looked up. It was a shot of a young couple standing in front of a carousel at an amusement park. The mother was holding a little girl in pigtails. That little girl was me. I remembered that trip—it was for my fifth birthday. The date handwritten on the back read: June 15th, 1990. My birthday. But the man in the photo… I shot to my feet and snatched the picture. The angle was natural, and the lighting suggested it hadn’t been digitally altered. “See? Iron-clad proof!” The manager’s expression hardened. “Ms. Stone, the photo proves you are avoiding your responsibility. I am calling the police right now to report elder abandonment.” The surrounding families pulled out their phones, snapping pictures of me. “Take her photo! Put her on blast!” “She has to be exposed!” Leo grabbed the picture back, holding it aloft triumphantly. “You see this? This is my sister! She thinks she can get away with not paying a penny!” He spun toward the crowd, his voice shrieking to a fever pitch. “I’m telling you! My father is sitting on a $750,000 buyout fund! My sister wants to hog every cent, she’s a snake!” “$750,000?” The crowd gasped. “No wonder she’s pretending he’s dead!” “Betraying family for money. She’s toxic.” A man in a suit pushed through the crowd, flashing a badge. “I’m a city mediator. I received a call from the facility.” He looked at the photo, then at me. “Ms. Stone, the evidence is overwhelming. You need to fulfill your duty of care, pay the balance, and sign a commitment agreement. Let’s resolve this now.” I wiped the blood from my face, my eyes fixed on the photo. The “father” in the picture had his left hand resting on the “mother’s” shoulder. On his left ring finger, there was a small, dark mole. I closed my eyes, recalling the hand of my real father. There was no mole. There was a scar—a jagged, white line from a construction accident when he was young. I opened my eyes, a slow, cold smile touching my lips. “Fine. I concede.” Leo stared at me. “What did you say?” “I said I concede. This is my father.” I reached into my purse and pulled out my wallet, extracting a credit card. Just then, Leo slammed an arm around my neck from behind. “Don’t you dare try anything! You’re not leaving until that money is paid!” His knee ground into my lower back, choking the air from my lungs. The mediator frowned. “This is a family matter. Keep your hands off her.” He turned his back. My face was turning purple, and my vision dimmed. I clawed at Leo’s arm, finally prying his grip open, gasping for air. “I said I concede.” I braced myself against the wall, straightening my suit. I looked at the old man. “However, my father, this George Stone, is mentally ill.” The old man’s face changed instantly. I pulled out my cell phone—the old, broken one—and searched for a page on advanced dementia symptoms. “Look, everyone. Memory loss, cognitive impairment, emotional instability. He fits every criteria.” I read the symptoms out loud, one by one. “He initially claimed he wasn’t George Stone. That’s a classic case of identity recognition failure—mid-stage Alzheimer’s.” Nurse Donna’s eyes widened. She nodded frantically. “Yes! That’s exactly how he was when he arrived!” “Furthermore, he exhibits violent tendencies. He was extremely agitated just now. If his condition deteriorates, he could seriously harm the other elderly residents.” The facility manager’s face went pale. I looked at all the horrified faces. I spoke slowly, distinctly: “As his daughter, I must be responsible for him, and for the safety of everyone else in this facility.” “I am sending him to the state psychiatric hospital for a mandatory hold.” The room went dead silent. The old man collapsed back onto the sofa, his face a sheet of white. “No, please don’t…” “You’ve gone mad!” Leo roared, lunging toward me. “You evil bitch! You want to lock Dad up in a lunatic asylum? Over my dead body!” He rushed to the mediator. “Aren’t you going to do something? This is elder abuse!” The mediator looked uncomfortable. “Ms. Stone, I don’t think that’s appropriate…” “Why not?” I pulled out the working cell phone from my jacket pocket—a backup—and dialed the city psychiatric intake line. “Hello, I need to arrange for the immediate transfer of an elderly patient with Alzheimer’s. He has displayed violent behavior and requires a mandatory psychiatric hold.”

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The campus heartthrob said his chest was feeling tight. I reached out and touched it. Felt pretty good to me. The next second, he froze and started screaming that I was a pervert. I rushed up and ripped his jacket open in one go. “Son of a b*tch, weren’t you the one trying to seduce me? “Talking about your chest hurting… “Some ‘innocent’ heartthrob. I bet you’ve been community property for a long time!” 1 “Don’t touch me!” Caleb shoved me away with all his might. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to cover his thin black tank top. His bony shoulders trembled like butterfly wings, and the teardrops on his eyelashes glistened under the streetlights. A few goth girls on loud motorcycles roared past. Seeing Caleb, they immediately slammed on the brakes and whistled. “Damn, Daddy! He’s fresh! “Look at that Adam’s apple! Can’t even hide it! “How much for a night? Is five hundred enough? Speak up, pretty boy!” Caleb trembled all over. I watched him with interest. The moment the girls got off their bikes, Caleb finally broke. He gripped the hem of my shirt and begged, “Help me.” I smiled. “I can help, but everything has a price.” He bit his lip, silent. I reminded him, “Make up your mind. Is it going to be just me, or four of them?” He closed his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks. “One. I only want you…” Hearing that, I stepped forward, blocking him from view, and glared coldly at the punks. “Can’t you see I’m disciplining my man? “Even if he’s loose, he’s mine. What are you barking at?” The leader of the pack stopped smiling. “Is this really your man? “Sister, you aren’t trying to eat alone, are you? That’s not very sisterly. “If you can’t handle him, we can play together. We’ll chip in.” Caleb pinched my shirt harder. I stopped smiling, pulled out a switchblade, and twirled it in my hand. “Do you not speak human?” The girls jumped back, scared. The leader recovered and shouted in anger: “Fine, whatever! Why pull a knife? “Damn sissy behavior. Can’t fight with fists so you use a blade? You’re an embarrassment to women everywhere!” She spat on the ground and left, cursing under her breath. 2 The street returned to silence, the evening wind rustling the autumn leaves. The adrenaline sobered me up. Caleb went limp, leaning against the wall, head down, weeping. His clothes were disheveled, looking like he’d been ravaged. His chest muscles had red friction marks that rose and fell with his breathing. If he hadn’t met a gentlewoman like me, he really would have been taken right there. I tsked and threw my jacket over him. He stunned, then put it on. “You just…” “I drank too much. Don’t take it to heart.” He lowered his lashes and murmured a response. “So… we’re not doing it?” “Hmm?” He didn’t answer. I didn’t press him, just lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall. After a while. He whispered, “Actually, I can.” Caleb didn’t dare look me in the eye, but his white knuckles betrayed his nervousness. I understood immediately. It was the price for saving him. I laughed. Men are so dramatic. Just a moment ago he was acting like a martyr, now he’s throwing himself at me. Lucky for him, I wanted to play too. I raised an eyebrow. “Boy, you won’t regret this?” He nodded. I chuckled and pointed to the motel down the street. “Follow me.” His face flushed red instantly. He closed his eyes, accepting his fate. 3 I have to say, college boys hit different. Over the years, plenty of men have thrown themselves at me, but Caleb was definitely the most innocent and tender. He was thin-skinned; the slightest touch turned him pink. His youthful, tight chest muscles trembled occasionally, and his low whimpers were like the strongest wine. It was the most satisfying night I’d had in years. Afterward, I ordered him a Plan B pill via a delivery app. His face turned pale as he looked at me weakly. “Do I have to take it? “I want to keep it… can I?” I tapped the ash off my cigarette and looked at him calmly. In that moment, I knew he had fallen in love with me. Men’s love is so inexplicable. I was the one who put him in that dangerous situation to begin with, yet he only remembered that I saved him. Too bad. Too bad I’m not some knight in shining armor or a ‘good woman.’ I’m a career woman, young and free. Why would I tie myself down to a piece of grass? “You’re a good boy, Caleb. I don’t want to hold you back.” I poured a glass of water and pushed it toward him. He smiled, but it looked painful. “It’s okay. I’m not afraid of being held back.” “But you’re already secondhand goods.” I sneered, glancing down at his body. “Going to a motel with a woman so easily… aren’t you afraid of diseases? “I don’t marry boys who don’t have self-respect.” I ignored his pale face. I dug five bucks out of my pocket for his cab fare and left without looking back. 4 I thought those harsh words would make Caleb give up. But after that day, he started showing up downstairs at my dorm. My roommates were drooling at the window. “Mother of God, look at Caleb’s legs, that chest, that Adam’s apple. He’s stacked.” “Whoever sleeps with him has won at life!” “Why is the Campus Heartthrob wandering around the girls’ dorms every day? Is he looking for a hookup?” “Have you guys noticed? Caleb looks… haughtier. Like he’s been nourished. Do you think he finally lost his v-card?” I was too lazy to listen and went down to the cafeteria. Not long after I sat down, a pair of bouncy pecs pressed against my back. A boy’s bright, youthful voice rang out: “Hey, Jordan! Where have you been lately? Why haven’t you been gaming?” I looked back. It was a junior I was mentoring.

