Category: English

The first time I saw my biological mother in eight years, I was handing out juice boxes at the St. Jude’s Home for Children. A procession of black cars, the kind that usually only appears in movies, had purred to a stop on the gravel driveway, looking completely alien against the backdrop of the worn-out playground. A woman in a cream-colored pantsuit stepped out of the lead car. “Maya,” she said, her voice smooth but unfamiliar. “I told you, didn’t I? As soon as Chloe was accepted into college, as soon as she was emotionally secure, I would come for you.” She smiled, a tight, rehearsed expression. “Her acceptance letter from Georgetown arrived yesterday. So, here I am. I’ve come to take you home.” I just stared at her, a carton of apple juice still in my hand. The name she used—Chloe—meant nothing to me. She sighed, a theatrical puff of air. “I know you must hate me. But Chloe… well, she always felt so insecure, knowing she wasn’t our biological daughter. You, on the other hand, were born to have everything. We were just asking you to wait a little longer to enjoy it.” She took a step closer, the scent of expensive perfume washing over me. “You’ve had a hard eight years here, I know. But once you’re home, we’ll make it all up to you.” The woman kept talking, a stream of words about not causing friction with this Chloe person. I held up my free hand, cutting her off. “I’m sorry,” I said, my brow furrowed in genuine confusion. “Who are you?” The whole situation was utterly bizarre. A complete stranger was telling me she was taking me “home,” but I already had a home. My real parents had found me eight years ago. 1 The woman froze, pinned by my blank, unrecognizing stare. Then, a strange laugh escaped her lips. “Eight years in this place, and you’re still as stubborn as ever,” she said, shaking her head as if appreciating a private joke. “I suppose that’s a good thing. Chloe was… coddled, by her father and me. At least I know you won’t let her walk all over you.” Her expression quickly sobered, her tone shifting to one of stern warning. “But Chloe is sensitive. When you get home, you are not to mention a word of this biological nonsense. You are both my daughters. Do you understand?” She looked at me, expecting a nod. “From now on, you’re her older sister. You will look out for her, protect her. In my heart, you are both equally important.” Listening to a statement so transparently biased it was almost comical, the fog in my memory finally began to clear. I knew who she was. Eleanor Pierce. My biological mother. Eight years was a lifetime. She was a stranger to me now, and a stranger’s words held no weight. “Mrs. Pierce,” I said, my voice even. “When you left me at this children’s home, did it ever occur to you that I might find a new family?” In the system, a healthy ten-year-old is a prime candidate for adoption. Eleanor reached out, as if to stroke my hair, but I instinctively recoiled. Her hand fell awkwardly to her side. “I spoke with the director,” she said, her voice tight. “I made it very clear that you were only being fostered here. That you had parents. Who would possibly adopt a child who wasn’t an orphan?” She looked me up and down, a critical glint in her eye. “Besides, you were already ten. A child raised in the mountains, behind in school, with no skills, no polish. You were practically feral. No one would have wanted you.” Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion, as she cataloged my supposed shortcomings. “Now you’re eighteen with no elite education. What other option do you have besides coming home? Do you plan to die in this place?” Her words were a dull echo of the past. When they first discovered the hospital mix-up, Richard and Eleanor Pierce had brought me to their mansion. For one single day, they held me and cooed about how much I must have suffered. The very next day, their precious Chloe—the girl they’d raised as their own—threw a tantrum and threatened to run away. Just like that, I was shipped off to St. Jude’s. It wasn’t that I had some deep, abiding love for them. But they were my blood. They were supposed to be my parents. And they wouldn’t even grant me a corner of their home. I fought. I screamed. I pleaded. All it earned me was their disgust. “This mix-up wasn’t Chloe’s fault,” they’d said. “She’s the one who’s been by our side, who has loved us all these years. If you move in, people will start asking questions about her parentage. It would be devastating for her mental health.” Then came the final, hollow promise. “You are our daughter. Everything that should be yours, will be yours. Just wait. Wait until Chloe goes to college, until she’s no longer so insecure. Then we’ll bring you home.” That speech severed the last thread of connection I felt to them. I walked into St. Jude’s without looking back. I didn’t expect that Leo Monroe, the son of the wealthiest man in the state, would decide he wanted a sister and pick me out of a lineup. At that moment, I was pinning down a boy who had been bullying me for weeks. Leo had pointed at me, a wide grin on his face. “That one,” he’d declared. “She’s got spark. She’s definitely my sister.” And just like that, I became a Monroe. “You’re such a headstrong child,” Eleanor was saying now, pulling me from my memories. “You haven’t called us once in all these years. But I know, deep down, you were still thinking of your mother and father.” She smiled, a knowing, self-satisfied look on her face. “Otherwise, why would you have knitted this scarf and sent it to me? You do still care.” I almost laughed out loud. St. Jude’s was heavily funded by charitable donations, the Monroe family being the largest benefactor. The Pierces were donors, too. Every year, the children here made handcrafted gifts as a thank-you to the patrons. I did knit a scarf my first winter here, but it was just an assignment. The director must have passed it off as a personal gift from me, a gentle nudge hoping they might finally take me back. I realized I had nothing more to say to a woman I hadn’t seen in nearly a decade. Eleanor, however, interpreted my silence as shyness. “You’ve waited eight long years for this reunion. You must be ecstatic,” she prattled on. “Your father and I have been looking forward to this day for so long.” She paused, looking at her watch. “Chloe’s graduation party is next week. As soon as it’s over, I’ll be back to pick you up.” The home’s director, Mrs. Gable, had rushed over and was hovering nearby, trying and failing to find a moment to interrupt. Eleanor ignored her, signaling for her driver to unload gifts from the trunk of the car. Piles of glossy boxes and bags were placed on the gravel. “And do try to dress up a bit,” she said, her eyes flicking over my comfortable, dirt-smudged track pants and t-shirt. “You look like a beggar.” I glanced down at my clothes, perfect for playing with kids and gardening. A beggar? The motorcade finally purred away, leaving a cloud of dust behind. Mrs. Gable let out a long breath. “Didn’t Mrs. Pierce get my messages? I sent her the official adoption notice years ago.” I shrugged, continuing to hand out the last of the snacks. “It doesn’t matter. She’s a stranger.” I turned to our director. “Mrs. Gable, can we put all these gifts in the pantry? The kids could use the extra treats.” After finishing my volunteer shift, I remembered that the custom birthday gift I’d ordered for my mom was ready. There are only a handful of truly high-end jewelers in the city. I never imagined I’d run into Eleanor Pierce at Belmont Jewelers of all places. She was seated on a velvet sofa, listening to the store manager present a tray of diamonds. When she saw me walk in, her face lit up with a surprised smile. “Maya, darling! Were you thinking about me? Are you afraid I won’t come back for you? Did you follow me here for reassurance?” I felt a headache coming on. Had she developed this habit of narrating her own strange reality recently? Had she seen a doctor? I decided the best course of action was to ignore her and walk directly to the counter to pick up my order. She moved to block my path. “Maya, we need to talk about your presentation,” she said, her voice low and conspiratorial. “When you’re in a place like this, you must pay attention to your attire. Why aren’t you wearing any of the clothes I brought you this morning? Coming here dressed like that… it’s embarrassing for me. It shows a complete lack of proper upbringing.” A hot flash of anger shot through me. No one, in my entire life, had ever questioned my upbringing. My voice went cold. “What I wear is my business. My family doesn’t have a problem with it, so why should you? Now please, move. I’m here to pick up a piece of jewelry.” Eleanor’s face tightened, her pleasant demeanor cracking. “So, you are still bitter about us leaving you at the home? We already explained the situation. There’s no need for this passive-aggressive attitude. It’s so… ungracious.” She shook her head slowly. “You’re nothing like Chloe.” “Mom.” A perfectly manicured hand linked through Eleanor’s arm. A striking young woman appeared at her side, radiating the effortless confidence that comes from a life of privilege. “So, this is my sister, Maya?” Chloe’s eyes scanned me from head to toe. “I was just wondering, what school do you go to? What are your talents? I’m not a prodigy or anything, but I’ve dabbled in piano, ballet, painting… you know.” She paused, a small, pitying smile on her lips. “Oh, my goodness, I completely forgot. You grew up in a children’s home. It must have been a struggle just to get into any college at all.” Her tone was a masterclass in feigned sympathy and overt condescension. “I don’t recall having a sister,” I said flatly, looking at the woman who was a stranger to me, yet wore a face that held a faint, unsettling echo of my own. “You might want to be careful who you claim as family.” Just then, the manager emerged from the back room with a velvet-lined box. I pushed past Chloe to get to the counter. I didn’t use much force, but she stumbled dramatically, crying out in pain as she crumpled to the floor. Eleanor looked at me, her face a mask of disbelief. “After eight years, your temper has only gotten worse! You’d push her before you’re even officially back in the family. If we had let you come home eight years ago, would you be a murderer by now?!” This was insane. They were the ones blocking my way, spouting nonsense. “Mrs. Pierce, I was adopted by another family eight years ago. Today, I am simply here to pick up a piece of jewelry. I did not come here looking for you,” I stated clearly. “My parents are wonderful to me. They treat me like their own daughter. I have absolutely no desire to be yours.” Eleanor’s face went rigid. “Don’t say such ridiculous things. Your mother is standing right here. There’s a limit to these jokes.” But I could see a flicker of panic in her eyes. For the first time, she seemed to realize she had no control over this daughter she hadn’t seen in eight years. Something was slipping from her grasp. Seeing she was being ignored, Chloe climbed to her feet. “Mom, maybe I shouldn’t be at home anymore,” she sniffled, her eyes welling up. “The Pierce family isn’t my real family. I’ve stolen everything that should have been my sister’s. I should give it all back.” She began frantically removing her jewelry. “Here, take it,” she said, her voice trembling. “This is all yours. I only ask for one small thing… can I please, please still be your daughter?” Her performance was worthy of an Oscar. Eleanor’s expression melted into pure, unadulterated sympathy. “That’s enough,” she snapped, turning her fury on me. “Chloe is humbling herself like this, and what more do you want? She just wants to be part of our family, she can’t bear to leave us. Why can’t you find it in your heart to accept her?” Her voice rose. “You haven’t even called me ‘Mom’ once! I’ve tried to be patient with you, but you show Chloe no respect! I can see you’ve been thoroughly ruined!” Chloe rushed to Eleanor’s side, grabbing her arm as if to restrain her. Then, with a look of profound sorrow, she held out the collection of discarded earrings, necklaces, and rings to me. “Sister, you’ve probably never seen such beautiful things before,” she said, her voice dripping with pity. “Any one of these pieces is worth more than you could earn in a lifetime of working. I’m not trying to show off how much Mom and Dad love me. I just… you’re coming home soon. You shouldn’t make Mom so angry.” The implication was clear: I was just a gold-digger making a scene for money. I glanced down at the pile of jewelry. My brother, Leo, could buy me a roomful of better stuff. This wasn’t worth fighting over. I motioned for the manager to hand me my package. I opened the box. Inside, nestled on a bed of silk, was a custom-made brooch: a delicate, openwork design of gold leaves entwined around a magnificent, deep green emerald. I nodded, satisfied. It had taken me visits to several auctions just to acquire a stone of this quality—a true imperial emerald. The intricate openwork design was incredibly difficult and wasteful of the raw material. It had cost me years of my allowance, but my mom deserved the absolute best. “Ms. Monroe,” the manager said with an enthusiastic smile, “are you pleased with ‘The Evergreen,’ custom-designed for your mother?” He slid the receipt toward me. Just as I was about to sign, a hand snatched the brooch from the box. “So, it was for me,” Eleanor said, her mood miraculously improving. Chloe chimed in immediately. “I’m surprised this store works with glass now. It looks almost real.” She turned to me. “Mom, even though my sister’s gift is… inexpensive, it’s the thought that counts.” I was stunned. My flawless imperial emerald… was glass? Was it so perfect it looked fake? Chloe reached for the brooch, intending to pin it on herself. There was no way I was letting her touch a gift meant for my mother. “Give it back!” I snapped. In the ensuing struggle, Chloe, with her back to her mother, shot me a sly, triumphant smirk. Then, she let go. Years of reflexes kicked in. I lunged forward and caught the brooch an inch before it hit the marble floor. “Oh, I’m so sorry, sister,” she began, her eyes wide with fake innocence. “I didn’t mean to lose my grip—” Her words were cut short by the sharp crack of my palm against her cheek. A tooth flew from her mouth. The smirk was gone. Eleanor lunged at me, her hand raised to strike, but I shoved her back onto the velvet sofa. “It’s just a pin! What’s the big deal if your sister wears it?” she shrieked, all pretense of the graceful socialite gone. “It was meant for me anyway, and what’s mine is Chloe’s!” I took the silk cloth offered by the manager and began carefully polishing the brooch. “Is your name engraved on it? No? Then stop being so delusional.” Eleanor stared at me, bewildered. “But he said it was custom-made for your mother. Who else could your mother be but me?” I didn’t answer. My phone rang, and I picked it up. “Hey, Mom. I’m on my way home now. No, don’t worry about picking me up.” I quickly signed the receipt, took my package, and turned to leave. “Maya Pierce!” Eleanor grabbed my arm, her grip like a vise. “You called someone else ‘Mom’? Did you really find new parents? Why didn’t the director tell me? Looking at how you dress, they must not be wealthy. A working-class couple making five thousand a month, barely scraping by?” She was practically seething, her eyes filled with a strange hatred. “You will cut ties with those… people immediately. It’s utterly humiliating. Including those peasants in the mountains, you’ll have had three sets of parents. What respectable girl has three sets of parents?” Her voice dropped, cold and menacing. “If you don’t end it cleanly, don’t blame me for using other means to set things right.”

