Category: English

When I was 20, my husband, Liam Sterling, lost his first love, Sophia. She died saving my life. From that moment on, he clipped my wings, turning me into a useless bird in a gilded cage. Today, my grandfather’s heart condition relapsed, and I begged Liam for the money for surgery. He just smiled, pointing to the frozen lake outside the penthouse window. “Sure. Jump from here, and I’ll consider it.” When my body was pulled from the icy water, his “dead” first love was officially reinstated to the police force. Chapter 1 Liam is my ex-husband. Our marriage lasted all of a month and a half. Despite the divorce, I still lived in his house. He made me work as a maid and fulfill “marital duties.” If I refused, he would cut off my grandfather’s medical expenses. He said it was a debt I owed. I didn’t know anyone else in New York who could help. Desperate, I had to beg him. “Are you serious? If I jump, you’ll save my grandfather?” Liam swirled the red wine in his glass, indifferent. “You can try.” This was the 12th floor. I looked down at the thin layer of ice on the lake below. I was a strong swimmer, but fear still gripped my heart. Seeing my hesitation, Liam mocked, “Scared? Guess your grandfather isn’t that important to you after all.” He stood up to leave. I immediately took off my coat and leaped. “Mr. Sterling, will Miss Harper be okay?” Liam didn’t even glance back at his assistant’s concern. He headed straight for the office. “Tell my secretary, Ms. Grant, to contact the cardiology specialists.” The moment my body smashed through the ice, I knew I was done for. My legs went numb instantly, and I sank into the darkness. Soon, I saw my own body settle at the bottom of the lake. Christmas was coming. Grandpa would have to eat Christmas dinner alone this year. “Liam, remember your promise.” Chapter 2 Liam returned to the office and buried himself in work. He once dreamed of being a police officer, but now he was just a workaholic CEO. He worked until the early hours every day. Unless he was on a business trip, no matter how late, he always went home. Ms. Grant, his secretary, resolved the hospital matter and walked in with a stack of files. “Mr. Sterling, the situation in Boston needs you to personally oversee it.” Liam didn’t look up, flipping through documents. “Book the earliest flight. Pack your things; you’re coming with me.” Ms. Grant’s lips curled into a faint, imperceptible smile. “Yes, sir.” When Liam returned from the business trip, the first thing he did was look for me. “Chloe.” The master bedroom was empty. His face darkened. “Not replying to texts, not answering calls. I’ve spoiled you too much!” He swept his arm across the dresser, sending everything crashing to the floor. He glanced at the mess indifferently, then stomped heavily on a pink notebook lying on the ground. He knew it was my diary. It was an act of pure spite. Furious, Liam called Ms. Grant. “Stop all treatments for her grandfather.” Then he texted me. [Disappearing without reason has consequences. You have one hour to get back here, or your grandfather’s life is no longer my concern.] His usually obedient pet had suddenly rebelled. Liam was in a foul mood all night. Chapter 3 I had been at the hospital with Grandpa the whole time. Since the payments stopped, he was kicked out. The old man could barely walk, carrying his own bag, trying to call me over and over again. No answer. “Grandpa!” I reached out to support him countless times, but my hands passed right through him. He looked so sick that no taxi would pick him up. It snowed heavily that night. I walked home with Grandpa in the storm. The next day, his condition worsened. I watched him put on his glasses, trembling as he dialed Ms. Grant’s number. “Ms. Grant, have you seen our Chloe?” The woman’s voice on the other end was arrogant and cold. ” haven’t seen her.” “Sorry to bother you. I know I don’t have long, I’m not asking for money. You don’t need to worry about me clinging to you. “I just can’t find Chloe. I heard she’s close with Mr. Sterling. Could you ask him where she is? “Or could you give me Mr. Sterling’s number? I’ll ask him myself.” “Mr. Sterling is very busy.” She hung up. It was the first time I saw Grandpa cry. As he wept, his lips turned purple, gasping for air. I knew it was a heart attack. I reached for the phone to call 911. But my hand passed through the table. I knew then that I could do nothing. I could only watch helplessly as the old man died. The first night after Grandpa passed away, I went to find Liam. He was working late at the office, as always. I wanted to kill him, but I couldn’t even touch him. “Liam Sterling, you bastard! Why did you do this to me?” Chapter 4 Three days later, Liam arrived at the office to find the lobby crowded with people. Seeing Ms. Grant arguing with someone, he frowned. “What’s going on?” Before she could explain, a man rushed over and grabbed Liam by the collar. “You killed him! Why did you stop my dad’s treatment? Now he’s dead, are you happy?” Liam froze. “What did you say?” I stood beside him, watching coldly. The man was my father, a gambler. He probably went home to steal money, found Grandpa dead, and came to extort compensation. In this moment, I wished my father had a knife to stab Liam! But I knew my dad just wanted money to gamble. In the five years I was with Liam, this day was the most frequently he tried to contact me. Ms. Grant, having been hit, was indignant. “Mr. Sterling, why should we pay compensation?” Liam glanced at her with cold eyes. “Regarding Chloe’s grandfather, did you forget to report any details to me?” Ms. Grant was too scared to speak at first, then stuttered, “Four days ago, her grandfather called, asking you to help find his granddaughter. I refused…” Just as I wanted to slap her, a cold voice spoke from behind. “Impressive. Even her grandfather didn’t know where she was.” Liam closed his eyes briefly. “Your bonus for this year is gone. Get out!” Hearing the door close, he opened his eyes, looking out the window with hatred. “Chloe Harper, you really are cold-blooded. Can’t handle even this? How dared you take Sophia’s token to ask my father for money back then?” Chapter 5 I laughed sarcastically. Even now, he wasn’t worried about my safety at all. And my grandfather’s life was worth just a year-end bonus to him. But for what happened with Sophia, he took half my life. Christmas Eve. Liam’s grandfather insisted he bring his “wife” to the family mansion for the holidays. Liam still couldn’t reach me. He started losing his temper. The quiet assistant driving the car suddenly remembered the lake incident from long ago. “Mr. Sterling, could something have happened to Miss Harper? Jumping from the 12th floor in winter…” Liam cut him off without thinking. “Impossible. She won a swimming championship in college! She’s deliberately hiding to get my attention. She’s vicious and cunning! Forget her. Turn around, go to the mansion.” The assistant wanted to say more but was silenced by a glare. I sat next to him, my heart sinking to the bottom. But thinking about it, my life meant nothing to him anyway. So whether I was dead or alive didn’t matter. Maybe dead was better. Grandpa Sterling was disappointed to see Liam arrive alone. “Chloe hasn’t come back?” Liam’s face went cold. “Doesn’t answer calls, doesn’t reply to texts. Like she’s dead!” I am dead. Liam, you should be happy! Grandpa Sterling slammed his hand on the table. “Why didn’t you help with her grandfather? That was your wife’s grandfather’s life! “She’s not home now, aren’t you worried? Did you go handle the old man’s funeral?” “She doesn’t even care about her own grandfather, why should you worry for her!” Liam was annoyed too. He left without eating dinner. Chapter 6 Grandpa’s funeral was eventually arranged by Grandpa Sterling. It was grand. But few people came. Even my dad didn’t show up. Just Grandpa Sterling and the funeral staff. After everyone left, I stayed by Grandpa’s tombstone. I didn’t know what I was waiting for. Liam didn’t show up anyway. Grandpa was gone. Maybe it was a release for him. I went back to the lake house where I jumped. My only wish now was for Liam to find my body soon. Only when my body was recovered and put to rest could I leave this place completely. I wanted to be reincarnated. I never wanted to be human again. While I was wishing to be a seagull in my next life, Liam arrived. He drank a lot. As soon as he entered, our eyes met. My heart raced. “Liam? Can you see me? Hurry, go fish my body out!” But he quickly looked away. I knew it was my illusion. He stayed there for a long time, standing right where I jumped. Staring at the lake… I don’t know if it was my imagination, but I saw a flash of grief on his face. I had wondered how he would react when he saw my body. But I knew in my heart, I was just a toy for his atonement. But I clearly remember, the only person I wronged was Sophia Vance. Near dawn, Liam made a call. “Send someone to drag the lake.”

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It’s been five years since I died. My mom went on a national TV show with my sister, calling me an ungrateful daughter. “Chloe Starling, when your sister needed a heart transplant, you vanished.” “Now, you won’t even show up for your own father’s funeral!” “A person like you deserves to be spat on while alive and burn in hell when dead!” Amidst the gasps of the audience, a woman stood up. “Chloe isn’t coming.” My mom sneered. “Bullshit! Even if she’s hiding at the ends of the earth, I’ll find her!” The woman walked onto the stage and handed a USB drive to the host. “The truth you’re looking for is in here.” …… Chapter 1 “I don’t want the ‘truth,’ I want to see Chloe! If you know her, tell her to get her ass here right now!” Mom rolled her eyes, yelling directly into the camera. “Chloe, do you know your dad looked for you for five whole years? He worked himself to death just last month trying to find you!” “Are you out there living the high life with his money?” “You won’t even show your face at his funeral. You heartless, ungrateful brat!” She finished her rant and glared at the woman who had come onstage. “If you know where she is, hand her over!” The host turned to the woman. “Ma’am, what is your relationship with Chloe Starling?” The woman pulled a business card from her purse and held it up to the camera. “Hello everyone, I’m Sarah Cole, head of the Memory Capsule Project.” “Chloe was a participant in our internal trials. We became friends through the process.” A murmur ran through the audience. “I’ve heard of Memory Capsule. It extracts memories from the brain and turns them into video, like watching a movie.” “So this USB drive… it has Chloe’s memories on it?” “Who wants to see the memories of an ungrateful brat like that?” “Is she sick in the head? Won’t see her family, but sends them her memories…” The scene was chaotic. The host quickly took control. “Since Ms. Cole claims to be Chloe’s friend, let’s see what secrets this drive holds.” A staff member plugged the USB into a laptop. My sister, who had been silent, suddenly stood up in a panic. “We came to find Chloe, not watch this garbage.” “Mom, let’s go.” Mom always listened to my sister. She grabbed her hand and started walking offstage. Sarah reached out and blocked their path. “If you leave now, you will truly never see her again.” Mom hesitated. Finally, she led my sister back to their seats on stage. “Hmph. I want to see what kind of game Chloe is playing!” The lights dimmed, and the big screen flickered to life. It was me at six years old. I had been living in the countryside with my grandparents. Because I had to start elementary school, Mom and Dad brought me back to their city home. I looked enviously at the Elsa princess dress my sister was wearing and spoke timidly. “Hi, big sister.” My sister glanced at my faded t-shirt and shorts, tilting her chin up. “I don’t have a little sister. Mom said you’re my slave!” I tried to explain. “No, you’re the big sister, and I’m the little sister.” Before I finished, my sister burst into loud tears. “I don’t want a little sister, Mommy…” Mom rushed out of the kitchen at the sound, knocking me over as she scooped my crying sister into her arms. “Chloe, why are you so difficult? Bullying your sister the second you get back?” “Did you forget everything I told you in the car?” Seeing the devouring anger in Mom’s eyes, I trembled with fear. “N-no, I remember.” “Listen to your sister. Whatever your sister does, she is always right.” “Then apologize to her!” Mom glared at me coldly. I sniffled, my voice choked with sobs. “Sister, I’m sorry.” Mom patted my sister’s back, comforting her gently. “Luna, no one can ever take your place in Mommy’s heart. You are Mommy’s only treasure.” Later, Mom took my sister to the mall and bought her lots of beautiful new clothes. She stuffed the old clothes that wouldn’t fit in my sister’s closet into my room. “Chloe, these are gifts from your sister.” I had never seen so many pretty clothes. Even if they were my sister’s hand-me-downs, I was overjoyed. “Thank you, big sister.” That night, I woke up from a nightmare and went to find Mom. I saw my sister sleeping in Mom’s arms, looking up coquettishly. “Mommy, why is my name Luna and hers is Chloe?” Mom kissed her cheek. “Because the stars revolve around the moon. Mommy had your little sister just so she could keep you company.” My sister smiled smugly. “So little sister is my slave, right?” “Of course. Stars are born only to guard the moon.” Tears welled up in my eyes. I stood frozen in place. Only when the lights in the room went out did I drag my numb legs back to my room. The words echoed in my ears. Stars are born only to guard the moon… Chapter 2 The first memory clip ended, and the studio was dead silent. Until someone in the audience couldn’t hold back. “Such favoritism from a young age. No wonder Chloe ran away from that toxic family.” That one comment opened the floodgates. The crowd erupted in discussion. “She calls herself a mother? If you can’t treat them equally, don’t have a second child!” “I’d run too if I grew up in a house like that!” Accused by everyone, Mom jumped up anxiously from her seat. “Stop talking nonsense! I don’t have favorites! There was a reason…” The screen lighting up again cut off Mom’s words. I was ten years old. Today was Mom’s birthday. I used the allowance I had saved for a long time to pick out the most beautiful bouquet of lilies at