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My best friend, a “fake heiress” who married into wealth, had a habit of using me as a cover. She stole a project proposal from her husband’s company, telling him I was new and just wanted to learn. She transferred ten million dollars from his account, claiming she was buying me a villa to settle down. She sold the luxury car he gave her as a wedding gift, saying she wanted to give me a means of transportation. When her affair with his assistant and their embezzlement of company assets were discovered, she claimed I had deceived her and used her as a pawn. In the end, her husband sent me to prison. There, I was murdered by her lover to silence me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day her husband confronted me. Chapter 1 Every time Sophia needed to scheme with her lover, she used “shopping with me” as her excuse to leave the house. This time, her husband, Ethan Cole, messaged me again, demanding to know when I would let her go home. I frowned at the message and deleted the chat thread without replying. Just as I put a face mask on, my phone rang abruptly. My hand, scrolling through TikTok, accidentally hit the answer button before I could pull back. The next second, his voice, suppressing anger, rang out: “Emily Zhang, when exactly are you planning to let my wife come home?” “The baby has cried three times already. Don’t you know she’s a mother? How selfish can you be? It was one thing before, but she’s not alone anymore!” “Please get this straight: I am her husband. You’re shopping with my card, riding in my car. What do you mean by making her block my number every time?” “I’ve tolerated you for a long time. Don’t you feel like a third wheel?” His tone grew heavier with each sentence, clearly at the end of his patience. But my anger far exceeded his. If not for his “perfect” wife in my past life, how could I have ended up in prison for no reason? Just because I came from the same small town as her and was her only friend here, I became the convenient fig leaf for her scandals! Back then, I didn’t know what she was up to every day. Since she got married, our contact had dwindled. Countless times, Ethan called me, and I, confused but kind-hearted, covered for her. Once, I was asleep in the middle of the night and had to face Ethan’s angry interrogation. “What are you doing this late? Does styling hair take this long?” I almost slipped up in my grogginess, but Sophia hurriedly sent a message. [Just say we’re getting our hair done, and a massage place opened next door so we tried the sisters’ package. I sent him the photos! Thanks babe~] So later, in Ethan’s eyes, I became the culprit destroying his family harmony. The next day, he sent me a warning message. After that, I gradually reduced contact with Sophia. But I never expected to be sent to prison by her in the end. Ethan already resented me, so sending me away felt like getting rid of a pest to him. Reborn, I won’t be her stepping stone again! Seeing I didn’t speak for a long time, he lost patience. “Is Sophia with you? Put her on. Her son misses his mom.” I raised an eyebrow, a cold sneer curling my lips. I held the phone away and pretended to shout: “Sophia? Sophia? Your husband is calling.” She wasn’t there, so naturally, no one answered. So I acted surprised. “Oh, sorry Mr. Cole. Your wife is getting her hair washed. The water is too loud, she can’t hear. It’s the same salon as last time!” “She’ll contact you when she’s done~” After speaking, my face went cold instantly, and I hung up hard. But unexpectedly, five minutes later, just as I peeled the mask off my face, violent knocking sounded at the door. I opened it, and the immense force from outside almost knocked me to the ground. Ethan had actually brought a group of bodyguards to my home. Held down by bodyguards, I could only watch as he rummaged through my house with a face full of rage. The small apartment was quickly turned upside down, but Sophia was nowhere to be found. Only then did he walk up to me, frowning with impatience. “Where is Sophia? Where did she go? You said shopping, but I watched downstairs for ages. Your lights were on; you couldn’t have gone out!” Looking at his face, distorted by anger to the point of irrationality, a sense of vengeful pleasure rose in me. How could Sophia tell me where she went? I was just the scapegoat she prepared in advance! Under Sophia’s subtle influence, Ethan had long hated me and would never believe my explanation. Seeing me silent, he shot a glance to the side, and the bodyguards held me firmly. He stepped forward, grabbing my jaw tightly, his gaze like a poisoned blade. He gritted his teeth: “I’ll give you one last chance. Where did Sophia go?” Chapter 2 I couldn’t help but laugh sarcastically. “You know she’s a mother, an adult with hands and feet. Can I control where she goes? Even her mother couldn’t control her.” The next second, the grip on my jaw loosened abruptly. That hand raised high and slapped me across the face. A crisp sound rang out. My eyes turned red with hatred. But the more anxious Ethan got, the more ridiculous I found him. He bent down to pick up the phone I dropped, grabbed my finger to unlock the screen. He tapped the phone threateningly against my face. “Do you think I can’t do anything to you if you don’t speak?” “I got you into that company; I can make you roll out!” “What if your boss knew all your proposals were plagiarized?” Under my murderous gaze, he found the contact I labeled “Boss” and dialed. Before it connected, he seemed to remember something, hung up, and switched to a video call. The call connected. My boss was still working overtime. Frowning at the man on the screen, his eyes widened a moment later. He stammered: “Mr… Mr. Cole?” Ethan said coldly: “It’s me. Do you know this person?” He pointed the screen at my face. The boss quickly said: “Yes, yes. Is something wrong?” “Can your company tolerate an employee who rose through plagiarism? Do you know how her work is completed?” As he spoke, he stared at me threateningly. Mouthing: “This is your last chance.” But I pressed my lips tight and didn’t make a sound. My indifferent attitude ignited Ethan’s rage. He roared: “All of Emily Zhang’s proposals are plagiarized from our company! If you can’t handle this today, I’ll have my legal department contact you!” “I brought my lawyer today. Looks like you haven’t left work yet.” He crossed his arms, clearly adopting a “you deal with it” attitude. Two sentences completely destroyed any thought my boss had of speaking up for me. He couldn’t afford to offend the Cole Group. I suddenly laughed coldly. “Mr. Cole, demanding the company fire me without any evidence… I can sue you for this. It’s slander!” Hearing my words, Ethan laughed disdainfully. “Can’t handle it already? I have worse. Want to tell me where Sophia is? I’ll give you one last chance.” “Took ten million, sold my car, and now you kidnap my wife. Emily Zhang, I’ve really given you too much face!” As he spoke, several bodyguards held me tighter, making it hard to breathe. Getting the boss’s decision to fire me, Ethan sneered and continued burying his head in my contacts. Seeing the darkness in his eyes, I had a bad feeling. Gritting my teeth, I said: “This is trespassing. Aren’t you afraid I’ll call the police?” He didn’t stop his movements, lips curling into a sneer as if hearing a joke. “Police? Need me to dial for you? You kidnapped my wife, the mother of my son. Who do you think the police will arrest?” “My last chat with Sophia says she’s with you tonight.” Then, his eyes lit up. “Found it.” I watched helplessly as he dialed the landlord’s number. A plan gradually formed in my heart. Chapter 3 Ethan terminated my lease with the landlord right in front of me. When I tried to explain to the phone, a bodyguard slammed his hand over my mouth, silencing me. Physiological tears welled up in my eyes. I just felt Ethan was stupider than me. If I really got the villa, why would I still be in this rental apartment? He cut the call, eyes almost spitting fire. “Still won’t talk?” The bodyguard loosened his grip. I said coldly: “Why don’t you ask your assistant? Maybe he knows.” Ethan’s eyes flickered. After a moment, he suspiciously took out his phone and called his assistant. The moment it connected, the panting on the other end stopped abruptly. “What’s up, Mr. Cole?” “Check Sophia’s location for me. I need to find her, it’s urgent.” Silence on the other end for a moment, then a troubled voice: “The last few times I drove Mrs. Cole and her friend shopping, as soon as she got out, that girl pulled her away, didn’t give me a chance to speak.” “Later I got out and ran up to ask, and that girl scolded me, told me not to be nosy. I didn’t dare ask again. Now you suddenly ask me, I don’t know either…” Ethan’s face darkened with his words. I just wanted to sneer. Worthy of being Sophia’s lover; even the blame-shifting moves are identical. After hanging up, just as he was about to speak, his phone rang again. It was the nanny at home, saying the baby couldn’t be comforted and was crying harder. Hearing this, Ethan frowned deeply, losing all patience. He hung up and ordered the bodyguards to drag me into the car. “Since you won’t talk, I’ll search every shop!” Arriving at the beauty salon street, he grabbed my collar and roughly dragged me to the ground. Surrounded by bodyguards, our group quickly attracted the attention of passersby. A few minutes later, crowds had formed circles around us. Hearing Ethan say his wife was kidnapped by her best friend, they all showed expressions of gossip. Someone even shouted: “These days you never know what’s under a best friend’s skin. An aunt in my hometown was taken by her sister to run away. When the police found them, it was bigamy!” “There are many news stories about trafficking victims falling prey to best