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The call came while Alex’s childhood friend’s son took a tumble at preschool. He turned to his colle When I got the news, I was lying on a This was year three since Alex was diagnosed with a low sperm count, the “Name?” the doctor asked, pulling on his gloves for the final verification. I stared blankly for “Marcus,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “I’m not doing it. 1 Alex had been a nervous wreck ever since he took that call. After we both signed the consent form “Sarah, they’ve got it from here,” he said, already inching toward the door. “Leo’s hurt. I I was following the nurse to get changed into a surgical gown, my own mind a million miles away. I barely registered his wor But the head nurse at the fertility clinic frowned. “Mr. Davison, this is a monumental moment for any couple,” she said, her tone pro His phone buzzed Alex shot me a pained, apologetic smile, but his pale face betrayed a frantic energy. To an outsider, you’d think Leo was his son. The next thing I knew, Dr. Alex Davison, a man known for his calm, steady hands in the OR, was practically bolting out the door. He barely On the operating table, Dr. Ma I stared at him for a moment, then slowly sat up. “Marcus, I can’ His eyes flickered down to my stomach, a roadmap of tiny bruises from the injections. His expression was ser “Are you sure, Sarah?” he asked. “You know his results. These are the only two viable embryos we have. You really want to throw that a He paused, and for a man of few words, what he said next landed like a ton of bricks. “You’re a pediatric neurologist, Sarah. You of a He was right. And that’s “I’ve made up my mind,” I insisted. “I have the right to withdraw consent.” 2 By the time I walked out of the hosp I instinctively reached for the passenger door. Just then, the window roll “Oh, Sarah, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice dripping with feigned guilt. “The presc Her face was a mask of apology, but her e I glanced into the back. Her son, Leo, had a small bandage on his forehead. He was sitting in the car seat I had painstakingly researched and bought, completely absorbed in a game on my iPad. I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth. “Alex, I need Then I turned to Chloe. “Do you mind getting a taxi with your son?” She seemed genuinely surprised by my directness. For “Alex, maybe I should,” she murmured, her voice becoming soft and vulnerable. Alex’s long fingers tightened on the steering wheel. With He leaned across her and looked at me. “Sarah, just get in the car.” His voice It was the same calm, rational tone, as if he were simply a doctor concerned for a child’s welfare. But after three years of marriage, I k I knew, with a sickening certainty, that he wanted a baby to anchor our marriage, which was already drifting into dangerous waters. He wanted a reason to pull himself back from the edge, to force himself into the role of a husband and father. But we both knew the real proble I took a step back, clearing a p “The subway station is two blocks that way.” Chloe’s face went pale. She got out, opened the back door, and yanked the i Her movements weren’t gentle. The five-year-old, ripped from his cartoon world, “I wanna watch my show! I want Uncle Alex to take me home! Waaaaah!” “Leo, “Why? Is Uncle Alex mad at me because Aunt Sarah is here? Does he not like me anymore? Waaaaah!” The scene was getting mortifyi “Sarah, can we please just talk about this at home?” Alex’s voice was low, his deep-set eyes boring into me. Chloe clutched her A suffocating tightness spread through my chest, a tinglin But this time, I wasn’t going to fold. “Fin I took a deep breath, pushed past both of them, and walked to the back of the car. It to It’s not like I was going to need it anymore. As I stood there, a sleek black SUV pulled up beside me. Marcus rolled down the w I shoved the car seat into the bin with a loud clatter and gave him a bitter, Marcus glanced over at the white sedan that still ha “Get in.” As we pulled away, I felt li 3 Alex got home an hour after I did. I was sitting on the sofa in the dark, waiting. I heard him He held me fo “I want a divorce.” I cut him off, calm and di His body went rigid. He tightened his grip, his voice laced with weary “It has to be the hormones,” he sighed. “They’re messing with the calm, brilliant Dr. Evans I know. Leo is fiv “He got a bump on his head,” he continued, “I “It has nothing to do with Leo,” I said coolly. “And you know it, don’t yo A small frown creased his brow. “Chloe? Sarah, I’ve known her for twenty years. If we were going to be together, don’ He released me and moved toward the kitchen. “Don’t overthink this. He leaned in to kiss me, but the cool touch of his lips on my skin only made my mind fe “Don’t forget your heparin and progesterone shots after the transfer,” he called out as he tied on a No one had told him I’d stopped the procedure. He was always so thoug One afternoon, I was hiding out on the roof of the library, devastated after getting a It was Alex. He had sat with me in silence all afternoon. As the sky turned orang That one sentence brought us together. Our friends and mentors joked that the ice queen had But I wasn’t so bad myself. I’d trained under the best in my field and was the Watching Alex’s back as he chopped vegetables, I spoke into the silen “The fellowship in Germany,” I said slowly. “I don’t want to give it up.” This was the other reason my mind had Alex didn’t turn around. “Peds is always understaffed,” he said dismissively. “Everyone’s overworked. We already talk The vegetables hit the hot pan with a loud sizzle, and a cloud of steam billowed up. He finally turned “Sarah, you can lean on me. You don’t have to work so hard. W I ran a hand over my stomach, Marcus was right. A child wasn’t a bandage f His attempt to pull back from the cliff’s edge might just be me walking straight into the abyss. My marria 4 Wednesday was Alex’s mom’s birth We had agreed to go to his parents’ house for dinner after work. A family dinner felt like the right place His colleague looked He was scrolling through his phone, and his expression suddenly turned strange as he look Confused, I pulled out It was a photo. Alex, with The caption read: “Dad of the Year.” Even though I had been preparing myself Then, I liked the post. And I left a comment. Nice t-shirts. If Alex was going to hang himself out to dry, the least I could do was kick the chair out from un When I finally got to his parents’ house, I had several missed calls from him. The Instagram post w Alex opened the door. He stood there, blocking my way, his face a mixture of guilt and frustration. “Sarah, why didn’t you answer your phone?” I looked down. “I was driving.” He faltered, opening his mouth and closing it again, as if he wanted to explain but didn’t know how. Before he could, Chloe’s sickly-sweet voice floated out from behind him. “Sarah, please don’t get the wrong idea. Leo’s dad had an unexpected business trip overseas. I had no one else to ask. Alex was just helping out. As for the post, Leo was just messing around with his phone and posted it by accident.” I didn’t bother to question how a five-year-old could type and post to Instagram. My patience was gone. I looked straight at Alex. “Why is she here?” “Alex, please don’t fight because of me,” Chloe said, reaching out to tug on his sleeve. “What’s everyone doing standing in the doorway? Come on, dinner’s ready!” Alex’s mom appeared at just the right moment to play peacemaker. She took my hand, her grip surprisingly warm. “Chloe’s parents and us go way back, decades! I invited them over to liven things up a bit.” I politely pulled my hand away and offered her the gift I’d brought. His parents had never been particularly warm to me. My family lived a thousand miles away, in a small city in the Midwest. They couldn’t offer us much help, and their biggest contribution was staying out of our lives. In their minds, their son’s ideal wife was someone like Chloe—a local girl from a “good family” with a respectable job. This sudden change in attitude could only mean one thing.

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The new intern at the firm was a handsome idiot. Just as my project hit a critical phase, he swapped high-strength steel for standard grade. The stadium roof collapsed overnight, injuring ten workers. Before I could investigate, Julian Miles ran to our director—my girlfriend, Seraphina Vance—with red-rimmed eyes and an innocent face. “Director Vance,” he whimpered, “I was just trying to save money…” Seraphina shielded him and turned on me coldly. “You’re the project manager! Why blame the intern?” Furious, I struggled with an asthma flare-up. Julian insisted on “helping” me apologize to the victims’ families. On the stairs, his grip slipped—or he shoved me. My head hit the concrete, and everything went black. A week later, I died in the ICU from a brain injury. I heard Julian sobbing, “If I wasn’t so stupid, Liam wouldn’t have died.” Seraphina comforted him, “It was an accident. Not your fault.” My death was ruled a suicide. My parents lost everything and froze to death on the streets. Then, I opened my eyes—back to the day Julian was about to submit the order. 1 I saw him walking toward the procurement department, list in hand, and my voice was a whip crack across the office. “Julian Miles! Who gave you permission to modify the materials list?!” He jumped, a flicker of panic in his eyes before it was replaced by a disarmingly innocent smile. “Oh, Liam! The list had so many different types of steel, it looked really complicated. I just swapped them for the most common one to make purchasing easier! I was just trying to be more efficient!” I snatched the paper from his hand and jabbed a finger at the altered specifications. “Complicated? This is the key component ensuring the structural integrity of the entire roof! If you use the wrong material and that roof comes down, can you bear that responsibility?” Julian’s lower lip trembled, his excuse a perfect echo of my past life. “They looked pretty much the same to me… and the standard steel is so much cheaper. I was just thinking about the project’s budget…” I let out a cold, sharp laugh and turned away from him to face Mr. Evans, the senior engineer who had drafted the original list. “Evans, if this order goes through and the construction team builds according to this, the roof’s load-bearing capacity will fail. When the accident happens, you, me, and this entire firm will be held responsible. Do you understand?” The blood drained from Evans’s face as the consequences hit him. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. “Yes, sir! Understood!” he stammered. “It was my oversight, Liam! I’ll never let an unauthorized person touch these documents again!” At that, Julian’s eyes welled with tears. “Mr. Evans, I was just trying to help you! How can you side with him to bully me like this?” he cried, his voice rising. “We interns do the hardest work for the least pay, and now we have to deal with workplace bullying too?” His outburst drew stares from our colleagues. Right on cue, Seraphina stepped out of her office. Her brow furrowed at the scene. She strode directly to me, her tone sharp with disapproval. “Liam, what could possibly be so important that you feel the need to shout at a new intern in front of the entire office?” I fought to keep my rage in check, pointing at the list. “He replaced the high-strength steel with a standard grade. This is about architectural safety and people’s lives!” Seraphina glanced at the paper, then waved a dismissive hand. “Julian just graduated. He’s bound to make mistakes. As his senior, you should guide him, not blow this out of proportion.” Julian seized the opportunity, bowing a full ninety degrees to me, his voice thick with tears. “I’m so sorry, Liam! It’s my fault, I’m just too stupid! Please don’t be mad. I’ll do anything you ask!” Whispers erupted around us from those who didn’t know the full story. “Ugh, another manager picking on the new guy.” “It’s a simple mistake. Just correct it and move on. Who didn’t mess up at their first job?” “Yeah, even Director Vance said so. Isn’t Liam overreacting?” Listening to them, a strange calm washed over me. “Seraphina, since you admire him so much, you can supervise him from now on. Any future mistakes he makes will be your full responsibility.” She scoffed. “Fine, I will. But your attitude today was unacceptable, Liam. You will apologize to Julian.” I was done arguing. I took the correct materials list, turned, and handed it to the procurement manager. “Order according to this original list. No changes.” I walked back to my desk. But Julian, like a persistent ghost, followed me. “It’s okay if you don’t apologize, Liam,” he said with false sincerity. “I’m a forgiving person. I don’t hold grudges.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, laced with triumph. “But… Director Vance has been taking really good care of me lately. I’d hate for her to be angry with you over this. It might affect your relationship.” I didn’t even look up. “Are you bored? If you are, go find something to do instead of being an eyesore.” Julian bit his lip, but for once, he didn’t argue. He turned and walked away. Less than half an hour later, a crash and a collective gasp echoed from the direction of the archives. 2 My stomach lurched. I shot up and ran. The archives were a disaster zone. Several filing cabinets were toppled over, their contents—priceless blueprints and documents—scattered across the floor. Ms. Davis, the archivist, was trembling with rage, pointing a shaking finger at Julian, who was hiding behind Seraphina. “Who told you to touch these blueprints? And you spilled ink on them! These are archival copies, the firm’s treasures! They’re irreplaceable, do you understand that? Irreplaceable!” Julian’s face was pale. He clutched at Seraphina’s jacket, his eyes wide and tearful. “Director… I saw some dust on the drawings, so I tried to wipe them off… I just accidentally knocked over the ink bottle. I really didn’t mean to…” Seraphina’s expression was thunderous as she looked at the blackened, ruined blueprints. But when she saw Julian’s pathetic, quivering form, her tone softened impossibly. “It’s alright, it’s alright. It’s not your fault. It was an accident.” She turned her icy gaze on the heartbroken Ms. Davis. “You’re in charge of the archives. You knew Julian was new. Why didn’t you inform him of the rules beforehand? This incident is your responsibility! The cost of restoring these blueprints will be deducted from your salary!” Ms. Davis stared, utterly dumbfounded by the injustice. Julian was still sobbing his apologies. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Davis. It’s all my fault, I’m so stupid… Liam told me to find something to do, and I just wanted to help. I never thought I’d cause you so much trouble. I’ll pay you back as soon as I get my first paycheck, I promise.” Seraphina sighed and patted Julian’s shoulder. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Julian. The blueprints… maybe some of them can be salvaged. Don’t let it weigh on you.” How could it weigh on him? The one taking the fall was the hardworking, diligent Ms. Davis. The value of those original blueprints was immeasurable. Even if some could be restored, the cost would be astronomical. Seraphina had always prided herself on being fair and strict. When I first started, she publicly berated me and docked three months of my bonus for accidentally tearing a tiny corner off an unimportant draft. Now, faced with the irreparable damage Julian had caused, she was downplaying it, even shifting the blame to an innocent party. Emboldened, Julian even tried to pass the buck entirely. “Actually, this is all Liam’s fault. If he hadn’t been bossing me around, I wouldn’t have caused this mess…” I let out a cold laugh. “Julian, did I tell you to spill ink on archival blueprints? You make a stupid mistake and immediately blame someone else. How did you even get hired here?” Before the words were fully out of my mouth, a sharp crack echoed through the room. Seraphina had slapped me. Hard. It caught me completely off guard. My cheek burned, and my ears rang. “Liam Carter!” she seethed. “The one shirking responsibility is you! Julian is an intern! He doesn’t know any better! As his supervisor, you should be teaching him with patience, not targeting him with your bitter remarks! Is this what you call professional conduct?” Behind her, Julian shrank back, his tears falling even faster, as if he were the one who had been wronged. “Director, please don’t fight with Liam because of me… It’s all my fault. I never should have come to this firm…” 3 I clutched my stinging cheek, my gaze sweeping over Seraphina and Julian, as cold as ice. “Fine. I will cover Ms. Davis’s loss. But Seraphina, we’re done.” To my surprise, she agreed without a moment’s hesitation. “I was thinking the same thing. Before I met Julian, I thought it didn’t matter who I was with. But when he came along, I finally understood what true love feels like.” What a joke. We had been together for eight years, from college until now, and she was telling me she had just found “true love”? Ms. Davis tugged at my sleeve, her eyes pleading with me not to be rash. I watched Julian pull a tearfully grateful Seraphina into his arms and felt the corner of my lip curl into a small, bitter smile. “It’s okay. I’ve never been more clear about anything in my life.” A cheater and a walking disaster. They deserved each other. In the end, I called in a favor from a friend who specialized in restoring historical documents. He managed to save the blueprints. Neither Ms. Davis nor I had to pay a cent. After that incident, every project team in the office treated Julian like the plague. I thought he might have learned his lesson and would lay low for a while. I was wrong. The very next day, the head of a partner firm stormed into our office, his face purple with rage. “Liam! What is wrong with your firm? Who submitted this final version of the construction plans? The core data is completely wrong! You almost caused a massive failure in our multi-million dollar equipment installation!” I took the plans and saw it immediately. Someone had altered key data points before submitting the file to the client. In the signature block was my own electronic seal. A quick check of the industry’s online forums confirmed my fears. A post titled “#MajorDesignFirmFumbles, Senior Architect Accused of Malpractice!” was trending. The comments were brutal. “These so-called experts are a joke! They don’t even have the basics down!” “This Liam Carter guy is supposed to be a top graduate from Crestwood University’s architecture program? What a disgrace to his school!” “Everyone, remember this name and face. Avoid him at all costs for future projects!” It didn’t take a genius to figure out who was behind it. I went straight to Seraphina. “You let him use my electronic seal to submit faulty plans. That’s a major breach of protocol and has caused severe damage to both the firm’s and my personal reputation!” Julian stood beside her, pouting innocently. “I just saw how busy Liam was every day, and I wanted to help him out…” he mumbled. “The data didn’t look quite right to me, so I adjusted it a little. I had no idea it would be such a big deal…” Seraphina rubbed her temples, looking exhausted but still shielding him. “Julian was just trying to be helpful, to lighten your workload. The mistake was caught in time, no actual damage was done. Can’t you be a little more gracious?” I rolled my eyes, not bothering to argue. I pulled out my phone. “If I don’t receive a public clarification and an apology, I’ll let my lawyer get me one.” Seeing I was serious, Seraphina’s expression hardened. “Fine! Do you have to make a federal case out of every little thing? I’ll issue a clarification from the firm’s official account.” She paused, her gaze turning cold and menacing. “But your complete lack of team spirit convinces me that you’re no longer fit to be a project manager.” I slapped the resignation letter I had already prepared onto her desk. She glanced at it but made no move to sign. “Trying to threaten me with quitting? I wasn’t finished. What I mean is, you should be giving Julian more opportunities to learn and grow.” I laughed internally but agreed with a pleasant smile. “Of course. I’ll make sure he gets all the opportunities he deserves.” After Seraphina posted the clarification, she began to systematically strip me of my authority. But she refused to approve my resignation, instead dumping all the most difficult and tedious projects on my desk. Meanwhile, Julian, with his new “opportunities,” was a fountain of failures. He’d take a client’s request for modern minimalism and produce a render that looked like a cheap country nightclub. He’d mess up the page order on important bid documents, sticking Company B’s price list into the proposal for Company A. 4 The complaint calls piled up. The pressure on Seraphina mounted until she suggested transferring Julian to the administrative department to handle basic tasks. But Julian tearfully refused, his voice choked but firm. “Director, I know I’m stupid and I keep messing things up… but I really want to be a great architect! It’s my dream!” Defeated, Seraphina agreed. Under her direct and constant supervision, Julian finally managed to stop making mistakes. She let out a huge sigh of relief. Until the day the firm landed a major government-led project: a landmark cultural center. The project was being personally overseen by Mr. Thornton, a highly respected, retired city official. Mr. Thornton was known for his exacting standards. He insisted on regular, personal visits to the construction site. Though he was a gentle man, he had an eagle eye for incompetence. The initial phase of the project went smoothly under his watch. To give Julian more “experience,” Seraphina had him tag along, responsible for simple on-site communication and document delivery. That afternoon, an emergency call came through to the project team. The construction foreman’s voice was shaking, the background filled with frantic, panicked shouts. “There’s been an accident! At the site! Mr. Thornton was hit by a falling support frame! He’s unconscious, the ambulance is taking him to the hospital now!” My heart seized. I rushed to the hospital. In the emergency room, Mr. Thornton lay on a gurney, his head covered in blood, utterly still as doctors and nurses fought to save him. “What happened?” I demanded. Julian was just crying, unable to form a coherent sentence. The foreman explained. “Mr. Thornton was inspecting the main exhibition hall when a support frame overhead suddenly came loose. That section… Julian had submitted an ‘optimized’ plan for it. Said it would cut costs and speed things up. We had no idea… no idea this would…” I snatched the so-called “optimization” blueprint from his hands. One glance was all it took. I almost passed out from sheer rage. It wasn’t an optimization; it was a death trap. He had recklessly simplified the support structure in a critical area, using a flimsy design and cheap materials that were flagrantly in violation of safety codes. He had set a trap over the heads of the workers and Mr. Thornton. And Mr. Thornton had paid the price. “Who told him to change the structural plans?!” I roared. “Do you think this is a game?!” Julian flinched, his eyes swimming in tears. “The Director said the original plan was too complicated… I was just trying to save time and money, so I tried to optimize it. I never thought this would happen…” “Optimize?!” I was shaking with fury. “This is a criminal disregard for safety! Is that what architecture is to you? A joke?” But it was too late. Mr. Thornton died on the operating table. His son, Marcus Thornton, a powerful and influential local entrepreneur, arrived at the hospital in a storm of grief. When he learned his father had died because the design firm had unilaterally changed construction plans, his sorrow turned to a burning rage. He grabbed Seraphina, who had just arrived, by the collar, his eyes bloodshot. “Director Vance! My father was just checking on the project’s progress. How is he suddenly dead?! Your firm owes me an explanation!” Seraphina’s first instinct was to pull the stunned Julian behind her. Her sharp gaze then locked onto me, her voice ringing with absolute certainty. “It was Liam Carter! He approved the faulty blueprint! He failed to conduct a proper review, which led to this tragic accident! We will handle this with the utmost seriousness and give you a satisfactory answer!” As if finding a lifeline, Julian began to sob his agreement, pointing a trembling finger at me. “Yes… yes, it was Liam who told me to tell the construction team to use the new plan. He said it was the final version… It’s my fault, I was too stupid, I trusted him too much… sniff… it’s all my fault…” Marcus Thornton’s hateful gaze snapped to me. “Fine! A ‘senior architect’! My father is dead, and it’s your fault! I will make you pay!” He pulled out his phone and called the police. Soon, police cars were parked outside the firm. As the officers approached to take me into custody, my gaze remained perfectly calm, fixed on Julian and Seraphina. 5 My voice was steady, repeating Julian’s own words back to him. “Julian. Are you sure I’m the one who told you to tell the construction team to use the new plan? Are you certain?”