the flower shop. I carried them carefully all the way home. But when I got to the door, I was dumbfounded. Nobody was home. I couldn’t get in. Mrs. Davis next door saw me sitting on the steps in a daze, looking surprised. “Chloe, your mom said they were going out for a birthday dinner. I saw her leave with Luna to meet your dad. How did they forget you?” I explained stubbornly, my eyes red. “I didn’t want to go. And I forgot my key.” They didn’t come back until late at night. I couldn’t help but complain. “Mom, Dad, how could you forget me?” Dad explained. “Your mom said you didn’t want to go out tonight. I even saved you a piece of cake.” I thought Mom would explain, but she used a matter-of-fact tone. “Chloe, I forgot to tell you. Your sister wanted to celebrate my birthday alone with me, so we didn’t call you.” Hearing this, Dad frowned in confusion. “Linda, how long are you going to keep this favoritism up? Isn’t Chloe your daughter too?” Mom sneered. “Mark, Luna has said many times she just wants the three of us to go out, but you always have to bring Chloe along. You don’t care about Luna’s feelings at all.” “You promised me you wouldn’t neglect Luna before I agreed to have a second child. But you haven’t kept your word all these years. You only care about Chloe!” Dad quickly covered my ears. “What nonsense are you spouting in front of the child? Have you cared for Chloe at all since she came back?” “Do you know Chloe already has serious psychological issues? She has to see a therapist every month!” Hearing this, a trace of panic flashed across Mom’s face. But she quickly calmed down. “What psychological issues can a child have? I think she just wants to compete for attention with Luna and is acting out to trick everyone!” “If you really think I made her sick, then send her back to your mother’s house.” Dad stared wide-eyed in disbelief. “Linda, do you know what you’re saying?” Mom’s face was cold. “I only know that Luna has heart disease. She can’t handle any stimulation. She can’t suffer any grievances!” They started arguing about it again. I lowered my head and went back to my room. That night, I endured the hunger and hid under the covers, crying myself to sleep. The next day, I found the bouquet of lilies was gone. I thought Mom had accepted my gift. “Mom, those flowers…” Before I could finish, Mom interrupted me. “Chloe, don’t bring messy flowers into the house anymore. Your sister said they stink.” My smile froze on my face. My gaze fell into the trash can nearby. The withered flowers were mixed with leftover food, emitting a foul smell. It was nauseating. I bit my lower lip hard, tears falling spinelessly. “Mom, that was my birthday gift to you…” Suddenly, my sister pointed to a new drawing hanging on the wall and laughed happily. “Mommy, you hung up the birthday gift I gave you! Thanks for liking it, Mommy!” Mom gave my sister a thumbs-up proudly. “Baby’s own drawing is so beautiful. Mommy should thank you.” Then she glanced at me with disgust. “Cry, cry, cry. All you know how to do is cry. Why did I give birth to a debt collector like you?” “Chloe, stop standing in the kitchen and getting in the way!” The scene ended there. Before the audience could react, Mom immediately grabbed the microphone. “This video must be faked with software! I don’t remember this happening at all!” “Director, even if you want ratings, you can’t slander us like this, right?” “I’m not recording this show anymore!” Chapter 3 Mom got up to leave. The host looked helplessly at the staff offstage. “Mom, don’t go.” Behind her, my voice came out with a sob. Mom stopped in her tracks. The screen lit up again. “Mom, please don’t leave me, okay?” I grabbed Mom’s sleeve, begging bitterly. The house was suddenly engulfed in raging fire. Flames and thick smoke were everywhere. Mom threw off my hand. “Luna is still sleeping in the big room. I have to find her first.” “Chloe, you stay here and be good. I’ll come save you after I find your sister!” I watched helplessly as Mom disappeared into the fire. I was choked by the thick smoke until tears streamed down my face. I don’t know how long it took, but firefighters rushed in and saved me from the sea of fire. Dad, who was at work, got the news and rushed to the hospital. I needed immediate surgery because of severe burns on my legs. Dad paced anxiously in the hallway. He turned and saw Mom leading my sister past him. “Linda!” Seeing Dad, Mom walked over excitedly. “Did you get my message? The house suddenly caught fire. Luckily, I got Luna to the hospital in time. The doctor said if we had been any later, and she inhaled too much smoke, her heart wouldn’t have been able to take it.” “I plan to let Luna stay in the hospital for a few days for observation. Anyway, the house isn’t livable anymore…” “Where’s Chloe?” Dad interrupted her with a dark face. Hearing my name, Mom was visibly stunned. Panic quickly welled up in her eyes. “Chloe… Chloe was still in the house. I was too anxious and forgot her. Honey, what do we do?” Dad laughed in anger at her reaction. Pointing at the operating room door, he roared. “Linda, are you crazy? The fire was so big, and you left Chloe alone in the room? Did you want to kill her?” “If the firefighters hadn’t saved Chloe in time, she might already be dead!” Hearing the news that I was saved, Mom breathed a sigh of relief. “As long as she’s okay. Wasn’t I just too worried because Luna has heart disease?” “When Chloe wakes up, I’ll explain it to her properly.” Seeing Mom’s indifferent attitude toward me. Dad clenched his fists and swallowed the words he was about to say. For the next few days, perhaps out of guilt, Mom stayed at the hospital to take care of me. Mom slept with me for the first time. Mom braided my hair for the first time. Mom fed me for the first time. …… So many firsts made me greedy for this hard-won motherly love. I even felt that this fire was a good thing. The cause of the fire was investigated. It was my sister lighting my Barbie doll on fire that caused it. But Mom blamed me instead. “Why didn’t you put your things away properly? Why did you leave them lying around?” I subconsciously retorted. “Even if I left things lying around, sister shouldn’t have started a fire in the house and destroyed our home!” A slap to the face stunned me. Mom’s eyes were red. “Chloe, did you forget what I told you? Whatever your sister does, she is always right. What right do you have to criticize her?” “If you hadn’t left things lying around, would she have started a fire? You are not allowed to mention this again!” The scene changed. I had already gotten into college. My sister and I attended the same university. She was a junior, and I was a freshman. On this day, a senior from a club confessed his love to me in front of everyone on the playground, using candles to form a heart shape. The video went viral online that night. The next night. My sister asked to meet me at a secluded intersection. “Chloe, first you steal Mom and Dad, and now you steal the man I like.” “Did you forget how Mom raised you? You are my slave. You have to listen to me. You can’t do anything to hurt me!” These words haunted me like a curse. My whole body froze. “Sister, I… I didn’t agree to him. I’ll give you whatever you want.” My sister sneered. “Give me everything?” “Chloe, it would be so good if you just died…” As her voice fell, a large truck sped through the intersection. The blinding headlights made people close their eyes. Just then, my sister pushed me toward the road. Honk honk honk— “Ah—” Chapter 4 The screen paused at the moment the truck ran over me. The whole audience gasped. Mom’s face was pale as she looked at my sister in disbelief. “Is… is this real?” A commotion broke out in the audience. “Did Chloe really die?” “This sister is too evil. The family already favors her so much, and she still wants to kill her sister?” “Is this a missing persons show or a true crime show?” “It seems Chloe isn’t hiding; she’s been dead for a long time.” My sister’s eyes flickered with terror. Her hands trembled as she held Mom’s arm. “I didn’t! Mom, you have to believe me! I didn’t kill Chloe!” “You don’t have proof! Don’t talk nonsense! I’m not a murderer!” Someone in the audience sneered. “The video is right in front of everyone. Who’s talking nonsense?” “Exactly. You had the guts to kill your own sister, why don’t you have the guts to admit it now?” My sister was anxious to the point of tears. “I didn’t! Mom, explain it for me, hurry!” Mom subtly withdrew her arm from my sister’s grasp. After hesitating again and again, she finally spoke. “But Chloe did disappear after that day. Her phone couldn’t be reached.” “You came home and told us Chloe ran away because she was mad at us. That’s why I didn’t call the police to look for her.” “Luna, tell Mom the truth now, okay?” My sister was red-faced with embarrassment, fine sweat covering her forehead. “I pushed her and was scare so I ran back to the dorm. But I went back an hour later.” “She and the truck were gone. There was no blood on the ground. I thought she was okay.” “But then she disappeared. I was afraid you guys would find out, so I lied to you. I didn’t mean to hurt her!” Mom swayed and slumped to the floor. “How could this happen? Luna, you’ve always been so kind. How could you harm your sister?” Seeing that even her doting mother didn’t believe her. My sister completely broke down. “Mom, I really didn’t kill her! Later, I went to the nearby hospitals to ask. They didn’t receive any car accident victims that day.” “I even went to the traffic police department. There was no record of that accident at all.” But no one on set believed her. Even the director’s crew was preparing to call the police. Just then, Sarah stood up. “I can prove that Luna Starling did not kill Chloe.” “The Memory Capsule isn’t finished. Let’s wait until everyone finishes watching before drawing conclusions.” My sister gave Sarah a grateful look and helped Mom back to her seat on the stage. The screen changed again. This time the background was a hospital. The truck driver had taken me for a checkup. I waved my hand at him. “Sir, my arm is just scraped a little. Some ointment will fix it.” But the driver insisted I get a full body checkup. “Miss, we can’t delay treatment in case there are internal injuries that we can’t see.” “I already paid the fees. Go get checked out quickly.” After the checkup, the driver handed me a bottle of milk and some bread. I took a few bites, and my stomach suddenly felt a sharp pain. I couldn’t help but vomit. “Miss, you’re vomiting blood!” The driver was scared and quickly called for a doctor. I was taken for another exam. When the results came out, the doctor looked at me solemnly. “Chloe, the results show you have advanced stomach cancer. The situation is not optimistic.” I looked at the doctor calmly. “How long do I have to live?” “If we treat it conservatively, at least six months…”

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The moment I bought Blair Sutton at that exclusive private charity auction, with a bid that made the entire room go silent, she laid down three non-negotiable rules. First, I had to give her an unlimited-use platinum Amex. Second, I was to cover the fallout and legal costs for any behavior she chose to engage in. And finally, I was absolutely forbidden from asking about her private life. Only if I agreed to all three would she consent to leave with me. Everyone in my circle thought she was delusional, an amateur playing a high-stakes game. They were convinced I’d never agree to such brazen conditions. I simply nodded. “Just promise me you’ll take care of your face.” For the next three years, I poured well over a hundred million dollars into her life—an exorbitant price to pay for a ghost. My associates often laughed, whispering that I had lost my mind to a fleeting obsession. But I ignored them. I always got what I wanted, no matter the cost. The day my father died—the day my world was already cracking—she totaled one of my cars in a reckless street race. I shoved my grief down and rushed to the emergency room to handle the mess. But before I could step inside, I heard Blair talking to her friends. “Blair, he’s wrapped around your finger, like a house pet,” one giggled. “You’ll be set for life when you marry him.” “Seriously. Once the old man is gone, the Harrington fortune is all yours, right?” another chimed in. A chorus of easy laughter followed. Then came Blair’s voice, sharp and cold, cutting through the noise. It was the voice of a queen delivering a sentence. “Marry him? Please. He’s a walking ATM who got lucky. He doesn’t have the spine.” The door swung inward. In the stunned silence of her friends, I walked calmly toward Blair. I ignored the faint look of alarm that flickered across her features. I gently, meticulously brushed a speck of dirt from her forehead, letting out a small sigh of relief. “Good. Your face is fine.” 1 Blair jerked her head away, impatience radiating off her. “It was barely a scratch, Lachlan. God, are you always going to be this dramatic?” The sudden tension was thick enough to choke on. Her friends rushed to smooth things over, making clumsy small talk, covertly trying to figure out if I’d heard the contempt in their earlier conversation. Blair shot me a slightly anxious glance, too. Looking at that face—a mirror image of the woman I truly loved—I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I shook my head slowly. “I only just arrived.” She exhaled, relief softening her expression. But that moment was immediately broken by a flurry of activity at the entrance. Finn Delaney. Her childhood friend. Blair’s entire demeanor changed. She rose quickly, her voice taking on a delicate, soothing quality I had never once heard directed at me. “Finn, why did you come? I told you I was fine. You shouldn’t have run out in this downpour.” Finn clutched an umbrella, his eyes welling up with tears the moment he saw her scraped elbow. “I was so worried. When I saw the news alert, I just… panicked.” Blair gently wiped a tear from his cheek. “It’s late. I’ll drive you home.” With that, the two of them gathered their things and left. I stood there, silently watching, while the others shifted uncomfortably. This was the arrangement, after all. The first rule she set the day I bought her: I don’t ask about her private life. I don’t ask about Finn. Before she reached the exit, Blair threw a casual line over her shoulder. “My car is