friends. Look at those girls taken abroad, weren’t they all tricked by friends?” “She doesn’t look rich. If she’s that bad, she wouldn’t be this poor, right?” “What do you know? Dressing plainly makes the act believable! Look at those criminals, who doesn’t look pitiful?” Their discussions rang in my ears constantly. Ethan’s face was black as the bottom of a pot. He had bodyguards take me into the first shop. But the owner said she didn’t know me, never saw me. Yet photos of this shop had been used countless times by Sophia as an excuse to go out with me. Hearing this, Ethan instantly ignited with rage, grabbing my hair on the spot. My head was forced back. “Emily Zhang, you’ve been playing me from the start!” The group rushed out of the shop. Ethan said coldly: “Call the police. Let them help search. Even if I have to turn this street upside down today, I will find her!” My eyes flickered. I whispered: “Police? Why don’t you call reporters too? Nail me to the pillar of shame?” He squinted at the bodyguards. “Heard that? Satisfy her request.” Hearing this, a triumphant smile appeared on my lips. Make a scene. Better if the whole world knows. I want to make sure Sophia never recovers in this lifetime! Chapter 4 Bodyguards dragged me through every shop on the street, getting the same result. This street was way above my consumption level; naturally, I couldn’t have been here. On the way back, Ethan was video calling his son. Hearing the bodyguard’s report, he almost crushed the phone on the spot. Gritting his teeth, he said bye to his son, hung up, and smashed the phone onto my head. The expensive phone was fine, but my forehead swelled up instantly. More passersby gathered. Hearing the helpless crying of the child calling for mom in the video, they looked at me with disgust. “What kind of person is this? Kidnapping from a family with a child? Watching a family break apart, isn’t that sinful?” “Look at how scary this woman’s eyes are! She committed the crime, but you’d think this man killed her whole family!” Just then, police and reporters arrived together. Several people followed behind them. As they approached, my eyes widened instantly. Ethan saw my expression, face full of gloom. My parents, far away in the village, were brought over by him. Hearing the news that I kidnapped Sophia on the way, they were sweating with anxiety. Seeing me, they rushed over. The bodyguards holding me let go at Ethan’s signal. Thinking of my mother’s disappointed face when I went to prison in my past life, tears instantly filled my eyes. Just as I reached out to hug her. A solid slap landed on my face. I covered my burning face, looking at her in disbelief. Mom’s eyes were red, hating iron for not becoming steel: “I thought you were working hard in the big city. What have you done?” She was so angry she couldn’t stand steady, falling backward the next second. I rushed to pull her, but my hand mid-air was ruthlessly swatted away by her. “Mom—” I shouted in shock. Dad supported Mom, turning to roar indignantly: “Don’t call us. We can’t bear it. We don’t have a daughter like you! Don’t know when we’ll be sold by you!” Having experienced the past life, I regretted everything. I originally planned to go back to my hometown to accompany them after solving Sophia’s matter. But I didn’t expect my parents to be brought by Ethan first. I quickly turned to look at Ethan. He was standing in the distance whispering to the police. Just as I wanted to speak, my ear was yanked violently. Mom was crying, eyes full of disappointment. “Tell Mr. Cole where you took Sophia! Otherwise, don’t call us Mom and Dad anymore. We don’t have a daughter like you!” Seeing this, the curses from passersby grew louder. I reached out to cover my ear, which was already torn with pain and bleeding. But just as my hand touched my face, my dad found a stick from somewhere. He hit me hard on the back of my knee. I screamed and knelt on the ground on the spot. Mom didn’t stop in time. Blood gushed from my ear, soaking one side of my shoulder. Ethan walked slowly up to me and told my parents about me taking his ten million and a car. My parents were so angry they couldn’t stand. They were disappointed to the point of collapse. Yelling: “Sinful! It’s us old couple who wronged you…” The police whispered something in Ethan’s ear. His gaze instantly became sharp. Then he turned and ordered: “Take her away. Search the property under Emily Zhang’s name!” I knew that was the evidence Sophia arranged to frame me. And the paradise for her and her lover before the incident. It’s finally ending.

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I was arrested for running a late-night street stall without a permit. The police officer at the station pulled up my file and gave me a confused look. “You graduated from Harvard. Why are you selling trinkets on the street at 2 AM?” That’s when I saw it. The Social Security number on the file was mine, but the photo was of her. Bianca White. Twenty years ago, I got into Harvard! I stumbled home in a daze, only to hear my husband, Gabe Jenkins, talking on the phone. “Bianca, don’t worry. I won’t let Claire disturb your life. You can go abroad with peace of mind.” It was him! Gabe helped Bianca steal my life! Nausea roiled in my stomach. I turned to expose him and Bianca, but before I could scream, Gabe strangled me with his belt. “I’m sorry, Claire. You can’t ruin Bianca’s future…” When I opened my eyes again, I was back in high school. The homeroom teacher was handing out college application forms. This time, I’m taking back my life! Chapter 1 “Claire, have you decided which college you’re going to?” My desk mate’s voice snapped me back to reality. A second ago, I was suffocating, dying. I looked at the young, unfamiliar face of the girl next to me and realized I had been reborn. “Claire, are you okay?” Joy surged through me. I shook my head vigorously. The homeroom teacher spoke up. “Fill out these forms first. Let me get an idea of your choices.” I stared at the teacher, Mr. Jenkins. He just happened to be Gabe Jenkins’s father. Scores were already out. We didn’t need to fill out paper forms; we could just do it online at home. Mr. Jenkins was just finding an excuse to gather everyone. He was scouting for a victim to sacrifice for Bianca. I clenched my fists, remembering my past life. This was exactly when Gabe started pursuing me. I stared at the form and filled it out randomly. Maybe it was my imagination, but I felt Mr. Jenkins glance at me. Sure enough, after collecting the forms, he said, “Claire Lewis, come to my office.” Then he left with the papers. My desk mate grabbed my arm. “You did so well this time. You’ll definitely get into Harvard.” I had the highest score in the class, a perfect 1600 SAT (equivalent). Yet, I ended up rejected everywhere. I went to Mr. Jenkins many times. He said I aimed too high and messed up my application. But he was the one who suggested Pre-Law. I glanced at Gabe, who was sleeping in the corner, and nodded to my desk mate. Yes. In this life, I won’t make the same mistake. I pushed open the office door. Mr. Jenkins looked at me. “Claire, you did great. Why did you pick these community colleges?” I had filled in random vocational schools. “High employment rate,” I said, enunciating every word. Mr. Jenkins fell silent, then spoke earnestly. “Don’t fill it out randomly. Law is a better path for a girl.” As he spoke, he opened his computer and pulled up the application portal. I stared at the screen, sarcasm in my eyes. Seeing I wasn’t cooperating, was he planning to force me? To eventually swap me with Bianca? “No thanks, Mr. Jenkins. I just really want to drive a tractor.” With that, I turned to leave and bumped right into Gabe walking in. “Claire, if you have any questions about colleges, you can ask me. I’ve always wanted to study Law.” Hearing this, my alarm bells rang. So that’s how it was. Both father and son were hinting at Law. But this time, I wouldn’t let them have their way. I nodded. “Thanks, but no need. I have a major in mind.” Gabe looked down and smiled. “Okay.” I ran out of the office, saw Gabe close the door instinctively, and doubled back to eavesdrop. “Dad, if Claire doesn’t cooperate, can’t we choose someone else?” My heart skipped a beat. Gabe wanted to harm another student! Mr. Jenkins’s voice was cold. “Claire has the best grades. She’s the safest bet. Our family owes Bianca. You understand that.” I turned and left, sneering internally. They owed Bianca, so they had to pay with my life? In my past life, after I got together with Gabe, I worked day and night preparing to retake the exams. Gabe said he’d help me register, but “failed.” He claimed they weren’t allowing retakes anymore, that regulations were strict. I believed him. Later, I wanted to take adult education exams. He said it was useless, but I insisted. But on the day of the exam, my alarm didn’t go off. I was late. I asked Gabe if he turned it off. He looked innocent and said he was worried about me not getting enough rest. I trembled with rage. Gabe hugged me and said, “Claire, let’s get married. Whether you pass or not, I’ll always love you.” I cried in his arms for a long time. Even in my dreams, I was solving math problems. How could I accept this? Later, Gabe said his business owed a huge debt. Love-struck me worked three or four jobs a day to pay it off. Thinking back, Gabe only got with me to control me. He was afraid I’d affect Bianca’s future. That’s why he blocked my path at every turn. Back in the classroom, I packed my bag and left. When I got home, my desk mate texted me saying Gabe was looking for me everywhere. I replied casually. He hadn’t given up yet. My parents worked out of state all year. After hearing my scores, they sent me money and ordered a cake, saying they’d be back next month. I understood. They worked construction. A day off meant a day without pay. I wasn’t worried about the application. I had two days left. But while I wasn’t anxious, someone else was. That evening, I went for a walk and bumped into Gabe. Gabe smiled at me. “Claire! What a coincidence.” “I remember you live on the west side.” Gabe looked natural. “Here for some business. Where are you going? I’ll walk with you.” I said coldly, “No need. Stay away from me.” Gabe froze, looking hurt. “Do you… hate me?” I stared him down. “Yes, I hate you. Stay away from me.” Gabe’s breath hitched. Maybe he couldn’t understand why the popular Prom King was so detested by me. If it weren’t illegal, I would have stabbed him right there. I wanted him dead. “Claire, if you hate me, give me a reason.” Gabe’s voice was low, his eyes fixed on me. He did have a good face. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have fallen for him in my past life. Suddenly, a voice came from nearby. “Gabe? What are you doing here?” Bianca jogged over and hugged Gabe’s arm. I saw him stiffen. This was the first time I saw Bianca up close—the person who stole my future. “Who are you?” Bianca looked at me warily. I smiled. “Claire Lewis. Gabe’s classmate.” Bianca’s face changed slightly. “Didn’t you say you were buying me snacks?” So it really was a coincidence. Gabe reacted smoothly. “Forgot. You go home first; I have something to do here.” Bianca raised her voice. “Gabe, what do you mean?” Gabe pushed Bianca away. I don’t know what he whispered to her, but he came back. “Claire, she’s the daughter of my mom’s friend.” I asked back, “Why tell me?” Gabe sounded serious. “I like you. I don’t want you to misunderstand.” Hearing this, I felt sick to my stomach. Here we go again. “I don’t like you. Seeing you makes me nauseous,” I said coldly. Gabe’s face turned visibly pale. He clenched his fists. “What did I do wrong?” I stared at him. “You’re too ugly.” And despicable. Gabe’s mouth opened slightly. I didn’t want to engage further and kept walking. “Claire! I won’t give up!” Gabe shouted behind me. I sneered internally. Two days left. What can you do? I’ll submit my application at the very last second. They won’t have a chance to swap anything. Chapter 2 The next day after school, I found a pile of roses at my door. Gabe stood in the hallway, tall and elegant. He stared at me intently. “Claire, yesterday was too hasty. I want to be serious now.” I said coldly, “No matter how serious you are, I won’t like you.” “Then who do you like? Is there anyone better looking than me?” Gabe sounded urgent. I took out my key to open the door, but Gabe blocked me. “Claire, I really like you. I want to go to Law School with you.” I looked at him strangely. When did I ever say I wanted to study Law? I laughed. “Sorry, your scores aren’t high enough. Give it a rest, garbage.” Gabe’s tone leveled out. “Claire, can you stop being so mean?” I stared at him silently. “Since you’ve decided on Law, you should fill out the application soon.” A sudden urge to tease him rose in me. “No. I want to drive a tractor.” I saw a vein throb in Gabe’s temple. I opened the door, stepped in, and slammed it shut, almost hitting his nose. The next day, I received tons of texts. The Prom King confessed to me, and the whole school knew. Gabe spread the news, obviously. Mr. Jenkins called me many times. I didn’t answer. Seconds later, he called again. He cut to the chase. “Claire, you’re a good kid. I have no objection to you dating Gabe.” He had no objection in my past life either. Back then, I was happy he didn’t mind that I “failed” getting into college. “My son has always wanted to study Law and become a great lawyer. I hope you can work hard together.” I smiled, a glint in my eyes. “Sure.” Mr. Jenkins paused, then his voice filled with smiles. “It’s great that you agree.” I hung up, almost laughing maniacally. Just now, I changed my mind. Playing them would be fun. I want to make sure Bianca never goes to college. Without me, I worry there will be another victim. Knowing I agreed to date him, Gabe came to find me immediately. He asked, “Did you submit the application?” “Not yet. Tomorrow.” Gabe breathed a sigh of relief. “Want to hang out? My friends are having a dinner party.” I nodded. “Okay.” Gabe looked at me, still uneasy, not understanding my sudden change. But so what? He was the one running out of time. Bianca was there too. She rolled her eyes hard when she saw me. I said bluntly, “Bianca, is your eye twitching?” “What?” Bianca was stunned. Me: “Why roll your eyes at me? Do it again, and I’ll poke them out.” Bianca stood up abruptly but was pushed down by Gabe. “Bianca, behave.” Bianca’s eyes turned red with anger. “Gabe, how can you talk to me like that?” I raised my hand and slapped her. The room froze. Bianca covered her face. Gabe’s expression changed. “Claire! You dare hit me!” Bianca lunged at me like a madwoman but was blocked by Gabe. “Bianca! Calm down! Endure it!” Gabe’s words calmed her down. She glared at me viciously. “Claire! Just wait! You’ll cry soon enough.” I smiled and sat down to eat, ignoring everyone else’s stares. I told Gabe to peel shrimp for me. He obeyed obediently. Bianca couldn’t stand it and excused herself to the restroom. Gabe followed shortly after. “Valedictorian, how did you make the Prom King so devoted to you?” a classmate asked. I looked up. “Score high enough, and he’ll suck up to you too.” The person laughed awkwardly, not believing me. Sometimes I wonder, if Bianca and I were both boys, would Gabe sacrifice himself for college? I put down my chopsticks and walked to the restroom. Bianca was leaning in Gabe’s arms, crying. “Gabe, why are you always taking her side?” Gabe held her. “Bianca, endure it. It’ll be over tomorrow.” “I’m doing this for your college dream. I’ll get you into Law School.” Bianca finally smiled, but her expression froze seconds later. Our eyes met. Bianca scrambled out of Gabe’s arms. She said dryly, “Claire, you misunderstand. He was just comforting me.” Gabe saw me and went blank for a few seconds. “Claire…” “Listen to your explanation?” I looked mocking and sneered. “Let’s break up.” Agreeing to date him was just to play him. Gabe begged immediately. “I love you! I don’t want to break up!” He wasn’t sure how much I heard, so he didn’t dare say more. I feigned hurt and pointed at Bianca. “Then why were you hugging her?” Sure enough, Gabe breathed a sigh of relief. He walked slowly toward me. “She was upset just now. I was comforting her.” Bianca chimed in. “Yes, he was just comforting me.” Even if she hated me, she had to win me back right now. I covered my face to stop myself from laughing. “No. I want to break up. I don’t want dirty things.” Gabe’s expression twisted. I left the restaurant and walked straight into the police station. I looked troubled. “Officer, I don’t have a computer at home. Can you help me submit my college application?” The female officer was very helpful and let me use their computer immediately. She asked, “What was your score?” “1600.” The officer was shocked and smiled. “That high? You must be going to Harvard.” I nodded. “I want to study Finance at Harvard.” After submitting, I received several small gifts. The officer said, “Let us know when you get your acceptance letter. We’ll celebrate.” Tears welled up in my eyes. “I will.” What I longed for in my past life, I must get in this one. When I got home, I saw Gabe squatting at my door. Seeing me, he ran over. “Claire, listen to me. There’s nothing between me and Bianca. She’s just my mom’s friend’s daughter.” I took a step back. “Stop harassing me. I’ll just consider myself unlucky to meet a scumbag, okay?” “No…” Gabe put on a soulful face. Suddenly his phone rang. He saw it was his dad and wanted to hang up. I smiled. “Answer it.” Gabe stared at me and obediently answered. He instinctively turned his back to me. The volume was low; I couldn’t hear. But I knew what Mr. Jenkins would say. I spoke up from behind him. “I already submitted my application.” Gabe held the phone. The other end went silent. I smiled. “Are you guys still coveting my score?” Gabe’s expression changed. “What are you talking about?” “Want Bianca to go to my college?” My voice was light. “No way.” Gabe hung up. “You’re overthinking it.” Seeing him play dumb, I slapped him hard. “Gabe, you’re shameless. Trying to use my future to please Bianca? Disgusting.” Gabe’s cheek reddened. He stared at me. “Claire, you misunderstand.” “I applied to Harvard, not Law School. Your sweetheart can’t be a lawyer now.” Gabe finally panicked. He grabbed my shoulders. “Claire, I beg you. Give this college spot to Bianca.” “I’ll give you whatever you want.” I shook him off violently. “Give me ten billion dollars.” “What?” “Give me ten billion, and I’ll give her the spot.” Gabe froze. I laughed. “Can’t afford it? Then don’t ask. Shameless.” Gabe seemed indifferent to the insults now. He said bluntly, “Claire, Bianca’s parents died saving me. I owe her this.” I kicked him hard, raising my voice. “Your family owes her! What does that have to do with me? Why should I pay your debt?” Gabe tried to grab me. I screamed, agitated. “Get out! Don’t touch me! You people are nauseating!” Gabe looked hurt. “I’m sorry, Claire. I beg you to change your application…” How could he say such disgusting things? “Get lost. If you want to repay her, trade your own future.” I took out my key and opened the door. Gabe hugged me, begging incessantly. “If you give it to her, I won’t go to college either. I’ll stay with you forever.” I backhanded him across the face. “Get off! Filth!” Not satisfied, I kicked him repeatedly. Gabe dodged and begged, his thick skin appalling. Finally, I kicked him in the stomach, sending him rolling down the stairs. I stood at the top, watching coldly as Gabe struggled to stand up in pain. I turned and went inside. I wasn’t afraid Mr. Jenkins would secretly change my application; I had