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It was our tenth anniversary, so I booked an appointment at my salon. A full works kind of appointment. While settling the bill, I noticed an extra charge on my account history: a perm and color treatment. Judging by the price, it was for someone with hair down to their waist. I’ve had a pixie cut for the better part of a decade. I called my husband, Ethan. “Did you use my card at the salon recently?” There was a distinct pause on the other end of the line before he chuckled, a sound that was just a little too smooth. “Oh, right. I let my partner, Leo, borrow it a few days ago for his girlfriend.” Leo, his business partner, was dating some art student with a cascade of natural curls. She was famously obsessive about them, swearing she’d never let a single chemical touch her hair. More importantly, the salon chain was owned by Leo’s older sister. Why on earth would she need to use my account? I didn’t press him. I just ended the call. Then I pulled up the location history for the charge and started driving. In a sun-drenched coffee shop downtown, a young woman with long hair was nestled against his chest. Her freshly permed waves were soft and romantic, framing a face flushed with adoration. Ethan always used to complain that my short hair wasn’t feminine enough, that it lacked a certain softness. Looking at this girl, I could see he’d finally found exactly what he was looking for. 1 I waited until she got up to go to the restroom, then followed her in. As I leaned over the sink next to hers, the sharp, chemical scent of fresh hair dye hit me. It was her, alright. Her eyes met mine in the mirror. I saw the flicker of panic in them, the way her hands moved just a little faster under the running water. As she turned to leave, I stopped her, a polite smile fixed on my face. “Excuse me, do you work here?” Her body went rigid. Her fingers curled into a tight fist at her side, and her voice trembled almost imperceptibly. “Yes… I just work here part-time between classes.” A cold laugh echoed in my mind. She could barely handle a simple question from a stranger. I wondered where she found the courage to be a mistress. My gaze drifted over her, landing on her hair. My tone was casual, almost bored. “Don’t be nervous. I was just admiring your hair. You just had it done, right? I’d love a recommendation.” The color drained from her face. She ducked her head, her voice a mumble. “My boyfriend likes it curly. He took me. I wasn’t really paying attention to the name of the salon.” She hesitated, then risked a quick glance at me. “A perm like this wouldn’t really work on your short hair, anyway. It might… age you.” Impressive. Playing the victim while simultaneously taking a jab at me, highlighting her own youth and beauty. Even now, she couldn’t resist a little provocation. Unfortunately for her, it had zero effect. I reached out, letting a single curl wrap around my finger. “How long did it take you to grow it this long?” She flinched back as if I’d burned her. “A little over three years.” The number was a punch to the gut. Three years ago. That was a turning point in my career. My artisanal coffee brand, Solstice Roasters, had just become the number one seller in the region. I was constantly flying back and forth to our growers in South America. I was either on a plane, or heading to one. But whenever I was in the same city, Ethan would meticulously plan the most elaborate dates. I’d felt a mix of profound love and nagging guilt. I remember asking him if he resented me for pouring so much of myself into the business, for neglecting our life together. He’d just smiled. “You go out there and conquer the world,” he’d said. “I’ll be right here, holding down the fort.” I knew juggling a career and a family wasn’t as easy as he made it sound. That guilt was a stone I carried in my pocket for years. Only now did I realize what a joke my self-reproach had been. He hadn’t been neglecting himself at all. I shut down the thought, pinching the bridge of my nose to mask the emotion in my eyes. That’s when my gaze fell on the necklace she was wearing. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “That’s a beautiful necklace,” I said, my voice laced with mock admiration. “It looks like an Antoine Dubois piece. That must have cost a fortune.” The necklace. It was so damn familiar. It was the gift my mother had given me for my twenty-first birthday—a custom piece by the independent jewelry designer Antoine Dubois. It was also to celebrate my winning the National Barista Championship that year. I’d lost it during a move, and I had been heartbroken for months. Ethan had comforted me, saying my style had changed anyway. It was just a thing. How funny. Now I saw it for what it was: a carefully orchestrated theft, followed by the most hypocritical performance of sympathy. Hearing my words, the girl—Chloe, I remembered her name was Chloe—instinctively touched the pendant at her throat. Her eyes darted around nervously, her lips trembling, but she couldn’t form a single word. Just then, someone from the cafe called her name. Relief washed over her face. She mumbled a goodbye and practically fled. Watching her hurried escape, a smirk played on my lips. I dried my hands with deliberate slowness, turned, and walked out of the restroom. Pulling out my phone, I dialed my brother’s number. He’s the CEO of Summit Enterprises, and, as it happens, Ethan’s most important business partner. My voice was perfectly calm, betraying nothing. “Liam? Cancel the partnership with Ethan. I’m filing for divorce.” I paused. “That’s right. He’s been keeping a college student.” 2 The legal team at Summit moved fast. By that evening, a secure hard drive was delivered to my apartment. I plugged it into my laptop, and the truth that Ethan had so carefully concealed began to unfold, frame by painful frame. October 10th. Our anniversary last year. I was in Paris on business. We had a plan to meet for a romantic dinner cruise on the Seine, but he canceled at the last minute, claiming a work emergency. I spent the night walking along the river alone, catching a chill that turned into a fever for three days. It turned out he was with Chloe, attending a “Lover’s Retreat” workshop hosted by some luxury brand. November 4th. A small fire broke out at one of my new cafe locations. I was treated for minor injuries, but the shock caused a miscarriage. I was devastated. In the hospital, I cried until I had no tears left, calling his phone over and over, but he never picked up. He was with Chloe at a spa. November 6th. I was at home, recovering, sunk in a deep depression after losing the baby. He brought me a rare, collector’s edition vinyl of the Casablanca soundtrack, telling me he’d called in a dozen favors to find it. We had a candlelit dinner, listening to “As Time Goes By.” Now I know it was just a freebie he and Chloe won in a raffle at some event. That entire “thoughtfully prepared” evening, from the menu to the music, was an exact replica of a date they’d had the day before. The very next morning, he claimed he had an urgent business trip and took Chloe on a weekend cruise. The photos showed them laughing and toasting with a crowd of people, many of whom I recognized as our “mutual friends.” Some had even sat at the head table at our wedding. What a perfect, silent conspiracy. I scrolled through the files, a cold dread settling in the pit of my stomach. Just as I was about to close the laptop, a document titled “Pharma-Analysis Report” caught my eye. An icy chill seized my breath. My hand trembled as I clicked it open. It was a chemical breakdown of a potent, prescription-only birth control pill. The accompanying photo was of my daily vitamin bottle. At the bottom of the report, a clinical note was highlighted: This medication is known to have a significant impact on early-term pregnancies, often inducing spontaneous miscarriage. Further down was a screenshot from Chloe’s private social media. She had posted a picture of the same bottle. The caption read: He said he only wants a baby with me. A friend had commented: “Getting ready to start a family? ” Chloe had replied with a blushing emoji. A roaring sound filled my ears. My miscarriage wasn’t an accident.

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I wasn’t sick, but I was chewing through a bottle of Tums like they were candy. I was doing it because in my last life, my roommate—a girl who ordered her curries mild and scraped the jalapeños off her nachos—transferred every agonizing side effect of her viral “Spicy Food Challenge” career directly into my body. She would swallow a bowl of ramen designed to melt steel, her expression as placid as a lake, while I collapsed in our dorm room, my stomach twisting in violent cramps. She skyrocketed to fame as a competitive eater, a social media darling, while my tongue swelled and blistered until drinking water felt like swallowing shards of glass. I remember sobbing, begging my boyfriend, Alex, to help me. He’d just yanked his hand away, his face a mask of disgust. “God, Leah, you’re just jealous she’s famous,” he’d sneered. “You probably binged on Flamin’ Hot Cheetos behind her back and now you’re trying to blame her for your own mess.” After that, my roommate, Maya, grew bolder. Right in front of me, she’d accept challenges that were less about food and more about masochism: the Ghost Pepper Gauntlet, the Wasabi Scream, the Inferno Noodle Nightmare, even a single drop of a military-grade pepper extract. The last thing I remembered was the taste of blood as it poured from my nose and mouth, then darkness. The doctors could find nothing wrong. They ran every test, scanned every organ, and found no pathological cause. In the end, they chalked it up to a complete system collapse brought on by extreme psychological stress. I died from multi-organ failure, triggered by a massive gastric hemorrhage. Maya became a seven-figure influencer, living her best life with my boyfriend. Then I opened my eyes. And I was back on the day she signed up for her very first spicy challenge. 1 “Guys, you will not believe this,” Maya chirped, waving her phone in the air. The screen glowed with a fiery red promotional poster. “The King of Spice Inferno Ramen Challenge. First prize is five grand!” She fluffed her hair in the mirror. “Leah, what do you think? Should I do it? If I win, I’ll be the first real food influencer on campus.” Our other roommate, Chloe, laughed from her desk. “Maya, get real. You order your pad thai with zero stars. You’re going to take on the ‘Inferno’ anything?” Maya’s face flushed, and her eyes darted to me, pleading for backup. In my last life, I had been her earnest friend. I’d told her it was a terrible idea, that her stomach was too sensitive, that she would destroy her health for a stupid stunt. She’d smiled gratefully, thanked me for my concern, and then proceeded to channel a private, personalized hell directly into my digestive system. This time, I met her expectant gaze and let a slow, wide smile spread across my face. “Do it,” I said, my voice smooth as silk. “Why wouldn’t you?” I swung my legs off my bunk and walked over to her, looping my arm through hers. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Maya. This is how stars are born.” She blinked, clearly thrown by my enthusiastic support. I ignored her surprise, pulling her toward the door. I pitched my voice just loud enough for the entire dorm hallway to hear. “Everybody! Big announcement! Our Maya is entering the King of Spice challenge! She’s going to put the Communications department on the map!” Instantly, heads popped out of doorways. Curious, excited faces turned toward Maya. “For real? Maya’s doing it?” “Damn! We have to go cheer for her!” I pushed her gently into the center of the growing audience. “Maya’s our secret weapon,” I announced with a conspiratorial grin. “She can handle more heat than anyone I know. She’s just always been too modest to show off.” I leaned in, my voice full of manufactured pride. “But for the honor of our department, she’s decided to finally unleash her true power.” Across the hall, a freshman girl filming a “day in the life” vlog for her YouTube channel brightened, immediately swinging her camera toward us. I caught the movement, and my smile deepened. The cheers and sudden attention were like a drug to Maya. She couldn’t back down now, not from this. She visibly straightened her spine, basking in the spotlight. “Of course,” she said, her voice ringing with newfound confidence. “I always do what I say I’m going to do.” Her calculating gaze landed on me. “Besides, Leah, you’ve always been my biggest supporter. I have to do something amazing. I can’t let you down.” I just smiled, saying nothing. As she moved to hug me, I took a subtle half-step back, ensuring there was no chance for her skin to touch mine. 2 I’d barely made it to my morning lecture when a hand slammed against the classroom door, pinning me against the frame. “Are you insane, Leah?” It was my boyfriend, Alex, his face dark with fury. “You know what Maya’s stomach is like! The girl thinks black pepper is spicy. You’re her friend, and instead of talking her out of it, you hyped her up in front of the entire dorm? You basically forced her into it! What the hell is your problem?” I shoved him back, my own anger flaring hot and real. “She said she wanted to do it. She said she could win. What right do you, an outsider, have to stand here and yell at me about it?” I jabbed a finger at his chest. “And let’s get something straight, Alex. I’m your girlfriend. Not Maya.” A slow, deliberate clap echoed from the doorway. Our department advisor, Ms. Albright, stood there, a wry smile on her face as she nodded at me. “Ms. Miller is right.” She adjusted her glasses, her eyes sharp and intelligent behind the lenses. “This is a time for encouragement, not doubt. This isn’t just an opportunity for Maya, it’s a fantastic publicity opportunity for the Communications department.” Alex’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “But what if she fails? She’ll be a laughingstock! Her reputation will be ruined!” Looking at him, so desperately worried about Maya, I almost laughed out loud. Ms. Albright’s expression was one of pitying disappointment, the kind reserved for a student who just doesn’t get it. “If she fails,” she explained slowly, “we frame it as a testament to her courage. ‘Northwood Student Bravely Takes on Impossible Challenge.’ It’s a story of ambition. The attempt alone gets us clicks, boosts our department’s profile. It’s perfect material for our submission to the University Excellence Awards this year.” She paused, letting the brilliance of it sink in. “And if she succeeds? Even better. We’ll have a bona fide celebrity in our ranks. Think of the value for student recruitment and alumni engagement.” Alex, who had been shouting at me moments before, was utterly silenced. Ms. Albright gave him a pointed, warning look. “This is about our department’s reputation now, Alex. As a member of the Student Government, you need to understand the big picture. Don’t make this messy.” That single bucket of ice-cold pragmatism extinguished Alex’s fiery crusade for Maya’s honor. After Ms. Albright swept down the hall, Alex turned his glare on me. “You knew she couldn’t do it. You’re just letting her walk right into a train wreck. You make me sick.” He leaned in closer. “I’m telling you, Leah. If anything happens to Maya, I will never forgive you.” Looking at his pathetic, posturing face, I honestly couldn’t believe I’d ever loved him. A past life of blindness. I let out a cold, short laugh. “Then we’re done.” Alex froze. “What? I was just angry, I didn’t mean… If Maya—” I had no interest in hearing him squirm. I shoved him out of the classroom and slammed the door shut behind him. “Don’t make me call your parents!” I shouted through the wood. Outside, Alex’s protests died instantly. His footsteps faded down the hall in a furious retreat. His parents were respected academics, obsessed with their reputation. If they knew their son was blowing up his long-term relationship to champion another girl, they would ground him until he was thirty. 3 Three days later, the King of Spice challenge went live. Onstage, under the glare of streaming lights, Maya calmly consumed an entire platter of ramen swimming in a blood-red chili oil. She didn’t even break a sweat. The crowd went wild. That evening, I was in the library trying to study when a familiar, savage cramp seized my stomach. It felt like a vise grip tightening around my organs. I bit down hard on my lip to keep from crying out, a cold sweat instantly drenching the back of my shirt. It was the exact same pain as before. But this time, I hadn’t touched Maya. I hadn’t even accepted a bottle of water from her. The pain had found me anyway. I realized with a sickening lurch that this wasn’t about physical contact. It was something deeper, something parasitic. A transfer of pure harm. I immediately left the library and went to the nearest urgent care. The diagnosis came back quickly: acute gastric mucosal lesions with erosive hemorrhaging. My phone buzzed. It was Alex. His voice was electric with excitement. “Leah, Maya won! The whole team is at O’Malley’s celebrating. Get over here and cover the tab, will you?” I pressed a hand to my mouth, fighting back a wave of nausea. “I can’t,” I rasped. “I have a fever. I don’t feel well.” A saccharine voice cut in from the background. It was Maya. “Oh, don’t be such a baby, Leah. What’s a little cold? But if you need anything, just let me know. I can have Alex take you to the ER.” She knew. The triumphant smirk was audible in her voice. She knew exactly how I was feeling. “That’s so thoughtful of you,” I managed to say, my voice dripping with irony. “My best friend.” “Maya, you’re too nice!” another girl’s voice chimed in. “If it weren’t for Leah pushing you into this, you wouldn’t have had to take such a risk! If I were you, I would have dropped her as a friend ages ago.” I had no desire to listen to their little performance. I ended the call and shut off my phone. Just like last time, Maya became an overnight campus celebrity. She immediately capitalized on the momentum, announcing a month-long “Ultimate Spice Tour,” where she would take on the Ghost Pepper, the Wasabi Scream, and the Inferno Noodle Nightmare in succession.