wrecked. Take mine. You figure out your own way home.” Then, she carefully draped her cashmere coat over Finn’s shoulders and walked out, her arm linked with his. She didn’t spare a single thought for how I would get home on a stormy night, dealing with the shock of my father’s death. “Lachlan, Blair she…” one of the friends stammered. “Save it,” I interrupted. I knew the calculus. In Blair’s mind, I would always be secondary to Finn. The few scraps of patience and genuine warmth she possessed were entirely devoted to him. I had long since accepted the truth: no matter how perfectly that face resembled the one I yearned for, she was never going to be her. But just to look at the contours of that face—the face I saw in my dreams—I was willing to pay any price, endure any humiliation. I called my driver, then left to begin making arrangements for my father’s funeral. It was well past midnight when I finally returned home. The lights were on in the living room, which surprised me. Usually, she was asleep by now. Seeing the exhaustion etched on my face, Blair frowned. “Why are you home so late?” “Business,” I replied curtly. She scoffed, disbelieving. “Honestly, what are you trying to prove?” “I only went to comfort Finn. He’s sensitive—a little boy, really. He panicked and ran out in the rain to see me. Sending him home was the least I could do.” There was zero consideration for the fact that I had dropped everything and rushed to her side in the middle of the night, consumed by my own sorrow. I massaged my head, too tired to argue. Seeing my weary state, Blair walked up to me and grabbed my chin. A gesture of forced affection, she leaned in for a kiss, an attempt at a generous truce. I turned my head, avoiding her lips. Her face darkened immediately. “Don’t be ridiculous, Lachlan. What’s with the drama?” “My father died. I’m not in the mood.” Blair froze. I didn’t wait for a reply. I just turned and walked into the master bedroom. A while later, Blair slipped into bed beside me, smelling faintly of the expensive, shared shower gel. She took my hand gently. “I didn’t know,” she murmured. I said nothing. She continued, talking mostly to herself. “Finn’s birthday is coming up. I saw an old Patek Philippe in a magazine, a limited-edition one. It was beautiful.” “I tried to find it, but it’s considered an antique—unavailable. Then I remembered you have one just like it in your safety deposit box. You never wear it. Why don’t you just give it to Finn? He’d love it.” My headache worsened, and my voice was dangerously quiet. “That was my mother’s watch. I will not give it away.” The hand that held mine went rigid. It was the first time I had ever refused her. She bit her lip, snatched her hand away, and got out of bed, pulling on her clothes. When she left, the door slammed shut with a violence that rattled the floorboards. I simply turned over and fell into a heavy, restless sleep. 2 I drove myself to the funeral the next morning. The moment I opened the car door, I spotted a pair of men’s boxers on the passenger seat, noticeably soiled with a white residue. This car had only been driven by Blair when she took Finn home the night before. I was already running late. I quickly swapped cars and headed to the ceremony. The guests were beginning to arrive when Blair and Finn finally sauntered in, noticeably late. “Finn wasn’t feeling well this morning,” Blair announced coolly. “We had a bit of a slow start.” “Take a seat,” I replied, keeping my eyes lowered. The room was warm, and Finn eventually slipped off his designer trench coat. In an instant, he became the focal point of every whispering glance. He was wearing a blazing crimson shirt. Finn shrank back, sensing the sudden scrutiny, and hid behind Blair. “What is it? Why are they all looking at me?” he whispered, clutching her sleeve. Blair stroked his hair, sheltering him and offering soft words of comfort. My temper, usually iron-clad, finally snapped. I fixed him with an icy stare. “You will either take that garment off immediately, or you will get out.” “Wearing bright red at my father’s funeral? Mr. Delaney, your manners are impeccable.” The guests around us held their breath. Finn’s eyes went instantly red, as if he had suffered the ultimate offense. He bit his lower lip. “Fine! I’ll go!” He bolted, grabbing his coat, which had been tossed over a chair, and running out the door. Blair glared at me, her face dark with fury, and chased after him. I shut my eyes tightly, taking several deep breaths. “My apologies. Please, continue,” I said, and everyone quickly returned to their seats, pretending the scene had never happened. I sank into my chair, drained. I could already picture the scathing gossip that would follow this event. A sharp ache rose in my nose and throat. If only she were here. Blair returned after the ceremony ended, her clothes slightly rumpled. She marched over to me, her brow furrowed in anger. “Did you really have to humiliate Finn in front of all those people over something so petty?” “He’s just a kid; he doesn’t understand those rules. Why punish him?” “Was this about me going to his place to comfort him the other day? That was days ago, why are you still so insecure?” Her relentless accusations made me laugh, a dry, bitter sound. Ordinarily, I would have swallowed my anger, but not today. “It was my father’s funeral,” I countered, the sarcasm heavy. “Who, exactly, was trying to stir up trouble?” She flinched, avoiding my gaze. After a long pause, she offered a condescending compromise. “Fine, I’ll talk to him later. But he is still not your place to discipline.” “Finn fell when he ran out earlier. He needs a check-up. You own a hospital—get them to prepare the best suite immediately. A full battery of tests. Do that, and we can put this behind us.” I refused without hesitation. “Absolutely not.” I agreed to clean up her messes, but I wouldn’t fund her lover’s medical care. “You are becoming increasingly impossible,” Blair spat. She ripped the white mourning corsage from her lapel, threw it on the ground, and stormed out. I arrived home that night to find Finn seated at my place at the dining table. In front of him was the signature wellness smoothies my housekeeper, Mrs. Wong, always prepared for me after stressful days. Finn looked up, a triumphant smirk touching his lips. “Locke’s home? Blair said Mrs. Wong’s smoothies is the most nourishing, so I’m having some to help me recover.” He gestured to the glass. “You should have a glass, too.” I barely spared him a glance, walking past the table. Blair rushed to intercept me, looping her arm through mine, her tone unusually soft. “I thought it over. You don’t want to give up the hospital suite? Fine. Our house doctor can handle it, and Finn can stay here. It’s the same thing.” “He likes the sunniest master suite—the one that’s yours now. Give it to him. He needs a nice, bright room to recover in and keep his spirits up.” Blair was utterly certain I would agree. After all these years, I had spoiled her beyond measure. She asked, and I gave. Whether it was an impossible reservation or a million-dollar hypercar, I never blinked. 3 Before I could answer, Blair pulled me toward the dining table. She pushed a can of pickles toward me. “I got those pickles you love from that place downtown. Eat up.” I stared at the meal. It wasn’t my favorite. It was hers. The one I had lost. Since her accident, this dish had become my self-deceiving comfort food. I picked up a piece with my forks. It tasted exactly the way I remembered. Seeing me eat, Blair’s expression softened slightly. Finn, jealousy flashing in his eyes, quickly scooped a piece of roasted pork filet into my plate. He immediately gasped and stammered, “Oh, I’m so sorry, Locke! I forgot your father… because of his heart condition…” “I’m always so clumsy. Don’t be mad.” He gave a desperate, pleading look to Blair. Blair patted Finn’s head, her expression sickeningly indulgent. “It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you.” She looked at me, her voice flat. “Finn is young. Let it go.” She then rolled up her sleeves and began deftly peeling a shrimp for him. Faced with their sickeningly intimate dynamic, I lost all appetite. I put down my forks. Seeing I was done, Blair seized the opportunity. “Finn’s lease on his apartment is up soon. You should give him one of your properties to tide him over.” “Your downtown penthouse is perfect. The decor is gorgeous, and it’s right near where he needs to look for work.” The penthouse she was referring to was the apartment I had purchased to be my wedding home. Every detail of the interior design was personally chosen by her. I felt a sudden, hollow laugh bubble up inside me. My complete lack of boundaries had truly warped her perception of reality. She believed I would never stop making concessions for her. But when it came to the one I loved, I had a line. “Blair,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Are you asking me to finance your mistress?” Finn shot up, his face crimson with indignation. “Locke, I know you resent my closeness with Blair, but we are innocent! Our relationship is completely pure.” He turned tearfully to Blair. “I’m interrupting. I’m so sorry, Blair, I’ll leave right now.” Blair quickly grabbed his hand, her gaze turning frigid as she faced me. “Apologize to him.” I scoffed. “Did I say anything untrue?” “Or was that pair of soiled boxers in my passenger seat not yours?” Finn began to hyperventilate, his face swelling with blood. He shook his head wildly. “You’ve completely misunderstood! I was just really upset that day, and Blair… she just used her hand to help me. We’ve been close since childhood. It’s nothing!” Blair pulled him into a hug, stroking his back reassuringly. “You don’t need to explain yourself. He’s been paranoid all week.” She looked at me with cold contempt. “Do you actually believe being this irrational is going to make me look at you differently?” “You need to find a limit for your tantrums. I’ll spend more time with you later, okay?” “But Finn cannot be stressed right now.” “If you keep this up, I’ll just take Finn and we’ll both move out.” I recognized the threat. In the past, that sentence alone was enough to make me cave immediately. I would apologize profusely, meet her demand, and she would then “graciously” forgive me. But my attention was suddenly elsewhere. It was fixed on the phone in my hand. A text message. It was from a number I knew intimately, a number I was convinced would never contact me again. Locke, wait for me. Four simple words. I gripped the phone, tears suddenly blurring my vision. 4 Was this a cruel prank? Or was she, the one I’d mourned for three years, truly back? The possibility made my eyes burn. The phone was snatched from my grasp. Blair frowned as she looked at me. “Why are you crying?” She glanced at the screen, but it had already gone dark. She tried to input a few common passcodes, failing each time. Frustrated, she tossed the phone onto the table. “Did you hear what I said? Are you listening to me?” My mind was a fog of shock and desperate hope. I couldn’t waste any more energy on this charade. I grabbed my phone and stood up. “I think we both need some space to cool down.” Seeing my retreating back, Blair looked utterly stunned. It was the first time I had walked away first. In every argument, she was the one who stormed off, and I was the one who chased after her, apologizing, begging her to return. Maybe he’s just really upset this time, she thought. He’ll be over it in a few days. After that night, I didn’t return home for nearly a week, nor did I text Blair. She started to panic. Her friends were quick to reassure her. “Please, Blair, don’t worry. We all see how much he loves you.” “He’s a man; let him cool off. He’ll come crawling back to his goddess, he always does.” They laughed. Finn nodded, refilling her wine glass. “Exactly, Blair. It’s nothing. Locke is just throwing a tantrum, waiting for you to come beg him.” “Besides, his dad just died. You’re the closest thing he has left. He’s not going to risk losing you.” Blair remembered seeing her own face as the wallpaper on my phone that night. The image was grainy, probably a stolen photo, but it was unmistakably her. I know he’s obsessed with me. He wouldn’t just throw this away. She finally relaxed. “You’re right. Lachlan takes over as CEO next week. I’ll show up at his succession party. He’ll fall back in line then.” At the party, I was going through the motions, toasting with partners. After that initial text, the number had gone silent again. I forced myself to be patient. If it was truly her, she would come to me when the time was right. I just had to wait. I took a sip of champagne, then saw Blair walk into the ballroom with Finn. My smile vanished. Finn was wearing a perfectly tailored navy suit—the exact suit my mother had commissioned from a world-renowned designer for my twenty-first birthday. It had taken six months to make. I strode toward them, my voice laced with fury. “Take that off! Who gave you permission to wear that?” Finn recoiled, intimidated by my gaze. But remembering Blair was nearby, he puffed out his chest. “What’s your problem?” I didn’t wait for an answer. I grabbed the fabric, pulling at his lapel. Blair, incensed by my aggression, yanked me away. Caught off balance, my lower back hit the edge of a long banquet table. The towering champagne pyramid on top shattered, crashing to the floor. The enormous noise drew the attention of every guest. My succession party had devolved into a public farce. Blair stepped in front of Finn, shielding him. She looked at me with utter contempt. “How long are you going to keep this act up, Lachlan? I came here, didn’t I?” “That suit was never a good color on you. It looks much better on Finn—he’s young. You have dozens of suits. Why are you making a scene and humiliating him in public?” She finally seemed to notice the champagne dripping from my clothes and the small shards of glass embedded in my leg. A fleeting look of something like pity crossed her face. She reached out to help me up. “Stop throwing a tantrum. I’ll buy you a new one later, okay?” But I barely registered the pain in my leg or the sound of her voice. My eyes were fixed on the person standing just behind her, a figure I knew impossibly well. All the blood in my body seemed to freeze. Blair followed my gaze and slowly turned around. When she saw the woman’s face, her pupils dilated in pure, raw shock.