changed the password long ago. Maybe Gabe gave up. He didn’t come to harass me again. Chapter 3 I waited half a month but didn’t receive an acceptance letter. I realized my college spot was stolen after all. So, Bianca gave up on Law School and decided to go to Harvard. Anger surged in my heart. I forced myself to calm down. I dialed 911, crying, “My college admission was stolen.” The same female officer responded. She asked, “Are you sure?” I nodded. “I didn’t get a letter, but Bianca did.” “I scored 1600. She only got 900 something.” It was obvious. Something was wrong. The officer and her partner went to Mr. Jenkins’s house. I followed. Mr. Jenkins looked panicked seeing us. I cried, “It’s him! He replaced me!” Mr. Jenkins feigned calm. “Claire, what are you talking about?” “I didn’t receive my acceptance letter.” I stared at him, enunciating clearly. Mr. Jenkins argued, “Is it possible you aimed too high? You can’t blame me for replacing you if you just didn’t get in.” The officer spoke up. “Claire submitted her application right in front of me. Her score is enough for Harvard.” Mr. Jenkins’s face changed. He looked sharply at me. I gave him a sly smile. I knew what you were doing all along. At this moment, Bianca and Gabe walked out. Seeing me, Gabe panicked. I raised my voice. “Bianca! Where is your acceptance letter?” Seeing the police, Bianca realized something was wrong. “Acceptance letter? I haven’t received it yet.” I stared at her. “Impossible.” The officer patted my back gently to comfort me. “It’s okay, Claire. We’ll solve this.” Mr. Jenkins straightened his back. “Claire, if you suspect me, you need evidence.” I wiped my tears. “The letter is evidence.” It has my social security number on it. Back then, online verification wasn’t as robust. If it were, identity theft wouldn’t be possible. Bianca turned pale, looking at Gabe instinctively. Gabe hung his head silently. The officer walked in. “Bianca, please bring out your acceptance letter.” Bianca looked panicked. “You have no right to see my letter.” The officer smiled and showed her badge. Bianca finally broke down crying. “Dad, what do I do…” Mr. Jenkins closed his eyes. Hearing “Dad,” Gabe asked blankly, “What did you call him?” Bianca shut up, shaking her head frantically, just crying. I looked at Bianca, then at Mr. Jenkins. They did look alike. I realized they were likely biological father and daughter. “Mr. Jenkins, is Bianca your daughter?” As soon as I said it, Gabe’s voice cracked. “Dad, Bianca is your daughter?” He stared at Mr. Jenkins fiercely. “Dad! How could you do this to me? To Mom?” “You cheated on Mom with that woman!” Mr. Jenkins took a deep breath, his face gray, offering no explanation. Bianca cried, trying to grab Gabe’s hand, but he flung her away violently. Bianca fell to the ground, sobbing. “Get away! You make me sick!” I never expected Gabe to say Bianca made him sick. In my past life, Gabe lit up whenever he mentioned Bianca. If I got jealous, he’d say he used to like her, but it was in the past. Sometimes he celebrated her birthday. I fought with him about it. He said Bianca was like a daughter to his dad, that he went for social reasons. When I asked to go with him, he always found excuses to keep me away from her. I suddenly remembered Bianca used my identity, and nominally my name too. Now that Bianca was really Mr. Jenkins’s daughter, why wasn’t Gabe happy? Gabe kept screaming, “Get out! You disgust me!” Bianca crawled up, crying, trying to touch him. “Gabe, I…” Gabe laughed, eyes bloodshot. “No wonder! No wonder you rejected me when I confessed! You’re my dad’s bastard daughter!” I leaned against the door, enjoying the chaotic scene. The police took Bianca, Mr. Jenkins, and Gabe away. Investigation revealed Mr. Jenkins was a repeat offender. Suddenly, my case became the small one. After giving my statement, I walked out of the police station. Gabe followed me. He looked terrible. He called out to me. “Claire.” I turned to look at him. “I’m sorry. Are you satisfied now?” Gabe looked ready to cry. I looked at the living Gabe and shook my head. “No. I’ll only be satisfied if you die.” Gabe looked hurt. I was confused. Why keep pretending at this point? “Claire, I liked you. Since a year ago, I’ve been watching you.” Hearing this, I felt disgusted. I exposed him mercilessly. “You just picked me as the sacrifice.” Gabe shook his head violently, crying. “No! I really liked you! You like the food from the last window in the cafeteria. You memorize vocab while looking out the window. I know so many of your habits.” I realized past-life Gabe really did know me well. If he liked me, why kill me? I didn’t think he liked me. “Do you want me to forgive your dad and Bianca?” My tone was subtle. Gabe paused. “No, I don’t mean that.” “Why do you always think the worst of me?” I laughed. “I know people like you too well. Despicable, shameless, low.” “Others like you because they’re deceived by your mask. You look human, but inside you’re dirtier than a public toilet.” Maybe my words were too harsh; Gabe’s expression shifted constantly. Finally, he asked, “Can we still be together?” I looked at him like he was mentally challenged. Psycho. My parents rushed back when they heard the news. Just like in my past life, they listened to me firmly. Even without money, they scraped together tuition. Dad sat aside smoking, sighing. Mom kept crying, terrified. I comforted her softly. “Mom, I got into college.” Mom broke down, hugging me. “It’s been hard on you. Your dad and I don’t know anything; you had to solve this yourself. I don’t know how to be a parent.” I patted Mom’s hand. Dad finished his cigarette, eyes red. I knew they blamed themselves, but this was all because of Gabe and his family. In my past life, I didn’t know how broken they were when they heard I died. To stop me from hindering Bianca’s future, he went that far. In this life, would he still love Bianca that much? After calming my parents, I went back to the station. Several reporters were waiting outside. This kind of news naturally attracted media. They stopped me. “Are you Claire Lewis?” I said calmly, “I am.” “How do you feel about your college spot being stolen?” I twitched my lips. “Anger. Because my teacher conspired with his son to deceive me, trying to use my future to compensate someone else.” “Is that someone your teacher’s illegitimate daughter?” I nodded and was pulled away by the officer. I wanted Bianca’s whole family to be shunned by society. The college entrance exam is sensitive. This scandal would be remembered for years. I learned the truth about Bianca’s parents saving Gabe from the officer. The Jenkins house caught fire because Mr. Jenkins was with Bianca’s mom and forgot the stove. Bianca’s dad discovered the fire and ran in to help. Mr. Jenkins had to flee out the window to avoid being seen. Young Gabe was napping inside. Bianca’s dad saved Gabe, then went back for his wife, but it was too late. Both of Bianca’s parents burned to death. Hearing this, I sighed. When I got my actual acceptance letter, a tear rolled down my cheek. In this life, I finally made it to college. Chapter 4 After the media reports, the Jenkins family became notorious. People cursed them daily. With the internet, the spit of the public almost drowned them. But the sentences for Mr. Jenkins and Bianca hadn’t come down yet. I relaxed, thinking the dust had settled. I didn’t expect Gabe to find me again. He blocked me on my way to buy groceries. He looked haggard, head down, blocking me silently. I gripped the butterfly knife in my pocket, alert. “What do you want?” Gabe looked up, eyes complex, voice hoarse. “Claire…” I didn’t speak. Did he want me to forgive them? “You were reborn, right?” My expression changed drastically. I turned to run. “I… I won’t hurt you!” Gabe said urgently. I stopped, staring at him. “Gabe, you’re disgusting.” He accepted my abuse. “I’m sorry. I regret it. I really loved you…” I stared at him with hatred and slapped him hard. My palm stung. Gabe knelt before me, covering his face and crying. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened that day. I really regret it…” I stood there, looking down at him, my heart a barren wasteland. “After you died, I turned myself in. I loved you…” “For so many years, I was held hostage by that debt of gratitude. I couldn’t breathe. Turns out I was the biggest joke.” “I used to like Bianca, but I moved on long ago. Every minute with you, I was happy.” He couldn’t accept that Bianca was his half-sister. He couldn’t imagine his gentle father had betrayed his mother long ago. How much his mother must be suffering in the afterlife. My tone was flat. “Why should someone else pay for your debt of gratitude?” “What about my ten years of deception?” I couldn’t find a decent job. Even if I got into a bigger company, I’d get fired for inexplicable reasons. It turned out it was all Gabe’s doing. Gabe burst into tears. He said he didn’t expect forgiveness anymore. He asked what he could do to make me feel better. I smiled. “Get lost. I never want to see you again.” Gabe’s face turned white, shattering. I returned home. The class group chat was buzzing daily. Everyone was shocked by Mr. Jenkins’s actions. They were terrified their spots might have been stolen too. Someone asked how I was doing. I replied simply: Everything is good. My parents made a big meal and stayed a few extra days before leaving for work. After that, gifts appeared at my door daily. All from Gabe. Annoyed, I threw them all away. Did Gabe not understand human language? Just stay away. In this life, I want to shine. I don’t want to deal with trash people. Maybe because I threw them away every time, Gabe stopped sending them. The verdict came down. Bianca got five months detention. Mr. Jenkins got three years. Hearing this, I smiled. Bianca, who wanted to study Law, finally paid for her actions.