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The night of the American Gem & Design Awards—the night that was supposed to be my coronation—became my execution. My masterpiece design was swapped for a stolen piece of antique jewelry, and I was arrested on the spot. Five years. Eighteen hundred days in a cage, counting sunbeams slicing through iron bars, enduring a kind of torment that strips you down to nothing. When I finally walked out, my husband, Michael, and our son, Noah, were there. He draped a coat over my shoulders with a careful, almost reverent touch. Noah, my sweet Noah, buried his face in my stomach, his small body trembling with sobs. In that moment, I let myself believe the nightmare was over. At least I still had them. Then, I received the video. It was filmed in Michael’s study. Noah, now ten years old, was looking up at his father, his expression earnest. “Dad, I swapped Mom’s design for Aunt Isabelle’s. Did it make her happy?” A pause. Noah’s voice became smaller. “But… Mom went to prison for five years. Everyone whispers about her. The kids at school make fun of me…” Michael’s hand rested heavily on his son’s head. His voice was low, serious. “This stays between us, Noah. You can never speak of it again.” He knelt down, his face level with our son’s. “It was your mother’s fault for being selfish. Your Aunt Isabelle grew up with nothing, bouncing from one foster home to another. This award meant everything to her. Your mom has everything, Ellie, and she still wouldn’t step aside for her. She earned what she got.” My heart didn’t just break; it felt like it was physically ripped from my chest. The five years of living death I’d endured… a gift, handcrafted by the two people I loved most in this world. 1 “Don’t worry, Dad. I’ve gotten really good at pretending all these years. The stupid woman has no idea.” The voice was Noah’s, but the words were monstrous. Michael’s voice was laced with caution. “Just be careful. Don’t let anything slip before the party. We still need her at Isabelle’s birthday gala.” “Why?” “Because tonight, your grandfather is going to publicly introduce Isabelle as his adopted daughter, the new heiress to the family. Your mother has to be there. Her presence will absorb the gossip, shield Isabelle from the worst of it. With her standing in front, Isabelle will be protected.” Noah scoffed, a sound of pure disdain. “Please. With you there, who would dare say anything?” “Noah!” Michael’s voice was sharp. “Fine, fine! I’ll go tell her. It’s not like she deserves an invitation anyway.” A bitter mutter followed. “If it weren’t for Isabelle, why would I even want a felon for a mom?” I stared at the screen, at the boy who was once small enough to sleep in the crook of my arm, his face now a mask of contempt. Every word from their mouths was alien, poisoned. Five years ago, I was arrested. For five years, I endured. When I was released, I learned my mother had died from a deep depression, and my father had taken out an ad in the paper publicly disowning me. Everywhere I went, I was trailed by whispers and pointed fingers. Even the housekeeping staff at our own home treated me with sneering disrespect. I remember standing on the edge of our rooftop terrace, the wind pulling at my clothes, thinking how easy it would be to just step off. It was Michael and Noah who talked me down, their voices soft with promises. They believed me, they said. They would get me justice, they swore. When strangers sneered at me in public, they stood in front of me, a human shield. I saw them as the light that had found me in the darkness. I would have died for them. And now I knew. My five years of agony were nothing more than a calculated sacrifice to pave the way for Isabelle, the scholarship student my family had sponsored since she was a teenager. Tears flooded my vision, blurring the phone in my hands. I thought they were my saviors. They were just my executioners, tossing me scraps of affection to keep me quiet after they were done using me. Scrambling, I hid the phone, curling into myself in the silent refuge of Michael’s study. And that’s when I saw them. Lined up perfectly on his desk was a collection of custom-made porcelain dolls. Each one exquisitely crafted. Each one with the same delicate beauty mark just below the eye, a perfect mirror of Isabelle. Michael was a world-renowned luxury goods designer. His custom pieces were fought over by collectors, worth a fortune. After we were married, I had begged him to make one for me. He always said he was too busy, that he didn’t have time. I couldn’t get a single one, yet he had made a whole collection for her. It wasn’t about time. It was about worth. And I wasn’t worthy. In his eyes, Isabelle’s dolls were all smiling, their painted lips curved in gentle joy. My hands clenched around the one I’d picked up, the porcelain cold against my skin. I wanted to smash it to pieces. Because my husband cherished her, she became the glittering new star of the jewelry world. And I became the convict everyone despised. That evening, they came home. Noah ran to me, calling out “Mom!” with his usual practiced affection. Michael handed me a small box from my favorite bakery. These small gestures used to warm my heart. Now, they chilled me to the bone. The next morning, after they left, I walked out of the house and called a car. It took me to an old, out-of-the-way athletic club on the edge of town. I found the locker I had rented under a false name, a contingency I prayed I’d never need. I typed in the code and placed a single, sealed envelope inside. On it were just three words. “I was wrong.” He had told me once, long ago, that if I ever regretted my choice, all I had to do was say the word, and he would come for me. When I got home, Michael’s car was already in the driveway. He and Isabelle were standing near the front door, with Noah dancing around them animatedly. Isabelle was laughing, bent over at the waist, and Michael was watching her with a look of pure, undisguised adoration. The sound of my car door closing made them all freeze, the happy tableau shattering. My eyes locked on the tiara sparkling in Isabelle’s hair. It felt like a punch to the gut. Michael’s face flushed, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “Ellie. Isabelle didn’t have anything appropriate for the gala tonight, so I told her she could borrow this. Just for the evening.” Isabelle’s almond eyes crinkled. She covered her mouth with a delicate hand. “Michael is just so thoughtful. He saw I didn’t have a signature piece to wear and insisted I take this.” She gave me a saccharine smile. “I’ll give it right back after the party, I promise.” Their intertwined hands were a pale, glaring knot in the afternoon sun. A thousand tiny needles pricked at my chest, making each breath a sharp pain. Since I’d been released, Michael had made excuses for me to miss every single party, every public event. He never appeared with me. He said it was to protect me from the gossip. I was naive enough to believe him. Now I saw he just didn’t want to be tainted by my prison sentence. Seeing my silence, he pressed on. “It’s just collecting dust in the safe, Ellie. Why not let Isabelle get some use out of it? She needs things like this to build her image right now.” “Do you hear yourself, Michael?” My own voice was a trembling stranger’s. That tiara wasn’t just a piece of jewelry. It was a custom piece, designed by one of the greatest jewelers in the world for our wedding. Its creation was featured in Vogue. I had worn it only once, on that day. The rest of the time, it sat in a climate-controlled glass case, a sacred object. It was the symbol of the lady of the house, of his wife. Giving it to Isabelle… what did that make me? Sensing my anger, Michael quickly changed the subject. “It’s just a thing, Ellie. Don’t make a big deal out of it. It’s Isabelle’s big night. You should come with us.” Noah grabbed my hand, his touch now feeling reptilian. “Yeah, Mom, please come! I feel like we haven’t gone out together in forever.” The image from the video—his face full of contempt—flashed in my mind. A deep cold spread through me, but I kept my gaze level. “A felon at a black-tie gala? I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.” Isabelle linked her arm through mine, her touch cloying. “Don’t say that, Ellie. We’re family. Besides, you haven’t seen your father since you got out.” At the mention of my father, a heavy silence fell over me. Finally, I nodded. Michael and Noah breathed a visible sigh of relief. The driver pulled Michael’s custom Bentley around. Michael smoothly opened the passenger door for Isabelle. As I moved to get into the back, Isabelle turned, her voice dripping with faux concern. “Oh, Ellie. This gown is so voluminous, I’m taking up the whole back seat. Maybe it would be better if you took a separate car?” From the front seat, Michael frowned. “She’s right. We have to be careful with the dress. I’ll call you an Uber.” “Don’t bother.” I turned and walked away before he could finish. I saw his momentary confusion before Isabelle’s voice, sharp and impatient, cut through the air. “Let’s go, Michael. We’re going to be late.” His hesitation vanished. “Let’s go,” he told the driver. The car peeled away from the curb, leaving me in its wake. Funny. Not a single one of the Landon family drivers was available. I, the lady of the house, couldn’t even get a ride. Our villa was in a gated community miles from anywhere, and I couldn’t get a car service. As dusk settled, I had no choice but to start walking. Then the sky opened up. A cold, driving rain. By the time I arrived at the grand hotel, soaked to the skin and shivering, the gala was in full swing. I saw them immediately. Michael and Isabelle, standing side-by-side, bathed in the warm glow of the ballroom. They were a portrait of perfection, smiling and laughing, accepting congratulations. My father stood nearby, beaming like a proud patriarch. The air was thick with murmurs of approval, guests whispering what a perfect couple they made. And me? I was stopped at the door by security, a drowned rat with water dripping from the hem of my ruined dress. The commotion drew my father’s attention. His face darkened into a thunderous scowl as he marched toward me. “Who told you to come here?” he hissed, his voice low and vicious. “This is your sister’s night. Haven’t you caused enough shame?” His next words were a hammer blow. “A convict. If I were you, I’d have the decency to kill myself. If you have any sense left, you’ll sign the divorce papers and let them be happy.” He gestured toward the couple. “I’ve already announced my intention to formally adopt Isabelle. What are you still clinging to Michael for?” “Dad, I am Michael’s wife! She’s nothing but a charity case we took in. How can she be your daughter?” Crack. The sound of his hand striking my face echoed in the marble foyer. My ears rang. Suddenly, I was the center of the universe, the star of a horror show. “You animal!” my father roared. Isabelle flinched dramatically, scurrying into the protective circle of Michael’s arms like a frightened rabbit. And my son, the boy I had raised, the boy who used to cling to me, didn’t even spare me a glance. His small body was a rigid shield in front of Isabelle. “You’re a felon,” my father spat. “What right do you have to question me? If you had a fraction of Isabelle’s grace, you would have died in that prison instead of showing your face here!” Guests were gathering, their phones held up, recording my humiliation. I clutched my burning cheek, drowning in shame. Michael looked uneasy. He started to speak. “Sir…” “Michael, look, Mr. Davison is here. We should go say hello,” Isabelle purred, tugging on his arm. “But…” “Ellie will be fine. He’s her father, after all.” Michael hesitated for a fraction of a second, then allowed himself to be led away. He wrapped an arm around Isabelle’s waist, steering her toward the crowd without a single look back. I stood there, alone, trembling under the weight of a hundred mocking eyes. My son, my Noah, didn’t even break his stride. He just shot me a look of pure disgust before trotting after Isabelle. Finally, I broke. I ran, fleeing the laughter and the stares, my father’s final curse chasing me down the hall. “You knew this would happen! A little late to feel ashamed now, isn’t it?” I found an empty service corridor and collapsed, silent tears streaming down my face. A moment later, footsteps approached. It was Isabelle. Her face was alight with triumph, her eyes filled with scorn. “How does it feel, Eleanor? To have everything you ever loved taken away by me?” She leaned in, her voice a venomous whisper. “Did you enjoy the five years I gave you? It was so easy. All I had to do was cry a little, and your precious son was eating out of my hand, ready to swap out his own mother’s masterpiece.” She laughed, a giddy, cruel sound. “You know, you could have gotten out sooner. The initial recommendation was two years. But your loving husband was so worried I might get dragged into it, so worried about my ‘trauma,’ that he had his lawyers push for more. Three years. Then five. He’s the one who told your father to disown you, to make sure you had nothing and no one to turn to when you got out. So you could never fight me.” My family. My husband. My son. They watched me rot in that hell for five years, all for her. Five years of beatings, of humiliation, of being ground from a diamond into dust. A primal rage, hot and blinding, surged through me. I lunged, my hand raised to slap that smug smile off her face. Before my hand could connect, she crumpled to the floor with a theatrical cry. “Ellie, I’m sorry! I’ll take the tiara off, I’ll give it back right now!” The next thing I knew, Noah slammed into me, sending me staggering backward. My head hit the sharp corner of a metal service cart. Pain exploded behind my eyes, and I felt something warm and wet trickle down my temple. Michael rushed in, scooping Isabelle up from the floor as if she were a fragile doll, as if she were the one who had been hurt. She buried her face in his chest, her voice muffled and thick with fake tears. “Michael, Ellie’s angry with me. I should just give her the tiara back…” Michael saw the blood on my face. The flicker of concern in his eyes was instantly extinguished by a wave of cold fury. “I gave it to you. It’s yours. What use does a convict have for fine jewelry?” His voice was ice. “Eleanor, are you so pathetic you’re fighting over a necklace now? If you so much as lay a finger on Isabelle again, I will make you understand what real consequences are.” “Did you hear him?!” Noah shouted, his little face contorted with rage. “You’re a bad woman! You don’t deserve to be my mom!” Michael lifted Isabelle into his arms and walked away without another word, ignoring the blood dripping onto my collar. Over his shoulder, Isabelle looked back at me. Her smile was pure, victorious venom. As I watched them disappear, my heart turned to stone. It was alright. The message had been sent. Help was on its way. Soon, I would be gone. When I finally made it home, I was running a high fever, the world swimming in and out of focus. As I stumbled through the front door, I saw the trash bins by the curb, overflowing. My birthday gifts to Noah. Every single one. Every year, even in prison, I had made him something by hand. A hand-stitched leather wallet embossed with his initials. A cashmere sweater I’d spent months knitting with contraband needles. A small, perfect tiger carved from a block of wood, its stripes painstakingly painted. Now, all of it—the priceless and the precious—was crammed in with greasy takeout containers and crumpled cigarette packs. Noah saw me and stormed off to his room, slamming the door so hard the walls shook. I was too sick to care. All I wanted was my bed. But as I reached my bedroom, I saw the door was ajar. Through the crack, I saw Isabelle, her arms wrapped around Michael’s neck as he kissed her with a desperate, hungry force. He tore at the constraints of her gala gown, and the tiara—my tiara—was ripped from her hair and tossed carelessly to the floor. It landed with a sickening crunch, a diamond skittering across the hardwood. Beneath him, Isabelle’s eyes found mine through the crack in the door. A slow, mocking smile spread across her face. She bit down hard on his lower lip. A low groan of pain and pleasure escaped him. The dam of his long-suppressed desire finally broke. In that instant, my heart stopped beating and died. I slid down the wall, my legs giving out, and sat on the cold floor of the hallway. I listened to the sounds of their passion all night long, a witness to my own erasure. The next morning, Michael emerged from the room, stretching languidly. He stopped short when he saw me huddled on the floor. “Ellie? What are you doing out here?” He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly awkward. “Isabelle was… upset after last night. I was just comforting her.” A laugh, brittle and sharp, escaped my lips. “Comforting her? All night? On my bed? It looked like you comforted every last inch of her.” His face cycled through a series of emotions—shock, guilt, and then, finally, righteous anger. “Don’t be ridiculous!” he snapped. “You’re a convict, Eleanor! If it wasn’t for my pity, we’d have been divorced the day you were arrested! Do you have any idea what I’ve put up with for you?” Tears, hot and useless, streamed down my face. He was right. He was the brilliant, powerful CEO, and I was the pariah, the stain on his reputation. My silence seemed to be the answer he wanted. He took it as acquiescence. With a look of relief, he straightened his shirt and walked away. After he was gone, I went to my desk and placed the divorce papers I’d had drawn up weeks ago on the polished surface. Michael, you got your wish. I walked out the front door, climbed into the black Maybach that was waiting for me at the curb, and never looked back.