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Bad news: My husband, who is five years older than me, seems to be able to hear my thoughts. Worse news: He can only hear a few words. Me: “Hmm, Elias, the roast beef you made today is a bit tough.” What he heard: 【Elias is a bit tough.】 Me: “It’s getting late to take Elias out for dinner. How about we go for Peking duck tomorrow instead.” What he heard: 【Elias is no match for a duck.】 Me: “If my bestie doesn’t hurry up, I’m going to sneak a piece of cake. Gogogo.” What he heard: 【Sneak out to eat. Gogogo.】 … In the last few days, I’ve noticed Elias looking at me with a strange expression—aggrieved, restrained, and despairing. He seems about to shatter. 1 At my best friend’s birthday party. I lost a round of Truth or Dare. Under everyone’s pressure, I posted a Facebook status— “Just dropped off my young boyfriend with the six-pack. Lit a cigarette in the car, mind filled with thoughts of my white moonlight ex. Checked my phone, and my washed-up old husband messaged again asking why I’m not home yet. Ugh, so annoying. If he rushes me again, I’m divorcing him.” After editing, I hit send without hesitation. My best friend giggled and draped her arm around my shoulder: “My dear princess, aren’t you going to block your lawyer husband from seeing this post? Be careful, if he sees it and gets jealous, you might be in trouble when you get home tonight.” I shook my head subconsciously: “He won’t.” My best friend blinked excitedly and patted me firmly: “Who would’ve thought, Stella. I never expected that boring, rigid, stick-in-the-mud old relic, Elias, would be so easily wrapped around your finger?” Stumped by her question, I paused gloomily for a few seconds, then reached out to spin the bottle on the table. “Today is your birthday, why are we talking about me? Let’s keep playing.” At my urging, the game quickly moved to the next round. No one took my best friend’s passing remark to heart. Except for me. I stared quietly at the spinning bottle on the table. By some strange impulse, I clicked into my chat with Elias. The latest notification on the screen read: The other party retracted a message. It was two minutes after I posted that Facebook status. Elias sent me two messages in a row, then retracted both. I frowned in confusion and sent a question mark. Elias replied instantly. 【No, it’s nothing, just a slip of the hand. I didn’t mean to rush you, absolutely not.】 【I just wanted to say… that restaurant you love is now delivering. You’ve been using a lot of energy, do you want me to order you something to replenish it?】 He paused, then added. 【…I, I’ll order a meal for two.】 I glanced at my buzzing phone and replied while playing the game. 【Not now, my mouth is numb and spicy from all the food, it’s a bit inconvenient.】 Elias suddenly went quiet. 2 The party ended at 11 PM. My best friend thoughtfully called her college cousin to be my designated driver. The alcohol went to my head, and in my daze, I couldn’t help but recall the bits and pieces of this marriage. Elias and I were in an arranged marriage. At the time, my parents asked me to choose between two stepbrothers from the Xi family. One was the calm and reserved Elias, five years my senior. The other was Elijah, my age, lively and outgoing. Initially, I chose the younger brother, who had a similar personality and shared interests with me. But on the day of the engagement, Elijah overslept after partying with his friends the night before. His car broke down on the way over. When he finally arrived at the venue, he opened the box containing his engagement suit, only to find Crayon Shin-Chan pajamas inside. This series of events made the usually proud me lose face in front of everyone. In my anger, I grabbed Elias, who was standing beside me dressed like a peacock and looking perfectly suited for the role of the groom. Then, I kissed him hard on the lips, tasting the faint peppermint flavor in his mouth. I still can’t forget Elias’s expression—shocked, angry, astounded. He looked like a good man who was being forcibly taken but was helpless to resist. Under everyone’s gaze, he pursed his lips tightly, pointed a trembling finger at me, and said word by word: “I am a decent man from a good family, an innocent young lad…” Me: … And so, Elias and I were united by a strange turn of events. Over these two years of marriage, I’ve discovered that Elias has a very different attitude toward this marriage than his rigid appearance suggests. He is extremely indulgent with me, not caring who I go out with or what time I come home at night. Even if I stay out until 2 AM, all I get is the living room light left on, a bowl of hangover soup with an increasingly strong aroma on the table, and a nonchalant remark: “You have work tomorrow, go to sleep early.” Although we started as an arranged marriage, Elias is tall, handsome, and capable. He’s incredibly service-oriented, reliable, and has plenty of money. I’ve gotten used to his presence, his habits, and I even get butterflies from his inadvertent touches. But when I think about my best friend’s analysis of his personality and his actual attitude toward me, I can’t help but feel distressed. Elias seems to regard our relationship merely as an arranged marriage. He fulfills his duties and obligations as a husband, but has no romantic feelings for me. 3 The more I thought about it, the more my headache grew. I stumbled as I pushed open the front door, suddenly sensing something was wrong. Usually, the house is brightly lit, but tonight only a single chandelier in the living room was on. The entire house seemed shrouded in an oppressive atmosphere of resentment, thick and damp, like it could breed a hundred evil spirits. I shook my head, laughing at myself for drinking too much and hallucinating. But when I turned around, I was startled and jumped by Elias standing in the shadows behind the door. Elias was shirtless, looking like he had just returned from a run outside. His cool white skin was flushed an unnatural red, his abdominal muscles trembling slightly with his breath, and his wrists had several scrapes oozing blood droplets. I patted my chest and said irritably: “Elias! What are you doing standing here like a ghost?” Elias’s dark eyes locked onto me. After a long silence, he mechanically moved his lips. “You’re back. I’m here waiting for you to come home.” His voice was hoarse, his tone flat like dead water, sounding for all the world like a loyal husband waiting for his wife who returned late from drinking. I sniffed. Besides the citrusy hormonal scent on him, I seemed to smell an out-of-place scent of skincare products, very much like my whitening and brightening serum. Elias pursed his lips in forbearance, his dark gaze bypassing me to look gloomily out the window. I followed his gaze and saw the retreating figure of my best friend’s cousin. I subconsciously explained: “Oh, that person is…” Before I could finish, Elias interrupted me hurriedly, his voice trembling slightly. “Person? …Where is a person? What person? I was just thinking about work matters, I didn’t see any person, completely didn’t see anyone, where is there a person…” I was silent for a moment, examining Elias with a strange look. Elias immediately turned his head to avoid my gaze and whispered. “Why don’t you change your shoes first… I, I’ll get you a glass of water.” With that, without waiting for my reply, he fled into the kitchen. The sound of water boiling soon came from the kitchen. But besides the sound of water boiling, there seemed to be other strange noises mixed in. I listened carefully. Hmm, when did Elias buy another kettle? And one that made such desperate and miserable crying sounds. So noisy. 4 Half an hour later. Elias finally emerged from the kitchen. Besides hot water, he also brought a late-night snack. I leaned comfortably on the sofa, waiting for him to serve me. The light from above the coffee table annoyed me, and I waved my hand vigorously. “The living room lights are too yellow. It’s hurting my eyes. So annoying.” As soon as I spoke, Elias paused. Boiling water splashed out. Instantly scalding the back of his hand red. Yet he seemed not to feel the pain. Instead, he pressed hard on the burn on his hand as if punishing himself. After a few seconds of eerie silence, he murmured softly: “Is the lighting… really all you wanted to talk about?” I tilted my head in confusion: “Elias, are you talking to me? What did you say? My headache made me miss it…” Elias turned away, brought the water glass over, and forced a stiff smile: “No, nothing. Drink some water.” I blinked, my gaze falling on an open, exquisite gift box on the table. Inside the box lay a chain with several large, sparkling diamonds embedded in it, and two silver letters—X and W—hanging at the end. Elias wasn’t the kind of romantic man who would buy a necklace as a gift. So, it’s very likely that this necklace was given to him by someone else. I hesitated for two seconds, then whispered sourly: “Where did this necklace come from? Such an old-fashioned style and design, looks like something older people would buy to wear…” As soon as the words fell, the air in the living room suddenly solidified. Elias’s breathing stopped abruptly, as if someone was choking him. I sensed something strange and looked up at him instinctively. Under the glaring light, Elias stood stubbornly, looking shattered, his eyes empty, like a pathetic puppy abandoned by its owner. This reminded me of our wedding night. At that time, Elias was on the verge of losing control. His eyelashes trembled, his voice choked up, and warm tears fell like broken beads onto my collarbone. At the very last moment, he buried his face in the crook of my neck and said huskily and seductively: “Stella, it feels so good…” …

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I discovered that my husband had secretly bought a voice recorder. When I asked about it, he exploded immediately: “It’s for work! Why are you interrogating me?” “If you’re so bored, go find a job!” I didn’t argue. I simply swapped the recorder’s internal memory card for a micro-transmitter. The next day, he took his mistress to his car for a thrill. Every word they said was transmitted via Bluetooth… Directly to the massive speakers used for the neighborhood Zumba class. 1 Mrs. Robinson, the Zumba instructor, was about to change the song when Dance Monkey cut off abruptly. Replacing it was a burst of harsh static, followed by sounds that made everyone blush, blasting from the high-wattage outdoor speakers. “Caleb… gentle…” A coquettish female voice, amplified by the heavy bass, rolled like thunder across the entire community square. Hundreds of retirees stretching their arms and legs froze mid-motion, like someone had pressed the pause button. Following that was Caleb’s familiar voice, dripping with a greasy arrogance I had never heard before: “Scared of what? This car has great soundproofing. That yellow-faced woman is still at home like an idiot, waiting for me to ‘work late’.” Dead silence fell over the square. Only the unbearable sounds from the speakers continued, wave after wave, clear as if they were whispering in our ears. Mrs. Robinson stood stunned for a few seconds, her fan dropping to the ground with a clatter. She was closest to the speaker; the sound made her heart palpitate. “This… whose couple is this, leaving their windows open?” someone in the crowd muttered. “Couple? Listen to those words. That’s an affair!” I sat on a bench at the edge of the square, pulling the brim of my baseball cap low, clutching the receiver’s control unit in my hand. I watched the black BMW X5 with dark tinted windows parked not far away. The car was rocking in rhythm with the sounds from the speaker. The conversation continued, getting even more explosive. “So when are you going to divorce her? I don’t want to keep sneaking around like this.” “Soon, soon,” Caleb’s voice carried a ruthless edge. “That idiot is trying to get pregnant recently, forcing me to take vitamins every day. She doesn’t know I swapped her bottle of prenatal vitamins for long-term contraceptives ages ago. I even added a little ‘extra spice’.” “As long as she can’t conceive and her health collapses, my mom will naturally force her out.” If people were just watching for the drama before, this sentence changed the atmosphere in the square completely. The seniors, who had been whispering, now had faces of iron. Everyone there had children. Who could stomach such a conscience-less, evil scheme? “Is he even human? Poisoning his wife?” “That’s wicked! That’s trying to kill someone!” Listening to the curses around me, I dug my nails deep into my palms but felt no pain. So that was it. That was why my health had deteriorated over the last two years, why I had unexplained bleeding. It was all thanks to him. Rage boiled in my blood, but I had to stay calm. 2 “Ugh, don’t mention that buzzkill woman,” the female voice whined. “Caleb, doing this here… will we get caught?” “Don’t worry, I scouted this place ages ago,” Caleb gloated. “Those old geezers dancing Zumba play their music so loud it covers everything. They make their noise, we have our fun. It’s exciting.” The words “old geezers” were like a spark dropping into a powder keg. Mrs. Robinson trembled with rage, picking up her fan and waving it fiercely: “Bullying us! Doing dirty deeds right under our noses and calling us names?” “It’s under the shade trees! I’ve been eyeing that black car for a while!” Someone shouted, and hundreds of pairs of eyes swept toward the roadside parking spots. The black BMW X5 stood out glaringly under the streetlamp. “Let’s go! Let’s see which animal it is!” The crowd surged toward the car like a flood breaking a dam. I merged into the back of the crowd, watching Caleb’s car get surrounded tightly. The people inside clearly hadn’t realized what was happening until the woman screamed in panic: “Caleb, outside… why are there so many people?!” “What?!” Caleb’s terrified roar came through the speakers, followed by the frantic rustling of clothes being put on. People started banging on the windows: “Get out! Explain yourself to everyone!” “Poisoning people and cursing us in the street? Get out here!” The BMW rocked like a small boat in a stormy sea, shoved by the angry mob. Caleb panicked. He tried to start the car, but he was blocked in front and back. He rolled the window down a crack, yelling furiously: “What are you doing? Get away! This is my private business! Move or I’m calling the police!” This shout, transmitted clearly through the “pen” clipped to his collar, once again boomed across the square. “Police? Call them!” Mrs. Robinson had a fiery temper. She pointed the Zumba microphone directly at the car window. “Let the police see who’s in the wrong—you poisoning people, or us catching perverts!” Caleb’s face appeared intermittently behind the glass, pale as a sheet. He probably never dreamed his every word and action was being “livestreamed” right there. As the standoff continued, I tapped my phone screen lightly. If I’m going to hammer him, I’ll hammer him so deep he never gets up. I switched the signal source. No longer livestreaming real-time audio, I played an encrypted file recovered from the recorder—one he had hidden very deep. 3 The noise from the speakers vanished. Replacing it was the sound of a very quiet room, followed by Caleb’s lowered voice, dark and greedy. “Mr. Lee, I’ve handled the inspection report for this batch of steel. So what if they’re sub-standard? Buried in cement pillars, even God won’t see them. As soon as the three million hits my account, I’ll stamp the approval for the new Horizon project.” The seniors who were banging on the car stopped in unison. The air froze. Horizon City was the biggest unfinished construction project in the area, recently revived. Many of the people present had poured their children’s savings, or even their own retirement funds, into those apartments. “Steel… sub-standard?” “What is he saying? Those are our homes!” Fear spread faster than anger, followed by an explosion a hundred times more violent than before. “Caleb? You’re Caleb from Horizon?!” “You bastard! That’s tofu-dreg construction! How many people will you kill?!” If before it was just moral judgment, now it was a matter of life and death. Someone picked up a brick and—SMASH—hurled it at the BMW’s windshield. Spiderweb cracks spread instantly. “Smash his car! Don’t let him run!” “This scum needs to go to jail!” Inside the car, Caleb broke down completely. He leaned on the horn frantically, but amidst the roar of hundreds of people, the honking was insignificant. He couldn’t understand why top-secret evidence of commercial crime was being broadcast over Zumba speakers at this exact moment. Sirens wailed in the distance, getting closer. I stood in the shadows, watching the police struggle to push through the angry crowd, dragging a disheveled, bleeding Caleb out of the car. The mistress was paralyzed with fear, curled up under the seat, shivering. As Caleb was handcuffed, his eyes searched the crowd blankly, seeming to look for the mastermind who had ruined him. But he was destined not to find them. 4 I turned and left. Back home, the house was pitch black and terrifyingly quiet. But I knew that tomorrow, this place would be incredibly lively. Police would come for evidence, creditors would block the door, and the home buyers would come for answers. And I, as the sole “unaware victim,” would extract myself cleanly. I would sue for divorce as a victim, take back everything that belonged to me, and more. I walked into the bathroom, poured the swapped “vitamins” into the toilet, and watched the pills swirl and vanish. My phone vibrated. It was a WeChat message from Caleb, probably sent with his one phone call chance before being put in the squad car. Just three words,透ing with bone-chilling coldness and despair: [Was it you?] I poured myself a glass of red wine and toasted the pale but bright-eyed woman in the mirror. Then, I slowly replied: [Hubby, what are you saying? I’ve been home waiting for you to come drink soup! Mrs. Robinson said they caught a pervert in the square. Are you okay?]