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My eight-year-old son was in a car crash. He was dying, and he needed a rare blood type: RH-negative. Panda blood. I rolled up my sleeve. “Doctor, take mine. I’m a match.” But my husband, Julian, grabbed my arm, his grip like steel. “Wait! I’ll call someone else! She has it, too!” I slapped the divorce papers onto his chest. “Fine. Let her come. But you sign these first.” He clutched the papers, his voice cracking. “Evelyn, are you fucking insane? Our son is lying in there fighting for his life, and you’re talking about divorce?” I stared at him, my face a cold mask. “I am.” His mother rushed forward, her hand flying to my face. The crack of the slap echoed in the sterile hallway. “You venomous bitch! Julian is just worried about your health, and you throw a tantrum!” I didn’t flinch. I walked to the door of the operating room and made an announcement that froze the world. “Doctor! Stop all pre-op preparations. The patient’s family is refusing the blood transfusion, and we are refusing the surgery.” Julian and his mother went rigid. He pointed a trembling finger at me. “You almost died in this hospital to save him. Evelyn, are you trying to kill him now?” I met his gaze, too tired to even show an expression. “I remember. But that was then. Now, I don’t want him anymore.” 1 The doctors and nurses stared at us, their movements ceasing. The air in the hallway outside the ER turned thick and heavy, punctuated only by the faint beeping of machinery. Julian’s eyes were shot with blood as he jabbed a finger in my direction. “Evelyn, say that again.” “I said, stop the surgery,” I repeated, my voice quiet but slicing through the silence. His mother snapped out of her shock and lunged at me again, but Julian caught her around the waist. She clawed at the air, her face contorted. “You heartless monster! Artie is in there! He’s your own flesh and blood! How could you say something so vile!” I watched her, silent. Struggling to restrain his mother, Julian roared at me, “What the hell do you want? Is this because I called Rachel? There’s nothing between us! It’s just… she has the same rare blood type, and I didn’t want you to go through that again!” “You didn’t want me to suffer?” I asked, my voice dripping with ice. “Julian, can you say that and actually believe it?” He choked on his words, his face darkening. “Is now the time for this? Our son’s life is on the line! Whatever you’re upset about, we can talk about it at home after the surgery is over!” “Home?” I looked at him. “Julian, we don’t have a home anymore.” I held the divorce papers out to him again. “Sign them. I’ve already contacted the blood bank and several volunteers. The second you sign, they’ll be on their way. There will be more than enough blood for Artie’s surgery.” His mother’s wailing stopped. Both she and Julian stared at me as if I were a madwoman. “To force a divorce, you’d gamble with our son’s life?” Julian asked, each word squeezed through clenched teeth. “I told you,” I said, unyielding. “Sign the papers, and the blood will be here.” Bystanders began to gather, their whispers turning into a chorus of judgment. “What is wrong with that woman? She’s so cruel.” “I know, right? Even a wolf won’t eat its own cub. Her husband was just trying to protect her, and she’s holding her own kid’s life for ransom.” The words washed over me, but I felt nothing. Julian’s chest heaved. “Fine, Evelyn. You’re ruthless. You win.” He let go of his mother, snatched the papers and pen from my hand, and scrawled his name across the signature line. Then he threw the agreement back at me, hitting me squarely in the chest. “Are you satisfied now? Can we save our son?” I picked up the papers from the floor, verified his signature, and tucked them into my purse. I turned to the nearest doctor. “You can prepare for surgery. The blood supply will be here shortly.” With that, I turned and walked away. Julian screamed after me, “Where are you going? You’re not going to stay for his surgery?” I didn’t look back. “Whether he lives or dies is no longer my concern.” 2 As I stepped out of the hospital’s main entrance, a car screeched to a halt in front of me. The passenger door flew open, and a woman in a white sundress scrambled out, her face a mask of worry. It was Rachel. She saw me and froze for a second before rushing over. “Evelyn, how’s Artie? Julian called me, he said there was an accident.” I looked at her—the woman who had lingered in the shadow of my marriage for a decade. “He’ll live.” I tossed the words at her and moved to walk away. But Rachel grabbed my wrist, her eyes welling with tears. “Evelyn, I know you’ve always misunderstood my relationship with Julian, but the child is what’s important right now. Please don’t be angry with him. He was just so worried about you.” Her voice was soft, but loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. An older woman passing by stopped to scold me. “What kind of wife are you? This young lady is trying to talk sense into you, and you’re just standing there with that sour face! Have you no conscience, abandoning your own son?” Rachel quickly intervened. “Ma’am, please don’t say that. Evelyn is just exhausted.” The more “reasonable” she acted, the more monstrous I appeared. I ripped my hand from her grasp. “Don’t touch me.” Rachel stumbled back, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I’m sorry, Evelyn, I didn’t mean to.” Just then, Julian came running out of the hospital. Seeing the scene, he immediately rushed to Rachel’s side, shielding her behind him. He glared at me, his face a thundercloud. “Evelyn! Have you not caused enough trouble? Rachel came here out of the goodness of her heart, and you attack her?” His mother followed, her eyes landing on Rachel as if she were a savior. She grabbed Rachel’s hands. “Oh, you dear girl, you’re finally here! You have to go see Artie. That witch has abandoned him. We only have you now!” Rachel soothed Julian’s mother while telling him, “Julian, don’t blame Evelyn. This must be a terrible shock for her.” The three of them stood there, a perfect picture of a loving, concerned family. And I was the wicked outsider. Looking at them, I felt my ten-year marriage crumble into a bitter joke. I didn’t say another word. I hailed a cab and left. As the car pulled away, I could see Julian holding Rachel in his arms in the rearview mirror, his mother dabbing her eyes beside them. Back at the apartment—my apartment, bought before the marriage and solely in my name—I started packing my things. For ten years, I had poured my soul into making this place a home, but now I realized it held not a single ounce of warmth for me. That evening, my mother called. The moment I answered, a torrent of accusations hit me. “Evelyn! Have you lost your mind? Artie is in a horrific accident, and you’re at the hospital fighting with his father over a divorce? You’ve brought nothing but shame on me and your father!” “Mom, I—” “Don’t you call me Mom! I don’t have a heartless daughter like you!” Her voice was shrill. “Julian told me everything. He didn’t want you to give blood because he was worried about you! You hemorrhaged so badly when you had Artie, your health has been fragile ever since. How can you be so ungrateful!” I stood there, phone in hand, unable to speak. “Now you get yourself back to that hospital immediately! Apologize to Julian and go see Artie! If you still consider me your mother, you will go now!” She hung up. I stared at the black screen, a cold hand squeezing my heart. It was true. I almost died giving birth to Artie. But no one in that family ever knew why I had bled so much. 3 I didn’t go back to the hospital. The next day, Julian showed up at my apartment with my parents in tow. The moment I opened the door, my father’s hand struck my face. “You animal! You dare show your face here!” he roared, his finger shaking with fury. “Artie had a raging fever last night, calling for his mommy over and over. Where were you? Is your heart made of stone?” My mother held onto my father, tears streaming down her face. “Evelyn, please, come to the hospital with us. The child is innocent. Whatever problems you have with Julian, you can’t take it out on your son.” Julian stood behind them, his expression one of profound pain. “Honey, I know I was wrong. I never should have called Rachel. Please, come back with me. Artie can’t lose you.” His performance was so convincing, even my parents were completely taken in. I touched my stinging cheek and looked at the three of them. “Are you finished?” My father stared. “What kind of attitude is that?” “If you’re finished, then get out. I need to rest.” I pointed to the door. “You!” He raised his hand to strike me again, but my mother desperately held him back. Julian stepped in front of me. “Uncle, please don’t be angry. It’s all my fault. I’m the one who mishandled things and upset Evelyn.” He turned to me, his eyes red-rimmed. “Honey, hit me, scream at me, do whatever you want. Just don’t abandon me and our son. After all these years together, how can you just throw it all away?” He reached for my hand, but I stepped back, avoiding his touch. “Julian, stop acting. Aren’t you tired?” His face went stiff for a fraction of a second before being consumed by an even greater sorrow. “Evelyn, how did you become like this? This isn’t you. You used to love Artie so much. You would have done anything to give him the world.” “Yes,” I nodded. “I used to be quite the fool.” My parents, seeing my impenetrable resolve, finally gave up. “Evelyn,” my mother said through her tears, “if you insist on this divorce, then don’t you ever step foot in our house again. We’ll