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The day our final high school grades were released, Reina threw a huge celebration party for Alex. But she didn’t invite me. Later, when her meticulously planned drone light show over the Hudson River made local headlines, I quietly changed my college application from Columbia to NYU. Eighteen years of being inseparable, and in the end, I lost out to the new guy. I never thought the person I would lose to would be the underprivileged student I had personally vouched for. And this time, I don’t think I can ever forgive Reina. 1 I only found out about the party because someone in our class group chat accidentally posted and then quickly deleted a video. The moment Alex saw his grades, he let out a whoop of joy and swept Reina into a massive hug. “Reina! I can go to Columbia with you!” Reina didn’t push him away. She just smiled and slipped a wristband with a small, silver “King” charm onto his wrist. “Congratulations,” she said. In the background of the noisy video, our classmates were all cheering for him. It felt less like a celebration of his grades and more like they were celebrating him and Reina finally getting together. And there I was, staring at my phone, the punchline to a joke I didn’t even know I was in. I hesitated for a second, then called her. After two rings, a voice I didn’t expect answered. It was Alex. “Hey, Liam. Reina’s in the bathroom. She’s been running around all night planning this party for me, this is the first break she’s had.” He paused, realizing his mistake. “Actually, I told her to invite you, but she said you might be bummed about your scores, so she didn’t want to bother you.” “I’ll have her call you back, okay?” “Whoa…” I heard him gasp, like he had just seen something incredible. I didn’t care what it was. “Don’t bother,” I said, my voice flat. “You guys have fun.” I hung up. A local news notification popped up on my phone. A drone show over the Hudson. When I saw the image of the drones spelling out “CONGRATULATIONS ALEX – COLUMBIA BOUND,” I understood his gasp. A gesture that grand, that public… what guy wouldn’t fall for that? I glanced at my computer screen. A perfect 1600. I had worked my ass off for the past six months. I could get into Columbia, no problem. I could get into any school I wanted. Once, going to Columbia together was our plan, our promise. After Reina got in through early decision, that promise became a heavy weight on my shoulders, making every practice test a source of anxiety. But now, it seemed like I was the only one who even remembered that promise. And there was no point in keeping it anymore. 2 The next day, I slept in until noon. I called my parents and told them my score. My dad wired me ten grand and told me to “go celebrate, buy yourself something nice.” My mom, after a brief silence when I told her I was choosing NYU, finally spoke. “I thought you were going to choose Columbia. With Reina there, I wouldn’t have to worry about you.” She sighed. “But, if you have your own reasons, I support you completely.” “Yeah, Mom. I can take care of myself,” I said, ending the call quickly. After my parents divorced and remarried, having new kids with their new spouses, I became the baggage neither of them wanted. I thought I was used to it after all these years. But hearing her say that… it still stung. Because now, even Reina wasn’t going to be by my side anymore. 3 That afternoon, I was in the backyard, watering the roses, when Reina called to me from over the fence. “You seem to be in a good mood. What did you get?” she asked, yawning. She was still in her pajamas, her voice casual. She probably didn’t actually care about my score. If she did, she wouldn’t have waited until the next afternoon to ask. “1600,” I said quietly. “That’s great!” she said, her voice suddenly bright, like she was genuinely happy for me. “So you can come to Columbia with us!” That one word—”us”—twisted something in my gut. It was like she had only ever wanted Alex to go with her, and I was just an unexpected, and maybe unwanted, addition. I was about to tell her I wasn’t going to Columbia, but then Alex stumbled out of her back door, stretching. He was wearing one of her oversized t-shirts and a pair of pink pajama pants that were way too small for him, making him look like a kid in hand-me-downs. He saw me and ran over, his face beaming. “Liam, man, I’m so sorry. I was so excited yesterday, I completely forgot to ask you how you did.” Of course he was excited. Reina’s grand gesture had made him the talk of the town. Even if the drone show was old news by now, for them, it would be a memory that lasted forever. I looked at the pink pajamas again, and my good mood vanished. Their relationship was moving a lot faster than I had thought. Reina, sensing the awkwardness, tried to smooth things over. “Liam got a 1600. He can come to Columbia with us.” Alex’s smile faltered. “Wow, that’s amazing. You did even better than me.” He looked at me. “Do you know what you want to major in?” I was still stuck on “with us.” “I don’t know,” I said irritably. “With this score, I can probably pick whatever I want.” “Liam, don’t be rude,” Reina said, frowning at me like she was scolding a child. Alex quickly jumped in. “Liam comes from a wealthy family; he can just choose whatever he’s passionate about. For me, I have to think about my future career, job prospects… it’s so hard to choose.” “Don’t worry,” Reina said, reaching up to ruffle his hair, her voice soft. “I’ll help you figure it out.” The casual intimacy of the gesture was like a slap in the face. As they walked away, Reina turned back. “Liam, you shouldn’t talk to Alex like that. His family doesn’t have the advantages we do. He’s worked incredibly hard to get where he is.” “And about yesterday,” she continued, “the party ended really late, and he couldn’t get back to his place in the suburbs, so he just crashed in my guest room. Don’t read anything into it.” “Besides,” she added, “you’re the one who told me to help him out.” “Anyway, I’m really happy you got into Columbia.” I turned off the hose, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. A half-assed explanation and a pat on the head. Was that all I was worth to her? So, Alex’s struggle was a struggle, but mine wasn’t? It was true, when I first introduced them, I had asked her to help him, to tutor him. I never thought he would end up replacing me in her life. I never thought my best friend, the girl I had grown up with, would one day say my full name with such a cold, dismissive tone, all for some other guy. But it was done. Three was a crowd, and someone had to be the one to gracefully exit. So, I wasn’t going to Columbia. In a month, I would be gone, and Reina and I would be over. Forever. 4 I called a real estate agent and listed the house. I told him to price it slightly below market value, but that I would only accept a cash offer. He came over to take pictures and gently told me that finding a cash buyer for a house this size would be difficult in the current market. I just smiled. “That’s fine. Just list it. I’ll leave a key with you when I go to college.” As I was showing him out, I saw Reina and Alex leaving. Alex saw me and immediately came over, all smiles. “Reina’s taking me to get some stuff for my dorm room. Want to come?” He was wearing a brand-new, expensive-looking watch. A gift from Reina, no doubt. It was also obvious that he hadn’t left her house in days. “Crashing for one night” had turned into moving in. But then I remembered that her parents were out of town on business, and it all made a sick kind of sense. Reina didn’t second his invitation. She just pointed at the real estate agent’s car. “Who was that?” “Oh, just someone from the city to fix a leaky pipe,” I lied. Ever since I decided to leave, I had become a very good liar. I don’t know if it was my acting, or if Reina just didn’t care enough to question it. She just nodded and told me to take care of myself, then walked off with Alex, laughing and talking. The sight of their happiness was so sharp, so painful, that I had to turn away. And for the third time in my life, I felt a profound, aching loneliness in this big, empty house. The first time was when I was seven. My parents got divorced. My mom left with a single suitcase. Before she walked out the door, she knelt down and told me, “Your dad is busy. You need to learn to take care of yourself. If you need anything, go next door and ask Reina’s mom.” “And be polite,” she added. “They’ll like you more if you are.” Reina’s parents did treat me like their own son. And Reina… she always looked out for me. If there was a dish on the table that I liked, she would save it for me. I was a picky eater, and I hated carrots. She would sneak them out of my bowl when her mom wasn’t looking and eat them herself, even though she hated them too. The second time was when I was ten. My dad remarried. His secretary, pregnant with a boy, he had confirmed. He was overjoyed. He bought a house in her hometown and moved there. Out of guilt, I guess, he transferred the deed to this house to my name before he left. He said he would come back and visit, but he rarely did. Even though he was never really around much before, the thought of being completely alone in this house on holidays was a new kind of lonely. Back then, Reina, afraid I would be sad, would come over every day with some new way to cheer me up. She would dress up in a Pikachu costume in the middle of summer and bring me cupcakes. Her mom would cook my favorite meals. Their warmth filled the void left by my own family. And slowly, over the years, my feelings for Reina changed into something more. In our freshman year of high school, she made me promise we would go to Columbia together. The look in her eyes was so sincere, I thought she felt the same way. I had planned to confess my feelings to her the day we both got our acceptance letters. Looking back now, I think I was just fooling myself. Reina was nice to me, but she was nice to everyone. Except for Alex. With him, she was more than nice. She was… everything. 5 Reina’s parents came home early from their trip. Her mom immediately called and invited me over for dinner, saying her dad had a graduation gift for me. It was a new laptop, tablet, and phone, the exact same models as Reina’s. I was grateful. Her dad was a quiet man, but he had always been kind to me. The thought of leaving them was the hardest part of this whole decision. But I would find a way to make it up to them someday. We were halfway through dinner when Reina and Alex finally came home. Alex immediately tried to hide behind Reina. Her dad’s expression hardened. “How many times have I told you to be mindful of your boundaries with people? Bringing a boy home like this… what will people think?” Her mom, trying to keep the peace, gestured for them to sit down. “Let’s just eat. After dinner, I’ll have the driver take you home.” She looked at Alex. “Your parents must be worried about you, right?” Alex didn’t say anything. Under the table, he tugged on Reina’s sleeve. She moved my favorite dish, a spicy stir-fried pork, in front of him. “Mom, Dad, I don’t know why you’re so hostile toward Alex,” she said, her voice sharp. “Liam is over here all the time, and you’ve never said a word to him.” “That’s different, and you know it,” her mom snapped. “How is it different?” Reina retorted. She glanced at me, a flicker of something in her eyes, but no apology. She stood up, grabbed Alex’s hand, and pulled him toward the door. “I promised Alex I would show him every corner of this city this summer. If he’s not welcome in this house, then we’ll just stay somewhere else.” Even though I had tried to prepare myself for this, hearing her say that, seeing her defend him so fiercely… it was like a punch to the gut. The special treatment, the favoritism I thought I had… it had never been for me. Her mom tried to comfort me after they left, but I couldn’t hear her words. I just smiled and said, “It’s okay. People grow up.” And people grow apart. “Don’t be too hard on her,” I said. 6 I spent the next few days packing. After my parents left, there wasn’t much in the house that was mine. The only room that took any time was my bedroom. One entire wall was covered in shelves, filled with gifts from Reina. Crystal snow globes, music boxes, Marvel action figures, limited edition sneakers… for a while, they had made me believe I was special to her, that I was the only one. But now, I realized she had probably just felt sorry for me. A sad, lonely boy who needed cheering up. Throwing them all away felt too cruel. I decided to leave them for the next owner. I just packed a few suitcases of clothes. Reina’s parents eventually managed to get her to come home. As a compromise, they allowed her to take Alex out during the day, as long as she was home by six every night. We would sometimes run into each other, and she would always look at me with this hesitant, almost guilty expression. I think she blamed me. I think she thought that her parents’ disapproval of Alex was somehow my fault. But who was there to care about my pain? 6 The night my acceptance letter arrived, Reina threw a small pebble at my window. It was a secret signal we had when we were kids. We hadn’t used it since she and Alex had gotten close. I opened the window, a strange sense of nostalgia washing over me. Reina was standing in her yard, holding up her own acceptance letter, her face glowing. “Liam! It’s here! Columbia, aerospace engineering!” Becoming an aerospace engineer had always been her dream. For a while, I had even considered majoring in the same thing, just so we could spend more time together. Now, all I could do was smile from my window and say, “Congratulations.” “What about you?” she asked, tilting her head. “What did you end up choosing?” “Literature.” She nodded. “That sounds like you.” She pulled a handful of sparklers from her pocket and lit them. The sparks illuminated her beautiful face, making her look almost magical. “Congratulations on getting into Columbia, Liam,” she said, her voice soft and hypnotic. “Thanks,” I said, a dull ache in my chest. If I hadn’t seen the drone show, I might have been fooled by this cheap, imitation romance. Goodbye, Reina. I did get into the literature program. Just not at Columbia. 7 I wanted to live off-campus, so as soon as my student visa was approved, I booked a flight to New York. Reina was too busy showing Alex the world to notice I was gone. I only said goodbye to her parents. I told them I was just going on a trip, not that I was leaving for good. The pace of life in New York was frantic, and the busyness of it all helped to numb the pain of leaving. But sometimes, I would find myself scrolling through my phone, looking at Alex’s posts. While I was apartment hunting under the hot summer sun, he was posting pictures of him and Reina whitewater rafting. Caption: **”Cooling off this summer! First time rafting!”** Reina’s comment: **”There will be many more times to come.”** While I was eating a sad slice of pizza in a tiny diner, he was posting pictures of a fancy dinner at a restaurant at the top of the Empire State Building. Caption: **”It’s lonely at the top. And a little hard to breathe. First time having dinner with a view like this.”** Reina’s comment: **”I’ll help you check off every item on your wish list.”** I turned off my phone, a cold sneer on my face. It wasn’t the altitude that was making him dizzy. It was the intoxicating fantasy of marrying into money. The night I moved into my new apartment, on a strange impulse, I went through and liked every single one of his posts. Less than a minute later, I got messages from both of them. Reina: **”You little jerk. You went to New York without me?”** Alex: **”Reina told me you’re in New York! Is it fun? I wish I could go. I’m so jealous you can just pick up and leave whenever you want.”** Alex: **”By the way, Liam, school is starting soon. You’re still going to sponsor me, right?”** I was defeated by his sheer audacity. He had already stolen the love of my life, and he still had the nerve to ask me for money for college. I was also angry at myself, for wasting even a second of my time on them. I left their messages on “read” and blocked them both. Finally, the world was quiet again.