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I hadn’t even driven my new Glacier Blue Aston Martin GT, a half-million-dollar masterpiece, out of the Sterling Motor Group dealership lot when my phone buzzed. It was Chad Dillon, my sales consultant. He sounded clipped, a little rushed. He claimed the onboard diagnostics system needed an urgent, mandatory offline patch, an “emergency software update.” Could I please leave the key with him for thirty minutes? Half an hour later, I saw my car. It wasn’t parked in the service bay. It was plastered all over the Instagram story of some heavily filtered blonde sales associate named Brittany Wells. Chad, my grinning, overconfident salesman, had his arm draped around her, one hand on the steering wheel of my Glacier Blue GT. The caption read: “Fresh whip! Taking my babe for a spin.” I didn’t call, didn’t text, and didn’t leave a comment. I simply opened the Aston Martin’s companion app on my phone and, with a few taps, remotely locked the vehicle down. Engine ignition disabled. Doors bolted. The GPS showed them static, deep in the hills on the Sunset Canyon Loop, twenty miles outside of Palm Springs. Two hours later, the call came—not from the dealership, but from the Palm Springs Police Department. The tone, though slightly distorted by the phone line, carried the unmistakable, unyielding weight of official authority. “Mr. Alexander Derrick? Is that correct?” I stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the dealership’s waiting lounge, watching the evening traffic stream past. I kept my voice steady. “It is.” “This is the Palm Springs PD Command Center. We’ve received an urgent 911 call. Two individuals are reporting that they are trapped inside a blue sports car, license plate number [Placeholder for Plate Number], on the Sunset Canyon Loop.” 01 I’d only just selected that plate number half an hour before. “The caller alleges the owner, you, deliberately initiated a remote lock, confining them inside. Sir, we have a report of Unlawful Confinement.” The voice on the line paused, then sharpened, cutting through the sterile silence of the lounge. “We are instructing you to immediately, and I mean immediately, disable the vehicle lock and proceed to the nearest precinct for questioning.” Unlawful Confinement. The charge hit my ears like a pair of icy handcuffs snapping shut. I didn’t immediately explain or erupt in indignant rage. I just felt a strange, absurd humor rise in my chest. I could almost see the officer on the other end: a bored cop envisioning me as a jealous ex-boyfriend, using a tech trick for a melodramatic act of revenge, or maybe just some spoiled, clueless tech bro who’d accidentally played with his expensive new toy too hard. My fingertips traced the cool metal frame of my Tom Ford glasses. My gaze remained level, calm as a lake in the shadow of a mountain. Was this the tax of being a victim in the modern world? To be questioned as the perpetrator simply because I possessed the means of the offense? It was certainly a novel experience. I took a deep breath, letting the low hum of the city filter out. My voice, when it crossed the wire, was clear, unhurried, and devoid of any tremble. “Officer.” Another pause from the other end. “I have a preliminary question.” “Go ahead.” “If a person steals your property while attempting to move it,” I began, my tone measured, as if debating a point of law, “and you, the owner, use entirely legal, pre-installed technology to track that property and prevent its further movement… is that still considered a crime?” The air of unshakeable authority from the police department seemed to crack just a little. “…What are you implying? You need to state your situation clearly, Mr. Derrick.” The officer’s voice softened, now tinged with confusion instead of command. I allowed a faint, satisfied half-smile to touch my lips. That was the response I needed. “The situation is perfectly clear,” I said. “First, the blue sports car—license plate [Placeholder for Plate Number]—is my legal property. I, Alexander Derrick, purchased it in full for cash at 3:15 PM today from the Sterling Motor Group. I can email the contract and wire transfer receipt right now.” “Second, the caller, if I am correct, is your dealership’s sales consultant, Chad Dillon. He obtained my key less than an hour ago under the false pretense that the vehicle needed an ‘emergency offline system update.’” “Third, his ‘update’ was, in fact, taking my brand new, unregistered vehicle, with his accomplice, Brittany Wells, on an unauthorized joyride and photo shoot to the Sunset Canyon Loop.” I narrated the facts as if reading a dry deposition. As I spoke, I pulled up the high-resolution screenshot I’d already taken of Brittany’s Instagram story. The photo was a parade of poor judgment: Chad, in a cheap knock-off designer shirt, smugly steering with one hand, the other around Brittany, who was pouting for the camera. The background was the desolate, rocky outline of the Sunset Canyon highway at dusk. The caption: “Fresh whip! Taking my babe for a spin.” The geotag was brutally specific: Sunset Canyon Loop, Mile Marker 11. “I have already forwarded this time-stamped, geotagged evidence, along with my proof of ownership, to your department’s designated investigation email address,” I informed him. I then opened the companion app again. The crimson dot of my Aston Martin was motionless on the digital map. I clicked the share function. “Furthermore, to fully cooperate with your investigation, I have temporarily granted your department real-time access to the vehicle’s GPS data and the cloud-stored footage from the dashcam and interior security camera.” My voice dropped, taking on a cool edge. “You can now see everything happening inside. Let me be clear. This car is my full-cash, legally-acquired property. It contains unopened personal items. My remote lock is a rational and legal act of loss prevention, taken to secure my assets against unauthorized and frankly criminal misuse. I see no issue with this course of action.” A long, heavy silence followed. I could hear muffled, confused voices on the other end—a low, chaotic murmur. “…He can do that?” “…The evidence trail is airtight.” “…That salesman has some nerve.” I waited. I didn’t need to push. I was the master of the long game. Meanwhile, I activated the app’s interior camera feed—a premium security feature I’d paid extra for. The small window showed a dim, claustrophobic scene, illuminated only by the faint glow of the dash. Chad Dillon’s formerly cocky face was a mask of panic and raw desperation. He was frantically pulling at the door handle. The car was dead; the mechanical locks were useless. He started smashing at the double-layer acoustic glass—with his elbow, his fist, even the heel of his shoe—the thick glass absorbing the impacts with dull, sickening thuds. Each impact was a direct, sickening blow to my chest. This was my new car. The one I’d waited six months for. The one where I hadn’t even pulled the protective plastic film off the seats yet. The girl, Brittany, was hysterical. Her carefully applied makeup was ruined, black streaks running down her cheeks like war paint. She was slumped against the passenger seat, chest heaving, clearly hyperventilating from fear and the enclosed space. Watching their pathetic display, the furious heat in my chest didn’t flare; instead, it subsided, transforming into a deep, chilling reservoir of resolve. Finally, the police officer’s voice returned, the tone utterly transformed. “Mr. Derrick, we have a preliminary understanding of the situation.” “Thank you for your cooperation.” “We require you to report immediately to the Westside Precinct to file a detailed statement. As for the individuals in the vehicle…” He chose his words with care. “We will dispatch a unit immediately to the scene for their ‘extraction’ and to have them ‘transported’ for questioning.” Extraction. Transported. The change in terminology was everything. My victim status was now officially recognized. My suspicion had been cleared. “I’ll be there momentarily.” I hung up. My finger lingered on the screenshot of Chad and Brittany’s smiling, arrogant faces. The curve of my own mouth tightened into something cold and dangerous. The game had just begun. The Westside Precinct was bathed in the harsh, white light of fluorescent bulbs, a place that smelled faintly of stale coffee and industrial-strength sanitizer. I arrived moments before Chad and Brittany were brought in by the patrol car. They were draped in thick, beige police-issue blankets, clutching Styrofoam cups of lukewarm water, playing the role of the traumatized victims. The moment they saw me walk through the door, their eyes flashed with raw hostility. Not guilt, but pure, unadulterated venom. I, the man whose property they had stolen, was, in their minds, the villain. I met their gazes without flinching, my Tom Ford lenses shielding any hint of emotion. The officer who’d taken my call—a Sergeant Miller—gestured toward an empty chair. “Mr. Derrick, please take a seat.” Before I could settle, Brittany’s high-pitched, frantic wail sliced through the station’s quiet hum. “Officer! That’s him!” She pointed a trembling finger at me, tears streaming down her face. “He deliberately tricked us into going out there and then locked us in! He… he had malicious intent!” She gasped, dramatically clutching her chest. “We almost died in there! We were hyperventilating! We were running out of air!” The sheer audacity of turning a theft and joyride into a case of sexual predation and attempted homicide stunned me. 02 To accuse the victim of being the aggressor. It wasn’t just a lie; it was a character assassination. I didn’t dignify the outburst with anger. My expression remained impassive. I watched her performance like one might watch a particularly bad high school play. Chad immediately chimed in, his voice hoarse from shouting and panic. “Exactly, Officer! We were just borrowing the car! You know, friends hanging out, having some fun! Kids being kids!” He attempted to frame his crime as a simple, harmless “borrow.” Then, he wheeled on me, eyes blazing. “And because of his recklessness, Brittany is severely traumatized! Her heart is pounding! I’m telling you, Alex, this isn’t over! We will press charges for reckless endangerment and deliberate emotional distress!” Their coordinated attack was seamless. They banked on the age-old courtroom trick: whoever cries the loudest and throws the dirtiest mud first often wins the jury. I ignored their hysterics. From my leather briefcase, I methodically began to take out a stack of documents. I placed the printed, signed purchase contract on the metal table. I placed the wire transfer confirmation for the full $485,000 on top of it. I placed the enlarged, high-resolution printout of Brittany’s Instagram screenshot, with the time stamp and geotag visible, next. One sheet. Two sheets. Three sheets. My movements were slow, deliberate, each quiet rustle of paper sounding like a slap in the tense silence. Their frantic shouting began to falter. Finally, I took my phone, tapped the screen, and played an audio recording. “Hey, Alex, so here’s the thing. The car’s backend is showing an urgent offline system update is required. It’s a mandatory patch. It’ll only take half an hour. Could you leave the key, and I’ll handle it in the bay?” Chad’s oily, familiar voice echoed clearly in the precinct. “It’s quick, just grab a coffee in the lounge, and it’ll be done before you know it.” The recording ended. The silence that followed was absolute. Chad’s face drained from red to white, then to a sickening shade of gray. He gaped, struggling for air, a trapped, terrified animal. Brittany stopped sobbing, her eyes wide with incomprehension and dawning horror as she looked from Chad to me. At that moment, the door burst open. In strode a man in a too-tight suit, a comb-over barely concealing a receding hairline, and a stomach straining against his belt—Hank Peterson, the dealership’s General Manager. He locked onto me immediately. A forced, practiced smile, like wrinkled cellophane, plastered itself onto his face. He rushed over, grabbing my hand in a sweaty, aggressive handshake. “Mr. Derrick! My God, Mr. Derrick! I am so, so sorry! This is a terrible misunderstanding! Absolute carelessness on the part of some young, foolish employees! I apologize for the trouble!” He shook my hand vigorously, as if we were long-lost fraternity brothers. I calmly, smoothly, extracted my hand. Hank didn’t miss a beat. He turned to Sergeant Miller, his tone instantly shifting to dismissive corporate charm. “Officer, thank you for your service. This is an internal matter, really, a simple misunderstanding between the dealership and a valued customer. We’ll take care of it ourselves and won’t waste any more of your valuable public resources.” He was trying to immediately classify the crime as a “minor internal incident.” He pulled me aside, lowering his voice into a confidential, oily whisper. “Alex, look, here’s what we’ll do. The kids were idiots, they’re already suspended. To make this right, I’m personally authorizing two years of our top-tier, all-inclusive service package—that’s a five-thousand-dollar value! Plus, a set of genuine Aston Martin custom floor mats! They’re German leather! Thousands of dollars!” He leaned in closer, reeking of cheap cologne and desperation. “Let’s just let this go, okay? The car is fine, no harm done. Blowing this up helps no one—not you, not us. We’re offering a great resolution. Deal?” I looked at his face—a landscape of feigned solicitude and practiced opportunism. I listened to his condescending offer, a pittance meant to buy my silence. I smiled then. The warmth did not reach my eyes. I addressed Hank, but my voice was clear enough for everyone to hear, especially the officers documenting the case. “Mr. Peterson.” “Do you know why I waited six months for this specific car?” “Do you know the premium I paid for that exclusive Glacier Blue finish?” “Do you know that car was not just transportation; it was a trophy—a personal symbol of years of brutal work and sacrifice?” I paused, locking eyes with him. “And now?” “Now, that car means only one thing to me.” “An insult.” The insult of being deceived. The insult of having my property treated with such reckless disrespect. The profound insult of being offered the equivalent of table scraps for my silence. Hank’s corporate smile froze, melting like low-grade butter. He hadn’t expected this level of pushback from a “regular customer.” My refusal to accept his small-time bribery instantly shifted his expression to wounded, simmering rage. I ignored his anger and addressed my demands clearly to the room, ensuring the police record was perfect. “Mr. Peterson, I must correct you.” “This is not a ‘misunderstanding,’ and it is certainly not a ‘minor internal incident.’” “It is Grand Theft Auto, and it is Systematic Fraud.” The words Theft and Fraud hit Hank like a gut punch. His face was now a tight, angry red. I continued, my voice measured and unwavering. “Therefore, I will not be accepting any form of private settlement.” “I am formally presenting my demands to the Sterling Motor Group.” I held up one finger. “First, the compromised vehicle is unacceptable. I require either a full, immediate refund, or a replacement—a brand new, equivalent specification, zero-mileage vehicle, air-freighted directly from the factory line.” I held up a second finger. “Second, the employees responsible for the theft and the subsequent slander in this precinct—Chad Dillon and Brittany Wells—must be immediately and publicly terminated.” I held up a third finger. “Third, the Sterling Motor Group must purchase a full-page advertisement in the LA Times and publish a corresponding, unedited public apology on its corporate website, addressed specifically to me, Alexander Derrick.” My demands were absolute. The precinct was utterly silent. Chad and Brittany’s faces were ghostly white. They had finally grasped that their little “spin” had consequences far beyond a verbal warning. Hank, now a furious shade of eggplant, stared at me for a few long seconds, then let out a cold, venomous laugh. “Ha. A full-page ad. You’ve got nerve, kid.” The professional “Mr. Derrick” was gone, replaced by the condescending “kid.” His posture shifted from conciliatory to confrontational. “The car is registered to you; it’s off the lot. A replacement? That’s not happening. An apology? Who do you think you are?” He turned to the officer. “Officer, you see? He’s being completely unreasonable, demanding the world. This is purely a civil matter, and we’re willing to compensate. He’s refusing. I suggest you close the case.” Sergeant Miller pushed his glasses up, maintaining his neutrality. “Mr. Peterson, we are still investigating the criminal nature of Mr. Dillon’s actions. However, Mr. Derrick’s civil claims fall under mediation. We advise you to proceed with that.” Hank realized the police wouldn’t back his bullying. All his fury turned back to me. 03 He took a menacing step closer, his eyes narrowing into slits of pure malice. “Alex, listen to me. I’m giving you one last piece of advice. In this business, you leave a little room for error. The Sterling Motor Group has deep pockets, and we have people. The owner is Mr. Sinclair—the biggest name in California real estate development.” “You make us an enemy over a set of floor mats, and I guarantee you won’t be able to turn a corner in this city without running into a problem. Think carefully.” It was an open, ugly threat. The arrogance of the corporate bully was on full, brazen display. He assumed that I, a successful but ultimately singular young man, would fold under the pressure of local political and financial muscle. He assumed wrong. I looked directly into his venomous eyes and spoke one slow, even word. “Really?” “Then today, I guess I’ll have to see just how unbearable you really are.” I didn’t wait for his response. I calmly reached into my suit pocket, took out my phone, unlocked it, opened my call recorder app, and pressed the bright red “Record” button. I placed the phone gently on the table, screen up, pointed directly at Hank Peterson.