act as if we never had a daughter.” My father pointed at Julian. “From now on, Julian is our son!” I looked at them, the last flicker of warmth in my heart extinguishing. “Fine.” That single word left my parents and Julian stunned. They must have thought threatening me with family ties would make me yield, just as it had every other time for the past decade. They were wrong. After they left, I got a call from my lawyer. “Ms. Hayes, Mr. Thorne has been served with the court summons. However, he’s leaked a story to the press. He’s claiming you’ve been mistreating your son, and that due to a marital dispute, you refused to provide a life-saving transfusion, leaving the boy in critical condition.” I opened my phone. The news was everywhere. “The Ice-Cold Heiress: Why She Let Her Own Son Suffer.” “‘Mommy Doesn’t Want Me Anymore,’ Cries 8-Year-Old Crash Victim.” The comments were a firestorm of hatred. My photo, my workplace, even my home address had been doxxed. A crowd of self-proclaimed “justice warriors” was already gathered outside my office building, holding signs demanding I be fired. Soon after, my boss called and told me to take an indefinite leave of absence. In the afternoon, Rachel called me. Her voice was a soft, innocent whisper. “Evelyn, please don’t blame Julian. You pushed him to this.” “Artie isn’t doing well. He needs his mother. Could you please… just come see him?” “In what capacity are you calling me?” I asked. A few seconds of silence. “I… I’m Artie’s aunt. And your friend.” “Friend?” I laughed out loud. “Rachel, you don’t even deserve the word.” I hung up. A moment later, my phone buzzed. It was a picture from Rachel. In the photo, Artie was lying in his hospital bed. Rachel was leaning over him, gently wiping his face with a cloth. Julian and his mother stood beside them, their faces glowing with adoration as they watched. The scene was sickeningly perfect. Beneath the photo was a single line of text. “Evelyn, we’re all waiting for you to come home.” 4 The day of the hearing, the courtroom was packed. Reporters, social justice advocates, and a host of my so-called friends and relatives were all there to witness my downfall. Julian arrived with Artie and Rachel. Artie was in a wheelchair, pale and fragile, his arm in a cast. The moment he saw me, his eyes filled with tears. “Mommy, please don’t divorce Daddy. It’s all my fault. I promise I won’t ever get sick again.” His pathetic cries elicited a wave of sympathy from the gallery. Julian’s mother was putting on her own show, wailing and pointing at me. “You’re a curse! A curse on our family! What did we ever do to deserve you?” Julian held Artie, playing the part of the tragic hero. “Evelyn, after all this, are you still going to be so stubborn? Are you really willing to destroy your son’s future for your own selfish pride?” Rachel stood by his side, ready with a tissue, whispering words of comfort. I watched their performance, my face an emotionless slate. Julian’s lawyer stood and began to list my “crimes.” From forgetting to buy Julian an anniversary gift, to not personally cooking for my mother-in-law’s birthday, all the way to my “refusal to save” Artie after the accident. Every detail was crafted to paint me as a selfish, cold-hearted, and unreasonable monster. Finally, the lawyer presented a medical report. “Your Honor, my client’s son, Arthur Thorne, suffered from cerebral hypoxia due to the defendant’s deliberate delay. He may suffer from permanent neurological damage as a result.” “Furthermore, the defendant has engaged in long-term emotional abuse, causing the child severe psychological trauma. We petition the court to grant full custody to Mr. Thorne and demand the defendant pay one million dollars in damages for emotional distress.” The judge looked at me, his eyes filled with disapproval. “Defendant, do you have anything to say in response to these allegations?” Every eye in the room was on me, waiting to see how I would squirm my way out of this. I rose to my feet. I didn’t look at Julian. I looked at the witness stand, directly at Rachel. “I have a question for Ms. Rachel Miller.”

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11:00 AM. That’s when HR let me go. The official reason? A “major project failure” requiring a scapegoat. I didn’t argue. By 11:10 AM, I’d finished the full handover, computer still running. I exited every work group and blocked my manager and all my colleagues. That afternoon, an ex-coworker contacted me via a burner account, begging me to take a call. They said the director was authorizing a $100,000 bonus. I just smiled. The real trouble I’d set was ten minutes from detonation. 01 The HR office was a cage of corporate sterility. The venetian blinds sliced the sunlight into sharp blades of white light, and the air hung thick with the sickly sweet perfume of toner and cheap corporate panic. “Sloan Kennedy, regarding the critical data interface anomaly on the project, the company has, after careful deliberation, decided…” Brenda, the HR manager, her lips permanently painted that lifeless mauve, kept talking, but I tuned her out. My focus was on the pathetic, near-dead pothos plant behind her desk. Its leaves were sickly yellow, wilting. Just like me, a consumable asset in this gilded cage. Garrett Powell, the director, stood beside Brenda, arms crossed, trying to look appropriately grim. He sighed, the sound heavy and performative, like it was squeezed out of him. “Sloan, it’s not that I don’t value you, but the impact here is too significant. The investors are breathing down our necks; we have to show accountability. You… well, you’re still young. Chalk it up as a lesson learned.” I finally raised my eyes, meeting Garrett’s gaze calmly, cutting right past Brenda. In those calculating eyes, beneath the veneer of false sympathy, I saw it: triumph and massive relief. He was rid of me. “Understood.” Three words. No defense, no argument, not a hint of emotion. My chilling calm seemed to choke off the rest of the script they’d clearly rehearsed. Brenda blinked, then mechanically slid the termination notice and the severance agreement across the desk. “Well, then… just sign here, and we can start the handover process.” I picked up the pen and signed my name with a flourish, the signature steady and unbroken. Walking out of that office, the open-plan floor felt unnaturally quiet. Dozens of eyes—some pitying, some curious, some gleeful—pricked at me like invisible needles, desperate to gauge my emotional state. I felt the gaze of Cassandra “Cassie” Bell, the senior manager, particularly sticky and triumphant, like a snake coiled on my back. The barely perceptible smirk on her face, harsh under the fluorescent lights, was a punch to the gut. She was the one who had taken the mess she created and expertly packaged it as my “major failure.” I walked straight to my desk. It was a corner fortress, cluttered with technical books and code references—my only sanctuary in this entire high-rise. Now, that fortress was being dismantled. Ignoring the silent audience, I sat down and got to work. I opened my laptop and started a new document: “Project Handoff.” My fingers flew across the keyboard, the rhythmic clack a sharp, clean sound in the silence. Logins, passwords, server paths, testing environments… Everything they would need, the non-essential stuff, I documented clearly and categorized meticulously. Except for the one crucial thing. The perfect going-away gift I’d engineered for them. Liv Chen, my apprentice, a nervous recent grad in the cube next to me, watched with teary eyes, her lips trembling. I gave her a small, reassuring look: don’t move. 11:09 AM. I finished the last word and emailed the Handoff document to Garrett, copying the entire project team and HR. Subject line: [Sloan Kennedy – Handoff – 10/27/2023]. 11:10 AM. I stood up. Everything on the desk belonged to the company—the computer, the monitors, the keyboard, even the half-dead succulent. The only thing that was mine was a black mug that read “Hello World.” I picked it up. It was still warm. As the entire office stared, stunned and confused by my efficiency, I turned and walked toward the exit. No scene, no tears, not even a wave goodbye. In ten minutes, I had completed a textbook-perfect exit, surgically removing myself from their ecosystem. The elevator doors slid shut, sealing me off from the prying eyes. I leaned against the cold metal, pulling out my phone. I opened my messaging app, found the “Project Warriors (28)” group, and hit Exit Group. “Tech Department Banter (54)”—Exit. “Corporate Softball League (15)”—Exit. Then, I went to my contacts: “Garrett Powell – Director”—Block. “Cassie Bell – Senior Manager”—Block. “Brenda – HR”—Block. One by one, expressionless, I tossed every single corporate contact into the digital trash heap. Finishing, I felt a fraction of the suffocating feeling of being betrayed and slandered finally lift from my chest. The screen lit up: 11:15 AM. My lock screen showed a simple countdown widget I’d installed. [T-minus 2 hours, 45 minutes until the 2 PM Investor Demo.] I looked at the cold numbers and, for the first and only time all morning, a subtle, cold curve touched the corner of my mouth. Garrett. Cassie. You thought kicking the “stumbling block” out of the way meant you could coast to the finish line? The overture is over. 02 I didn’t go home. Instead, I crossed the street to an artisanal coffee shop. I snagged a window seat, letting the warm, gentle sunlight chase away the building’s stale chill. “What can I get for you?” “A pour-over Geisha, please. Black.” I ordered the most expensive coffee on the menu. A proper toast to my imminent, absolute