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1 On our third anniversary, Caleb sent me $5.20. He sent his first love $520,000. When I refused the pittance, he accused me of being a gold digger. “I sent Chloe money because she’s struggling, not because I care about her,” he sneered. “Isn’t my mother’s support enough? This was your final test. You failed, Mia.” So I left. He proposed to Chloe the next day. Five years later, we crossed paths at the Grand Harbor Hotel. His company was nearing its IPO, and Chloe—elegant in couture—clung to his arm. He saw me, covered in mud, digging through a trash can, and frowned in disgust. “Mia Lin. You once looked down on five dollars. Now you’d be lucky to find that much in ten bins,” he said contemptuously. “Don’t think playing pitiful will make me take you back.” I ignored him. My son’s favorite seashell—a treasure his father had thrown away—was somewhere in that trash, and I had to find it. … In the hotel lobby, Caleb Grey made his entrance with Chloe Shen on his arm. His immaculately tailored suit accentuated his tall frame, and he moved with the easy confidence of a man who owned every room he entered. He was instantly recognized. “Mr. Grey! What a surprise to see you at the Financial Summit! To take a company public just five years after taking over… truly remarkable!” “I imagine you’re also here to meet with the investor, then?” Caleb gave a slight, knowing nod. Most of the people here were after the same legendary, elusive investor. Someone’s gaze shifted to Chloe, their voice slick with flattery. “And this must be the lovely Mrs. Grey! A perfect match!” Chloe pressed closer to Caleb, her smile demure. “We’re not married just yet. We’re planning the wedding for after the IPO. We hope you’ll all be able to join us then.” Caleb’s expression tightened for a split second before he forced a smile. “We’ve both been so focused on our careers. We’re already committed to each other; a piece of paper can wait.” The crowd murmured their congratulations. I was surprised. They weren’t married yet? Five years ago, the day after our breakup, he had proposed to her. Their engagement was a high-profile spectacle. He loved her so much; I’d assumed he would have married her immediately. How could work have delayed it this long? Especially when I knew how desperate his mother was for a grandchild. Just then, a hotel attendant marched toward me, his face a mask of disapproval. “Ma’am, this is a five-star resort hotel. It’s not a place for just anyone to wander into.” His eyes raked over me, his disgust unconcealed. “And digging through the trash is strictly prohibited. Please leave at once.” I had just come back from the beach with my son. I was covered in mud, my hair a tangled mess. I certainly didn’t look like a guest. “I’m so sorry,” I explained quickly. “Something of mine was thrown away by accident. I’ll be back in my room as soon as I find it. I’ll clean up any mess…” “With the way you’re dressed, there’s no way you’re a guest here,” he interrupted impatiently. “Leave now, or I’m calling security.” His voice was loud, drawing looks from the surrounding crowd. That’s when Caleb glanced over his shoulder. Our eyes met. He froze. “Mia?” The attendant looked at him, surprised. “Mr. Grey, you know her?” Caleb’s composure returned in an instant. His tone was glacial. “She was a charity case my mother used to sponsor. We’re not acquainted.” He looked away, as if another glance was a waste of his time. It was the same cold indifference he’d shown me the day we broke up. Taking his cue, the attendant shoved me. “Get out of here! I’ve seen your type before. Just because someone helped you once doesn’t mean you can leech off them forever.” I dodged his hand. “I told you, I’ll leave when I find what I’m looking for. I’ll pay for any damages.” He sneered. “Pay? You?” He pointed to the ornate bin. “Do you have any idea what this is? It’s a custom piece from an Italian designer. It costs ten thousand dollars. Can you afford that?” he scoffed. “Don’t make empty boasts. You can’t even imagine the value of a single object in a place like this.” He reached for me again. “That’s enough.” Caleb, who had already reached the elevators, turned and walked back. His face was a blank mask. “What are you looking for? Tell me how much it’s worth, and I’ll give you the cash.” His eyes were cold. “Stop trying to get my attention like this. It’s pathetic. I have zero interest in you.” Chloe tightened her grip on his arm, her smile gentle but condescending. “Mia, we’re getting married. I know you were bitter about the breakup, but you can’t force these things. I hope you can find some dignity.” I offered them a small, genuine smile. “I wish you both a long and happy life together.” Then I ignored them, crouching down to continue my search. “What will it take for you to leave?” Caleb’s voice was sharp with irritation. “Or are you still hung up on that half a million I gave to Chloe?” He impatiently pulled out his phone. “Fine. I’ll transfer it to you now. Take the money and disappear. Never show your face to me again.” He didn’t look up from his screen. “Chloe was always the one I loved. Those years with you were just me running away from my feelings for her. This money is enough for you to start over. Find a man who’s actually in your league and stop wasting your time on me.” Suddenly, his thumbs stopped moving. “Your card was declined. Are you a defaulter now?” I understood immediately. He was trying to send money to the old bank account my scholarship was paid into. I hadn’t used it in years. Since I got married, I’d only ever used the black card my husband gave me. Of course the old one was frozen. It seemed his opinion of me hadn’t improved. I’d graduated from gold digger to broke, and now, to a deadbeat. “I don’t need money,” I said, too tired to explain. His voice turned colder. “You’re reduced to digging through garbage, and you still won’t accept help?” I frowned, confused. “We broke up five years ago. We’re strangers. Why would I need your help?” I added, “And please, don’t send any money. I don’t want it.” If a certain someone found out another man was sending me money, he’d interrogate me for weeks. And if he ever dug up my history with Caleb, the resulting jealousy would last for a month. Caleb was taken aback, then let out a short, mocking laugh. “Mia, you’ve misunderstood. The only reason I’m offering you money is out of pity. Don’t worry, I have absolutely no other intentions toward you.” He stared at my disheveled appearance for a long moment, his expression growing complicated. “Seeing you like this… maybe the breakup hit you harder than I thought. I suppose I do bear some responsibility for that. Is that why you won’t take the money? You want me to feel guilty forever?” Chloe jumped in, stroking his arm soothingly. “Caleb, darling, she was a top student at medical school. She’s perfectly capable of getting a job and supporting herself. The only reason she’s like this is because she’s lazy and has no ambition.” Her voice was sweet poison. “You could see it back then. Her family was poor, but instead of getting a part-time job for tuition, she just accepted your mother’s charity. It just goes to show what kind of person she is.” “Chloe!” I snapped, my voice sharp. “I paid back every cent of that scholarship, with interest. Watch what you say.” Chloe flinched, then tugged on Caleb’s sleeve. “Forget it, Caleb. She’s too proud. Your kindness is just an insult to her. Let’s just go.” “My affairs are none of your concern,” I said coldly, turning back to the trash. Suddenly, I saw it: a small bag filled with colorful seashells. A wave of relief washed over me. I had just grabbed it when Caleb’s hand shot out and clamped around my wrist, yanking me violently to my feet. “Mia Lin! You turned your nose up at five dollars back then, and now you’re digging through trash for shells? Tell me, are they worth more?” His voice was a low growl. “Even as a beggar, don’t think for a second that playing pathetic will make me take you back.” I was speechless. After all these years, he still thought I broke up with him over five dollars? That year, Chloe had left for overseas without a word, a sudden breakup that had nearly destroyed him. Caleb’s mother asked me to look after him, and out of gratitude for her sponsorship, I stayed by his side while he healed. Eventually, we fell into a relationship. But the moment Chloe came back to the country, he grew distant. He stopped answering my calls, ignoring my messages. On our third anniversary, he sent me $5.20. It was a clear, insulting message: get out of my life. The most pathetic part? I still hadn’t wanted to let go. Not until I received that text message from Chloe. That was what truly killed my love for him. How could he not know? I looked down at the hand gripping my wrist. “Caleb,” I said calmly, “I’m doing very well now. I have never, not for a moment, thought about getting back together with you. You can rest easy.” I tried to pull my hand away, but his grip was like iron. “You’re the one who said it, remember? ‘Don’t come crying back to me after we break up.’ I’ve remembered that every day.” He narrowed his eyes. To dispel any lingering doubt, I added, “I’m married now. My husband has a bit of a temper. If he saw us like this, it wouldn’t be good for anyone.” He snatched his hand back as if he’d been burned. His face was a mask of shock. “You dared to get married behind my back?!” His brow was deeply furrowed. “Where is this husband of yours? What kind of man lets his wife end up looking like this?” I didn’t answer. He suddenly let out a bitter laugh. “I almost fell for it. What, you’re trying to make me jealous by pretending you’re married? You could tell me you have kids and I still wouldn’t care.” He didn’t need to say it. I knew better than anyone that his heart had only ever had room for Chloe. But he was the one who confessed his love to me first. I had asked him again and again if he was truly over her, and only when he swore he’d forgotten her did I agree to be with him. Now, in his version of history, I was the desperate one who wouldn’t let go. I shrugged. “Think whatever you want.” Chloe took a theatrical step back. “Caleb, the smell here is awful. Let’s go. She clearly doesn’t appreciate your concern.” But Caleb’s gaze remained locked on me. He wasn’t moving. Chloe shot me a cold glare. “So stubborn. Fine. We’re meeting our investor today, and we happen to need someone to serve tea. If you’re willing, I can pay you fifty thousand dollars.” She smirked. “That should be enough for someone like you to live on for a whole year, right?” Caleb finally stirred. “Mia, you’re just too proud. You won’t take a handout, but you can accept money you’ve earned, can’t you?” I almost laughed in their faces. “Are you two that bored? I don’t have time to play a part in your twisted little charity game. Please, leave me alone.” I had canceled several major surgeries just to get three days off to spend the summer holiday with my son. And they wanted me to serve them tea? It was ludicrous. My repeated refusals made Caleb’s face darken. Even the ever-composed Chloe couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. The crowd around us began to whisper. “Mr. Grey, that woman is not only poor, she’s stubborn. You’re really going to let her serve your VIP guest?” “I think you should forget it. What if she offends the investor? It would ruin the day for all of us.” The attendant was now in a full-blown panic. “Security! Get her out of here! The investment showcase is about to start! The guest in the presidential suite could come down at any moment!” He glared at me. “Ma’am, the most influential people in Port City are here today! Especially the young master of the Thorne family from Helios City! He even brought his wife and child. This hotel has never hosted an event of this caliber!” he hissed. “Normally, I might turn a blind eye to you digging in the trash. I might even give you some cardboard to sell. But not today! You’re making a scene, and it will destroy this hotel’s reputation! I can’t be responsible for that! Please, I’m begging you, just go.” Security guards moved in, grabbing me roughly. “I can walk myself!” I shouted, shaking them off. Seeing that I was finally leaving, a collective sigh of relief went through the lobby. “Wait!” Caleb’s sharp voice stopped me in my tracks. His eyes were fixed on the bag of shells in my hand. His fists were clenched at his sides, his knuckles white. “Mia,” his voice was hoarse, raw with an emotion I couldn’t place. “Why don’t you understand? I don’t need these shells anymore.” I looked down at the shells in my palm, and a memory surfaced. The year he and Chloe broke up was the year his family started sponsoring me. Caleb was a ghost back then, spending his days sitting by the sea, not speaking, not eating. A walking corpse. His mother, worried sick, asked me to keep an eye on him. I took her request to heart. I would sit with him on the beach for hours, day after day. One time, a rogue wave pulled him under, and I dragged him back to shore with every ounce of strength I had, collapsing from exhaustion myself. He held me and cried like a child. In my daze, I grabbed a seashell from the sand and pressed it into his hand. “Caleb,” I’d whispered, “from now on, every time I give you a shell, you have to smile for me. Okay?” He’d nodded, a tearful smile breaking through his despair. After that, I collected shells for him constantly, just to see him smile. It had been so long. If he hadn’t brought it up, I would have forgotten all about it. Seeing my silence, Chloe laughed out loud. “Caleb threw out that box of shells years ago. You can’t possibly think you can win him back with such a childish trick, can you?” she mocked. “It was just a game to him back then, something to humor you. You can’t tell me you actually took it seriously all this time.” Caleb looked at me, his tone flat. “Mia, Chloe and I are getting married. There’s no possibility for us anymore. It’s over.” I had nothing left to say. I turned and walked toward the elevator. Just then, my phone rang. As I reached for it, the attendant snatched it from my hand. He looked the expensive, latest-model phone over with suspicion. “How could you possibly afford a phone like this? Did you steal it?” I froze, forcing my anger down. “That. Is. My. Phone,” I said through gritted teeth. Chloe chuckled as if watching a play, and motioned for the attendant to give it back. “If it’s yours, then unlock it and prove it.” I tried the fingerprint scanner, but my muddy hands wouldn’t register. Face ID failed too, blocked by my messy hair. Just as I was about to type in the passcode, the hotel manager, who had rushed to the scene, snatched the phone away. “Take this to the front desk. Contact our guests immediately and see if anyone has lost a phone.” He then turned to security. “Call the police.” “Wait,” Caleb cut in suddenly. “For my sake, let’s just drop this.” Chloe immediately backed him up. “I’m a lawyer. Theft of an item of this value carries a sentence of at least two years. And as you can all see, she’s not mentally stable. She probably just got confused…” “I didn’t steal anything,” I interrupted. “Since you’re a lawyer, you should know that false accusation carries the same sentence.” My defiance only strengthened the manager’s resolve. He ordered security to restrain me while he dialed the police. At that exact moment, the elevator doors slid open. A three-year-old boy with a tear-streaked face saw me and ran out, his arms outstretched. I knelt down to give him the shells, but Chloe suddenly slapped them out of my hand. The bag scattered across the marble floor. “Mia! Are you insane? Kidnapping a child in front of all these people?!” The boy, startled and scared, burst into terrified sobs. Chloe immediately scooped him up, her voice a soothing murmur. “It’s okay, sweetie. She’s a bad woman, not your mommy. Auntie will help you find your real mommy.” But my son struggled wildly in her arms. “I want Mommy! I want my mommy!” Seeing his red, crying face, my heart felt like it was being shredded. “Let go of my son!” I fought against the guards, trying to get to him, but they held me fast. The lobby filled with ugly, jeering voices. “She’s crazy! Just grabbing any kid and calling him her son! Someone call the police and get her locked up!” “You can’t let a psycho like that run free! She’ll probably burn someone’s house down next!” “Mommy… Mommy…” My son reached for me, his little voice hoarse from crying. I choked back a sob, trying to soothe him even as I struggled. “Don’t cry, baby, Mommy found your shells. I’ll give them to you right now…” I was almost close enough to touch his hand when a guard twisted my arms violently behind my back, preparing to tie them. Caleb sighed deeply and pulled me away from the guards. “I’ll handle this. You go wait outside. I’ll find you after the showcase.” He started dragging me toward the exit. “Let go of me! Caleb, don’t make me hate you!” I screamed, twisting to look back at my son, who was watching me, his little lip trembling. Caleb ignored my pleas, his grip unyielding. Ding. The main elevator doors opened again. A tall, commanding figure stepped out. A perfectly tailored cream-colored suit draped his powerful frame, and he radiated an air of innate, aristocratic authority. “Mr. Thorne,” the crowd murmured in unison, their voices filled with awe. My eyes met his, and my vision blurred with tears.