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A week before our engagement party, Addison and I had a massive fight. “Just because I have to go with her to play along for this one blind date?” He loosened his tie, his voice laced with its usual casual indifference. “Jenny, don’t be ridiculous.” “I am.” “Fine.” He nodded, his eyes turning cold. “Don’t regret it.” From high school sweethearts to the altar, he’d spent our entire youth absolutely certain that I couldn’t live without him. But he didn’t know. The blind date was just the final spark. I’d been collecting disappointments for a long, long time. This time, I wasn’t turning back. 1 “Her parents are emotionally blackmailing her, saying it would kill them if she didn’t go. She was desperate and had no one else to ask.” Addison leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window, a hint of weariness in his voice. “Jenny, it’s just an act, to help her get through this.” I looked at him. “Addison, I’m calling off the engagement.” He let out a short, dismissive laugh and walked over, reaching out to ruffle my hair. “Aren’t you tired of this trick? How many times has it been? Seven? Eight? Jenny, we’re getting married next Saturday.” I turned my head away, avoiding his touch. “Nothing is set in stone. An engagement can be broken.” “Alright.” He stared at me for a couple of seconds, then dropped his hand. “As you wish. Just don’t regret it.” “I won’t.” I turned, grabbing my bag, just as the door opened and Zoe walked in. Her eyes were red-rimmed, a plane ticket clutched in her hand. “Addison, I’ve changed the flight. It’s for nine tomorrow morning… I’m still so scared it won’t work. What if her parents…” Addison didn’t answer, his gaze still locked on me. In the past, I would have been firing off sarcastic questions by now. You’re going home with her to play house, so where does that leave me, your actual fiancée? But after all this back and forth, I was just tired. So tired. I started to leave, but Zoe stepped sideways to block my path. “Jenny, please don’t misunderstand. Addison and I are just playing a part, really.” She bit her lip, looking fragile and pitiable. “My hometown is very conservative, and my parents aren’t in good health. This guy they’ve set me up with… they picked him out so carefully. I had no other choice but to ask Addison to pretend to be my boyfriend…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Think of it as… a favor, for how my parents looked after him when he was younger…” I couldn’t stop myself. “Oh, and does ‘playing a part’ require you to post pictures on social media with your arm linked through his?” “Does ‘playing a part’ mean you call him in the middle of the night, crying that you can’t sleep?” “Does ‘playing a part’ involve buying him underwear and asking if he likes the style?” “Does ‘playing a part’ mean you just happen to interrupt every single time we’re trying to discuss our wedding plans?” I took a step closer. “Are you incapable of taking care of yourself, or do you just have no common sense? Since you know it’s fake, do I need to teach you how to spell the words ‘keep your distance’?” Zoe’s face went white. Tears instantly welled in her eyes, and she lowered her head, her shoulders trembling slightly. “Jenny.” Addison stepped forward, pulling a tissue from the box and handing it to her, his brow deeply furrowed. “Did you have to be so harsh? She has nowhere else to turn.” Zoe’s tears slid silently down her cheeks. The quiet living room was filled with nothing but her choked, suppressed sobs. Suddenly, none of it seemed to matter anymore. It was all so pointless. I turned and walked out of that suffocating space. 2 I went home and slept like the dead until morning. Waking up, I fumbled for my phone. The screen was lit up with a new post from Zoe. [Homeward bound. A little nervous to be going back, but thank you for your courage and support. It gives me the strength to face this. Wishing for the best.] The picture was of a corner in an airport lounge. Two coffee cups sat side-by-side. On the wrist next to one of them, elegant and familiar, was the limited-edition watch I’d given Addison. Just then, the screen lit up again. A text from Addison. “Send me the final designs for the venue.” He’d spent the entire night flying to someone else’s hometown a thousand miles away, and only now did he remember the wedding we were supposed to be having. I stared at his profile picture. It was still the one of us from last year, on a snowy mountaintop. His arm was around me, his smile full of life and confidence. He’d used it for so long. My finger hovered over the screen for a few seconds before I opened my settings and dragged his contact into my block list. Downstairs for breakfast, my mom took one look at me. “You look terrible. What’s wrong?” I kept my head down, sipping my milk. “Didn’t sleep well.” “It must be pre-wedding jitters,” she said, pushing a plate with a fried egg toward me. “Honestly, Addison is such a good man. He’s made his company so successful, and at such a young age. And you, you’ve pushed back your studio’s expansion plans just to fit his schedule, pulling all-nighters to sort out wedding details. It breaks my heart to see you so exhausted.” I put down my glass. “Mom, I’ve decided on a location for the new studio. It’s in North Crest.” My mom blinked. “North Crest? That’s so far… I thought you and Addison bought your house in the South District?” “I can separate my career and my marriage.” My voice was calm. “Mom, this is a huge opportunity for my studio. If the contract is solid, I’m heading over next week to get things started.” She finally sighed. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was my best friend, Chloe, asking if I wanted to go try on some couture dresses. “Go on, have some fun,” my mom said, patting my arm. “You’ve been working so hard. You deserve a break.” Half an hour later, I was at the couture bridal salon. Chloe told me to pick out some accessories first. I was looking at a necklace when I heard a familiar voice from the VIP room next door. “Mr. Rhodes, I thought you were here to pick up your custom suit. You seem a little distracted.” “She blocked me.” It was Addison, his voice tight with irritation. “Who did? Who’s got that kind of power over you?” “Who else? The one at home,” he said, his tone laced with weary resignation. “Ah, Miss Sinclair,” the man laughed. “To be honest, with a personality like hers, you’re the only one who could handle her.” Addison let out a low grunt. “She’s the one I chose, what can I do? Spoil her, I guess.” “What was it this time?” “I’m helping Zoe deal with a blind date back in her hometown.” “That’s it?” The man sounded incredulous. “Miss Sinclair is taking that way too seriously. But really, if you want a wife who won’t cause you trouble, you should find someone like Zoe. Gentle, considerate, knows when to be vulnerable… she wouldn’t give you so much grief.” I didn’t listen to the rest. I took the necklace and went back to the fitting room. But as soon as I walked in, I saw Chloe arguing with Zoe, who was dressed in the salon’s staff uniform. She was like a bad penny, always turning up. Zoe was working here as a part-time consultant. “The size is wrong! This isn’t the dress we ordered!” Zoe looked flustered. “I’m so sorry, the two styles are so similar, I must have grabbed the wrong one…” “So exchange it! What do you mean you can’t?” When Zoe saw me, her face lit up as if she’d found her savior. “Jenny, it was my mistake, but once the dress leaves the workshop, it can’t be returned. If you cancel the order, the cost will be deducted from my salary, and I’ll lose my job.” 3 I sat down, my face a blank mask. “Are you confused? You made a mistake. Why should I be the one to bear the risk?” “I’m begging you. Just this once, for old times’ sake…” She looked pained. “I’m not like you guys. This job is really important to me…” “If it’s so important, how could you make such a mistake? And now that you have, why are you trying to guilt-trip me?” My voice was hard. Chloe chimed in. “Exactly. Either refund the money or make a new one.” It was clearly Zoe’s fault, yet she acted as if she were the one being bullied. “You rich young ladies… can’t you have a little compassion?” She wiped furiously at her eyes, then suddenly grabbed the couture gown and ran out of the room. She nearly collided with a group of people passing by the door. “Zoe?” one of them recognized her. “What’s wrong? Who’s been giving you a hard time?” Zoe shook her head, but her tear-filled eyes found Addison in the crowd. “What’s going on?” Addison asked, walking over. “She grabbed the wrong dress and won’t give us a refund,” Chloe explained, stepping out of the fitting room. “It wasn’t on purpose,” Zoe mumbled, her head bowed. “We’re all friends here, what’s the big deal?” someone in the group said, trying to smooth things over. “You two are heiresses. Do you really care about one dress?” “Care?” Chloe let out a bitter laugh. “This was a dress by Jenny’s favorite designer, and she got the wrong one!” He walked closer to me, his voice low. “Alright, is it really worth getting this upset? She didn’t do it on purpose. If you’re angry with me, fine, but don’t take it out on her. It’s not easy for her, working a job like this.” “Does the great Addison Rhodes believe that whoever is weaker is always in the right? You think I’m taking my anger out on her? Are you blind, or do you just refuse to see? The one who made the mistake is now the victim, and I’m the one being aggressive?” “Forget it, Addison,” Zoe sniffled, gently tugging on his sleeve. “I’ll use my own salary to refund Miss Sinclair. Don’t make things difficult…” Seeing her act, a fire ignited in my chest. “Who are you to make that decision?! You mess up at your job, and now you’re playing the martyr? Who gave you the right?” “Jenny.” Addison’s voice hardened. “That’s enough. Don’t go too far.” He turned to Zoe. “Contact headquarters and get this expedited. I’ll cover the costs.” “Don’t bother,” I said, picking up my bag. “If the great philanthropist wants to help, be my guest. Chloe, we’re leaving.” “Tch, what a temper,” a low voice muttered behind me. 4 Chloe and I walked through the streets as evening fell. “I’m sorry, Jenny,” she said, frustrated with herself. “I should have just gone straight to the manager.” “Why should you have?” I didn’t slow my pace. “Just because she knows how to cry, everyone is supposed to forgive her mistakes?” “Besides,” I stopped walking. “Yesterday, I called off the engagement with Addison.” Chloe walked beside me in silence. “You don’t believe me?” She sighed. “Honestly, Jenny, no one believes you’d actually leave Addison.” “And besides,” she looked at me, “can you really let him go?” In the car on the way home, Chloe’s question echoed in my mind. Can I really let him go? As we neared my house, I asked the driver to stop. I wanted to walk. The first time I met Addison was on the corner of this very street. That year, my family’s business had failed. Creditors were at our door, and I was forced to transfer to a new school. I was an outcast, always alone. One day after school, a few local thugs cornered me, demanding “protection money.” It was Addison who stepped in. He stood in front of me, clearly nervous himself but trying his best to look calm. After that, he was always around. The upheaval in my family had made me prickly and defensive. I pushed him away, told him to leave me alone, but he’d just laugh and stick around. He told me, “Jenny, you’re actually kind of cute when you’re being fierce.” Idiot, I thought to myself. In high school, a girl started a rumor that I was promiscuous. Addison tracked down the source and, in front of the entire class, threw down the evidence he’d gathered. “If anyone ever dares to slander Jenny Sinclair again, just try me,” he’d said, his eyes so fierce the girl burst into tears on the spot. After the crowd dispersed, I looked at him. “Who asked you to meddle?” “I’m going to meddle,” he’d said with a defiant lift of his chin, full of the bravado of a teenage boy. “Your business is my business.” I think that was the moment my heart skipped a beat. That day, I reached out and straightened his wrinkled collar. Our hands brushed against each other, and from that moment on, they were never separated. Until a year ago, when Zoe appeared. She was the daughter of Mr. Lin, the Rhodes’ long-time family steward. After graduating from college, she wanted to make a life for herself in the city and was temporarily staying with Addison’s family. The first time I felt something was wrong was the night Addison celebrated landing a major contract. I brought a bottle of wine to his apartment, planning to surprise him, but I heard a woman’s laughter from inside. I pushed the door open to see Zoe in the kitchen, wearing an apron, bustling about. “Addison, congratulations! I made a few of your favorite dishes. They’re not as good as Jenny’s, of course, but… it’s a little something from me.” “Thanks, Zoe. I appreciate it,” Addison said. A nameless anger flared inside me. I put down the wine. “What do you mean, not as good as mine? You cook what you cook. Why do you have to put me down to do it?” “Jenny, you’ve misunderstood!” she stammered, looking completely flustered when she saw me. Addison told her to go back to the guest room. “What is there to be jealous about?” he said, closing the door and pulling me into his arms. “I don’t like her.” “Mr. Lin isn’t well, and it’s not easy for her, starting out here on her own. My mom told me to let her stay for a while and to look out for her.” He said it would just be for a little while. But that “little while” became the period of our most frequent arguments. Zoe always seemed to appear whenever Addison and I were alone. Her computer would be broken and she’d need help, or she’d have a problem at work she needed advice on, or she’d be sick and need someone to take care of her. The moment I showed any displeasure, she would get teary-eyed, lower her head, and quietly walk away. To any outsider, it looked like I was bullying her. Even Addison thought I was overreacting. “It’s all small stuff. What’s the big deal about helping her out? I don’t like her, so what are you so worried about?” But it just felt wrong. She would call when Addison and I had an appointment to look at wedding rings, claiming a pipe had burst at home, sounding panicked and in desperate need of Addison’s help. She would have a sudden bout of gastroenteritis, requiring Addison to take her to the hospital, leaving me waiting alone at the restaurant we’d booked. She would ask Addison to help her edit her resume, and would even walk casually into his study with a plate of fruit while we were on a video call. Everyone told me not to be so petty. She was having a hard time. He was just helping. But I couldn’t get over it. I fought with him, gave him the silent treatment, broke up with him. But every time we were apart, I would toss and turn at night, pathetically crawling back, even trying to change myself, to be more “understanding.” Chloe was right. I couldn’t let him go. I really, truly couldn’t. Fifteen years of shared history were woven into my very bones. Every time I tried to tear it away, the pain was excruciating. I was afraid of the pain, so I chose to give in, again and again. Until last week. My studio was competing for a major project, and a rival was playing dirty. I was stressed out of my mind and tried to call him for advice. I called him countless times. No answer. I battled through it alone until late into the night, managing to avert the crisis. Only later did I find out that he had spent that evening helping Zoe run through a mock Q&A for her blind date back home. He didn’t even know what I had been through. In that moment, I suddenly felt that leaving… might not be so hard after all.