freedom. The barista worked methodically. The water hit the grounds, blooming them, and an intoxicating, complex aroma filled the air. It was pure. Unlike the complicated cocktail of cigar smoke, cologne, and political ambition that perpetually clung to Garrett’s office. My phone vibrated softly. It was an incoming message from an unfamiliar cartoon avatar: “It’s me, Liv. Your apprentice.” I accepted the request. Immediately, her messages poured in, shaking with barely contained fury. “They are absolutely vile, Sloan! You barely walked out the door before Garrett sent a message to the group!” A screenshot followed. It was the “Project Warriors” group I’d just left. Garrett’s profile picture hovered above a self-congratulatory block of text: “The recent issue has been addressed, and the core vulnerability has been completely neutralized. Thank you to Sloan for her cooperation, which proves our error correction mechanism is effective. Chin up, everyone. The afternoon demo must be a success!” Below that, Cassie had added a pumping fist emoji and a line: “Brilliant, Garrett! So glad we caught that in time!” Followed by a few lukewarm “Roger that” and “Way to go, boss” replies from the rest of the team. I could practically see Garrett’s smug, self-satisfied face. Neutralized the vulnerability? I almost laughed out loud. They’d just kicked the fire marshal out of the burning building and were now congratulating themselves on putting out the flames. The sheer audacity was staggering. The phone vibrated again. Liv’s text: “They’re saying the handover document you left was incredibly clear. Garrett even ‘praised’ you publicly for your ‘professionalism and attitude.’ I’m going to throw up.” I picked up the Geisha, blew on the surface, and took a careful sip. The coffee’s citrus and floral notes exploded in my mouth—sharp, acidic, with a slow, rich finish. Clear? Of course it was clear. I had made the irrelevant parts—the stuff they could eventually figure out—painfully transparent. It was like handing them an instruction manual for a complex machine, where I meticulously detailed how to turn it on, but omitted the critical chapter on how to prevent it from self-destructing. My mind drifted back a week. Late Friday night. I was alone, running a final code review ahead of the system stress test. That’s when I found it: the logical flaw, buried deep in the foundational database architecture. It was insidious. It wouldn’t trigger under normal load. But at a specific time—between 1:50 PM and 2:00 PM—if the system hit high-intensity stress from over ten thousand concurrent requests, it would trigger a catastrophic, irreversible, chain-reaction data deletion. All linked tables, wiped clean instantly, beyond conventional recovery. A cold sweat broke out on my neck. That project was the company’s lifeblood. The major investor was arriving the following Friday at 2 PM for the final demonstration. And the full-link stress test was scheduled to begin at 1:40 PM. It was a ticking time bomb, set with chilling precision. I immediately wrote an emergency fix proposal and a detailed bug analysis. Monday morning, I was about to send the report to Garrett when Cassie rushed up, looking frantic, holding her coffee. “Sloan, fire in the hole! The user profile module I’m running is totally borked. The data is all over the place. Could you please take a look?” Cassie had been at the company longer than me. Her technical skills were mediocre, but she was a master of corporate politics and was tight with Garrett. Seeing her genuinely panicked, I agreed without thinking. The issue was simple—she’d confused a parameter in an API call. I spent less than thirty minutes fixing it and handed her the solution. She practically groveled in thanks and rushed off. I didn’t realize I’d just handed her the very knife she would plunge into my back. That afternoon, Garrett called me into his office. He slammed a printed report on the desk: “Report on Major Data Vulnerability in Project User Module.” In the report, Cassie had leveraged her minor screw-up, exaggerated it, and dressed it up as a “catastrophic vulnerability” that could have derailed the entire project. Then, using cleverly falsified communication logs and code submission timestamps, she had strongly implied the “vulnerability” was a mistake I made during the final code integration. I was stunned. I tried to explain, but Garrett cut me off, emphasizing that the project was too close to launch to risk any instability. Someone had to be accountable for this “major risk.” He looked at me like I was a piece of trash he was finally authorized to throw out. Now I understand. Garrett had always resented my technical ability, even as he depended on me for the core work. He wanted me gone so he could claim all the credit for himself. Cassie’s lie was the perfect excuse he’d been dreaming of. They thought by eliminating the one person who knew too much and firing their way to an “unblemished” project, they had secured their perfect trophy. They had, in fact, just stripped the entire project of its only fuse. My actual, critical fix for the real ticking time bomb was still sitting in the draft folder on my personal laptop. “Sloan? Are you there?” Liv’s message snapped me back. I tapped a quick reply. “Don’t worry. Just watch the show.” I set my phone face down. My wrist watch read 1:40 PM. The gentle jazz music played on in the café. Outside, the traffic flowed. The sun was bright. The countdown had begun. Ten minutes left. I picked up the coffee, felt the warm liquid slide down my throat. Deep inside, a cold, clinical, and fiercely satisfying anticipation was growing. 03 1:50 PM, on the dot. My phone, face down on the table, vibrated, its alarm a soft, single tone. I calmly reached out, silenced it, and slowly took a sip of the now-lukewarm coffee. It was still rich. In that very instant, Liv’s cartoon avatar began frantic, full-screen jumping. A barrage of exclamation points hit my screen like machine-gun fire. “IT’S CRASHED! SLOAN! IT’S ALL CRASHED!!!!” “Everyone’s test screens just went white! Everything is gone!” “Database access is DENIED! The admin portal is down! Nobody can log in!” “Cassie’s face just went sheet-white! Seriously, whiter than the wall! She was just bragging to Garrett that everything was fine, totally locked down!” I watched the text scroll by, observing a distant catastrophe. I could vividly picture the pandemonium in the office where I’d spent the last three years. The frantic click of mice, the hysterical tap of keyboards, peppered with programmers’ shocked shouts of “What the actual hell?” Moments later, Liv sent a shaky, 10-second video clip. The camera was jumping; it was clearly a stealth recording. In the background, Garrett’s voice was sharp and hysterical, his professional composure utterly shattered by rage and terror. “What is this! What in God’s name is happening! Where is the data! I had gigabytes of data! It was fine a minute ago!” The camera quickly panned across the tech floor: chaos. Some were slamming their keyboards, others futilely hitting the refresh button on blank screens, still others just staring into space. The last two seconds framed Cassie. She was slumped at her desk, eyes hollow, her lips bloodless. A broken puppet, muttering over and over: “No way… that’s impossible… I checked everything…” Liv immediately followed up with a voice memo, her voice low but trembling with excitement. “Sloan, the entire department is losing it! Nobody knows what the glitch is! They’ve checked all the logs, and there’s no trace of an abnormal operation! Garrett is reading your handoff document for the tenth time, and it says nothing about this!” My lips curved into a cold, satisfied smile. Of course it didn’t. Why would I write the instructions for your final, glorious exit in the owner’s manual? “The investors are arriving in ten minutes! They’ve called the front desk! Garrett is purple with rage, I swear! He looks like a bruised plum!” Liv’s commentary was pure cinema. I picked up my small spoon and gently stirred the last bit of coffee in my cup, watching the miniature whirlpool. My mind was profoundly, utterly calm. I slowly typed my reply to Liv. “Does this affect you?” “You’re new. They can’t blame you.” “Keep your head down, Liv. Protect yourself.” I sent the message, flipped the phone over, and settled back in the chair. The sunlight outside seemed even brighter. I closed my eyes and drew a long, slow breath. Coffee aroma, warm sunlight. The profound satisfaction of justified payback washed over me in warm, steady waves. Garrett. Cassie. You engineered a plan to steal my livelihood and smear my name. Now, at the peak of your arrogance, I have shattered the thing you coveted most. And this, I knew, was only the opening act. 04 The world fell silent. My phone, face down on the table, had stopped vibrating. The block list was working flawlessly, intercepting all attempts at panicked communication. I could imagine Garrett and the company HR, boiling in terror, frantically dialing a number that would never connect. After about half an hour, just as I was considering a refill, Liv’s message came in. No more excited exclamation points, just a carefully typed plea. “Sloan, Garrett has the entire team trying to call you, but he doesn’t know you blocked everyone.” “He’s screaming and trashing his office right now. I just walked past, I heard glass shatter. He’s calling Cassie a worthless liability who ruined everything.” “The investors are downstairs, being stalled by the front desk with a terrible excuse about ‘conference room network issues.’ They’re already suspicious.”

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