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I had been in love with Addison Vartan for ten years. The moment I found out he loved my sister, I gave up. That night, he was blind drunk. My first instinct was to call my sister. He snatched my phone and threw it out the window. “Still trying to push me away?” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “You’ve gotten bold, kid.” … After the world tilted on its axis, I told him, “Don’t worry. We’re both adults. I don’t expect you to take responsibility.” Addison’s eyes darkened. He pulled me into his arms. “Maybe not. But I need you to take responsibility for me.” 1 Addison Vartan came back the day before my birthday. I went to meet him, my heart soaring. I was a step too late. I saw him with my sister, Aurora, wrapped in an embrace. My childhood friend, Leo, sighed beside me. “I need to tell you something. You should probably brace yourself.” “What?” My gaze was glued to Addison. It had been so long. He’d gotten even more handsome. Aurora was saying something to him; he just listened, his expression coolly detached, occasionally nodding or murmuring a quiet assent. “Your sister is marrying him.” “Who?” “Addison.” The bouquet of roses I was holding slipped from my grasp and fell to the floor. Addison’s head turned, his eyes finding mine across the space. His gaze lingered on my face for a moment, just as blank and unreadable as ever. Leo grabbed my arm. “Hey, did you hear me?” I shook him off. “Don’t talk nonsense!” I loved Addison. My pursuit of him had always been loud, direct, and anything but a secret. My sister adored me. She would never, ever try to steal him away. I launched myself into Addison’s arms. He stumbled back half a step, catching me. I inhaled the faint, familiar scent of tobacco on his coat, my head swimming with delirious happiness. “Addison, did you come back just for my birthday?” “You’ve misunderstood.” He gently pried my arms off him, making me stand on my own two feet. “I have a temporary assignment. A business trip to the city.” I didn’t care about that. I pressed close to him again. “Do you have time tomorrow night, then? Can you come to my birthday party?” “Skye.” My sister’s voice was firm. She pulled at my sleeve. “Addison is very busy. Don’t be a nuisance.” I tilted my head back, my eyes wide with hope, looking only at Addison. “Stay out of this, Aurora. I want to hear his answer.” Our eyes met. His were sharp, a deep, impenetrable black. I couldn’t read a thing. But I knew that ever since we were children, he could never bring himself to refuse me. Except for that one thing: being his girlfriend. As expected, Addison let out a soft sigh. “If I have time, I’ll be there.” “Okay.” I beamed. “I’ll be waiting for you, Addison.” 2 At 11:46 PM, he came. “He’s on the rooftop, talking with your sister,” Leo told me. “Okay!” I was practically vibrating with joy, ready to sprint up the stairs. Leo grabbed my arm again. “Skye, please listen to me. Go on up, fine. But whatever you see, you have to be able to handle it.” “What is there to handle?” I brushed him off, unconcerned. I ran up to the rooftop, the name “Addison” ready on my lips. But the word caught in my throat, a hard, painful lump. I saw my sister, the one who had cherished and protected me my whole life. She reached up and untied the silk bow at her chest. She took Addison’s hand, which was resting at his side, and brought it up, placing it over her heart. “Addison, I’m in love with you,” she said, her voice trembling but clear. “I don’t know when it started, but by the time I realized it, it was too late to turn back. I know this is wrong, I know it’s not fair to Skye, but my feelings for you… they are just as strong as hers.” My own heart leaped into my throat. I prayed silently, fiercely. Reject her! Addison! You’re so good at rejecting people! But heaven wasn’t listening. I watched as Addison raised his hand. His fingers were gentle, deliberate. He took the ribbons of her undone bow and slowly, carefully, tied them back together. Then he opened his arms and pulled her into a hug. His lips moved, but I couldn’t hear the words. Of course, I didn’t want to hear them. A tear slid down my cheek, a hot, silent drop that felt like it was falling straight into my soul. The two people I loved most in the world. On my birthday. Betraying me. Together. 3 I ran. Not home, not to school. I spent the next seven days and seven nights drowning myself in bars and clubs. Preston, some trust-fund kid who’d had a thing for me, finally saw his chance and stuck to me like glue. He opened a five-figure bottle of champagne, determined to get me wasted. My head was spinning, nausea rising in my throat. He kept pushing the glass toward me. “Skye, drink! If you don’t drink, you’re disrespecting me!” My hair was a messy curtain over one shoulder. I shot him a glare. “Don’t push your luck. What ‘respect’?” “Hey! If you don’t want to drink, fine, but why the attitude?” He was offended, calling over his buddies to back him up. The door clicked open. Like the hero walking into a movie, Addison’s entrance had an unreal, luminous quality. He stood tall, a cut above everyone else, his presence commanding. He was dressed in black, a palpable chill emanating from his sharp features. The restaurant manager scurried behind him, trying to stop him. “Sir! You can’t just walk in here! Who are you?” Addison ignored everyone. His eyes locked onto me, a storm gathering in their depths. He strode over, grabbed my wrist, and started pulling me out. Preston stepped in his way. “Hey, who the hell are you?” “You dare touch someone who belongs to me?” Addison didn’t say a word. He just lifted his gaze and leveled it at him. It was a look forged in crucibles Preston couldn’t even imagine, and it made the boy flinch. Preston started to bluster, but Addison had already turned to the stunned manager. “My name is Vartan.” “Vartan? As in, the Vartans?” “Holy crap! We can’t afford to mess with him!” “Come on, anyone can say that. How do we know he’s not bluffing?” The whispers rippled through the room, but no one dared to move. Addison let out a cold laugh. “Since you’re Skye’s friends, you’re my friends,” he said, his voice dangerously smooth. “Their tab tonight… put it on me.” He turned back to the now-terrified Preston. “May I take her now?” 4 A classic hero-saves-the-damsel moment. All I felt was that he was being a meddling busybody. Inside Addison’s black SUV, I asked lazily, “Did my sister send you?” He handed me a bottle of water. “What does she have to do with this?” The cap was already twisted open. So thoughtful. Worthy of being my brother-in-law. I didn’t take a sip. I screwed the cap back on and tossed the bottle into the back seat. “Well, congratulations are in order, I suppose.” The car screeched to a halt. I was nearly thrown from my seat. I whipped my head around to glare at him. His own expression was thunderous. “Skye Everett, can you stop with the sarcasm?” “You want me to talk to you nicely?” I sneered. “Fine. Beg me.” Addison would never beg me. He started the car again and drove me home in stony silence. I slammed the car door when we arrived, still ignoring him. He caught my arm, his voice laced with exasperation. “What will it take for you to talk to me properly?” I walked into the house and went straight to my father’s liquor cabinet, reaching for the strong stuff on the top shelf. Too high. I couldn’t reach. I heard Addison sigh behind me. He stepped up, easily retrieved the bottles, and handed them to me. I set them on the table. “Drink all of these, and I’ll talk to you properly.” Addison was allergic to alcohol. He wasn’t supposed to drink, ever. He looked at me, his gaze intense. “You promise?” “Of course.” I’d never seen him drink. The one and only time was on his 18th birthday. He ended up in the hospital. I sat by his bedside all night, crying my eyes out. When he woke up, I made him promise me. “Swear you’ll never drink again!” He was lying there, pale as a sheet, but he still managed a weak smile. He lifted his hand and gently tapped my nose. “I swear I’ll never make our little Skye cry again.” I was only in middle school then. That brilliant smile was seared into my heart. Even today, I couldn’t erase it. 5 Addison had lost his mind. He actually twisted the cap off one of my dad’s expensive whiskeys and started chugging it straight from the bottle. At first, I didn’t care. But then half the bottle was gone, and he still wasn’t stopping. No. Even without the allergy, drinking like that would destroy his stomach. I didn’t want him dying in my house. I snatched the bottle from his hand. “Stop it! You don’t have to drink anymore! I was wrong! It was a joke, okay? I won’t mess with you!” The alcohol had hit him hard. The corners of his eyes were red, the usual intimidating aura around him gone. He just stared at me blankly, murmuring my name. “Little Skye.” He kept saying it, and my own throat felt dry. This was a mistake. A terrible mistake was about to happen. No. Even though I loved him, I had my limits. A moral code. “Just sit here. I’ll get you some water.” I escaped to the kitchen and fumbled for my phone to call my sister. Before the call could connect, the phone was ripped from my hand. I turned to see Addison swaying behind me. He’d thrown my phone out the open window. We lived in a house, thank God. Otherwise, that would have been a crime. “Addison! What is wrong with you? You owe me a new phone!” He just looked at me, a dumb, drunken haze in his eyes. Then he reached out and pulled me into his arms. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. I could hear his heart beating against my ear. His warm breath ghosted over my skin, and his voice, deliberately low and raspy, was intoxicating. It was melting my resolve. “Still trying to push me away?” “You’ve gotten bold, kid.” 6 His kiss was a storm. Overwhelming, passionate. I never knew the perpetually cool Addison Vartan could be so fiery. At first, I resisted. Then, it became a battle of wills. It’s not like I was losing out, anyway. But I was no match for him. I was losing, badly. “Addison,” I mumbled against his lips, still trying to sound tough. “Tell me the truth. You’ve kissed a lot of girls, haven’t you?” He was dizzy, his arms tight around me. “Little Skye,” he slurred, “I’ll take that as a compliment on my natural talent.” Talent, my ass. I bit his lip. He wouldn’t open his mouth. I pinched his side in frustration. He gasped in pain, his lips parting, and I took my chance. And I lost again. I don’t know how it all happened. When I came to my senses, Addison was cupping my face, his handsome features softened with a tenderness I’d never seen before. “Are you going to push me away again?” I turned my head, refusing to answer. He was stubborn, pressing me for a response. He didn’t stop until a broken sob escaped my throat, until tears were streaming down my face. He sighed, as if he didn’t know what to do with me. He gently, tenderly, kissed the tears from my cheeks. “Little Skye,” he whispered. “I’m so in love with you.”