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When Sebastian and I ended things, it was ugly. He ground the lit end of his cigarette into the hollow of my chest, right over my heart. “You lied to me,” he hissed. “How dare you?” Because of that one sentence, I lost my respectable job and my face was scarred. Everyone said I’d been his canary in a gilded cage for five years, and that this was the ending I deserved. The day I left Aurelia City, he was celebrating his engagement to a girl from a suitable family. I was clutching my own burgeoning belly, scurrying away like a sewer rat, vanishing from his world completely. We met again four years later. He pointed at the little girl in my arms, his eyes certain. “She’s my child, isn’t she?” 1 The next time I saw Sebastian Blackwood, it was late at night, in a hospital. My daughter, Daisy, was nestled in my lap. She was used to the needles and IV drips by now, sitting perfectly still the entire time. She was quiet when she saw him, too, just tugging on my sleeve to wake me from my doze. I opened my eyes and found myself staring directly into his cold, almond-shaped ones. The past came rushing back in a suffocating wave, and for a second, my heart forgot how to beat. I scrambled to my feet, ready to bolt, only then remembering the IV line still attached to my daughter. My hand had just touched the bag when Sebastian’s gripped my wrist, hard. “It’s been a while, Ava.” His gaze dropped to the small girl beside me. “Is this your daughter?” The words were spoken softly, but my legs began to tremble uncontrollably. Daisy tilted her head and asked who he was. A cold smirk played on his lips. He enunciated each word with chilling precision. “An old acquaintance of your mother’s.” More than an acquaintance. Five years. Eighteen hundred and twenty-five days and nights of tangled limbs and feverish passion. But those numbers, so heavy with meaning for me, were nothing more than trash to be discarded for a man like Sebastian Blackwood. I lowered my head, my face pale. The silence was broken by one of Sebastian’s friends approaching. He hadn’t gotten a clear look at me yet and gestured toward Daisy with a grin. “Seb, look at you! Get a little stomach bug on a business trip and your wife and daughter rush all the way here to see you. You’re a lucky man!” Not long after I’d left Aurelia City, I saw the news online that Victoria was pregnant. I never imagined she’d also have a daughter. As the man got closer, his eyes finally focused on my face. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “You’re Ava, right? You’re still alive?” The shock and sarcasm in his voice were like a knife twisting in a barely healed wound. I instinctively covered Daisy’s ears, trying to shield her from the ugliness to come. “After you faked a pregnancy and gave Mr. Blackwood’s grandfather a fatal heart attack, how do you have the nerve to show your face around Seb again?” “What, did you run out of money? I guess that makes sense. For a woman like you who makes a living on her back, the only way to get cash is from a man, right?” He peered at my daughter. “Is this scrawny thing yours? Don’t tell me you’re going to try and say she’s Seb’s!” I was numb to most insults by now, but that last one made my head snap up. “No,” I said, my voice sharp. “She has no connection to Mr. Blackwood whatsoever!” The formal, distant address made both men pause. After a moment, Sebastian pushed his friend aside and stepped closer, his presence as oppressive as ever. “How old is the child?” “She’s three!” The answer tumbled out of me. He took another step, cornering me. “Let me see your ID.” I backed away, managing a weak smile. “I must have left it at home.” He opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him off. “It’s late, Mr. Blackwood. You should get home before your wife starts to worry.” At the mention of Victoria, he actually seemed to hesitate. A bitter laugh bubbled in my chest. Four years ago, I had groveled at his feet, begging him to tell me why he wouldn’t believe me, why he had to marry her. He’d wrapped his hand around my throat, his eyes filled with a cold, disgusted loathing. “She’s not like you,” he’d snarled. “She’s pure. She doesn’t lie.” “And I love her.” I was with him for five years, and he never once said he loved me. I’d convinced myself that a man as proud and unattainable as Sebastian Blackwood was simply incapable of love. Until he said he loved Victoria. That he wanted to give her a family. I thought that kind of love would be fleeting. How naive I was. Seizing his moment of distraction, I grabbed the IV bag, scooped up my daughter, and ran without looking back. I thought I heard him say something behind me, but the words were lost to the wind. I didn’t hear them, and I didn’t care. 2 I didn’t stop running until I was clear of the hospital, my heart hammering against my ribs. Daisy reached up and touched my pale cheek. “Mommy, why did you lie to that man?” she asked, her voice small. I kissed her soft, round face. “To protect you, sweetie.” So he can’t take you away from me. But Sebastian had a wife and daughter of his own now. Why would he want to take mine? Still, the fear was real. From then on, I only took Daisy to a small, private clinic for her treatments. It was two in the morning by the time we got home. Sleep was impossible. I opened my phone and scrolled through Victoria’s social media. Her feed was a curated gallery of her lavish life, filled with pictures of her perfect, princess-like daughter. The comments were a sycophantic chorus, praising her grace and beauty. It was hard to believe that this was the same woman who had personally taken a blade to my face. Even now, on the hottest days, I never dared to push back my heavy bangs, terrified of exposing the ugly scar on my forehead. I’d only taken a half-day off for Daisy’s appointment. That afternoon, I was riding my electric scooter to take her to preschool. On my way home, a luxury car was parked brazenly in the middle of the narrow road, blocking my path. The window rolled down, and a beautifully preserved woman leaned out. “Ava!” I froze, my eyes locking with Melinda’s. My mother. She looked younger than she had years ago. If we stood side by side, people would probably mistake us for sisters. I abandoned my scooter and hurried away, but she threw her car door open, her expensive leather heels clicking on the pavement as she chased after me. “Ava! Please, just turn around and look at me!” Her voice was choked with something that sounded like a sob, probably from running. I couldn’t understand why she was chasing me. She was the one who had thrown me away for a life of wealth and comfort. She was the one who had stood in front of everyone and denied I was her daughter. And she was the one who, in a desperate bid to win over her stepdaughter, Victoria, had fabricated my fake pregnancy report. I could still feel her long, red nails digging into my cheeks, leaving angry marks. “You’re lucky I let you live this long, so what right do you have to judge me? If I had known you’d grow up to stand in the way of my fortune, I would have smothered you in your crib!” The memory was cut short as her driver, on her signal, swerved the car, blocking my path and startling me so badly I fell. Melinda rushed to help me up. “Ava, I just wanted to see you.” I wrenched my arm away from her, a cynical laugh escaping my lips. “See what? To check if I’m dead? Or to make sure I’m not still trying to steal Victoria’s husband?” “You can relax, Mrs. Thorne,” I spat out her married name. “I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t disturb Sebastian and Victoria’s happy life. I’ll stay far, far away from them, and from your precious high-society world!” My words seemed to wound her. Her eyes grew red. “Ava, that’s not what I meant.” Her gaze fell on my custom phone case—a photo of me and Daisy. Her tone shifted instantly. “That child you were carrying back then…” My bravado evaporated. “What child?” I said, my voice shaking. “Didn’t you get rid of that child with your own hands?” I frantically tried to hide my phone behind my back. The cold pavement beneath me brought back the chilling memory of the operating table in that private clinic four years ago. I remembered Melinda’s venomous gaze on my stomach. “This thing has to go! Don’t think I don’t know what you’re planning. I will not allow you to give birth to this bastard and threaten Victoria’s marriage!” To teach me a lesson, she’d told them not to use any anesthesia. The room had been filled with my agonized screams. In the end, it was the doctor, taking pity on me, who helped me escape. Now, Daisy was my entire world. I couldn’t bear the thought of almost losing her again. I had to convince my mother. “That baby is dead! It’s gone! Ask the doctor if you don’t believe me! You saw the blood and tissue yourself, didn’t you?” My voice grew frantic. “I swear, I don’t love Sebastian anymore! I won’t try to seduce him again!” To make her believe me, I lifted the hem of my shirt, desperate, exposing the long, faded scar across my lower abdomen. “Look! The scar is still here! The baby is long gone! You can touch it if you don’t believe me, it’s real!” I grabbed her hand and forced it against the scarred skin. The next second, she pulled me into a hug. “Ava, please, don’t do this…” I froze for a moment before struggling wildly, pushing her so hard she stumbled and fell. I scrambled around the car and ran. I didn’t get far before I tripped and fell hard, scraping my knees on the asphalt. Ignoring the stinging pain, I pushed myself up and kept running. Back in my tiny apartment, I immediately started packing. My important documents, the cash I had saved—it all went into a bag. Seeing Sebastian last night and Melinda today couldn’t be a coincidence. I called the company where I’d worked for two years and quit. I called my landlord to terminate my lease. After buying a bus ticket, I realized it was almost time to pick up Daisy. I got back on my scooter and headed to the preschool to get her and handle her withdrawal. I would take her away from this city and never come back. But when I arrived at the school gate, Daisy’s teacher looked at me with surprise. “Daisy? Her father already picked her up. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Miller, but the man looked so much like her…” 3 For the first time in four years, I unblocked Sebastian’s number. The call connected, and a soft chuckle came from the other end. “I was starting to think you’d really go your whole life without ever contacting me again.” I stood in the cold wind, my knuckles white as I gripped the phone. “Where is my daughter?” In response, I heard Daisy’s innocent laughter in the background. Sebastian’s voice was like a serpent’s whisper. “Tell me, Ava. Is she my child or not?” I didn’t hesitate. “No. Sebastian, give me back my daughter.” He scoffed. “You don’t have to admit it. I can get a test done. And you remember what happens when you lie to me.” The burn mark he’d left over my heart still ached on cold days, a phantom pain reminding me of the man I never should have loved. The thought made me dizzy. I squatted on the pavement, pressing my palms against my throbbing temples. Sebastian hung up. After a moment, I forced myself to stand and head for Aurelia City. Four years later, stepping back onto the grounds of the Blackwood estate, I was flooded with memories. I remembered when I first moved in, swinging on Sebastian’s arm and asking him what would happen if someone ever tried to kick me out. He’d smiled, a rare, gentle thing, and his voice had been absolute. “You’re my woman. Who would dare?” Later, he was the one who gave the order. He had his men strip me of everything he’d ever bought me and throw me out of the mansion. It was snowing heavily. I stumbled through the blizzard, my skin turning purple, the tears freezing on my cheeks. He stood on the second-floor balcony, watching me with cold indifference as I fought my way, step by painful step, out the main gate. Even now, pictures of me, naked and exposed in the snow, still circulated online. The comments were either vicious declarations that I got what I deserved, or assumptions that I was already dead, paying for my sins in the afterlife. I kept my head down as I walked the familiar path to the house, the old humiliation welling up inside me. I didn’t notice that the rose bushes I had once loved were still blooming, a riot of defiant color in the courtyard. Sebastian was waiting in the living room. Dressed in a sharp black suit, he looked like a wolf that had been patiently stalking its prey. I stopped far away from him, reining in my fury. “Where is she?” “She played herself out. She’s sleeping upstairs.” Hearing that, I made a dash for the stairs, but he was faster. He caught my arm and pulled me into his arms. The familiar, woody scent of his cologne filled my senses, making my skin crawl. “What’s the rush? We haven’t settled our accounts yet.” I assumed he was talking about the time I was accused of stealing Victoria’s design drafts. She had stolen them from me, but no one believed it. In the end, I was fired, and my entire portfolio of work was blacklisted and vilified. But years of hardship had worn away my pride. I pushed away from him and dropped to my knees with a thud. “Mr. Blackwood, I know I was wrong about what happened back then, and I’ve paid the price. If it’s still not enough, I’m willing to kneel and apologize to your wife. Just please, give me back my daughter.” My humility earned me no pity. His brow furrowed, his voice turning to ice. “Get up.” I didn’t move. “Mr. Blackwood, you can humiliate me however you want. I’ll do anything. Just give me my child back.” A humorless laugh escaped him. He crouched down to my level. “Your child? Yours and whose?” I froze, then answered quickly. “My ex-husband’s.” Afraid he wouldn’t believe me, I pulled a folded marriage certificate from my bag. “Sebastian, I’m not lying. I really was married. Daisy is my ex-husband’s daughter!” It was true, I had been married. It was a marriage of convenience, to get Daisy a legal surname on her birth certificate and to have a cover story, just in case. But Sebastian merely glanced at the photo on the certificate before snatching it, ripping it to shreds, and hauling me to my feet. “Ava, are you blind? Can’t you see how much she looks like me?” I couldn’t meet his eyes. I struggled, trying to get past him to the stairs. He wrapped an arm around my waist, lifted me off my feet, and threw me onto the sofa. Before I could move, he pinned me down, twisting my hands behind my back. His eyes were dark and menacing.