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1 For three years, my soul has been trapped in the ceiling. Tonight, my family hired a paranormal livestreamer to prove I faked my own death. During the broadcast, my mother wrapped her arm around Lily, the girl they raised in my place, and called me a venomous, ungrateful snake. My brother’s voice was cold as ice. “When she was home, all she did was hurt Lily with her pathetic little schemes. Now she’s learned to play dead just to torment us. A monster like that doesn’t deserve to be my sister!” My father nodded in agreement. “Exactly. She’d better be dead for real this time. If not, I want this streamer to drag her out and humiliate her.” Everyone cursed my name, saying the world was better off without me. It made me wonder. If they saw that I was well and truly dead, would they feel even a flicker of sadness? … Deep in the night, a dilapidated, abandoned building stood silhouetted against the moon. A streamer, a camera strapped to his head, pushed open a rust-eaten iron gate, the beam of his high-powered flashlight cutting through the darkness. “What’s up, folks! Daredevil Dave, your number one Myth Smasher, coming at you live.” “Tonight, we’re at a location that’s become a hotspot for ghost hunters over the last three years. The story goes that Clara Ashworth, the heiress who was cast out by her family, threw herself down a well right here, turning this place into a seriously haunted house.” “Yesterday, her family contacted me. They want me to get to the bottom of it. So tonight, we’re going to uncover the secrets of this so-called haunted mansion!” The yard was choked with weeds, and the mournful cries of a few night birds echoed under the chilly moonlight, making the scene feel unnervingly strange. The live chat was already exploding. 【Clara Ashworth? You mean that evil bitch they found and brought back to the family?】 【I heard that after she moved in, she used her ‘real daughter’ status to frame the adopted one, Lily, over and over. Then she tried to poison Lily, but her own father drank it by mistake!】 【Damn, she deserves to rot. The Ashworths should have never taken her back!】 【Almost killing her own dad? She’s worse than an animal!】 Someone else chimed in with more gossip: 【Heard when they kicked her out, she stole a bunch of jewelry and stuff. Probably came here to party and live it up every night…】 【For real? But this place looks creepy as hell. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘party central.’】 【Plus, people say they hear a woman crying here at night. Totally gives me the creeps…】 【What do you know? She was probably scared her family would find her, so she had her ‘fun’ here! Crying? Please. Probably just noises she made while she was getting wild. If you know, you know!】 Watching the fiery debate in the chat, my brother’s voice cut in, low and grim. “We thought she might have learned her lesson, but instead, she’s resorting to these sick games to curse us. Dave, please, show everyone what she’s really up to.” My parents urged him on. “Yes, we can’t let her continue this madness!” The chat went into a frenzy. 【Whoa, so the haunting is fake? She’s still alive?】 【What a psycho! Dave, go in there and expose her!】 Daredevil Dave chuckled. “I’ve said it a thousand times, folks. There are no ghosts in this world. Just people causing trouble.” “Tonight, I’ll show you exactly what kind of game this wicked heiress is playing.” His righteous declaration earned a wave of cheers and a flood of digital gifts in the livestream. Dave raised his flashlight and waded through the tangled weeds into the yard. He stopped at the edge of the old, dry well where I was rumored to have ended my life. A massive stone slab covered the opening. Moss crawled over the stone, and in the ghostly moonlight, you could see several dark, dried bloodstains on its surface. On the video call, Lily clutched her head and let out a pained cry. “That’s it! In my dreams, Clara was there… biting her own finger to write a curse, saying she would trap me in that well for eternity…” My brother comforted her. “Don’t be afraid, Lily. Her pathetic black magic can’t hurt you.” My father spat, his voice filled with rage. “All this hocus pocus! I’d like to see what kind of trick she can pull from the bottom of a well!” Dave found a crowbar and started working on the stone. Ten minutes later, panting, he finally pried the massive slab away. He aimed his flashlight into the abyss. A gasp escaped his throat. “Holy crap! What the hell is this?” The moonlight poured into the well, but instead of the expected glint of water, there was only a pit of impenetrable darkness. A foul, rotting smell drifted up, and Dave pinched his nose, taking a step back. 【Whoa! Did the evil bitch actually jump?】 【I remember three years ago, after they threw her out, she did a livestream, crying. She said she didn’t poison anyone and that she’d prove her innocence with her life!】 【Don’t fall for it! There’s no water in the well. She couldn’t have drowned. How could she kill herself by jumping in? It’s so fake!】 Dave pulled on a mask and tied a rope around his waist. “Only one way to find out! If she really did it, her bones will be down there.” 【Dude, are you insane? What if it’s real? You don’t want to piss off a vengeful spirit…】 Dave pulled out a silver medallion. “Look, I don’t believe in ghosts. But even if there is one, this little baby will send it packing.” The chat erupted in laughter. I managed a bitter smile. These strangers, who had never met me, were filled with such malice, all based on whispers and rumors. They didn’t care about the truth; they only cared about the version of justice they’d constructed in their minds. How pathetic. At the bottom of the well, Dave found only a few animal skeletons. And a strange, yellowed piece of parchment. My mother recognized it instantly. “That’s a hex! That’s Lily’s name and birthdate on it! She’s really cursing my daughter!” The chat exploded. 【Holy shit, she’s pure evil!】 My brother explained that he and my parents had been having nightmares recently, dreams where they could hear me crying. They had considered looking for me, but Lily had tearfully begged them not to. “Clara came to me in my dreams, too,” she sobbed. “She said she’d find a way to make you take her back. And when you did, she promised she’d make my life a living hell!” Her words were enough. My parents and brother promised they would wash their hands of me, leaving me to my own fate. But soon after, Lily started having accidents—a sudden fever, a near miss with a car. Fearing for her safety, the family had decided to call in a paranormal streamer to expose whatever game I was playing. Now, seeing the hex, my brother’s hands clenched into fists. “The police searched this place three years ago. There were no animal bones or hexes in this well then. This has to be Clara’s doing!” My father’s voice was laced with fury. “And she has the nerve to haunt our dreams, claiming she was framed. It’s clear she just wants to make sure we never have a moment’s peace!” “But… if she can visit our dreams, does that mean something really happened to her?” my mother murmured, a flicker of doubt in her eyes. As if to answer her, a cold, unnatural wind swept through the yard. Dave’s flashlight suddenly died. The chat freaked out. 【WHOA DUDE, YOU STILL ALIVE?】 【I’M GONNA PEE MY PANTS, DON’T DO THIS TO ME!】 Before Dave could say anything, the livestream cut out. “Did something… actually happen to Clara?” My parents and brother stared at their phones, a nervous energy filling the room. The comment sections on social media were already buzzing. 【Dave’s been streaming for five years, and his feed has never just cut out like that! Something’s seriously wrong!】 【What if we were wrong about the real daughter? What if she’s actually dead? Oh god, please forgive our ignorance…】 A dark glint flashed in Lily’s eyes. She buried her face in my mother’s arm and cried, “If something really happened to Clara… then who put those things in the well to curse me?” “Maybe… maybe I should just leave the Ashworth family. Then she won’t have any reason to curse you all.” “It’s all my fault,” she whispered. “I made her go down the wrong path…” Any shred of concern my family had for me evaporated, replaced by cold fury. “It was her own petty, jealous heart. How could you possibly blame yourself?” “If she hadn’t been constantly trying to drive you away three years ago, your father would never have been poisoned.” “We kicked her out to stop her from doing something unforgivable! It had nothing to do with you!” At this, my brother slammed his glass down on the table. “I can’t believe she’s still pulling these stunts. She doesn’t deserve to be part of this family!” My mother agreed. “That’s right. We will never let her back in!” My father snorted. “When the stream comes back on, we’re going to make sure the entire world sees her for the monster she is!” Five minutes later, Dave’s stream was live again. He had climbed out of the well and was grinning into the camera. “Positive energy, folks! Just a bad signal. And the flashlight ran out of batteries!” 【You scared the hell out of us! So… are you still gonna check out the house?】 Dave declared that since he was already there, he had to do a full sweep. He walked to the front door of the house and pushed it open. A blast of cold, musty air rushed out, carrying a cloud of dust. The broken windows rattled in their frames. Empty liquor bottles littered a table. 【Damn, she was really living it up in here. Look at all that booze!】 Dave’s flashlight then caught something on the floor—several empty condom wrappers. 【She was definitely sleeping around with a lot of guys here!】 “These things… they were confirmed to belong to Clara. The police documented all of this back then,” my brother stated flatly. As soon as he said it, the chat filled with insults, calling me a slut. “We asked the police to keep it quiet at the time, to protect what little was left of her dignity.” “But now… after being gone for three years, she’s using black magic to harass our family and curse Lily. We’re not protecting her anymore!” 【That’s right! That ungrateful bitch doesn’t deserve to be your family! Dave, find more evidence! Nail her to the wall!】 As the crowd’s anger reached a fever pitch, a scraping sound, like fingernails on wood, echoed from the second floor. 【What the hell was that?! Maybe you should get out of there, Dave. I’m scared…】 “We have to be scientific, folks! I’m going up there to see who’s trying to spook us!” Dave said, his voice a little shaky as he grabbed his silver medallion and headed up the stairs. It turned out to be nothing more than the wind pushing a tree branch against a windowpane. Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. But then, a pair of eyes glowed in the darkness. 【AHHH! A GHOST!】 Dave fought to keep his legs from turning to jelly and shone his flashlight toward the glowing eyes. “Oh, for crying out loud. It’s just a stuffed rabbit.” The moment he picked it up, the rabbit spoke. “My family found me at the orphanage today. Mom cried and said she was so sorry, that it was all her fault I was switched at birth at the hospital.” “Dad said he’d never let me suffer again.” “And my brother gave me this little rabbit. It can repeat what you say.” “I’m so happy. I finally have a family.” My own voice, young and hopeful, startled Dave, but he quickly realized what it was. “Is that… Clara’s voice?” My brother’s tone was heavy. “That was my gift to her. I think… I think it had a recording function.” The chat exploded. “Whoa? That must have been recorded like, five or six years ago. Her voice is so young!” Dave quieted the chat and gently pressed the toy again. “There’s another sister at home. She’s dressed like a princess.” “When Mom saw her crying, she held her and comforted her for a long time.” “Dad and my brother told me that her name is Lily, and she’s our family, too. They said thanks to her, Mom wasn’t so sad all those years.” “I understand. I’ll love my sister, too.” … Hearing this, Lily’s voice choked with a sob. “But she didn’t love me. She hated me…” My brother put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and motioned for Dave to continue. “Today, the butler’s son called me a hick. My brother punched him hard.” “The butler almost called the cops, but I said I did it.” “Mom was furious. She sent me to bed without dinner.” “My brother snuck a piece of chicken into my room. He asked me why I took the blame for him.” “I said I was scared the police would take him away. He laughed.” “He said he’d get arrested a hundred times to protect his little sister.” “This is what it feels like to have a big brother. It’s the best feeling in the world.” Dave looked surprised. The chat was scrolling wildly. 【Huh? The evil bitch was once this sweet?】 【Maybe something happened to make her change?】 My brother stared at the rabbit, his mind drifting back. He remembered telling me I was just like that bunny, soft and lovable. What had happened to that gentle, kind sister to turn her into the person she became? Lily tugged at his sleeve, crying. “Clara wasn’t always bad, brother. Please, don’t hate her for this.” As she spoke, she casually brushed her hair back, revealing a deep, ugly scar on her forehead. The sight snapped my brother back to the present. His expression hardened with disgust. “You’re always too kind, Lily. She’s the one who gave you that scar. Don’t you dare defend her.” 【Whoa, that scar is from her? Never mind, can’t trust a word she says!】 Dave frowned and pressed the rabbit again. “My sister didn’t come home tonight. It got really late.” “Dad was about to call the police when she finally showed up, her dress torn, her head bleeding.” “She fell to her knees in front of me and begged for forgiveness.” “She said she knew she was wrong to compete with me for Mom and Dad and brother’s love.” “She begged me to stop sending people to hurt her, and she promised she’d leave home right then.” “My brother was so angry. He wanted to call the police and have me arrested.” “I cried. I told them I didn’t do it… I really didn’t.” “My sister pleaded for me.” “She said we couldn’t let a scandal like that get out, especially since I’d only been back with the family for a year.” “For the first time, my whole family looked at me with disgust.” “They made me move into the storage room. They told me to think about what I’d done.” “I’m so lost. Why doesn’t anyone believe me?” Dave paused again. He was confused. The recordings were filled with Clara’s desperate pleas for her family’s trust. She didn’t sound like someone who would bully her sister. Someone was lying. Noticing his suspicious gaze, Lily buried her face in her hands, weeping. “Why would Clara twist the truth like that? She knows what those people almost did to me…” she wailed. “Would I really use my own reputation, my own safety, to frame her?” The chat was once again filled with rage. 【So this monster started her crime spree way back then!】 【And she has the nerve to record herself playing the victim? Disgusting! Find her and throw her in jail!】 Amid the storm of curses, a thin crack suddenly appeared on the silver medallion in Dave’s hand. Everyone was shocked, asking him what had happened. His face paled, and he shushed the chat, pressing the rabbit again. But the next recordings were just more of my lonely ramblings, my desperate yearning for family, and my terror at the bizarre things that kept happening. Every incident somehow pointed to me, and no one ever believed I was innocent. I sounded heartbroken. “Little rabbit, why don’t Mom and Dad and brother believe me?” I cried in one recording. “Is it because I’m not as perfect as my sister?” So, I channeled my grief into determination. I started studying relentlessly. Finally, I was accepted into a decent state college. I was ecstatic, mainly because the school was far from home. I threw myself into a new life, and the recordings filled with my joy about college and the new friends who actually cared about me. Dave’s expression softened. It seemed that a change of scenery had done me good. But the rabbit’s next words sent a shockwave through everyone watching. “Why won’t they believe me?” “I didn’t seduce my sister’s boyfriend… I swear I didn’t.” “It was New Year’s Eve. We all had too much to drink.” “I just woke up and he was in my bed.” “My sister cried and asked me why I would steal him from her. Mom and Dad and brother called me shameless.” “I begged him to tell them the truth, but he said… he said I dragged him into my room when he got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night.” “I didn’t do it. Why would he lie about me?” “My sister didn’t believe me either. She ran out of the house, crying, and was almost hit by a car.” “Dad hit me for the first time. But I really, really didn’t touch her boyfriend…” Hearing my choked sobs, Dave’s brow furrowed. He glanced at Lily on the screen, searching her face for something, anything. The medallion cracking wasn’t a coincidence. Something was very wrong. Lily threw herself into my mother’s arms, whimpering that her leg, the one injured in the accident, was aching again. My brother scoffed. “Her lies might fool a ghost, but not us. We know exactly what she’s like.” My father’s anger flared. “She’s a compulsive liar! She almost poisoned me to death, and you expect anyone to believe her?” Someone in the chat snarked: 【This recording is so fake. So the whole family just misunderstood her over and over again? Yeah, right. I’m not buying it.】 My heart ached, but I couldn’t make a sound. No one noticed the single drop of water, like a tear, that traced a path down the dusty mirror behind Dave. He pressed the rabbit again. “I went to the hospital to see my sister today. I saw her hand her boyfriend a debit card.” “She told him he’d put on a good performance.” “It was all an act to frame me!” “I confronted them, but then Mom and Dad and my brother arrived.” “Her boyfriend threw the card in my face. He said it was from me, that I paid him to keep tormenting my sister.” “I screamed that they were lying, that it was all a setup. My sister threatened to jump off the roof to prove her innocence.” “They believed her. They kicked me out of the house.” “I don’t have a home anymore…” 【Just check whose name is on the card, problem solved, right?】 My brother laughed, a cold, harsh sound. “We checked. The card was in Clara’s name.” 【Well, there you go. What’s she playing innocent for? So gross!】 Dave remained silent, pressing the rabbit one last time. “The dean called again about my tuition and dorm fees.” “I tried to call my brother to borrow some money, but he called me a liar and a thief.” “But I’m not lying. And I didn’t steal anything.” 【What a joke. If she was so broke, how was she partying and living it up here?】 My brother’s voice was dripping with contempt. “She didn’t steal? Then how did my mother’s jewelry and the cash from my father’s safe just disappear?” “If we weren’t trying to spare her some public humiliation, we would have called the cops on her long ago!” Dave noticed another crack spiderweb across the medallion. “It’s been three months since I dropped out of school.” “I was waiting tables at a hotel and saw my family celebrating Christmas Eve with Lily.” “My brother told me to stop making a scene and get lost.” “My dad said if it wasn’t for the family’s reputation, he’d have me thrown in jail.” “But I don’t have money for my treatment. Is it a crime to work?” “The doctor said if I don’t get treatment soon, my stomach cancer will get worse.” “I don’t want to die.” 【She was sick? Why didn’t she tell her family? It’s another lie, isn’t it?】 Dave pressed the rabbit, and it provided the answer. “It’s New Year’s Eve. My sister begged the family to let me come home.” “I was going to tell them about the cancer.” “But after my father drank the juice I poured for my sister, he collapsed. He’d been poisoned.” “The dose was small, thank God. He survived.” “He made a public statement disowning me.” “Everyone called me a monster. I had nowhere left to go.” 【Serves her right. You play with poison, you get burned!】 A desperate, broken wail came from the rabbit. “I tried to go back to get my medical records, but a group of drunk men knocked me out.” “When I woke up, the records were gone. And those men… they had violated me.” “Someone kind called the police.” “But the men they arrested said I was willing, that I did it for money.” “And there was a pile of cash under my bed.” “My parents called me disgusting. My brother told me to stop making up excuses for being a whore.” “He said if I couldn’t handle living, I should just die and stop shaming the Ashworth name.” “Should I? Should I just die?” The recording stopped. No matter how many times Dave pressed it, the rabbit remained silent. 【If she was assaulted, where did all the booze, condoms, and money come from?】 【Jesus. She almost kills her dad, then comes back here to screw around with a bunch of guys? She probably lied about being assaulted because she was scared of getting caught.】 【The police already investigated the scene. She probably faked her suicide, took the money, and ran. This recording is just a pathetic attempt to look innocent.】 【And then, when she got bitter, she came back to put a curse on the adopted daughter!】 【What a psycho! Someone needs to find her and lock her up for good!】 With every comment, the netizens hammered another nail into my coffin. Dave was silent, his jaw tight. He knew this wasn’t the whole story. He turned, and that’s when he finally saw it. On the mirror behind him, streaks of water trickled down the dusty surface. Like tears. The air was bone-dry. Where was the water coming from? He looked up, following the drip to its source, and his eyes widened in shock. “There’s something wrong with this ceiling. I have to break it open.” He dug a hammer out of his bag and, aiming for a crack where the water was seeping through, he swung. With a single blow, the plaster shattered. Something fell from the hole. Instinctively, Dave threw the stuffed rabbit up to block it. 【HOLY SHIT! IS THAT… AN URN?!】 【Why is there a hex nailed to it?! That’s so messed up!】 Dave picked up the small urn and held the parchment with its strange writing up to the camera. My mother saw it and her face went ghost-white. “That’s… that’s Clara’s name and birthdate!” My father and brother stared, their mouths agape in disbelief. Just then, the rabbit—the one that had just been hit by the urn—spoke again. Its eyes lit up, and a triumphant, mocking laugh filled the air. It was Lily’s voice.

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