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Joe and I loved each other for fifteen years. We went from high school sweethearts to husband and wife. Then, he got cancer. Before he died, he told me he didn’t want any regrets. He said he had fallen in love with someone else. He wanted to spend his remaining time happily with that girl. But after he died, his soul was trapped beside me. And I could still see him. 01 Joe had cancer. Stage four. I was right there when the doctor dropped the hammer. I listened in disbelief, then immediately started asking about second opinions, experimental trials—anything. Joe just sat in the chair, expressionless. His head was tilted down. I couldn’t see his face. I couldn’t tell what he was feeling right then. 02 Joe lost a lot of weight. He was in the hospital for about a week, going through a battery of tests and treatments. I squeezed out time every day to be with him. Mostly, I just saw him staring blankly out the window. Or staring blankly at his phone. I didn’t know what he was thinking. But I knew that for someone facing their own mortality, their mood couldn’t be good. Swallowing the bitterness in my heart, I chattered about trivial daily stuff. All while opening the takeout I’d brought him. 03 Occasionally, Joe would look at me with guilt in his eyes. Like he wanted to say something, but stopped himself. I didn’t know what was on his mind. But whenever I looked back, ready to ask him what was wrong, he would lower his head again. As if escaping. He was always expressionless. But the look on his face was way more complicated than before. 04 Later, I found out why. I don’t know how many times I’d visited the hospital ward by then. But that day, I saw her. That girl, Shelby. In front of her, Joe showed a smile I hadn’t seen in days. That relaxed, happy look. In a daze, I realized it seemed like ages since I’d seen it on Joe’s face. 05 Joe and I met when we were teenagers. We got to know each other. We fell in love. This year was our fifteenth year together. Our sixth year married. We long ago lost that initial passionate spark. We settled into a calm, gentle rhythm. Sometimes, I could feel that Joe didn’t like me as much anymore. Actually, it was mutual. I didn’t have that initial girlish crush on him either. But we still had years of friendship. I thought we would never end up in an ugly mess like other couples. Affairs. Mistresses. Illegitimate kids. Divorce. I never thought there would come a day when I realized I’d judged a person wrong. 06 Right in front of me, in his hospital bed, Joe took that girl’s hand. They interlocked fingers. My mind went blank. Those eyes I used to love so much stared at me with guilt. But also with an unusual firmness. Joe was thin, his face pale. He was good-looking, so even his sickly appearance didn’t make him look bad. Seeing no reaction from me, Joe spoke again. “Chloe, I’m dying. I don’t have much time left in this world. I don’t want to have regrets.” When he said he didn’t want regrets, he meant one thing. He wanted me to bless his affair with the girl beside him—Shelby. 07 The first time I knew of her existence was at Joe’s tech company. Shelby was the new marketing intern. When I arrived, Joe was still in a meeting, so I waited in his office. While I was waiting, Shelby barged in. We both froze. I felt something was off right away. The CEO’s office wasn’t exactly a place regular employees could just wander into. Let alone a lowly intern. But this Shelby girl was slick. Her ability to handle situations and adapt was way beyond your average intern. 08 Later, Joe explained to me that Shelby was a junior at our old university. When he went back to give a lecture at alumni weekend, she was there. She interacted with him the most during the Q&A. She asked for his autograph afterward. “The young girl was new to the corporate world,” he said. “Inevitably a bit brash, but her work skills were strong.” Listening to him, I vaguely recalled something. Joe and I went to a big state school. We were supposed to go to that alumni weekend together. But I had a last-minute business trip and couldn’t make it. Thinking back now… Maybe Joe’s change of heart started right then. 09 I was silent for a moment. Shelby gripped Joe’s hand. She tilted her head slightly so I could clearly see her tear-filled eyes. And the dried tear tracks on her face. She said, “Chloe, Joe and I have had feelings for each other for a long time. But out of respect for you, neither of us crossed the line. “If it weren’t for Joe… I wouldn’t be making such an excessive request. “I know being the other woman is shameful. “But I love Joe. I want to happily spend his remaining time with him. “You love him too, so you should want him to be happy, right? “Do you want to see Joe spend his last days depressed? Leaving this world with regrets? “You’ve already had half his life. “Why can’t you let us have this last little bit of time?” 10 I looked at Shelby’s contrived posturing. Then at Joe’s silent indulgence. A sense of unfamiliarity and absurdity rose in my heart. For a split second, I felt like our passionate youth was just my own over-romanticized fantasy. Maybe the Joe who loved me so deeply back then never even existed. 11 I clenched my hands tightly. The pain in my palms brought my reason back. I forced myself to calm down. “So what do you mean? You want me to divorce him so you two can be together?” Shelby was about to speak. But the hand interlocking fingers with hers squeezed hard. She let out a small cry of pain. She glared coquettishly at him. But Joe didn’t gently coax her or indulge her like usual. She instantly knew this wasn’t the time to make a scene. Shelby was smart. Especially at reading men. That’s how she captured Joe’s heart so quickly.

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One day he’s biting my collarbone, the next it’s my inner thigh. I finally broke down, sobbing into my pillow. “Why do you keep biting me? Do you seriously hate me that much?” I didn’t get an answer until I stumbled across a post on a popular campus confession board by my “ice-cold” roommate. 【My roommate is so cute. I really want to wait until he’s asleep, crawl into his bed, and then…】 01 “Ow, it hurts.” I lay face-down on my bed, muffled sobs escaping as I buried my face in my arms. There was a fresh, damp bite mark right on the sensitive skin of my upper thigh. It stung like crazy. “Why do you keep doing this?” I asked, my voice thick with tears. “What did I even do? Do you just despise me?” The culprit’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he stared down at the mark he’d left. He reached out, his hand surprisingly gentle as he ruffled my hair. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you that much. Let me see the bruise.” He’d apologized a dozen times before, but it never stopped him from doing it again. Every time, his excuses were weirder than the last. The first time was over the summer. The dorm AC was broken, and I was doing laundry in just an oversized t-shirt after my shower. When he walked in and saw me, he pinned me against the bathroom door and bit me. The second time was because I mentioned a girl in our Psych 101 class was pretty. He tackled me onto my bed and bit me again. And today, Lucas’s reason was the strangest of all. It was because I told him I wanted to move out. I couldn’t figure out which part of that sentence offended him, but he’d bitten me harder than ever today. I wanted to scream, but I didn’t dare. According to the other guys in our hall, Lucas Vance was a “Legacy” kid. His family had basically funded the new campus library. He was exactly the kind of person someone like me—a scholarship kid living on a tight budget—should never provoke. I didn’t get it. If he was so rich, why was he slumming it in a dorm with me? Unlike him, I was working two part-time jobs just to survive. I figured if I moved further away, he’d finally run out of chances to treat me like a chew toy. I’d spent months saving up for a deposit on a studio apartment, and today I’d excitedly told him I was finally leaving. Instead of being happy to see me go, he looked furious. But here’s the thing: outside of the biting, he was actually… nice to me. During midterms, he’d take me to a private study room in the library and tutor me in my weakest subjects. When I had nightmares and was too scared to sleep, he’d let me squeeze into his bed so he could comfort me. He was cold and distant to everyone else, but he was always around me. He was the campus heartthrob—perfect hair, perfect GPA, a star athlete. People said just being his friend was enough to make you “socially relevant” for a year. I usually tolerated his weirdness because he was my friend, but today it just hurt too much. Lucas lifted my ankle, inspecting the bite mark on my thigh. He leaned down and blew softly on the skin. “It’ll stop stinging in a minute.” His hand was large, wrapping easily around my ankle. I couldn’t pull away. “Do you bite other people too?” I asked, wiping my eyes. Lucas smirked. “Only you.” “Why?” I sniffled. “Do you just hate me that much? Why only me?” He let out a low, melodic laugh and leaned closer. “You idiot. I definitely don’t hate you.” I didn’t believe him. I figured he was just lying to keep his “toy” around. “Fine,” I grumbled. “I forgive you this time. But don’t do it again.” He wiped a stray tear from my cheek and asked casually, “By the way, that apartment you mentioned… where exactly is it?” 02 That night, I got a text from my prospective landlord. It was a place I’d found through an upperclassman—close to campus, great price, perfect for me. I was supposed to move in next week. 【Hey, sorry, but the unit was just rented out to someone else who offered a much higher price upfront. I’m returning your deposit and adding a $2,000 “inconvenience fee” for the trouble.】 I was stunned. The room was only $800 a month. I’d only paid a small deposit. Now, the guy was just handing me two grand for free? Is there such a thing as a landlord this nice? For a broke student, this was a win. But I’d already told Lucas I was moving. If I stayed now, he’d think I was lying. I pulled up a local Reddit-style campus board to see if there were any other listings. That’s when I saw a trending post. 【I bit my roommate and made him cry. What should I do? The more he cries, the more excited I get. How do I make it up to him?】 The comments were wild. 【Easy. Make him cry in a different way…】 【”Roommate.” Sure, bro. (Laughter.jpg)】 【Stop talking and just kiss him. Shut him up so he can’t cry.】 (Liked by OP) The description of the “roommate” was starting to feel hauntingly familiar. My heart started pounding. I clicked on the user’s profile and saw a post from 5:00 PM today: 【My little roommate isn’t being good lately. He keeps trying to move out. How should I punish him?】 A pinned comment under the post read: 【If he tries to run again, make sure he doesn’t have the breath to run.】 My phone felt like it was burning my hand. I almost dropped it. Just then, Lucas spoke up from across the room. “What’s wrong, Liam? You look pale.” “Nothing… it’s nothing,” I stammered. I told myself to stay calm. I hadn’t proven it was him yet. But the location tag, the biting habit, and the timing of my apartment falling through—everything lined up. What did Lucas want with me? I started spiraling, imagining a thousand horror-movie scenarios. Lucas’s gaze stayed steady and warm. “Tell me if you feel sick, okay?” I nodded quickly. After he left the room, I kept scrolling. Someone had asked: 【What if he actually manages to find a place?】 The OP replied with a simple smiley face: 【I won’t let him.】 It wasn’t a coincidence. Lucas was the one who killed my lease. I couldn’t understand it. If he hated me so much that he wanted to “punish” me, why keep me around? But my gut told me one thing: I had to get away. I couldn’t stay in this room. I just had to be smarter next time. I wouldn’t tell him when I found a new place. I’d wait until winter break, move all my stuff out in secret, and by the time the next semester started, I’d be a ghost. I clenched my fists. It was a foolproof plan. 03 For the next week, I acted like a normal roommate during the day. At night, I checked the board religiously to see if the OP had posted again. I even made a burner account just to follow him. The next Wednesday at 11 PM, a notification popped up. 【Roommate is so cute. The lights are about to go out. I really want to wait until he’s asleep, crawl into his bed, and then…】 I was taking a sip of water when I read it. My hand shook, and the glass slipped. Ice water drenched my entire bed. Crap! I tried to dry it with a towel, but it was useless. The mattress and the sheets were soaked. It was November, and the dorms were getting chilly. I only had one set of bedding. The other guys in the hall came over to check on the noise. “What happened? Anyone got a spare blanket?” Everyone shook their heads. I was close to tears. The dorm doors were locked for the night; I couldn’t even go to a hotel. That’s when Lucas spoke up. “You can just crash in my bed tonight. It’s fine.” I froze. The other guys nodded. “Yeah, Liam, it’s your only option.” How did things end up like this? I tried one last time. I looked at our other roommates, Ryan and Dave. “Can’t I squeeze in with one of you?” Ryan scratched his head. “I would, man, but Dave and I both kick in our sleep. You’d wake up covered in bruises.” Dave laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, and I snore like a chainsaw. Lucas is a quiet sleeper, and his bed is way bigger. Just go with him.” There was no escape. “Is there a problem, Liam?” Lucas asked. His voice was calm, but his eyes were dark. “Are you avoiding me?” “No! No, Lucas, it’s not that,” I lied, my voice shaking. “I just don’t want to be a bother. I know you like your space.” Lucas smiled. “Don’t worry. You’re not a stranger.” I had no choice. When the lights went out, I climbed into Lucas’s bed. I had followed his posts to protect myself, but instead, I’d walked straight into the lion’s den. I lay there, stiff as a board. The bed was bigger than mine, but sharing it with him made the space feel tiny. I could feel the heat radiating off his body. He smelled like fresh soap and cedarwood. It was actually a really nice smell. And, I had to admit, his mattress was way more comfortable than my cheap one. The perks of being rich, I guess. But all I could think about was the post. Crawl into his bed, and then… I turned my back to him, holding my breath. Lucas didn’t move. He was a perfect sleeper, staying on his side of the bed. Slowly, I started to relax. Maybe I was just being paranoid. Lucas wasn’t a bad guy. Eventually, the sounds of Ryan and Dave snoring filled the room. I drifted into a haze, my eyes growing heavy. Then, I felt it. Something bit my ear. A warm mouth closed over my earlobe, and a tongue flicked against the skin. I was wide awake in an instant, a jolt of electricity shooting through my body. 04 I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to keep my breathing steady so he wouldn’t know I was awake. Lucas must have thought I was out cold. He grew bolder. He shifted closer, wrapping an arm around me from behind. He buried his face in the crook of my neck and kissed the skin. “Silly Liam,” he whispered, his voice so low I could barely hear it. “You have no idea. You’re even more vulnerable with your back to me.” I didn’t understand what he meant, but I found out a second later. I shivered, trying to stay still. Why was he doing this? Was he planning to “backstab” me? To leave marks where I couldn’t see them? It didn’t feel like a prank. It felt like… something else. I grew up watching those teen dramas where the rich kid bullies the scholarship kid just because they can. I’d always tried to stay under the radar. But I’d tried to leave, and Lucas had dragged me back. I felt a surge of tears. I was so scared, but I couldn’t make a sound. If I spoke, he’d know I was awake. How would I look him in the eye tomorrow? I didn’t hate him, but I didn’t understand him. Suddenly, Lucas kissed my cheek and whispered, “I like you so much, Liam.” I froze. He isn’t straight? His hand started to wander, and I couldn’t help it—my body jerked. The movement was too obvious. My mind went blank. I was a goner. I’d failed at the one thing I was supposed to do: act asleep. But then, a desperate idea hit me. I’d seen enough horror movies to know how people act during night terrors. I curled into a ball and started mumbling. “No… stop… help me…” I broke into a cold sweat, waiting for his reaction. Then, two warm hands covered my back. Lucas patted me gently, his voice soft and soothing. “It’s okay, Liam. Don’t be scared. I’m right here.” Even though he was the source of my panic, his voice actually made me feel safe. I felt a weird sense of security, like no matter what he did, he’d never actually let me get hurt. My heart rate slowed, and eventually, I actually fell into a deep sleep.

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